Tuesday, January 15, 2013

The Tides of Love

It's rather fascinating how you experience love in deeper and deeper stages.
After a few very tough weeks, I'm definitely enjoying my days with my little girl this week, as she sleeps peacefully besides me (for the moment).

I see so much of myself reflected in my little girl, and in profile I can see generations of women in my family. My mom. My aunt. My beloved grandmother whose name my baby girl wears.

The last few weeks have brought challenges- her GERD, with led to much screaming, worrying,and constant painful breastfeeding. My frustration at my marriage. My panic about out financial situation. And just the normal new mother issues of extreme sleep deprivation and loneliness, which is compounded by our recent move and the fact that I haven't yet built a social or support group here.

When I gaze at my sweet little ham hock, I feel such a mighty need to protect her. Already, she needs me more than my little man did. Her dependence on me is much stronger and she is much needier. She needs to feed and be held constantly. That makes the rest of life rather hard to accomplish and it worries me greatly how we'll adjust to my going back to work and the introduction of a new caregiving routine. And yet, it must happen. I have nothing more to give up, nothing more to sell that would allow me to stay an "at-home" mom.

So I'll enjoy our quiet days together now, as I gaze into her blue eyes that hold so many galaxies. I'll kiss the corners of her mouth, and make her smile with her rosebud lips. I'll sing her crazy songs, and listen as she tries to echo me. We'll both overuse our eyebrow muscles as we make faces at the world. I'll wash the little peach fuzz on her head, and get high on the wonderful sweet baby-head-smell. I'll try not to yelp with pain as she feeds for what seems like endless stretches of pain. I'll comfort her as she grunts like a little piggy, burps like an old man, and farts like a band of thieves in a bean soup factory (hey- it's hard to be a gassy little baby!)

1 comment:

  1. I rather miss the new-baby-days, even with the stresses, the loneliness, the money worries (because we all have them). These days I'd love to have new baby head smell rather than the teenaged boy pong that seems to permeate the upstairs now. His eyebrow muscles get a different kind of workout now - he needs me less and I embarrass him more. I have taken to doing it on purpose by singing to him in public places. He loves and hates it all at the same time - it makes him laugh and turn bright pink. It never occurred to me that I would torture my son on purpose when he was a tiny baby but I would embarrass him even more if I told him it was payback for raw, cracked nipples.