Labor and birth with a 10-lb, 2-oz baby, as intense and demanding as they were, posed far less of a challenge for me than pregnancy did.
Labor and birth are fast-paced (at least for me) and breathtakingly acute, but they're also rather fascinating, and even somewhat magical. Sort of like an altered state of consciousness, there's something stark and kind of addictive about it.
Pregnancy, on the other hand, is certainly magical in its own way, but also full of long months of mundane discomforts. Swelling. Hemorrhoids. Achiness. Nausea. Exhaustion.
As Eden turns one month old, and her strong and opinionated personality starts to emerge from her former compliant newborn sweetness, I'm realizing that parenting is a lot more like pregnancy than it is like birth. Certainly, there's something magical about watching someone's personhood emerge day by day, and I can only imagine how much more awaits me beyond just the first month. But there's also the period every day where she's inconsolably crabby, and of course it always hits when there are still hours left before Matt will be home and I'll be able to give my aching arms and back a teensy break before my 11-lb baby needs to be nursed again. Furthermore, like pregnancy, the germination stage is a long one--measured in months and years, not hours.
Parenthood is also full of mundane discomforts. Achiness. Exhaustion. Repetition. Changing a diaper for the fourth time in an hour. Wondering if you'll ever be able to wear a shirt for more than fifteen minutes without getting milk down the front of it or spitup down the back of it. Wondering if she'll ever do the same. Wondering if you'll ever be alone in the bathroom again, or have the use of both arms for any length of time. Coming across an event or happening and thinking "What fun! Let's go to that," and then remembering that you really can't.
Then something comes along to remind you that there are those for whom parenting is anything but routine.
And it makes the above scenario, milky shirt and aching back and fussing baby, look pretty good. As Amy says, "Bring on the mundane."
Because stories like that make you realize that even in the midst of what seems like an exasperating day, there's magic there if you can remember where to look.
Labor and birth are fast-paced (at least for me) and breathtakingly acute, but they're also rather fascinating, and even somewhat magical. Sort of like an altered state of consciousness, there's something stark and kind of addictive about it.
Pregnancy, on the other hand, is certainly magical in its own way, but also full of long months of mundane discomforts. Swelling. Hemorrhoids. Achiness. Nausea. Exhaustion.
As Eden turns one month old, and her strong and opinionated personality starts to emerge from her former compliant newborn sweetness, I'm realizing that parenting is a lot more like pregnancy than it is like birth. Certainly, there's something magical about watching someone's personhood emerge day by day, and I can only imagine how much more awaits me beyond just the first month. But there's also the period every day where she's inconsolably crabby, and of course it always hits when there are still hours left before Matt will be home and I'll be able to give my aching arms and back a teensy break before my 11-lb baby needs to be nursed again. Furthermore, like pregnancy, the germination stage is a long one--measured in months and years, not hours.
Parenthood is also full of mundane discomforts. Achiness. Exhaustion. Repetition. Changing a diaper for the fourth time in an hour. Wondering if you'll ever be able to wear a shirt for more than fifteen minutes without getting milk down the front of it or spitup down the back of it. Wondering if she'll ever do the same. Wondering if you'll ever be alone in the bathroom again, or have the use of both arms for any length of time. Coming across an event or happening and thinking "What fun! Let's go to that," and then remembering that you really can't.
Then something comes along to remind you that there are those for whom parenting is anything but routine.
And it makes the above scenario, milky shirt and aching back and fussing baby, look pretty good. As Amy says, "Bring on the mundane."
Because stories like that make you realize that even in the midst of what seems like an exasperating day, there's magic there if you can remember where to look.
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