…but it is. Peaceful. Noise-less. The Pudge is still asleep (touch wood in a frantic fashion) and all I had to do was get up at 7am and sneak like a stealth ninja down the stairs, avoiding the creaky bits of whom I am now very well accustomed. And here we are! Breakfast eaten and tea ready to be enjoyed! Happy me.
It’s a strange thing when 7am is now considered up early. Normally I’d have half my commute done by now. Life at home with a baby has made me see things a bit differently. Well I like to think of it as working from home, it’s a bit more accurate! Like at least at work you get a lunch break, and a chat with people who don’t always try and eat your hand and your nose and your hair and smear their drool all over your face.
I kind of thought I’d have a bit of an idea of what it would be like being on maternity leave. Lunch dates, nice walks whenever I wanted etc etc and I wasn’t so thick as to picture a perfectly well behaved non screaming baby. And in some ways I was right, it is like that sometimes but there’s so much I am finding out about as we go.
At the start I knew it would be tiring. People told me so and also I had encountered a baby or two in my time. I thought sleep deprivation was like if you’re up at 6am all week and then Saturday finally arrives and your neighbour’s dog wakes you up when it’s still dark out and you can’t get back to sleep. Turns out it’s not like that at all! Who knew!
Being a new mother is terrifying and amazing all at once. And people don’t tell you stuff. I mentioned that I found being pregnant was like renting out your body, well the glamour doesn’t stop once the baby arrives. One of my favourites is that my hair is falling out. Sure why not?! Saves the Pudge grabbing at it with his pudgy drooly hands I suppose!
And the weight. Before our ivf treatment I was losing weight. I lost 70lbs altogether by dieting at first and then I got into walking. I wouldn’t go so far as to say I loved it but after a while I did enjoy it, we’re lucky to live beside a lot of beautiful walking routes. Of course I expected to gain weight over the pregnancy. I had an app on my phone giving me weekly updates of what size the baby was in comparison to fruits. At the end of the weekly video it would happily add ‘Oh by the way, you’ll probably gain 5lbs this week Mama!’
So when I toddled off to a slimming world class a couple of weeks ago I knew to expect bad news. And I was right, to the tune of 50lbs. FIFTY POUNDS. 😐
Well it was fun while it lasted at least.
So anyway the good news is that I now have to be a role model for someone. And what an amazing little someone he is too. It’s a bit surreal really the whole thing, if I think about it for too long my head starts to hurt. How is he even here! We met him when he was the size of a poppy seed. They even showed us a video from the clinic of the egg being fertilised. We saw him being conceived! And then the randomness of it. That it was that egg and that sperm and out of 7 embryos he was picked. It just blows my mind. If the embryologist had picked another embryo he wouldn’t exist…and what of the other 6? Will we get to meet them? It’s just amazing.
He looks like Gavin, so much so that I wonder if I had anything to do with him at all. I think he has my nose though. I’m claiming it anyway. He’s a proper smiler, big gummy drooly grins – although now that the tip of a tooth has broken through I like to call him Fang. It’s bloody sharp too as I discovered when he was casually gnawing on my finger.
He never stops moving and wriggling! Changing and dressing him is like trying to tame a hyper octopus. And oh DEAR GOD the nappy explosions. Poonami doesn’t even begin to cover it.
I have mastered the art of one handed living. I am right handed but my left hand doesn’t know what has hit it. It feeds me now, gets bottles ready, scrawls illegible notes, drinks tea all while my right hand tends to Fang…and it thought it was destined for a life of leisure. We wish, Left Hand.
I wouldn’t change a thing. Seeing him change every day is so rewarding but a bit sad too. Time has never before gone so fast – storing away clothes that don’t fit him anymore is so sad! (I’m a sap). The snuggles into my neck when he’s falling asleep and that beautiful drooly milky baby smell of him…it’s there to be inhaled and I wish I could bottle it and keep it forever, it’s intoxicating and so precious. Holding him in my arms and watching him looking back at me and holding onto my hand with his pudgy little fingers. I look at him and wonder who will he be? What things will he like, what will become his favourite toy or character or book or film? Will he grow up being confident to be whoever he is? Will we be able to teach him to make good choices for himself, what sort of man will he be?
And all the things that scare me, how can I protect him forever from being hurt and sad and all the horrible parts of the world? What sort of mother will I be? Wait, what sort of mother have I already become?
One that’s pretty clueless and seems to be making it up as I go along just like every other first time parent I imagine. And one who just heard a gurgle coming from a pudgy drool monster upstairs who is about to demand to be fed and so ends my Quiet time for today!
The Scenic Route 