Two months ago, on August 2nd, Elliott Claire was born. To quote the midwife, I looked “a bit surprised” that labor ended in a baby. It’s true; between all the childbirth classes, doula meetings, and birth plans, I was far more focused on the labor than I was cognizant that a small person would soon join our lives. So, when Elliott came into the world at 7:51AM that morning, I found myself logistically prepared (the nursery organized, the freezer full) but emotionally caught off guard (you mean we’re parents from today until forever?).
Coming home from the hospital was not what I expected. Misled by all the postpartum photos on Facebook, I thought life with baby would be a bit sleep-deprived, but not terribly different. I would go for strolls with her in a BabyBjorn, run errands while she slept in her car seat, and take her along to lunches with friends. What I didn’t realize was that so many of those photos of babies on the move are taken at three, six, or even eighteen months. They are rarely newborns — and their mothers are not immediately postpartum.
So, instead of running around baby in tow, I mostly sat on the couch nursing (or valiantly trying to nurse). In addition to being physically tied to Elliott, I was physically fragile; though I had no particular complications, I was surprised by how difficult even a normal childbirth can be on a woman’s body. I was dependent on others to not only take care of the house and cook, but to even hand me my water/magazine/iPhone/snack that was just out of reach (the ‘last mile’ problem of new mother logistics). Looking back on that time, I am grateful that Liz was home and completely devoted. I am grateful that Elliott was such a good and patient baby. I am grateful for all the friends and family that cooked and cleaned and babysat and loved. And I am grateful that the Olympics were on continuously.
Two months later, we’re emerging from the haze. We’re all healed up. Elliott has started to grow out of her earliest newborn clothes and sleep for longer periods at night. We’ve figured out how the stroller works. And Elliott and I get out nearly every day (and, of course, share those moments on Facebook).
I’ve always felt an overwhelming, unconditional love for this little one; now, in addition to loving her, I’m starting to like life with her in it.