It's been over a year and a half since I first became mom to a feisty baby girl with a quivering lip and bird cry that I could pick out instantly among the chorus of babies sharing our hall in the hospital.
I still remember those first months vividly, despite the postpartum hormones and feeling like an legit zombie for at least six solid weeks.
Such a time of transition and learning and becoming.
My world as a brand new mom naturally orbited around my baby in a perpetual three-hour cycle, day and night, and consisted of breastfeeding (full time job on it's own - somebody back me up on this), naps, relentless diaper duty, and "playtime"....a.k.a., laying your newborn on a colorful mat to stare at toys they can't quite reach and can't quite see. Too nervous to brave outings with my "spirited" newborn, and no close friends with small babies meant I spent most days within the four walls we called home. It was a sweet time, just me and my babe. It was also a lonely time, just me and my babe.
It doesn't take long to discover the polarity of motherhood:
lonely and never alone.
chaotic and peaceful.
sweet and demanding.
noisy and quiet.
monotonous and ever-changing.
blissful and heartwrenching.
the best ever and also the hardest ever.
Glancing over that list, it's hard to believe anyone signs up for this emotional turmoil. It's messy. But then, like most great things in life, none of us know what we're getting ourselves into until it's too late; and then we'd do it 500 times over. Easy.
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