Phase Two
I realized today that Eliza's already entered a new phase of her babyhood.
In the beginning, she was so tiny and she wanted to be held all the time. This sounds very romantic but since I was alone so much, particularly in the beginning, it was somewhat unrealistic. I had a shared room at the hospital which meant C could not stay the night. When Eliza was wheeled into my room for her feeding each night, I could not put her down in the bassinet and expect her to be quiet. One night, desperate to go to the bathroom but not wanting her to wake my poor roommate yet again, I actually peed with her attached to my breast.
And it was like this once I got home except there was no baby attached to my breast in the bathroom. That was one experience I vowed never to repeat.
I enjoyed holding her but it was frusterating because I'd be sitting on the couch or the bed holding her and I'd see laundry that needed to be put away or mail that needed to be tossed out. My mother came for a few days, I had a doula in the beginning and they helped but in the end, it was mostly just Eliza and myself alone. C had a very busy week at work and kids in another city to visit and I didn't mind being alone with Eliza for long periods of time, in fact I almost liked having her all to myself. Various friends stopped by, one right after the other and they'd hold Eliza while I ate or push her stroller so we could go for a walk. I was often anxious to get rid of them so I could get back to my life of just me and my girl. I'd arrange myself on the couch with the phone, the nursing pillow and the remote and I'd be pretty set. The only tough times would be when I was microwaving my meals or trying to pay some bills which yes, I'm sorry to say, the hospital bills practically preceeded my return home.
She'd cry as soon as I put her down most of the time and this was difficult. I hated to hear her cry and wished I could just take a shower or put things away without feeling guilty for putting her down. Once she was a little bigger and I could put her in the bjorn, I'd "wear" her while I did household chores. There's still some remnants of beef stew along the front panel of the bjorn from a meal she and I ate together. I remember reading a post on Urban Baby. Basically, a very pregnant woman was asking what other women wished people had told them about motherhood. One woman responded by saying she wished some one had told her how much time she would have to spend holding the baby. I found her response startling but still refreshingly honest. Of course holding the baby is a privilege but sometimes you really resent it.
Well now Eliza, who's almost three months, really doesn't want to be held all the time. She's okay to lie under her little Elmo "gym" or sit in the swing and look around the living room while I write in this blog. It started in her crib. She'd kick her legs as she stared at her mobile and all I'd have to do was occasionally come back to rewind the thing. When I do hold her, after nursing her or while I'm watching TV, she wants me to stand her up or face her out towards the the world, away from me. I'll stand her little legs on my knees and she'll look at me, grinning and laughing while she bends and straightens her knees. When I try to curl her against my chest, she uses her strong little legs to push off. Already my baby is growing up. Already she is pushing herself away from Mommy.
And this is what parenthood's about, right? C and I feed her, clothe her and care for her all so she can learn to do these things on her own. I remember C once describing parenthood as a process of preparing them to leave the nest and so when something happens on schedule (in this instance, it was his oldest daughter's first outing with friends, no parents) it was "very satisfying." It is, I love Eliza's smiles, her powerful legs, her own satisfaction when I stand her up to look out the window. But I miss my baby, already feel an almost physical pain at the loss of the little girl who wouldn't let me put her down. She's not even three months and yet it's already unfolding too fast. Part of why I'm here is so I can remember this, so years from now I can look at this and recall things I would have forgotten otherwise.
The void I feel now though, the absence of this baby against my body, I have a feeling I will not forget. It's like the movement I can still feel, if I concentrate enough, of her inside my body flipping over. I made a body inside my body and then carried it against me when she came out. And now that little body is breathing and expanding and growing and yearning to move and crawl and make her own way out in the big wide world.
In the beginning, she was so tiny and she wanted to be held all the time. This sounds very romantic but since I was alone so much, particularly in the beginning, it was somewhat unrealistic. I had a shared room at the hospital which meant C could not stay the night. When Eliza was wheeled into my room for her feeding each night, I could not put her down in the bassinet and expect her to be quiet. One night, desperate to go to the bathroom but not wanting her to wake my poor roommate yet again, I actually peed with her attached to my breast.
And it was like this once I got home except there was no baby attached to my breast in the bathroom. That was one experience I vowed never to repeat.
I enjoyed holding her but it was frusterating because I'd be sitting on the couch or the bed holding her and I'd see laundry that needed to be put away or mail that needed to be tossed out. My mother came for a few days, I had a doula in the beginning and they helped but in the end, it was mostly just Eliza and myself alone. C had a very busy week at work and kids in another city to visit and I didn't mind being alone with Eliza for long periods of time, in fact I almost liked having her all to myself. Various friends stopped by, one right after the other and they'd hold Eliza while I ate or push her stroller so we could go for a walk. I was often anxious to get rid of them so I could get back to my life of just me and my girl. I'd arrange myself on the couch with the phone, the nursing pillow and the remote and I'd be pretty set. The only tough times would be when I was microwaving my meals or trying to pay some bills which yes, I'm sorry to say, the hospital bills practically preceeded my return home.
She'd cry as soon as I put her down most of the time and this was difficult. I hated to hear her cry and wished I could just take a shower or put things away without feeling guilty for putting her down. Once she was a little bigger and I could put her in the bjorn, I'd "wear" her while I did household chores. There's still some remnants of beef stew along the front panel of the bjorn from a meal she and I ate together. I remember reading a post on Urban Baby. Basically, a very pregnant woman was asking what other women wished people had told them about motherhood. One woman responded by saying she wished some one had told her how much time she would have to spend holding the baby. I found her response startling but still refreshingly honest. Of course holding the baby is a privilege but sometimes you really resent it.
Well now Eliza, who's almost three months, really doesn't want to be held all the time. She's okay to lie under her little Elmo "gym" or sit in the swing and look around the living room while I write in this blog. It started in her crib. She'd kick her legs as she stared at her mobile and all I'd have to do was occasionally come back to rewind the thing. When I do hold her, after nursing her or while I'm watching TV, she wants me to stand her up or face her out towards the the world, away from me. I'll stand her little legs on my knees and she'll look at me, grinning and laughing while she bends and straightens her knees. When I try to curl her against my chest, she uses her strong little legs to push off. Already my baby is growing up. Already she is pushing herself away from Mommy.
And this is what parenthood's about, right? C and I feed her, clothe her and care for her all so she can learn to do these things on her own. I remember C once describing parenthood as a process of preparing them to leave the nest and so when something happens on schedule (in this instance, it was his oldest daughter's first outing with friends, no parents) it was "very satisfying." It is, I love Eliza's smiles, her powerful legs, her own satisfaction when I stand her up to look out the window. But I miss my baby, already feel an almost physical pain at the loss of the little girl who wouldn't let me put her down. She's not even three months and yet it's already unfolding too fast. Part of why I'm here is so I can remember this, so years from now I can look at this and recall things I would have forgotten otherwise.
The void I feel now though, the absence of this baby against my body, I have a feeling I will not forget. It's like the movement I can still feel, if I concentrate enough, of her inside my body flipping over. I made a body inside my body and then carried it against me when she came out. And now that little body is breathing and expanding and growing and yearning to move and crawl and make her own way out in the big wide world.
posted by Litgirl Mama at 9:39 PM
1 Comments:
Hey there,
Finally got to read your blog. It's gooooood like Campbell soup gooood gooood gooood. I really am proud of you. Your Billy posting is mesmerizing. Please keep writing more - I need to live my mama fantasy vicariously through someone.
Gesenia
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