This is some more real life right here. She’s napping and I’m pumping. Double pumping. Hands-free (Yay?!) with the pumping bra. Look at those tummy rolls. No makeup. Bed hair. That’s right, I woke up like this. So, so sexy. I know you’re jealous.
Viewing entries tagged
postpartum
Well, the butt is significantly better. Whoo-hoo. Though, in truth, it’s still pretty awful - the Miralax, the Fibercon, the pain relievers, the post-poop cream, the weekly pelvic floor therapy appointments. Again, I feel super, super sexy. Not.
But, the pain is in the 1-3 range, versus the 7-9 range like it was, so I get to be a present mom these days … and that’s so, so good. And what does that look like?
Two-stepping to Jake Owen’s “Down to the Honkeytonk” around the living room couch in the mornings.
Responding excitedly to her baby babble like I understand what she’s saying.
Aerobic booty dancing to Major Lazer while she watches entranced from her back on the floor.
Reading peek-a-boo books in the glider before bed.
Going for walks around the neighborhood the second it cools off even a little bit.
Singing Chris Stapleton’s “Millionaire” to her while she leans back on my knees.
Handing her Lphant, reindeer rattle, paci, or spoon each and every time she drops them.
Helping her push Grissom’s kisses away when they get too intense.
Playing with her in the pool.
Rubbing her back and humming “Rock-A-By-Baby” to her when she wakes up restless (but still sleepy) from a nap.
Walking in to get her up at 7 am, my “Good Morning, Baby Girl” met with eye contact and bright smiles as she pushes up from her chest.
Cleaning all her little parts while she kicks and splashes and coos in her baby bathtub.
Hands-free pumping while I spin and shake and hum along with her toys for her as she lays on her back and watches and grabs and chatters on about something.
Crying happy and grateful tears while I sing her Bruno Mars’ “Just the Way You Are” and Dierks Bentley’s “Living.”
I just love her. All of her. Her big blue eyes, her eager hands, her interest and alertness, her coos, her cries, her baby bird hair, the dimple on her cheek … even her smelly feet. She’s a blessing I didn’t even know why or how much I wanted or needed. I am grateful.
Love.
It's starting to feel more real. Or maybe I am ... starting to feel more real, that is. It's like I've finally gotten a grasp on myself in this new reality. It's still a little disorienting, but I'm feeling more capable of navigating it without leaving myself behind.
We've gotten into a bit of a routine now. I know when she's hungry. I know when she's gassy. I know when she doesn't want her paci and when it's the only thing she's looking for. I've learned she really likes baths (love the warm water like her parents ...) and doesn't completely hate having her diaper changed (turns out, changing her BEFORE she's eaten is NOT the way to go).
She's way more alert the past week or so - follows me with her eyes and seems to hold a gaze. Whatever that does for connection, it's something solid, because I definitely find myself more entranced and in love with her than I did prior. Her cries cause less distress in me than they did prior. I equate that to a sense of capability and adaptability I've discovered (or grown?). I'm less anxious about doing what it takes to take care of her (and, honestly, myself). That's a bit freeing.
Now my anxieties have more to do with getting a nanny and what my practice will look like financially as I head back to work next month. Time will tell ...
LOVE.