Well, Hello There!

Things that I don’t do very well: Keep up with this (…if I had a
dollar for every time I’ve said that phrase with regards to this blog,
I’d have like…10 dollars).

I should. I really should. Or, at the very least, I should try a
little bit harder. If for no other reason, than to be able to look
back and remember everything that I will undoubtedly forget about the
mere day-to-day life that is my world with an infant.

Niko is four-months today! Four months?! Where is
the time going and how do I get it to slow down? (I’m pretty sure
that’s a standard thing for a parent to say). But, despite what seems
to be an epidemic of insane-fast-time-movement, everything is amazing.
I went back to work at the beginning of April. Prior to Niko’s birth,
and even prior to getting pregnant, I had my work schedule adjusted to
allow me to work from home two days a week. My doctor appointments, at
times, were so overwhelming; I was constantly taking time off, missing
days, trying to arrange my weeks that it just didn’t make sense. So,
that awesome schedule worked out really well for the hubs and I—I am
able to work from home on the days he had to teach, and he was home on
the days I had to be in the office. Perfect. No weekly childcare costs
for us (as if we could afford it anyways).

Leaving Niko at home was hard. It was great to get out of the house
and be around adults for more than a few hours at a time, but the
amount I missed my baby was and continues to me immeasurable. And, by
the time I get home at night, I have very few hours (if that) to spend
with him before it’s time for bed; it just seems criminal for new
moms, or any mom, to have to make such sacrifices in order to help her
family continue to stay afloat financially. [[Dear America, DO BETTER
FOR MOMS.]]

The flip side to having to leave my baby three days a week is that he
gets to spend three days a week with daddy. Now, I’m not home, so I
don’t know what happens, but I’ve heard there have been some rough
days. I’ve also heard there have been some good days…but, let’s face
it. Daddy doesn’t have boobs. ‘Nuff said.

Aside from the missing my kid stuffs, I’m still making a huge attempt
to recover physically from his birth. I’ve been back to the doctors,
and now even to a specialist, to help solve the mystery that is my
continued pain. Turns out, there’s a ton of scar tissue that’s
chillin’ out where it shouldn’t be. And, I was stitched up funny.
Combine those two things together, and—at more than 16-weeks post
delivery, I’m still having a hard time standing, walking, and sitting
normally. Some days, I’m fine. Other days? If I merely sit a bit
off-center, I put myself into a position that causes an insane amount
of pain. Given the location, too, there’s not much I can do about it.
Talk about frustrating.

But, work and pain aside, and…disregarding my ridiculous lack of
sleep, I have an amazingly beautiful little boy. I stare at him often
and question whether it’s real. Because, truth be told, 95% of the
time, it doesn’t feel real. It seems like I’m just the babysitter, and
I’ll have to give him back soon. I just don’t feel like a mom. I don’t
feel like I look like a mom. And, sadly, some days go by and I zone
out at work and totally forget how different my life is from this
exact moment a year ago (before I had found out I was pregnant).

Come to think of it…this time last year, the husband and I were
gearing up to head out of town for the holiday weekend. I drank more
than I should have at the beach. I smoked more than I should have, too
(which means I’m almost a whole year cigarette free!! WOOHOO!). And,
as soon as we got home, I found out I was pregnant. It’s a bit
ridiculous to look at how my life has changed. My shopping trips to
Target have switched from me buying new clothes and house items for
myself, to buying clothes and diapers for my son. My weekends no
longer involve sit-down dinners in nice restaurants and trips to the
movies, but rather early nights in, huddled over a tiny whale-shaped
bathtub, trying to avoid being drenched by my splashy baby. My
conversations have switched from work and friend drama to the latest
baby development [[zomg! He kind of rolled over!! Just to his
side…but, that counts, right?]]. My evenings now include washing
bottles and making sure my husband has enough thawed milk to make it
through a day home with the tot. Sleeping in a distant memory…as is
sleep in general.

But, like I said in my birth story, I’d do it all over again. Every
single moment…I’d do it all over again.  There are endless moments
when exhaustion hits and I don’t think I can do this for 18 more
minutes, let alone 18 more years. And, those are the same moments that
I look down at my little boy, and he smiles. He smiles a big,
toothless grin, and raises a single eyebrow…and screams in delight.
And I melt.