Good morning people. The stream of family that has been here for the past 3 weeks to help me with the baby (almost 6 weeks old) has finally trickled to an end. It was wonderful. First my sister and her husband. Happy, recently married people that haven’t yet tiptoed into their 30’s but are very close and don’t have a clue about babies. I don’t blame them for not knowing anything, neither did I until I gave birth to the little bundle.
My sister is a wonderful cook and her goal was to make a fantastic dinner for us each night of the week they were here; and she did. But ask me if we ever all got to sit down and eat it together during any one of the nights. Yeah, no. We had elaborate chicken in marsala and mushroom sauce, asparagus risotto, cheesy puffy baked goods… all sorts of things; my husband and I took turns enjoying the meals. I’d snarf a few bites for 5 minutes, then he’d snarf for a few. Sister and BIL had no idea what to expect. I warned them that there would be crying. A lot of crying. Crying all night. Some of it by the baby. Still, they came. From California. For a week. They were brave and naive. However, BIL brought his fancy new camera so I totally took advantage of him and he took a zillion shots of the little bundle, many ended up on our announcement. Oh sure, they held the baby too. They weren’t afraid, just didn’t know what to do. And this was week #2 so I couldn’t offer much advice. Sister even changed diapers and outfits and tried to solve some crying jags, and they will be a great aunt and uncle to him. I’m also sure the week with us was more effective than any other birth control.
Mom and dad came out for a week, left for a few days and then stayed for another week. That was especially wonderful. Not because of the copious amounts of diapers mom changed and the hours dad spent walking the floor with the bundle; not even the repeated trips to Costco or the grocery store. But because with them, they brought my sanity.
I knew this would be hard. My head and heart knew this would be hard. My husband knew it would be hard. But the hardest thing is hearing my baby cry. Not the fussing, but the whole hearted crying that says something is so wrong and it needs to be fixed NOW. It breaks my heart. It hurts and it makes me cry.
However, this morning for the first time he smiled at me. Not the little smiles that may be the side effect of something else. But a smile that was the result of actually looking at me and recognizing me. I’m still tired, but looking back at little moments like that, and thinking of what is to come keeps me going.