Saturday, December 6, 2008
In a year's time
I've been up since 6:15 on this wintry Saturday. Baby still doesn't understand the concept of sleeping in. She fed and I put her gently back to sleep in her crib in her own little room. After making some happy sounds for a while, her little cries started intensifying and the magical pacifier didn't help. So around 7 I gave up and brought her in the living room while I ate my breakfast. I'm generously letting my husband snooze. Now it's 8:15 and I've organized my birth announcements for Europe, packaged up a file to send to my employer and spot cleaned the stroller where Chat-chat left us a small smear of something with a plant leaf in it. Great, gonna have to throw that cover in the wash now. Baby's got her hands on the keyboard or my hands as I type this.
And to think a year ago I had just found out I was pregnant. I called baby petit pois, little pea, since the books said she was about that size. She already had a strong pulsing heartbeat we could see on the ultrasound, but of course we didn't know she was a she yet. I still had a hard time believing I was expecting, considering there were no outward signs. I was mostly giddy and amazed at my new condition.
Even now I'm still pretty amazed that I've got a four and a half month baby who gurgles and screeches happily. Needless to say my life has changed. Besides being excited if I sleep till 7, I often refer to myself in the third person: Mommy's gonna be right back, Mommy's just a little tired, don't mind me. I've become an expert in singing silly improvised songs for bath time. I've done so much laundry that I'm probably responsible for any water shortages in the next decade. I've learned a great technique for removing cradle's cap (Vaseline then rinse then use business card to scrape off gently).
And since baby's been here, I've been seeing a lot of my old friends, Guilt and Worry. The latter because there are simply so many things to worry and fret over when you're responsible for someone's little life. Is she eating enough? Is she spitting up too much? Did she have that spot on her head yesterday? And worry even beyond today's issues. An episode of Medium where someone's little boy strays in a store and meets a tragic end haunts me for days. And then there's the guilt. Because sometimes I need a break from whimpering like anybody else. I can be a bit nostalgic for the days when I could nap when I wanted or work till 8 p.m. and not worry that baby wouldn't see me for her bedtime.
But despite any "complaints" or the anxiety, baby is still one of the best things to happen to me. All in all it's a change for the better.