- Six weeks post-partum is a small milestone, it seems. It's thrown around a lot in Q&A's relating to what you can and can't do, post-baby. I stumbled upon one of my own posts written around 6 weeks after Ivy's arrival. I'm glad I did. Approaching this mark again (in two weeks), I have no intention of digging up and donning a cape and filling each day's agenda. But I do know my expectations will begin to change. For a start, I'll have some. Survival without losing it will not be my chief objective. It'll be time to start getting real routines and meaning back into our days. Yes, yes, the babymoon is wondrous and meaning is imbued in the simple things -- sitting together with one added to your number, cuddles, books. But we will have to start getting dressed sometime. I'll read it repeatedly, methinks.
- I sincerely believe that raining down kisses on my newborn supplies a sweet cathartic sense of incrementally consuming her. She does seem edible, so often.
- I would like to avoid anyone using my lappy or iPhone's browsers for quite some time, considering the gross (bodily) search terms you'll find suggested based on what I've been looking into. /shudder
- When Mia sleeps on me, spread-eagle, tummy to mine, her head on my built-in-pillows, like a really really long hug, I am in bliss. Seriously. "Seriously" said like one of the witches off of the last season of MKR.
- Ivy has regressed to clambering in beside me at night, often without announcement or fanfare (I find her there when I wake for Mia's next feed; "Oh, hello, previous-baby-of-the-family.") Aw. I'm actually relishing her presence (despite her over-active legs and a serious space shortage), because it means she's found a comfort-touchstone, and I can sleep while supplying it -- yus.
- A lot of my T-shirts seem to have become burp cloths. While they're still on me. And I don't always change them promptly...because it begins to make some kind of sense -- she's on me, she burps, this catches it; repeat. Changing the shirt is just signing up for increased laundry volume, which nobody 'round here needs (mustard poo, mustard poo, everywhere!). If you're planning to visit, let me know, I'll change it. If you come over unannounced, having our congratulatory hug steeped in the scent of funky milk will be considered your just desserts.
- On the washing -- HOLY! In addition to the poop, there's that magical "6 weeks" or so of other unpredictable post-partum stuff. And that country-wide storm that makes drying washing slow business. How do people with multiples do their post-partum laundry? I am in awe.
- Okay, let's go there -- if you type the letter "D" into one of my browser's search boxes the drop-down menu will suggest Diastasis Recti. Do not image search that, my friends. Unless you're my sister, then by all means, do it for kicks and with demented fascination.
Book Review :: Wing Jones
2 days ago