Well, not so much of an "itch" as it has been a haze. At five weeks, the fog began to lift. At six weeks postpartum, I felt comfortable going for a run. And now? I feel downright energized!
The first five weeks of having an infant in the house were not what I predicted. I expected sleepless nights, but with Dave's help the first two weeks and then a six- or seven-hour stretch of William sleeping nearly every night, we didn't suffer too much in that department.
Instead, we fretted about whether he was breathing. I had a tough time nursing, or rather, Will had a tough time nursing and I felt sad about it. I missed the baby when I put him down at night and ended up cuddling him right into bed with us. (But I promise--myself, mostly--to stop that by 12 weeks, when he might start to remember it!) Dave and I got confused about who was in charge of what, household-wise, when we were both home. (That was until we realized we were both in charge of everything, all the time, by default, because there is always something to do. Not a fun revelation, but true nonetheless.)
And at this point, I find myself actually having time to think about these things. Sure, it's almost one o'clock in the morning, and Will's finally sleeping in the crook of his dad's arm after an uncharacteristically fussy day. My contacts are still in and I'm drinking my first glass of water of the day. Still, I've had time to get things done today. I went for a walk with women from my moms' group; I addressed a few Christmas cards; I edited a friend's grad school application essay; I fed and changed and played with Will, made dinner for Dave, and now I'm getting in a blog post! All in all, this feels like success. Now if only the baby would sleep for another six or seven hours...
The first five weeks of having an infant in the house were not what I predicted. I expected sleepless nights, but with Dave's help the first two weeks and then a six- or seven-hour stretch of William sleeping nearly every night, we didn't suffer too much in that department.
Instead, we fretted about whether he was breathing. I had a tough time nursing, or rather, Will had a tough time nursing and I felt sad about it. I missed the baby when I put him down at night and ended up cuddling him right into bed with us. (But I promise--myself, mostly--to stop that by 12 weeks, when he might start to remember it!) Dave and I got confused about who was in charge of what, household-wise, when we were both home. (That was until we realized we were both in charge of everything, all the time, by default, because there is always something to do. Not a fun revelation, but true nonetheless.)
And at this point, I find myself actually having time to think about these things. Sure, it's almost one o'clock in the morning, and Will's finally sleeping in the crook of his dad's arm after an uncharacteristically fussy day. My contacts are still in and I'm drinking my first glass of water of the day. Still, I've had time to get things done today. I went for a walk with women from my moms' group; I addressed a few Christmas cards; I edited a friend's grad school application essay; I fed and changed and played with Will, made dinner for Dave, and now I'm getting in a blog post! All in all, this feels like success. Now if only the baby would sleep for another six or seven hours...
"Sleep is for the weak."
1 comment:
And you did a fantastic job editing my essay ... Thanks again for that! I love your commitment to blog every day, I will definitely be reading. XOXO
Post a Comment