|Car ride to the pediatrician, curled up so impossibly small.|
Calliope was a half an ounce above her birth weight this morning when we went to see the pediatrician. I could tell that her face was filling out, but it was nice to have it confirmed that all is going well.
Is it strange that even though I'm glad she's doing so well, I'm a bit wistful about her growing? She's so sweet and tiny right now. I'm sad that changes come so fast. I want to -- and indeed I do -- revel in each day. I don't want them to rush by in a blur. Even if I do have another baby eventually, I will never again get to marvel at the daily miracles each day brings.
She also had an umbilical granuloma, which is when a little piece of the umbilical cord doesn't die off, but keeps growing (happens in 1 in 500 babies). It oozes in a not so pleasant way. It's funny to me that with everything else I've been worrying about, I didn't focus on that. The pediatrician put a little silver nitrate on it and I expect she will be as good as new.
Mom, Calliope, and I did several quick errands after that, with my mom doing all the walking and most of the shopping. I sat in a playground outside the hospital and nursed Calliope and chatted with my medical director, who met us outside. I thought I was doing a good job of nursing nonchalantly and casually... but it was funny to realize afterwards that I had a giant wet spot on the front of my shirt.
After we got back, I politely kicked my mom out and my doula (Chloe) plus her backup (Tymaree), the one that was actually at my delivery, came by for our postpartum visit.
What an intense two hour visit we had. I started to cry as soon as I saw Tymaree.
I have such mixed emotions about my birth. I feel bad that I haven't sat down to write out my birth story yet... I'm scared that it is fading by the day. Indeed, because of the medications I took, lots of details are already so very blurry. Long chunks of time are just sort of missing from the memory vault. And yet what I do remember is so charged.
Let me be clear: I adore my daughter. Already. And I feel like I barely know her. I can't even imagine what it will be like as more facets of her personality emerge.
But let me also be clear about this: I hated labor. And that surprised me. I guess it disappoints me, also.
I thought that since I am strong (or so I thought?), and disciplined, and did my homework (in the form of practicing my Hypnobabies every day), that the birth experience would be tough, and challenging, but manageable.
But it was not. Not by a long shot. And I have all sorts of anger and frustration and sadness and disappointment and guilt about that.
And I don't know where to put all those emotions, because this crazy experience brought me this gorgeous baby, this person who will revolutionize my life (this is the reason for the guilt). And yet... it was a damaging experience, too. At least in the moment. I think that that is changing, and will continue to change with time... but is that a factor of healing, or of simple forgetting?
I feel a need to put things right, somehow, to heal up in this nice and clean way... but I haven't a clue how to do that.