I can’t resist reposting Eleanor’s birth story. It was the greatest experience of my life.
I’m typing this right now with a sleeping baby balanced between my breasts. The way my life has changed in the last week is simply incredible. I keep thinking back to Friday, which was without a doubt the best day of my life, and wishing I could relive it over and over again. I’m holding on to…
One year ago at this time, the first week of May, I was 38 weeks pregnant. The countdown had begun. She could have been born on any given day. Each night I went to bed wondering if I the next day I would be a mother.
It feels like just yesterday that she was a newborn, and yet it feels like an entire lifetime ago that I was pregnant. It’s hard to remember that there was ever a time that I wasn’t her mother. It’s strange to think of my belly that big, and to think of how my life was so vastly different. Was it really only a year ago? Was that really me?
I try often to force myself to remember what being pregnant felt like. The sensation of her fully formed feet sliding along the inside of my stomach in the last weeks, the weight and the pressure of her. I know if I don’t recall them the memories will slip from my grasp. Pregnancy is such a short time in the grand scheme of things, but so incredibly transformative. It only took 40 weeks to change it all forever, my body and soul, and to bring into existence a new person, a new body and soul.
This morning, on the first of May, as I was remembering how excited I was the last time the month began, as I was remembering what it was like to be 38 weeks pregnant with a baby to be born any minute, the thought suddenly dawned on me: does she remember? I know she must have memories, but how far back do they go? Newborns are calmed by stimuli that remind them of the womb, so they remember what it is like for at least a little while. As she lays there napping, where is her mind drifting off to? Does she have any vague recollections of another world, dark, warm, and peaceful? Can she remember the muffled sounds of my heart and lungs, or remember the salty taste of amniotic fluid? Does she have any dim and fading memories of a time before “Mama” and “Daddy” and “tickle,” when she was wrapped up tight and still, when she was safe in the quiet, alone and yet somehow not? Does she remember the way her life was this time last year?
Eleanor is 9 months old today.
Nine months. I can hardly believe it. I have thought a lot about this milestone. She grew for nine months inside of me, and now for nine months she as been outside, passing this marker of symmetry. I find that I talk and think about my pregnancy so often. It was a strange and lovely period, one where time passed slowly and quietly. Now the same amount of time has passed since her birth, but my life and even the nature of time itself seems so different. So fast. For nine months of pregnancy I woke up and ate breakfast and held my hands against my belly, lost in thought, wondering what she would look like, sound like, be like. For nine months now I have woken up as a mother, with my baby beside me. I have nursed her countless times, changed hundreds of diapers, given dozens of baths. I have held her and comforted her. I have watched her sleeping and watched her playing. More times than I can even begin to number I have looked at her and thought, “This is it. This is what I waited for.” Those nine months of waiting felt endless because of my desire for her, and yet I couldn’t have imagined how wonderful she would be. I was waiting for her smile, her laugh, the feeling of her head against my shoulder, her eyelashes, her breath. Now I have it all. This is what I waited for.
In her first nine months she developed from a few invisible cells into the most beautiful newborn baby. She was motionless, and then she moved. She was silent, and then she cried. In her second nine months she grew from a tiny little bundle the exact size of my belly into a big, robust baby. She was immobile, and now she crawls. She was helpless, and now she feeds herself.
I feel so sad sometimes, because I realized that I can’t really remember what she was like nine months ago, and I know that in another nine months I won’t be able to really remember what she is like now, but as she grows I know I will continue to think about my nine months of pregnancy and the the first nine months of her life, and I will say, “This is it. This is what I waited for.”
As the season begins to change, I can hardly believe how fast summer past. It was the summer of my baby girl. I found out I was pregnant right at the beginning of autumn, and I knew I would have to wait through the cold seasons, and then when it became warm again my baby would come. There was something that felt very symbolic about having a baby in the spring.
Pregnancy is such a unique time in life. There was so much to look forward to. Every day the anticipation and excitement grew. I miss that. Of course now I have even more to be excited about, but Eleanor keeps me so busy that I find I have very little time to reflect and truly revel in it.
I keep finding that I stare at the pregnant women I see jealously. I wonder if they are feeling their babies move at that moment. I think that is what I miss the most, feeling my baby move silently inside me, and knowing I was the only one who was able to experience her. Isn’t that the greatest secret?
One of my childhood friends just told me she is pregnant. She will be due in early May, another springtime baby. Her pregnancy will mirror my own. I know when she shares photos and passes milestones I will be thinking about what it was like for me when I was in that same place, almost exactly a year ago. I wish I could relive it all over and over again.
One year ago I set this pregnancy test down on the ledge of my bathtub. Andrew and I crouched over it and stared. I watched it for a little while, but nothing was happening. My period was a week late, but the test I had taken the days before were all negative. I knew this one would be negative too. I watched it for a bit longer and then straightened up and walked away. It had definitely been three minutes, and nothing was happening. Right as I got to the bathroom door Andrew called me back saying he thought he maybe saw a line. When you stare at a pregnancy test with your heart racing and full of hope, you always think you maybe see a line. But this time there actually was one. It was so faint, but it was there. Then it got darker and darker until there could be no mistaking it. That was when I first knew that she was there, my tiny bean. That is when I felt the first flutter of the love that has now totally consumed me.
Three months and seventeen days ago I labored in the bathroom, staring at the spot on the ledge of the tub where eight months and fourteen days before I had set the pregnancy test down. I knew she was coming then. I welcomed the pain of every contraction, and I felt like my body was alive with the energy of love.
Now I lean over the ledge of the tub to bathe my baby every night. I watch her chubby legs kick in the water. I smile at her and she smiles back at me. I hear her happy squeals and touch her soft skin. I wrap her in a towel and hold her close to me and tell her how much I love her.
So much has happened since this day one year ago, and yet I can hardly believe and entire year has past. I can’t believe that in just one year I went from wanting a baby with every fiber of my being to letting my three month old chew on my finger while I type this with the other hand. I’m so lucky. I’m so happy.
The notion that birth control pills make you fat is just part of…an elaborate mythology, one “fueled by rumor, gossip and poor-quality research.” As it turns out, there’s never been convincing evidence that the pill in any of its forms provokes weight gain. Another recent review paper found little evidence of weight gain among users of progestin-only pills, and a similar study from 2008 likewise failed to find any connection between weight gain and pills that contain progestin and estrogen.
Some studies hint that the pill might even have the opposite effect…
Interesting!
Here I am, two months and 6 days after giving birth to my sweet girl. Emotionally I’m doing great. I’ve found a happy groove and I’ve figured a lot of things out. I think the biggest mistake I made early on was thinking that “mother knows best” could apply to a newborn. Nope. The newborn knows best. Always listen to the newborn!
I thought that Eleanor was fussy about eating. I didn’t know why, but sometimes after feeding for only about 10 minutes or so she would start to squirm and fuss. I thought it had something to do with me…maybe she wanted my body to give her a faster let down or something. I spoke to my lactation consultant about it and she said sometimes babies fuss while eating when the flow is actually too aggressive, but that didn’t seem to be happening. When she would start to get antsy at the breast, I would persistently try to get her to nurse calmly again. I was sure she wasn’t done eating, since she always nurses for at least 25-30 minutes, so I would try to walk and nurse or rock and nurse. I was basically forcing her to keep eating when she didn’t want to be eating any more. It was frustrating for the both of us. What I finally figured out is that sometimes she likes to have an appetizer. She wants to nurse for a few minutes, then take a little break — maybe have a nice big burp, maybe just play or look around for a second — and then she is ready to nurse again for a longer stretch, the main course.
I feel bad that it took me so long to put it all together. I hate that I caused us both undue frustration, but it taught me a valuable lesson about my baby. Maybe it should have been obvious, but I learned that when she fusses, she is telling me that whatever I am doing isn’t working. If she fusses while eating, it means she wants to stop, even if I think that she hasn’t had enough yet. If she is fussing while I hold her, it means she wants to try a new position or maybe move around a little. If she fusses while we’re playing, it means playtime is over. I’ve also started to be able to distinguish her hungry cry from her tired cry, which helps eliminate some of the guesswork.
Physically, things aren’t going so well. I’m still 10 lbs above my pre-pregnancy weight and my belly is huge. Despite all the nursing and skipping meals because I don’t have time or free arms enough to eat, I feel like I’ve really plateaued. My belly seemed to stop shrinking after only two weeks. I’m no where near being able to fit into any sort of non-maternity pants, which really depresses me. I expected to carry around some extra flab, but I didn’t think it would be this bad. A post-baby belly is so different than other sorts of fat. It’s all in the front and down low, so by the time I find pants that can accomodate the previous home of a 7 pound baby around the waist, they look huge everywhere else. If you can’t tell, I made the mistake of shopping around for pants while I was in Phoenix. I cried right there in Old Navy.
But it’s not just my belly. I feel like my arms and thighs look down right fat compared to how they looked before. It was really hard being around my sister, who was much thinner than I was pre-pregnancy and who has a ton of will power when it comes to restricting her diet. She’s 5 months postpartum and is down to a size 2. Her arms and legs are so thin, it’s like her baby just sucked every last bit of fat out of her. She doesn’t even look like she has had a baby, while I look about 5 month pregnant.
One other postpartum woe is hip pain. Since we sleep with the baby in our bed and I nurse her laying down during the night, I’m always on my side, which causes my hips to ache. It’s so bad these days that they hurt all throughout the day and so much at night that the pain wakes me up. I’ve tried sleeping with a pillow between my knees, but it doesn’t seem to help. I can’t think of anything else to try. I’m just hoping that it will eventually go away.
Today I was able to put my wedding band and engagement rings back on. My fingers swelled so badly from my pregnancy that I had to replace my pretty diamonds with a cheap silver band. I was worried I might have to have them resized, so I was happy and relieved when I managed to squeeze them back on. They are still a bit tighter than they used to be, but it doesn’t matter because I won’t be taking them off any time soon.
I knew this would happen, but I didn’t know to what extent. I miss being pregnant. I miss being pregnant so much that I can’t even find the words to describe it. Just thinking about trying to explain it makes me cry. I am so overjoyed to have Eleanor here with us on the outside, but I’m mourning the end of my pregnancy deeply.
I loved being pregnant. I loved every second of it, from the first positive test to the very last contraction. I loved my growing belly and my changing body. I loved my third trimester waddle. I loved every ache and pain and every stretch mark. I never felt more complete, more beautiful, more full of purpose. I loved feeling my baby moving inside me. I loved having her always right there with me. I loved the confidence that came with knowing that my body was taking excellent care of her. I loved knowing how peaceful and comforted she was all tucked up in my tummy.
I felt like I did such a great job of being pregnant. I ate well and exercised and took care of myself to take care of the baby. Since Eleanor was born that sense of maternal competence has totally disappeared. Sometimes when she cries or won’t latch and gets so upset, I find myself wishing I was just still pregnant, because she had everything she needed. She didn’t have to cry or struggle for her food. She didn’t have to feel cold or insecure. Everything was perfect. She existed in a beautiful serene waterworld, enveloped in warmth and comfort, with the steady sound of my breathing and my heart to keep her calm.
There are certain times in particular when I miss being pregnant more than usual, like when I try to sleep or nap. I spent nine months falling asleep with my hands on my belly, either waiting to feel the baby move or feeling her move. I loved the closeness I felt to her in those quiet moments. No matter how much I love holding Eleanor against my chest and listening to her breath and smelling her sweet new baby smell, no matter how tightly I wrap my arms around her and press her to me, I can’t recreate that feeling of closeness, that sense total unity that we once shared.
I know it is selfish of me, but I also can’t help but think about how from the moment the cord that connected us was cut, we began to grow apart, and she will live more and more independently from me every day of her life. One day she won’t need me for food, then one day she won’t want to be held all the time, then she won’t want to sleep in my bed with me, and in a few more years, years that I am sure will pass in the blink of an eye, she won’t need me at all anymore. Thinking about it breaks my heart and makes me long to turn back the clock and relive the special closeness of pregnancy all over again.
I think my pregnancy with Eleanor will always remain one of the highlights of my life. It was a time filled with such hope and joy and happiness. There were so many moments of sublime anticipation and the sort of excitation that I hadn’t felt since I was a child waiting for Christmas morning. Now that proverbial Christmas has come and gone, and while it was the greatest day of my life and while I received the most wonderful present, I can’t help but feel a pang of deep sadness that its all over.
This image has been going around Tumblr lately, and it never fails to bring tears to my eyes. It does a wonderful job of capturing how beautiful, peaceful, blissful, and amazing pregnancy is, so I will end my post with it. I cherished every hiccup, every kick, every tiny movement, every second that my sweet baby “slept in the most perfect darkness.”
