So today was so pleasant that I began to realize that I had nothing to worry about. My daughter is so grown up and cheerful. She is definitely thriving and learning all the time. She likes me, but she likes lots of people and will do fine with Daddy when the time comes.
Since her favorite thing now is to sit up against my tummy so she can see things, I thought it might be a good time to read her first book. I bought it a while back: “Good Puppy”
I bought it because the dog looks just like our dog. She got into it. The dog got into it. Lucy came up and Veronica petted the dog and the book as I was reading it to her. She seems to like the book:
So, It’s 8:20 in the morning, and my daughter is still sleeping. She woke up once, but with a quick re-insert of the pacifier went back to sleep.
We’ve set the day for my return to work. It’s earlier that I absolutely -have- to return, but it seems to make sense. Everything is going well, so it seems there is no reason to take the last 3 and a half weeks off.
But I am suddenly once again all nervous about it. She’s fine, but am I ready? In a way I think that going to work, driving away for 9 or 10 hours will be easier than taking care of her all day. But then, I will have to think about her and miss her.
I will leave her in Chris’s care, and he’ll do okay with her. He’ll do it differently than I will, but that will be okay. Especially if I am not there to hide around the corner and fret about it. But it’s hard work and I fear that Chris is not prepared for it. Until you experience the all-day-ness of it, you just don’t know how hard it is. I fear that he will resent her and me and I will lose him.
It’s 28 days, a span that is both immediate and an eternity. She’s still sleeping. It’s only when she is asleep that I have concentrated time to worry. She’ll wake soon and then will begin the round of incredibly small things that fill the days. And the days will pass.
I know it doesn’t pay to worry. I’ve done a good job so far, and she is healthy and growing well. It’s just me that has the problem.
It was 10 weeks ago that this child arrived. It feels like I could say ten years, really.
This is what she looked like the first day:
That’s her little teeny round fat face.
She is so much more alert now. She knows and wants to know so much. She’s accomplisehda a lot–both of us have–in the past ten weeks. At this point, I feel like the clock is winding down, and I am going to have to get ready to go back to work.
She barely needs me anymore. The days go by as days, and sometimes even as weeks now. There’s been ten of them, you know?
Here is what she looks like now, as she’s getting ready to go to sleep for a WHOLE NIGHT:
After I gave birth I was laid so low. I didn’t expect to be so messed up. I could barely walk, and my body was going through all kinds of rehabilitation.
That was 10 weeks ago tomorrow. 10 Weeks! That might as well be a year. And yet. My body is not recovered yet. I am surprised again by how much time and biological effort it takes for my body to recover. My joints are not there yet; they still feel quite a bit like they did when I was still pregnant. And my muscles (particularly my back and tummy area) seem to have started a new kind of soreness. Maybe that’s because they are hoisting themselves back into the upright position, which would be nice.
Even after I wake up fully rested and on my own–not by a baby’s cry–I am so sore and tired. Which surprises me. I thought it would be over now.