A quarter of a year ago, a whole season ago, I was sitting (gingerly) in a bed at Swedish Hospital, drinking a chocolate milkshake for breakfast, deliriously tired but euphoric from endorphins. The baby I'd spent an hour and a half pushing out, my baby Marlo, was finally in the hands of the nurses, getting all those things nurses do to babies done. I didn't know it at the time, but it was the best I was going to feel for a while.
It's hard to remember the specifics of those early weeks, but I know that it was a slog for a while there. I guess it's good news that my hazy memories are all of happiness and warm fuzzies. You gotta love the way your brain erases pain over time. But I was thinking the other night, as I rocked Marlo in the nursery glider at 2 AM, wow, I used to do this every night. Twice. At least. That just amazes me. It wasn't that long ago that was my life, but it has become such a foreign concept. No wonder people get suckered in to having a second baby. You don't remember how much it blows.
As of today, officially, I am no longer the mother of a newborn. She is a garden variety infant. The fourth trimester is complete. I am so looking forward to all the new things she is going to learn and do over the next three months, but I am just a little bit wistful for my little froggy-legged newborn. She is on the express train to adulthood. There's no turning back. I'm never going to hold that fresh tiny baby again. It's sad.
|First Bath At Home (2 weeks)|
|First Bath in the Big Girl Tub (3 Months)|