(no subject)
For me, it wasn't love at first sight with my son. The books say that this is perfectly normal, and knowing myself, this is what I expected, but it's still hard to admit. The night we brought him home, I sat down in the glider in his nursery to nurse him, and Gilbert lay down on the bed beside us and said, "Is it possible to love this little guy any more?" I said, "I don't know, he might get even cuter," but in my head, I was thinking, "I should hope so... I don't even KNOW this guy." That's the thing with me. I don't just pass out unconditional love willy nilly. My love is earned. I was exhausted. 100% committed to ensuring his health and well-being? Absolutely. Sick to death with worry over every spit-up, every gagging fit, every poop, you bet. But that warm, fuzzy feeling deep down inside? Not quite. It took months to recover from those initial days of having no sleep when the only thing I wanted and needed was days and days of it. Everything was different, and as I've said here so many times and in so many ways, I don't tolerate change well. In those very early days, there were times that I wondered whether I'd made a mistake in thinking it was a good idea to have a baby at all. To say it in the most overly-facile way possible, it wasn't easy. Billions upon billions have done it through the ages, yet I'm proud of myself for even making it through that period of my life with what I would call more ease than some (I had the baby blues for sure, but from what I can tell, it never bloomed into full-blown postpartum depression).
It wasn't until about six weeks that I was even emotionally, or hell, let's face it, physically capable of opening my heart, and from there, I came to understand the love that only a parent can know. Little seeds were planted as I'd catch a glimpse of myself holding him in the mirror, him all wide-eyed and tickled to behold the two of us together, and me in a role in which I never imagined I'd find myself 5 years ago. And it just gets better and better, every day. Now I wonder, "is it possible to love this little guy any more," and I do.
I like to have what I call "music appreciation" and "dance appreciation" time with my son (I'm still not so secretly hoping that he's going to turn into some sort of artistic prodigy), which obviously now only occurs on those few and precious days on which I have him all to myself, with no witnesses to our ridiculousness, and he always falls asleep for the dancing. He evidently finds it incredibly soothing when I hold him close and sway and twirl to any variety of music. Today, he fell asleep, as usual, in such peace against my chest after floating around the room to some weird Celtic music on the "soundscapes" cable music channel, and before I put him down to finish out his nap on the bed, I looked at his sweet, sleeping face in mirror and was just overwhelmed with such affection, greater than I had ever felt before. How much more could I possibly love this creature? I love him more and more every day, and he's only 7 months old.
He's starting to play more interactively now, which is amazing beyond words. He thinks it's hilarious when I bite his hands, or an object in his hands, and he's starting to hold the object out for me to get, laugh, take it away, and put it back for me to get again. It's just crazy to me that he actually gets a game after knowing him as a passive, albeit absorbent observer for all of these months, and it's profoundly fascinating to watch.
He also thinks it's hilarious me to push him over from a sitting position on the soft surface of the bed (but LOOK OUT if he accidentally falls over while sitting on the carpet, cause extreme sorrow is what you're gonna get), and now he throws himself backward when he sees my finger coming to knock him down before I even touch him. Or if I do get to the point of touching his chest, he pushes all of his weight backward with far more momentum than my shove would have provided, and this is all great fun for him.
He's so awesome. I don't know what on earth I would be doing right now without him, but whatever it is, it would be empty.
It wasn't until about six weeks that I was even emotionally, or hell, let's face it, physically capable of opening my heart, and from there, I came to understand the love that only a parent can know. Little seeds were planted as I'd catch a glimpse of myself holding him in the mirror, him all wide-eyed and tickled to behold the two of us together, and me in a role in which I never imagined I'd find myself 5 years ago. And it just gets better and better, every day. Now I wonder, "is it possible to love this little guy any more," and I do.
I like to have what I call "music appreciation" and "dance appreciation" time with my son (I'm still not so secretly hoping that he's going to turn into some sort of artistic prodigy), which obviously now only occurs on those few and precious days on which I have him all to myself, with no witnesses to our ridiculousness, and he always falls asleep for the dancing. He evidently finds it incredibly soothing when I hold him close and sway and twirl to any variety of music. Today, he fell asleep, as usual, in such peace against my chest after floating around the room to some weird Celtic music on the "soundscapes" cable music channel, and before I put him down to finish out his nap on the bed, I looked at his sweet, sleeping face in mirror and was just overwhelmed with such affection, greater than I had ever felt before. How much more could I possibly love this creature? I love him more and more every day, and he's only 7 months old.
He's starting to play more interactively now, which is amazing beyond words. He thinks it's hilarious when I bite his hands, or an object in his hands, and he's starting to hold the object out for me to get, laugh, take it away, and put it back for me to get again. It's just crazy to me that he actually gets a game after knowing him as a passive, albeit absorbent observer for all of these months, and it's profoundly fascinating to watch.
He also thinks it's hilarious me to push him over from a sitting position on the soft surface of the bed (but LOOK OUT if he accidentally falls over while sitting on the carpet, cause extreme sorrow is what you're gonna get), and now he throws himself backward when he sees my finger coming to knock him down before I even touch him. Or if I do get to the point of touching his chest, he pushes all of his weight backward with far more momentum than my shove would have provided, and this is all great fun for him.
He's so awesome. I don't know what on earth I would be doing right now without him, but whatever it is, it would be empty.