i'm a what?

a mother. . .

it's been one week and it's time to break the silence. last saturday, dec. 8, max was born to myself and kent. people say it's a life altering experience, and yeah, duh, of course. . .but i always thought it was because of this endless love that you'll have for your child, not that every aspect of your life as you know it has now changed. even typing that doesn't quite convey the message. there is truly no way to accurately represent the change other than to live it.

i really thought i was somewhat prepared for this. i mean, i'm 32, that should give me something by just being "older and wiser" right? i read all the books i could read on natural childbirth, and pregnancy in general. never thought for a minute that i'd end up being induced because i was a week and half post-due. never even occurred to me. . .and i didn't know that being induced could mean three days of labor. or that i would be so exhausted from three days of labor that i'd get an epidural because i couldn't tolerated the contractions any longer. and despite being numb from the waist down, i never dreamed that after three hours of pushing i would require a vacuum to actually extract my son from my body. nor did i anticipate my son deciding to wave to everyone as he entered the world, making his nine pound one ounce circumference even wider causing me to have two second degree tears. the icing on the unpredictable, unforeseen cake was having the postpartum hemorrhage that i never thought would actually happen, but scared me to death in the back of my head. my natural waterbirth birth plan went completely out the window. i don't think there was one thing on the birth plan that made it to fruition. ok, maybe one. walking out of the hospital with a healthy baby.

the day after delivering little max, i felt this incredible disappointment at being robbed of my wonderful birth story. instead there was this traumatic event. each time i would relay the story to a nurse, friend or relative, my legs would start trembling, slowly moving up my body to full on tremors. i never anticipated any of this. i guess who would've, right? that's kind of where life happens. you just can't be prepared for everything. my saving grace through it all was having kent there with me every last unpredictable minute. he never made me feel like a failure for not being able to deliver without medication, never made me feel like i was on my own, and never pushed me into any decision i wasn't ready to make. i don't know what i would've done without him.

so now we've been home for five days and we are flying by the seat of our pants. since i did have some bad tearing, everything has been moved upstairs so i don't have to be going up and down all day. max hardly sleeps in his cute little bassinet, he's usually in our arms or the life and sanity-saving swing. neither kent or i have slept longer than a three hour chunk. and our next hiccup is breastfeeding. what a fiasco. painted as this lovely bond between mother and child, it's actually very uncomfortable. especially when seven days of a "bad latch" leaves you pumping your milk with a machine because your nipples are cracked and bleeding. who knew babies have the suction of a hoover.

i keep trying to remind myself that we are lucky to have a healthy baby, when i'm in the middle of one of my baby blues fits, but quite honestly, this is the hardest thing i've ever experienced on so many levels i can't even articulate it. yesterday, i went downstairs for the first time since we left the house to go to the hospital. i walked into our bedroom and just started crying because i realized how nothing will ever be the same. my bedroom routine of doing the crossword, watching a little tv before falling asleep for 8-10 hours has left the building. and although i'm so happy to have max in my life, it's like i have to mourn the loss of my old life too. that is, after i pump, soak my sutured tears, take a laxative, wade through the piles of boxes, mail and junk that's accumulating in our living room, oh and maybe brush my teeth.