New discoveries, and old discoveries made new

After bringing home a brand new smack out of the box baby (excuse the pun) I have realized that there is so much about being a parent that I totally forgot about. I have spent a lot of time this past week being really surprised.





Like, I've just relearned how nice it feels to be clean when you're a slimy grub. I forgot about how having a new born in the house means you can't just have a shower any time you feel like it. If I had remembered that, I probably wouldn't have taken my last hot bath for granted.





I've also learned that the term "tired" is really subjective. Tired before pregnancy, birth and new parenthood is really incomparable to tired now. Today, when I say I'm tired, what I mean is my legs are shaking and my back aches. It means that if just ONE thing goes wrong, I'll probably cry. It means that if I were to sleep for an hour, I would still wake up tired. Tired now means that I would trade in meals and soap for that hour. It means that it feels like there's sand in my eyes, and lead weights dragging my eyelids and feet down. I would just love to be the kind of tired I was 10 months ago. Oh yes, I certainly forgot about being tired.





I forgot about how small babies are. And it seems that in the eight hours I was away from home having a baby, I forgot how big my almost five year old was. She seems infinately taller, and heavier, and OLDER. After snuggling my newest, I crept into my oldests room while she was sleeping, to check on her. I was astounded at the amount of leg hanging out of the bed, and how big the foot was on the end of said leg. Then I saw her hands which seemed so big, compared to the tiny fingers that were so recently gripping my own pinky. After staring at the creasy red wrinkled face, with swollen eyes and fuzzy hair of my new born, I was struck by the lack of baby fat on my older daughters face. When did she stop looking like a little girl? When did she stop BEING a little girl? And how did I miss it?





I thought I forgot how good it feels to cuddle a new born baby girl...but I didn't. It feels about the same as it does to cuddle my five year old, surprisingly. It feels like you could sleep in total peace, with the knowledge that all is right with the world because what's most precious to you is safe in your arms. A snuggle with my newest has the same sweet innocent joy as a snuggle with the older...just one sits still for it indefinitely, where the other does it half the time just to amuse me.





I've learned that my body and mind are more capable than I ever imagined before. Natural childbirth is not for the faint of heart. There are memories that I will treasure to the day I die, and some that I seriously hope will fade with time. I've learned that my husband is stronger and more dependable than any man I've ever known. I will never forget the hours he spent kneeling on cold hard bathroom tiles in the hospital while I squeezed his hand like I meant to liquefy his bones. I will never forget how he fought for me when I couldn't make words. Through tears and screams, he stood by me, supported me and never left me. If the only memories I had of my birth experience were my first sight of Marlee, her first cry, and his constant presence, I would feel blessed like one who has seen and believed something holy.



I forgot how good it feels to take a really good pee. It seems that the inside of my bathroom has become overly familiar over the course of the pregnancy, and lumbering out of bed four times a night feeling like flood gates are going to open and wash the house away, only to make it to the bathroom and have a piss that MIGHT fill up a shot glass has been frustrating. I forgot how nice it feels not to have someone stepping on my bladder, and to be able to stand up and say with conviction "I have to pee". Pregnant people can never say that with conviction.



I have rediscovered my feet. And they really ARE feet. They don't look like flesh colored gumby extensions...or feet shaped balloons filled with jello, or playdough. I have visible bones in my feet. And they don't feel like they are on fire anymore. They don't hurt to walk on. I don't feel the need to stand on my basement floor for the relief the cold concrete gave, nor do I need to sit in a cool bath. I will never take my feet for granted again.



I have rediscovered food again. I can drink a glass of milk without feeling like I have fire in my throat, and I can eat pizza without wishing I could just die. Gaviscon is not my constant companion. Food does not disgust me. Eggs and meat do not repulse me anymore. Today I ate a sausage at supper time...and I didn't spend the whole meal trying to convince my stomach that what I'm eating is in fact potato chips, NOT MEAT. I had a glass of juice, and it hasn't come back to haunt me.



Pregnancy may be beautiful, and it may be a miracle. There may be much joy found in the knowledge that your little one is safe and secure, resting under your heart. But it feels damn good when it's over.