Reflection: The First Month

I started this blog for a number of reasons, but mainly to reflect upon different things taking place in my life, and the most significant being motherhood. So after talking with my husband a little more about the purpose of this blog, I've decided to write some a series of reflection stories from our first months of parenthood. That being said, I will also be writing here and there about current things going on...in a way, I feel like I am playing catch-up with this blog. It's good though, I want so badly to remember all these things, the good and bad days, my breakdowns, worries, joys, and excitement of being a new mom, and the endless shifts of life that keep it interesting. To begin these reflection stories I am starting with the first month, all the way back to April 29th, when we were still in the hospital as new parents trying to wrap our heads around a spinning world.

I have tears in my eyes, just thinking of those first few days. I was so vulnerable, so ready, scared and elated, nothing had ever seemed so important or beautiful in my entire life. I was also so aware of how my life had changed, in an instant. I was mother, mom, momma, just like that. Hoping to God that the past nine months had been enough time for me to get my shit together, for this baby, for myself.

There we were, with her, in the flesh. She was more beautiful than I had ever imagined. We had been looking at one of those 4D ultrasound pictures on our bedside table for months; a black and orange picture of our baby in my uterus with a giant nose. I loved that giant nose, but when I saw she actually had a tiny little button nose I was relieved. I told you I was going to be honest. I have no shame saying that, because to me, her nose looked like mine; we had a shared characteristic already. She was just 6 pounds 8 ounces, a tiny little thing, and her body fit perfectly in mine. We did skin-to-skin as often as we could, it seemed I was half naked all the time. Her skin was so soft. In only a diaper, I would drape her little body across my postpartum belly, where she would sleep or suckle on my breast. Holding her, smelling her, cuddling her, feeding her. Nothing in the world had ever made more sense to me. I understood in those first hours just how raw this was, how motherhood could change someone.

Zach changed too. The first time I saw him holding her was in the hospital nursery. I was being wheeled down to the recovery room and on the way we had to stop at the nursery for Finley to get her footprints and her first shots. He took her from my arms and they went into the nursery; this was the first time I was not with her. Swaddled in a white hospital baby blanket and a hat with a giant bow, she looked like a little doll in his arms. The care and attention he gave her was pure love. He was slow with her, delicate, and careful.

Those first couple nights in the hospital were helpful on many levels. We were able to get some rest, shower, eat. You know, the basics. But each one of those tasks felt like an achievement. I learned how to breastfeed, how to listen to and watch for her cues, and how to deal with the intense pain that comes with the beginning stages of breastfeeding. I may not have needed medicine for childbirth, but I needed some pain relief for my sore nipples; it felt like someone was tattooing them repeatedly. I eventually got the hang of it or at least became numb to the pain, and she latched pretty well from the start. I felt relieved and incredibly lucky knowing I was going to be able to do this, to feed her with my body. I also documented myself breastfeeding as often as I could. Pictures of her nursing, pictures of my breasts engorged, pictures of milk leaking from my nipples; the whole thing was just fascinating to me. I think I documented this because I needed to prove to myself that the pain and discomfort was worth it, even knowing that after just a few weeks of this my breasts were going to be forever changed. I needed the pictures for myself.

When we took her home, I cried. Not because I was nervous about taking her home, or scared to drive with her, as I have heard from other parents, but because she was already growing up. I felt nostalgic for a time that hadn't even happened yet. In the car, Zach had put in the Frank Sinatra CD I bought him years ago. My dad always played Frank growing up and would dance with my sisters and me, so hearing that play in the car only added to the nostalgia of my childhood and my daughter's childhood I would eventually long for.

Zach took off two weeks from work so we could both become acclimated to our new life. With sleepless nights, tiresome days, the joys and frustrations of having a newborn definitely set in. But we took care of each other, for the most part, while other times it felt like we were on the verge of a marriage meltdown. Waking up every two hours or so to nurse her or change her and then being up all day can definitely take a lot out of a person, physically and mentally. Sleep deprivation is torture. I was also losing so much pregnancy water weight at night that I had to sleep on a towel or else wake up soaked in my own sweat. So sleep was almost unbearable in and of itself. We managed though and tried to be as present as we could be for each other, and for her. I remember feeling like the best thing for us, for our marriage, during those first couple weeks was to cuddle. I am not a big cuddlier, but my body was recovering and just like skin-on-skin is healthy and encouraged for new parents and babies, I felt like skin-on-skin was crucial for Zach and I. Finley slept in a vintage cradle by my side of the bed and I would sleep on the edge of the bed, as close to her as I could. Often times she would be fussing in her cradle, so I would roll on my side and comfort her, but at the same time, I too needed comforted. My hormones were so intense, I had never felt this much love for another human being, meanwhile, my body was working hard to recover while also producing milk for my baby. Every inch of my being was used.

We had tons of visitors during those first few weeks, and while that was stressful at times, I honestly felt like having friends and family visit helped me wrap my head around my new life. I was learning how to navigate being a mom, while also being a caring sister, a reliable friend, a loving wife, and a productive artist. The stressful part of having visitors over during those weeks was that I still wanted to look presentable, to have a clean house for guests, to be the good hostess. But I knew the stress would pass because for each visitor that walked through our door I was able to share the joy of this new life.

And just to see how far I could push my limits as a person, I started a new job just two weeks after having my daughter. It was madness. Remember from her birth story how I said I was literally emailing my new boss to tell her I needed to push back my start date, well then I called her two short weeks after delivering Finley to ask if I could start. I also asked if I could bring her with me, and she agreed. She said to just baby wear her, because that's where the baby should be, with momma. And I did. I put her in my Boba wrap and carried her around everywhere. I rearranged my office, I organized the computer, I met my colleagues, I scheduled artists, and prepped for the upcoming exhibition year, all with my daughter on my chest. I would take breaks to nurse and change her and then begin again. She still comes to work with me, it's getting a little harder lately, but it has been such a joy to be able to take her.

The first month went by so quickly, we had the most beautiful days, and then the most trying of days. I've had spit up all down my chest, purple circles around my tired eyes, petty arguments with my loving husband, and a crying baby screaming in my ear. But I have also had my baby cuddle on my chest, tears of pure joy in my eyes, priceless memories of becoming a parent with my loving husband, and a precious baby cooing in my ear. Each day has been new and challenging in its own way. Small changes are constantly happening, some good, some that frazzle me to no end, but the three of us are doing it together.