Let me tell you about my first born. He is a little blond angel (although not so little anymore and a bit less blond these days too). His eyes are grey, like the sea during a storm (ha, get it?). And you never know when the storm is going to hit. He's been a challenge, er, spirited, since he popped out and was first declared a boy. ("Here she comes, here she comes, here she... uh...it's a boy!") He did not sleep as an infant. Like, ever. At least not in his crib. He'd fall asleep nursing and nap in my arms until I laid him down and he'd start to cry. We used to joke about his altitude sensor, although it wasn't funny. Honestly, nothing during the early days with that child was funny. This baby cried a lot. He did other things too, but the crying is what I mostly remember. I couldn't go to the bathroom. I couldn't shower. I couldn't read a book. I couldn't sit down to drink a cup of coffee. He'd cry and cry and cry. I would have panic attacks.
One thing we could do was walk. He liked being in his stroller, as long as we kept moving. He's always wanted to see the world, but in rapid snippets. He doesn't linger. He moves on to the next sight immediately. So if I kept walking, he'd be happy. We lived in northern Virginia at the time, in a walkable and lovely historical area. He was born in September and we walked all fall. I remember the hay bales and pumpkins at the upscale gas station a couple of blocks from our apartment. I remember breathing in the chill as we walked to mom-and-baby hour at the library (the actual event was nowhere near as pleasant as the walk and I did not go back). Mostly I remember walking to a coffee shop to grab a coffee (to go) and seeing a group of moms sitting with their babies, talking, laughing, enjoying both their beverages and their offspring. Double take. I was confounded. I do not exaggerate -- I did not understand what I was seeing. I did not know that babies outside of fiction sat on laps, looked around and smiled. These moms were not trapped by their babies. These moms' lives had not stopped when they gave birth. They looked relaxed and not really all that tired. I didn't get it. I stared for a moment, put cream in my coffee, and kept walking.
I don't remember the details but I figure I must have lost the baby weight quickly that fall. I was on maternity leave until the beginning of January and I'm sure we walked every day. We walked to Trader Joe's. We walked downtown. We walked to my office complex just to see what we could see. What we did on rainy days, I can't imagine. The days passed more slowly than I knew days could pass. We had been in this area less than two years and I hadn't made close friends. I was alone and so lonely. I resented my husband for going to work. For getting to leave the apartment by himself. All day. I genuinely had no sense that life would ever be different again. I genuinely had no sense that life would be livable again.
When my son got old enough and coordinated enough he started to play with my hair. That's one of the first non-crying things about him that I remember. He loved to feel my hair, twist it around his fingers, squeeze it. He needed me and he let me know it. He learned to smile and play with objects and sit up and eventually crawl. He still cried -- a lot -- but nothing made him happier than being with his mom, his fingers wrapped in my hair (and, let's be honest, a boob in his mouth). This child terrorized me, but we grew so very close. My baby kind of sucked compared to other babies that I saw at Target but he was my baby and I knew I kind of sucked too, and we belonged together.
One thing we could do was walk. He liked being in his stroller, as long as we kept moving. He's always wanted to see the world, but in rapid snippets. He doesn't linger. He moves on to the next sight immediately. So if I kept walking, he'd be happy. We lived in northern Virginia at the time, in a walkable and lovely historical area. He was born in September and we walked all fall. I remember the hay bales and pumpkins at the upscale gas station a couple of blocks from our apartment. I remember breathing in the chill as we walked to mom-and-baby hour at the library (the actual event was nowhere near as pleasant as the walk and I did not go back). Mostly I remember walking to a coffee shop to grab a coffee (to go) and seeing a group of moms sitting with their babies, talking, laughing, enjoying both their beverages and their offspring. Double take. I was confounded. I do not exaggerate -- I did not understand what I was seeing. I did not know that babies outside of fiction sat on laps, looked around and smiled. These moms were not trapped by their babies. These moms' lives had not stopped when they gave birth. They looked relaxed and not really all that tired. I didn't get it. I stared for a moment, put cream in my coffee, and kept walking.
I don't remember the details but I figure I must have lost the baby weight quickly that fall. I was on maternity leave until the beginning of January and I'm sure we walked every day. We walked to Trader Joe's. We walked downtown. We walked to my office complex just to see what we could see. What we did on rainy days, I can't imagine. The days passed more slowly than I knew days could pass. We had been in this area less than two years and I hadn't made close friends. I was alone and so lonely. I resented my husband for going to work. For getting to leave the apartment by himself. All day. I genuinely had no sense that life would ever be different again. I genuinely had no sense that life would be livable again.
When my son got old enough and coordinated enough he started to play with my hair. That's one of the first non-crying things about him that I remember. He loved to feel my hair, twist it around his fingers, squeeze it. He needed me and he let me know it. He learned to smile and play with objects and sit up and eventually crawl. He still cried -- a lot -- but nothing made him happier than being with his mom, his fingers wrapped in my hair (and, let's be honest, a boob in his mouth). This child terrorized me, but we grew so very close. My baby kind of sucked compared to other babies that I saw at Target but he was my baby and I knew I kind of sucked too, and we belonged together.
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