so my six week old son is asleep right next to me. we’re sitting together on the couch. my 2 years, 4 months old daughter is out shopping and playing at the park with my 33 year old partner. and my recently turned 32 year old self is staring off into space, drooling.
the past six weeks have leaked out of my boobs, i’ve decided. because they surely haven’t passed in a linear fashion. for example: right now it is about 10:30 am. ziggy will wake up in a bit and i’ll feed him. suddenly, it’ll be 6pm. i’m not kidding. maybe it’s a lactating mother’s wormhole or something? i don’t know. but it’s sure got me feeling dizzy. if i weren’t taking fmla leave at work, today would be my first day back. i can’t even fathom that. my son is so very needy of me right now. moreso than i remember jude ever being. and though i’m ultimately looking forward to returning to work (i did just begin a new position a month before going on maternity leave after all), now is way too soon. i’d be a weepy, leaky mess all day.
but back to six weeks having passed since i gave birth to ziggy…
he is most definitely morphing into a fun, proper baby–one who smiles, offers hints of a giggle, rolls over, and tries to interact with his sister. but he’s still definitely of the newborn variety, what with the ’round-the-clock nursing and all. did i mention that his umbilical stump finally fell off after 4 1/2 weeks? silver nitrate was the catalyst, because that sucker was planning to stay put for the duration.
the mister is waking up now, so let the time warp begin again. i’ll end by getting to the point i’ve skirted around this whole paltry post: these six weeks have been all about pouring myself out, living in a more primal place than my mind could ever narrate. it’s been an intense, scary season, with all sorts of big emotions wracking my body. i find i can’t even think in a linear fashion right now. if you’ve tried to have a conversation with me, you’ll likely have found me scattered, unable to find the words i want to use, and complete shit at staying on topic. (eg: see this post.)
i know i’ll never get this time back, and despite the dizziness, i’m trying my damndest to be present for it. it’s now 12:20pm, and in the interim between then and now, i have cried a little, watched my baby smile at me despite the tears, nursed, changed a pooey diaper, tweeted with one hand, eaten a protein bar with one hand, and made a haircut appt for jude and me (jude’s first ever!). i also cradled my sweet ziggy in my arms and listened to patty griffin’s “coming home to me”. he cooed and yawned as i sang along. that song is a balm.
so it all goes on day two of nablopomo, six weeks postpartum: tears and squishy-heartedness, milky smiles and small naps for the boy. panic attacks that never quite surface, calm that passes understanding. it’s all right here, and it feels more real now that i’m writing it down.