Life in Chicago

Tuesday

Yesterday went much better than I expected. After the inital surge of emotions surrounding Greg's departure V and I settled in for a pretty nice day at home together.

I worked on freelance writing projects in the morning while she slept in my arms and I even managed to get a shower in while she napped in her swing. At noon a pregnant friend came by and brought lunch and we sat out on the deck while V continued to nap in her swing, and spoke about all things pregnancy and baby, each of us on a different side of the experience.

In the afternoon I went to the grocery store and wore V in the Moby wrap while I browsed through the aisles. She slept, blissfully unaware, as I loaded my cart, but it took all of my focus to get the task done.

I feel like half of my brain is gone these days. All I can think about is her -- what she's doing, what she might need, if she's going to wake up, if she's cold or hot, when she'll want to nurse again. It's virtually impossible to think about anything else...things like current events, phone calls I need to return, if the dishwasher is clean or dirty -- those all require enormous amounts of concentration in order to break through the cloud of V in my head. I must have looked at my grocery list a dozen times yesterday while I was in the store, and I still forgot things.

She is changing so much every day. All of a sudden she is beginning to smile a little bit. It started off just in her sleep but yesterday and this morning she gave both me and Greg little smiles. She's also much more alert when she's awake, looking around wide-eyed and staring for long minutes at our faces. And we are definitely getting better at meeting her needs, ensuring that she hardly ever fusses these days.

I can't believe that she'll be 3 weeks old tomorrow. I can't wait to see what the next 3 weeks bring.

Maternity

Greg went back to work today. He's been at home with me and Veronica for almost three weeks now and it's been so lovely. I was crying before he even walked out the door this morning, giving him a tear-soaked kiss and an attempt at a brave smile.

Ever since she was born I haven't been alone with her for more than an hour and a half and it's been so helpful to share all the parenting responsibilities. He's so good with her, even when she's inconsolable. I don't know how people do this alone. I have so much respect now for single parents.

I'm definitely scared about how this first week will go taking care of V by myself. But more than that, I'm sad that these first few weeks of discovering parenthood together have come to an end for me and Greg. It's been such a special time, incubating and bonding and laughing and crying, all of us getting to know each other in a million new ways.

It's kind of lonely too. Last night was the first night that I got up with her each time she fussed. Greg usually takes on half of the calls, changing her diaper and rocking her back to sleep. But last night I dutifully (and quietly) got up every 1.5-2 hours, taking her into the nursery to change her, feed her and rock her back to sleep by myself. Each time I slipped back into bed with a mournful glance at Greg's sleeping silhouette, missing him somehow, even though he was right there.

This morning after he left I sat in the bed, holding V in my arms, and let myself cry for five minutes. I tried to think about why I was crying -- because I love him so much and have loved this time together -- and that's a good thing, right? That kind of love is so special. I'm grateful for it and for our marriage and this child we've created together. 

I think I'm a little sad too about how more much time I'll spend with our daughter than Greg will. She and I already have such a special relationship because of my ability to nurse her and it makes me sad to think that Greg will only spend time with her in the evenings and on the weekends now. He's already an amazing dad and I want her to have the fullest experience of that possible.

Lastly, as I wiped away the last of my tears before getting out of bed, I thought about all the countless women who have gone before me, each of them pioneering their own roles of motherhood. I thought about my mother then, who surely had this same day, holding me in her arms as my father backed the car out of the driveway.

A rite of passage, I suppose. A true coming into my own as a woman and a mother.

Almost Home

It's Friday morning and I'm sitting at my desk, drinking a cup of coffee, and watching Greg try to figure out what Veronica wants. I nursed her half an hour ago so we don't think it's that. He's been holding her on his lap while he checks his email but she continues to squirm and fuss. He checked her diaper. It was wet. He changed it. She's still squirmy and fussy (albeit adorably so). He holds her up against his shoulder. It works for a minute. Then she coughs and lets out a cry, squirms some more. He props her up against his knees. Still no good. He puts her in the bouncer chair. She lasts about 3 minutes. He's trying the swing now.

This is how we spend our mornings.

And soon (come Monday when he goes back to work) I'll be doing this alone. Gone are the days of languid coffee drinking and Internet scouring. Gone are long showers and meditation on the deck. There's hardly time to wash the dishes and tidy up the house. I keep missing phone calls because I'm busy with V and then when I finally get around to returning them I only get friend's voicemails. It's summer time finally and all I want to do is sit outside on a patio somewhere with friends, drinking cocktails. All I want to do is spend a day at the lake, lying in the sun, swimming in the cool water.

I keep reminding myself that things won't always be this way, that this is the hardest part -- these first few weeks, these first few months. There will be other summers and besides, I've already spent every summer my whole life drinking cocktails and going swimming.

And make no mistake, I'm still enchanted with Veronica. I'm still soaking up the minutes and hours I get to spend with her. I still spend inordinate amounts of time just gazing at her, running my fingers across her downy, little neck. 

There is this very real sense of a newly emerging self. Every day I feel that I say goodbye to more parts of myself and embrace my new role as a mother.

Last night I finally got out of the house for a bit and took a walk. It's either been too hot (heat indexes in the 100s this week) or too rainy or I've been too sore (no one quite tells you about the physical ramifications of giving birth) to do much. But last night Greg and I put V in the stroller and walked to the square. I saw Greg off to his martial arts class and then V and I continued to stroll down Lincoln Ave.

It was only my second time taking her out in the stroller. She seems to prefer the wrap to the stroller but I thought it might be too hot to strap her to me. When we took her out in the stroller for the first time the other day she lasted about 7 minutes before she started wailing so this time I packed the wrap as a back up. 

It was so nice to be out of the house, to be walking, to feel like I was part of the city, part of summer. We walked around Welles Park, watching kids playing baseball and eating ice cream. It was early evening and the heat had begun to lift. V woke up on and off and I maneuvered the stroller carefully over the cracks in the sidewalk, keeping a constant watch on her mood. 

I would have done another loop around Welles or headed over to Horner Park but I could tell that she was beginning to stir so I headed back up Western and into the neighborhood. Just as I crossed onto Wilson she began wailing and suddenly there I was: New mom of a crying 2 week old. I think hearing my daughter cry makes me more uncomfortable than anything I've ever experienced in life. I hurriedly  put on the wrap and gently lifted V out of the stroller, tucking her in against my chest.

We walked home that way. V still crying (but a little less), me holding her securely against me with one hand and pushing the stroller with the other, both of us sweating, and me murmuring over and over to her that we were almost home, almost home, almost home.

As we walked I thought about the millions of women who have been in my exact place before. And I think that was the only thing that kept me from crying myself.

Fortnight

Yesterday our doula Holly came over for our two-week postpartum visit. I can hardly believe it's been two weeks. It, at once, feels like 2 days and 2 months since V arrived in our lives.

Holly came over at 4pm yesterday -- the same exact time she arrived 2 weeks ago to see us through my active labor. Yesterday we talked about the birth, how we all felt it went, what was surprising about it and if there was anything any of us would have done differently.

While there were some surprising aspects of it for me (finding out that I was already 8cm when we arrived at the hospital), there is nothing I would have done differently. I continue to feel incredibly grateful that it went the way it did. There are few things in life that I'll admit to being proud of myself about, but giving birth to my daughter naturally is easily one of them. 

Natural childbirth has been something that I've been interested in for a long time. It's something that several of my good friends have done and it's something I already knew a fair amount about, even before I got pregnant. I don't know that there was ever a time when I considered giving birth any other way.

After I became pregnant though I truly delved into the world of natural childbirth, reading books, watching dvds, taking classes and workshops and talking to other moms who had chosen this route. The more I learned, the more resolute I felt about this approach.

And while it was wonderful to immerse myself in a community of such like-minded people, I still met a lot of resistance to my decision. It's partly why I didn't write much about it here -- I wanted to keep any criticism of it out of my head. Throughout my pregnancy, when I would mention my natural childbirth plan to certain people -- coworkers, family members, other moms -- I would often get responses along the lines of, "Oh, you just wait until those contractions really start. You'll be screaming for an epidural."

I learned to just smile quietly in return and not press the issue further, hoping that my actions down the road would prove them wrong. And as I've gone along in this process, I've become deeply saddened by the way American culture approaches childbirth -- the extreme medicalization of it all lends itself to intense fear and a lot of unnecessary procedures and interventions.

(I also want to point out that childbirth is a tricky thing and no matter how much you plan for it, all sorts of things can happen. There are plenty of women who do as much work and research as I did and still end up having c-sections and getting induced, for one reason or another. Again, why I'm so grateful that things went the way they did for me.)

I think in some ways I'm still processing the whole birth experience, but as each day goes by, I feel prouder and more grateful to have had the experience I did. I have a new appreciation for my body and for what I'm capable of working through. And I know that Greg has a new respect for me as well -- I can tell just by the way he looks at me when he tells people about the birth experience and about how amazed he was by the way I handled it. (Our friends Sandy & Sarah also had a wonderful natural birth experience recently and Sandy writes eloquently about his awe of his wife in this post.)

When I'm asked about why I chose a natural birth it's easy to cite all the facts about c-section rates in the country and the effects that epidurals have on mother's and babies, but the real reason is that I just wanted to be as absolutely present for the experience as possible. I've been through a lot of hard things in my life -- things that I was forced to breathe through no matter what -- so having a baby, while hard, was something I wanted to face as consciously as possible.

And I did. And sometimes I still can't believe she's here.

Just to Say

This post is just to say that things haven't been all roses and sighs and baby coos around here. I haven't had time to write the usual kinds of introspective posts I'm prone to lately but I do want to express that as wonderful as things are right now, they're also really hard.

I think I've had a small meltdown every other day or so. There's just so much to get used to. So much has changed. My life is definitely no longer mine. I miss Greg, even though we're spending more time together than ever. I miss quality time with my cats -- and I know they miss me too, which breaks my heart regularly.

But most of all, I just get frustrated and overwhelmed when Veronica does. When she starts crying and for one reason or another, nothing I do seems to soothe her, I'm quick to begin crying myself. It's heart-breaking and humbling to feel that there is nothing you can do for this little person that you love so much. But then eventually she stops fussing or I figure out what it is that she needs and the two of us sit there together, our faces red from crying, tears drying on our cheeks as our breathing finally returns to a regular pace.

I'm trying to keep in mind that these first few weeks are some of the hardest, that we're both still getting to know each other and that, eventually, all of us -- me, Greg, the cats and Miss V -- will all settle in to this new life we've created together.

The New Me

Ever since V was born everyone has been saying that she looks like a "little Claire." I have to look at her in some kind of M.C. Escher way to really see it. Mostly she just looks like Veronica to me, but if I squint in the right way I can suddenly see how she really does look like me.

Yesterday while Greg's parents were over we looked at an old album of my baby photos. Turns out she really does look like me. It's strange to see this miniature version of myself (with less hair) but really amazing too.

(Below I've alternated photos of me and V, beginning with one of me.)

 

Friday

Well, it's Friday morning and as I type this V is asleep on my lap. She's on her back, cradled by the boppy pillow and from time to time she lets out little sighs or grunts, stretching her arms up over her head or kicking out her little feet unconsciously. Right now her little hand is by her mouth and her cheeks have a rosy glow from a recent nursing session.

Today she is 9 days old and I have to say that the last 9 days have been a lot easier and a lot more wonderful than I'd anticipated. I really love being her mom. I find it really easy to give her whatever she wants, no matter the expense to myself.

So far the sleeping situation is going well. She has slept with me every night since she was born and has never been in her crib or bassinet. Lots of people say this is the wrong thing to do, but to us it feels right and I think that's all that matters. She sleeps really well with us and it makes nighttime feedings much easier on me.

Life with V has really been quite pleasurable. Greg is a fantastic diaper-changer and burp-er. He's also great at afternoon naps with V on his chest. We're loving picking out little outfits for her each day and have been receiving almost daily gifts of little girl clothes, in addition to all of her cousin Julia's ridiculously cute hand-me-downs. We are both still so excited to have a girl. The other day Greg went out to do errands and came home with headbands and tiny hair bows for Miss V. It was too funny.

This week she had a lot of firsts. She went on her first trip to Trader Joe's and to Target and she did stunningly well on both of these in her Moby wrap. She also had her first pediatrician appointment and we were delighted to learn that she had actually gained 6 ounces (infants typically lose weight the first week). She also had her first bath, in the tub with Daddy the other night and seemed to love every minute of it.

Our friends and neighbors have been incredibly generous and thoughtful -- having dinner delivered to us and bringing lasagnas and loaves of banana bread over. It's definitely made life a bit easier. Last night we had a lovely dinner on the deck with a few friends who all brought different components of the meal. V slept in her swing while we ate and everything seemed mellow and serene. Tonight two of Greg's brothers arrive from Cleveland with their wives and babies and Greg's parents are coming as well. They'll all be staying north of the city with Greg's sister and her family and we're excited to introduce V to her extended family.

Overall, we're still just getting to know each other, and adjusting to being a family of three (or of 6 if you count the cats who are definitely still adjusting to the newest addition as well). I'm sure that things are bound to get harder and easier in a thousand ways as we move along but I'm truly looking forward to all that is to come.

Letter

Dear Veronica,

Today you are one week old. I can hardly believe that just days ago I was walking around with you in my belly, that I didn't yet know you.

I already want you to be an infant forever. I spend whole hours just looking at your little body, your lips and eyelashes, your little hands and expressive toes, running my fingers along your upper arms and neck, all that soft, soft skin. It already brings tears to my eyes to think that one day I won't get to do these things, that you'll be big and on your own in the world somewhere.

I did, in fact, weep yesterday as I held you in my arms in bed in the late afternoon. The rain was coming down outside and a cool breeze pushed rhythmically through the windows. You made soft little sighs and pushed your hands around my body as you slept and I wept for all that it means to have a child.

I thought of my mother and my father and their first week with me. It’s so easy to imagine my mother in the same place, in bed in the afternoon with me , running her fingers across my little cheeks and hands.

I thought about how much I want to spend the rest of my life watching you grow up, about how I never want to say goodbye to you. I thought then about each of my parent’s deaths, about those quiet moments between when they were here and when they were not.

And I thought too, about what’s been missing in my life all these years since they’ve been gone. About how, if they loved me nearly as much as I love you, then that’s been the thing that’s been missing all this time, such a heartbreaking thing to lose.

And lastly, I thought about how happy my parents would be now, to see me here, you in my arms, my husband peeking in on us now then – everything I would ever want for you. And something then seemed complete.

Love,
Mom

Comparing Notes

Our friends Emily & Dan visited yesterday with their 2 week old daughter Ellie and we all got to sit around and compare notes. It was hilarious and wonderful.

The Solution

Wow, I don't even know where to begin. There are so many different things I could write about. It's only been 4 full days that Veronica has been in my life but already everything has changed.

I'm completely in love with her, in a way I desperately hoped to be but was so afraid I wouldn't be. During the last couple of months of pregnancy I was quite fraught with the idea that I might not love my baby, or that the adjustment into loving her would be a lengthy one, filled with frustration and fear and self-doubt. The last couple of months have been so hard on me physically and emotionally and I was so afraid that the arrival of the baby would actually make things worse. I kept hoping that she would be the solution and am so relieved that she truly is.

I feel amazing. I'm sure I'm hopped up on a million hormones, but it feels incredible to not be pregnant anymore. I've already lost 20 pounds and my body just feels like a new place. I feel lighter and freer and just so much happier. It's truly wonderful. I love getting to hug Greg again without my belly in the way and I love the way he keeps telling me how beautiful and serene I seem.

And I just can't get enough of my daughter. She is so demanding, literally attached to me 23 hours a day, but I love it. I can't stop staring at her or running my fingers across her head and her cheeks, taking in her little sighs and grunts and fluttery breaths. It's so easy to love her, so easy to pick her up when she wants to be held, to change her yucky diapers and nurse her for what feels like the millionth time in the last few hours.

I know there will be ebbs and flows to all of this, that some weeks and days and nights will be much harder than others. But for now, I'm blissing out to it all and just trying to stay present to these early days. She will only be an infant this one time.

Greg is wonderful, of course. So attentive and helpful -- washing dishes and bringing me things when I'm stuck on the couch for an hour nursing. I wish he could hold her as much as I get to -- the moments when she's calmly awake and not wanting to nurse are few and far between right now. But I know that it won't be like this forever and there will come a day when all she wants is her daddy.

I'm also still processing the birth experience. Memories of it and different feelings about it arise through me throughout my days. It was really unlike anything I've ever done in my life. I'm so proud to have given birth the way that I did, so grateful that I got the experience I truly wanted -- birth doesn't always work out the way you hope it will -- but mine was truly everything I wanted it to be, and much, much more. I have a new understanding of my body and what it's capable of. I also have a new understanding of my psyche and what it's capable of as well -- the psychological reserves we carry within us in order to breech challenging situations are truly remarkable.

Okay....off to take a quick shower before she wakes up again. Please excuse any typos -- no time to proof read.