Today was my final postpartum visit with my midwife. It was hard to say goodbye. She's been so great, and also, the closest thing to a maternal presence in my life. The only person I've really let down my guard to. Really, the only person I've allowed myself to cry to in recent months.
She was so great, even emailed me, "once your midwife, always your midwife." Said I could call if I need to talk. That made me cry, too.
Am I so sad because I'm projecting my dead mother grief onto her, or is it grieving the end of the magical (mostly) pregnancy journey, or only just because she's so fabulous, coupled with fatigue and new mother hormones?
Hard to say. I just realized I never got a photo with her. I'm going to have to ask to go back for that.
In other news, I gained back six pounds. Only two pounds below my pre-pregnancy weight. I'm expecting that I will keep gaining for a while. Despite working out since four and a half weeks postpartum. I could certainly eat better but still, not what I hoped for.
Amelie gained almost another pound in the last two weeks. At first we thought she was now 8 lb 9 oz and I was slightly despondent that she had only gained a half a pound in two weeks... worrying that I was starving my baby in my rush to get her on a schedule. And I was being given all sorts of pointers in how to get her to stay at the breast longer, since she's a speed eater and generally finishes in about six minutes. Just like her sister did. But finally I asked my midwife to double check the scale, and it turns out she was 8.9 pounds, as in, almost nine pounds (8 lb 14.4 oz, to be precise). So she gained 13 ounces in fourteen days, which is excellent. She's kind of an overachiever. Apprxomately the same weight as her sister at this age, only shorter. She's got some sweet little rolls on her tiny inner thighs.