Adjusting

I respond to each little squeak and cry. If she sleeps for too long, I check to make sure she's breathing.  I love to hold her and snuggle her and talk to her and smell her. My boobs hurt because we're still working on latching consistently and she has no release valve -- when she chomps down, she's not letting go for love or money.  I am sleep deprived.  I still hurt from the c-section every time I cough.  I'm wearing yoga pants and a nursing bra and no shirt as I type this.  I am counting diapers and tracking feedings like I'm entering billables.  I feel like I can't remember a time before this was my life.

Clearly, I am the mommy of a six day old ... and I'm doing pretty well.

And yet, my daughter doesn't quite seem real yet.  I have kids.  Plural.  I find it odd to hear her name said aloud.  It is jarring.  I have occasional moments of what I'll call "late pregnancy panic" -- like whoa, the baby hasn't moved in a while ... I should drink juice and do a kick count.  I took a shower today and looked at my belly and had this moment of shock -- like whoa, there's no one in there anymore.  It made me sad.  At the same time I am so relieved that she's here and healthy and I want time to slow down. 

I want a longer maternity leave.  I need time to adjust to all of this.  
 
Also, I don't feel good about her blog name yet.  That will come in time, I guess.