It’s been a while since I have posted. I always have these grand ideals, fantastic blog post ideas, and then one thing leads to another, and weeks and weeks pass with no entry.
Life is good. Really good.
I have been enjoying every single day at home with my little gal, and I am once again feeling like my old self. I bid my Zoloft a fond farewell over a month ago, and I haven’t looked back once. Honestly, once I stopped taking it, I didn’t feel any different than I did before. Whatever. It was either effective, or it had one helluva placebo effect.
I am typing this as I finish my lunch with Julia swinging contentedly in her swing, surrounded by her best and most-beloved buddies in her arms. I can’t stop looking at her.
I look at her near constantly.
I know all mothers think their babies are beautiful. I think we moms are hardwired to only have eyes for our offspring, but honestly?
She really is beautiful.
I have watched her transform from a small newborn, doing nothing more than cry, poop, pee, and sleep, to an interactive, fun, hilarious infant. Julia is a good-natured baby to say the least. She rolls with it. She goes with the flow.
Breastfeeding has been an amazingly transformative experience for me. I will save those thoughts for another post. Suffice it to say that I now completely understand why some women choose extended breastfeeding. The bond is indescribable.
My husband is still fucking amazing. He continually surprises me with just how much he shows affection and adoration for our daughter. I sometimes catch them having their own private conversations after she has awakened from a nap or first thing in the morning upon rising for the day. The only thing that tops the way he looks at her is the way she looks at him.
In the past few months I have overcome my almost irrational fear of going out with Julia to going out somewhere every single day, even if it’s only to fuel my ongoing love affair with Starbucks iced coffee. Julia just smiles and goes along for the ride.
Things are very different this time around. I no longer obsess about a nap schedule or even whether or not Julia gets a nap. I don’t care if she happens to break a long-standing sleep-through-the-night streak with a freak 2am awakening. Who cares? I don’t. It’s probably due to the fact that even if every single day looks different, there is one thing that remains the same:
She just smiles and squeals.
That’s not to say that Julia doesn’t have her moments, but those moments have become far and few between. Julia has transformed into one of those babies who cry when they NEED something: a dry diaper, a nap, a change of scenery, or a boob to pacify and feed her.
I am savoring this.
And I am savoring certain moments like last night…..
I woke up around 1am for my requisite pumping session, only to be greeting with a few squeals, squawks, and light cries around 45 mins later. Ultimate irony. I had pumped 10 ounces and was ready to head back to bed.
Nope.
James did his best to get the little night owl back to sleep, but it was one of those nights when only mommy’s boob will do.
I brought her into bed with us, pulled her close and offered her my breast. Julia settled immediately. Her breathing became regular and deep. Her arm draped lazily across my breast as always. I reached down and she clasped my hand with her free hand. Tears immediately welled in the corners of my eyes.
The boob isn’t always about food. It’s about our closeness. It’s about our scent. It’s about our touch. It’s about our bond. And, unfortunately for daddy, it’s a bond that not even he can share.
In that moment in the stillness of the night, it was just me and Julia. The rest of the world melted away. As we lay there dozing together, I realized that this moment would be one that I would share with my daughter in the years to come, and I hope she cherishes it as much as I did.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s a napping baby I need to admire.
