It took me almost 30 minutes to get my girl to nap today. Everytime I thought she'd settled, she'd start to try to tear my shirt off and bury her face in my chest. It's seemingly code for "I'm hungry" but I learned last week - after giving in a couple of times - that she nurses herself to sleep in a matter of minutes if she does this. I'm not really into "non-nutritive" nursing. I'd prefer we bond by playing together, or napping together. Nothing annoys me more about breastfeeding than her "snacking."
So I get a moment to post! And I am super cabin feverish. I need to send this carrier pidgeon out into the world to remind myself I still exist outside the four walls of our living room (which are closing in on me as they pile up with kid crap). Don't get me wrong, I LOVE our daughter. I'd prefer to love her in 60 degree weather at a park though than under several feet of snow. I pushed her stroller in the parking lot of our neighborhood because I just had to get out of the house. She is still a newborn and - because it's flu season - we decided not to take her out in public until she is 6 weeks (apparently that's outside some arbitrary limit that if you take a baby to a hospital for the flu then she'll be forced to get an epidural and a 10 day stay. Something like that).
I have a lot of feelings about being at home with a newborn, unfortunately that tend to well up in the evening when I'm teary tired and one red glass of wine in.
But then I'm reminded with a baby smile or a squeal that she and I are bonding and learning together. And something my birthclass teacher said always resonates with me. As cooped up as I may feel, the baby has no one but us - my husband and I.
When I think about that, I remember what an important job I have taken on. Definitely puts things into perspective.
So I get a moment to post! And I am super cabin feverish. I need to send this carrier pidgeon out into the world to remind myself I still exist outside the four walls of our living room (which are closing in on me as they pile up with kid crap). Don't get me wrong, I LOVE our daughter. I'd prefer to love her in 60 degree weather at a park though than under several feet of snow. I pushed her stroller in the parking lot of our neighborhood because I just had to get out of the house. She is still a newborn and - because it's flu season - we decided not to take her out in public until she is 6 weeks (apparently that's outside some arbitrary limit that if you take a baby to a hospital for the flu then she'll be forced to get an epidural and a 10 day stay. Something like that).
I have a lot of feelings about being at home with a newborn, unfortunately that tend to well up in the evening when I'm teary tired and one red glass of wine in.
- Happy with the decision to not return to teaching until next school year, but missing adult interaction.
- Jealous that my husband gets to go to work AND buy meals at lunchtime (I know the lunch thing will end soon when I can start taking her in public).
- Grateful that my parents have visited almost every single day since my husband returned to work. And brought food. Oh and don't forget grateful for my incredible husband too!
- Unmotivated to get dressed in anything other than a nursing tank and elastic pants.
- Scared I won't know how to handle a newborn in public, which could mean 6 more weeks of winter. What if she cries? Where will I breastfeed? How will I fit in a pumping session when she eats constantly?
- Afraid I've become something less feminist than my former self, and simultaneously disappointed that I feel that way.
But then I'm reminded with a baby smile or a squeal that she and I are bonding and learning together. And something my birthclass teacher said always resonates with me. As cooped up as I may feel, the baby has no one but us - my husband and I.
When I think about that, I remember what an important job I have taken on. Definitely puts things into perspective.
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