Baby Love

Dezzy has been here for two weeks. New mommyhood has been a different experience this time around. I am not mired by postpartum insanity or cardiomyopathy nonsense. For the first time I am able to really truly experience what it FEELS like to be a brand new mommy, not just to go through the motions. There is tenderness in the first few weeks of a baby’s life and I am so blessed that I am able to notice it, delight in it, and heck, roll around in it. I missed that the first two times.

Desmond is what I lovingly refer to as a “grouch pouch”. If he is awake—okay, and when he is asleep too—he is usually groaning, grunting, and occasionally roaring like a lion. He has an innate talent for the “stink-eye” and lays it on thick unless he is being fed, snuggled, or brushed. This makes for a very exhausted mommy and daddy, but I get a kick out of my opinionated boy. I am interested to see if this behavior is an actual personality trait or just newborn gas. Only time will tell.

I love snuggling with my warm, gooey little package. I like to rub my face in his hair and breathe in all of his good baby smells. I love holding his potato bug body close to me as he nurses. I love his cute little bum and his round, happy belly. I love his button-nose, his jagged part-line, and his long ticklish toes.

Here’s a few pictures of this past week:

A Letter to My Body

Dear Body of Mine,

This has been a rough year for the two of us. I openly admit that I have done some pretty terrible things. I’ve looked in the mirror and called you rude names, like Creature-Monster, Beached Whale, and Christmas Tree Orb. I have given you medications that made you feel like junk. I have worn uncomfortable, albeit fashionable, shoes just to spite you.

But you haven’t been a peach to me either. Remember how you wouldn’t sleep—not a wink—for about six days straight? Then there were the panic attacks and Emergency Room visits. Yeah, those were fun. If that weren’t cruel enough, you sometimes used your “functions” to shame me. The excessive barfing, the peeing without warning, or the… ehem… noises….

And not to point fingers or anything, but you grew very big this year. Too big, too quickly. For the last few months I have worried that an Oompa Loompa might appear out of nowhere, tip you sideways and roll you to the juicing room.

So, dear body, after all you put me through this year, all the times you made me cry, all the times you declared war on my digestive tract …

I have one thing to say to you…



You did good.

Love,
Bethany

P.S. Thanks for not getting stretch marks.