December 7, 2010
It's been a week and a half since I last blogged. I've been caught up in the mysterious surreality that only parents of newborns can truly understand, where it's common to put your baby on the dryer in his car seat in a desperate attempt to get him to sleep, where you resort to singing Britney Spears pop songs in lieu of lullabies. I am tired but happy. I keep telling myself that sleep is for pansies. I'm not sure if I buy that.
I've been listening to Sarah McLachlan's version of Silent Night quite a bit lately, marveling a bit over the serenity I finally feel as a mother. It took me so long to get here, and much of the time, it was like walking through flames, burning away the unnecessary excess in order to really get at that maternal bliss. Except that it's not really bliss; that's just not the right word, because bliss is only part of it. I'm not even sure if I could ever put a word on it. It's complicated. Motherhood is complicated.
Simon is also a complicated little soul; from the beginning, he has had these very alert wakeful times where he has unflinchingly stared me straight in the eyes. I feel a little like he's peering into the deepest parts of me, and it feels good to be vulnerable this way, to not feel afraid. He's only three weeks old, but when I look into his eyes, he feels so much older than that. Yet he needs me in a way that only the frighteningly young need their mothers.
So it's been three weeks since this little man got stuck all posterior-like in my birth canal, and I still haven't written his birth story. I've been working on it here and there but mostly I've had him stuck on my boob, or Charlie in my lap, or I've been asleep (because I am a pansy, apparently). Every once in awhile, I venture out of the house, sometimes by myself, sometimes with everyone else in tow, and the world feels strange and bright. I know things will never be the same again, but that's the thing with kids - they change everything forever, and there's not much to be done about it.
Happy three weeks, Simon. What a perfect little boy you are.
at 11:07 PM