She is sleeping in the swing now, occasionally grunting and gritching, maybe she is starting to wake up but maybe not. She is five days old and we are still getting to know each other.
She arrived on her due date, this new baby of mine, on a night filled with storms and tornado warnings. I’ve never been more oblivious to the weather than that night, too wrapped up in the work of bringing a baby into the world. She arrived at 3:46am, looking so much like her brother did that first night with dark curly hair and big dark eyes. She still looks like him but every day she looks more and more like her own little person. She is lovely and sleepy and sweet.
I’m in the thick of post partum healing and hormones right now. My nipples are sore and cracked and I know it will get better but the thought of nursing makes me cringe a bit right now. I’ve felt weepy and emotional today, veering wildly between pangs of love for her and for my husband (who is so great at the home with a new baby phase) and for my little monkey who is so in love with his sister, and pangs of guilt (for getting too much sleep last night? I don’t know. This isn’t coming from a place of reason) and overwhelmedness (shut up spellcheck. That is too a word). I’m not depressed, just adjusting.
I think she is waking. Time to go see this face: