As I wrote before, I have pretty much put the blog on hold, save a few photos, because being with Ian is more important than finding the time to write here.  But since he is napping for either another four minutes until the two hour mark arrives and I feed him, or another hour (which is rare), I felt in the mood to report how things are going.

I can’t say I’m a seasoned mama yet.  I’ve managed to somewhat overcome my fear of going out in public with the little guy in hopes that he won’t fuss and I won’t be able to console him, he’ll be hungry and I’ll need to figure out where to feed him, or I’ll have to get creative with where to change his diaper.

Thursday was my first time breastfeeding in the car.  I can’t say some people walking by didn’t stare or guess with their eyes and somewhat blank expressions that they knew what I was doing (I used a cover up so it was not like I was exposed for a show or anything).  When Ian cried from being cramped on my lap and needed a diaper change I can’t say we weren’t calling attention to ourselves as pedestrians strolled by.  But the pediatrician and at least a nurse or two have seen at least one of my boobs so I’m getting used to it.  Hey, it is what it is.

Getting out of bed in the morning is still hard and I would be a liar if I said that when I hear Ian stir I check to see that he is okay in his bassinet that he has almost outgrown (four more pounds to go and then we have to switch to his crib) and then turn over in hopes for a few more seconds of shut eye.  I hope to get better at getting myself up after a morning feeding so that we take advantage of more of the day.  As it is they do go by fast and I don’t want to think about how I am half way through my maternity leave and that yes, everyone was right: the time does fly.

So how do I feel? How am I doing? I haven’t stopped to think lately. 

I am better.

I am better now that the ridiculous feelings of sadness AKA baby blues have passed.  I am better now that I feel confident enough to get outside with Ian and not feel captive in the protection of our home.

I am happy.  I am in love with my son. I pick him up and everything else melts away.  I see him with Bub and my heart melts.  I will be driving in the car and look back in our baby mirror and remember that is my son, there are two of us in here…slow down.  Take it easy.  I enjoy talking to him, telling him about me, about Bub, about us.  Telling him what we will do, what we’ll play.  I’ll ask what he wants to be.  I let him know I’ll love him no matter what and that I’ll always be there for him.

It has sunk in.  I am a parent.  I am a mother.  And I am trying my hardest, but I know I can do better.

Motherhood feels great.

Oh, and I obsess about every little thing Ian does.  To hope that he is okay and healthy.

But that is to be expected.  I mean, remember how crazy I was during my pregnancy?

Pray for us,

itsy bitsy mama

Here is my favorite picture of the moment:

6 thoughts on “life

  1. Oh my goodness, he is getting so big! What a handsome little guy. Love those rosebud lips.

  2. Life with a little is one is nothing but pure bliss. Anything and everything I’ve ever had to go through to get to this point in my life where I’m happily married to the perfect man for me and the mother of the world’s most incredible daughter… it is all SO worth it!

    Congrats on getting a bit more “seasoned” as the little guy’s mama. That bond is just priceless and things will only get better!

  3. I’m so happy for you and I’m glad you found a moment to post your thoughts, I’ve been wondering how the transition has been. Also, my baby has the same little Carter’s sleeper Ian is wearing in this picture! I love it!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s