Ta Daaaaa!

She's got flair, this little 9lb daughter of mine. Jeff captured her sense of drama in the latest photo shoot. This picture makes me laugh thinking about what kind of a personality she will have at 4 or 10 or 15. So far she seems curious, spirited, feisty, and very into automatic gratification. She's exhibiting more of my personality than Jeff's so far, much to my chagrin and amusement, depending on how much sleep I have had.

I have always known that change is very difficult for me. I don't like haircuts or rearranging the furniture or having a new schedule. It's no wonder that those little paragraphs in the parenting books about how a new mom may be "anxious, depressed, moody, irritable and struggling with the responsibility of caring for a newborn and the loss of her old life and freedom," applies to me with a shattering accuracy. Before Sadie was born, I skipped over those paragraphs, cockily assuming that having a great husband and a wide, competent and compassionate support network would bring me through with all smiles and a cute outfit everyday. And, while all those things are true, I have struggled to make sense of my feelings of sadness and despair when I wonder if I will ever sleep in again or if I will ever get to lose myself in the aisles of Dominick's grocery store by myself. I think the hardest part for me is the feeling that I always have a sense that there is a clock ticking and that at any moment the baby could wake and need to eat and for now, in these early exclusively breastfeeding days, it's all me. It intimidates me and brings up lots of feelings: I feel proud of my availability and my willingness to give her every single nutrient she needs; I feel happy my body is on board with my wishes to breast feed; I feel angst about how much my right nipple hurts; I feel resentment that no one else can do this at 3:00 a.m.-- and all of this I feel at an intensity of a 10 on a scale of 1 to 10. There rarely is a medium speed for me, and now it's all 10 or 0.

It's a confusing time. I thought I would feel differently about everything. I didn't know I would miss being alone in the car listening to the Indigo Girls and sucking on a Crystal Light from a straw. I had no idea that running through Filene's Basement or being able to decide on a whim to do something crazy-- like go to the Post Office-- would vanish and I would cry about it for a weekend. How could I know this? Now I can't imagine having whims that involve me being farther than 20 yards from Sadie. And, it's not exactly a complaint because what did I ever really get at Filene's and the post office always pisses me off with the workers' horrible attitudes and those long lines. It's not even that I wish I was doing something different exactly, it's more than my daily life is so radically unrecognizable from what it was on June 30, which was only about 5 weeks ago. I think I am adjusting the best that I can. I cry a lot, which helps me relate to Sadie. Just like her, sometimes I just need to blow off steam and let it all out. She does the the same thing sometimes and it's more tolerable to hear her cries when I trust her process of crying is as important as mine is. I never wanted to raise a daughter who was afraid or ashamed to cry. Happily, I can report that doesn't seem to be the case with Sadie.

I am also happy about the good humor I have about having breast milk all over my clothes. I don't bother changing them, because I will just get more clothes dirty. I do, however, plan to burn these early motherhood clothes because I wear the same few things all the time. It reminds me of the clothes I wore during my month-long backpacking trip through Europe. Man, if I ever saw those Birkenstocks and that green pocket tee from the Gap, I was going to spontaneously vomit. It's actually hard to look at the pictures to this day.

My favorite thing that Sadie is doing now is allowing me to cradle her and rock her after we feed. When I am trying to burp her, she always squirms so that her head ends up in the crook of my elbow so we can look each other in the eye. I talk to her all the time, but during those moments, I actualy shut my mouth and memorize the look at her face and the feeling in my arms because she won't be 9lbs forever and she won't be at my breast forever either. Those are the moments when I understand what is great about being a mom, especially Sadie's mom. I forget about the loss of solitude or the pain from childbirth and the whole world is just me and Sadie and staring into those deep blue eyes hoping I am worthy of what will develop into her love and affection of me. It's easier to talk about what I am missing because it's hard to describe this new relationship with my daughter. I want to get better at describing my love and attachment to her, but for now I will stick with the image of my little baby cradled in my arms and the hope that she can feel that I would do anything for her health, safety, and well being and that I will continue to work out my intense feelings about the relationship so I can remain ever present to her as we grow together.