I'm Back, and I LOVE Being a Mom!

Here I am, finally stumbling out of my new mom stupor and ready to rejoin the real world, sort of. The past three months have been full of ups and a few downs, but mostly a lot of happiness and amazement at the transformation being undertaken in our house.

The labor was long because of the induction, and my body didn't decided to get with the program until about the 24th hour. But a short and relatively painless delivery followed thanks to an epidural (the cure for what ails) and a mere 30 minutes of pushing (I AM thankful for my wide hips - you always said I would be mom!). After a first degree tear (ouch) and an injured urethra (double ouch) out slid baby Botnick into the world and into our lives forever. I immediately noticed that his head was perfect and, of course, that he was a HE. Then I got to hold him close and notice details like his luxuriously long eyelashes, the little mark on his nose, how he has Bobby's toenails (sorry, kiddo), and how he looked just like I had imagined he would. It all went by so fast that before I knew it I was trying to breastfeed for the first time without any assistance while my nurse went for what I can only imagine was a ciggy break. It wasn't perfect by any means and even though I had read books and taken a class I felt like I had no idea what I was doing. It wasn't until an hour later that the exhaustion set in and I felt the full toll of the labor. And MAN, was I STARVING!!! My first meal? A whopper. I am not proud to admit it, but I felt I had earned it.

Unfortunately, after arriving home and suffering the great milk arrival of 2009 ,(I was not at all prepared for the burning, tingling, rock hard hot mess that was my boobs), things took a turn for the worse. The baby was fine - dare I say perfect. He slept well, ate well, hardly cried, and was very tolerant of all of the staring, cooing, and oogling from our relatives and friends. But I was a wreck, which is putting it very lightly. I didn't want to get out of bed, felt panicked all of the time, cried incessantly, and felt oppressive grief over the loss of "my life." I was hoping it was just the blues, but rolling onto week 2 it was still there. So, thanks to a very loving husband who called my doctor in spite of my embarrassment and my "I don't want to be that annoying person that overreacts and calls the doctor for no reason" I ended up in my OB's office. I was promptly diagnosed with the super-technical "more than baby blues but not quite crazy enough to hurt yourself or the baby anxiety/depression thingamajig." Long story short, I promptly got on meds and feel much much MUCH better. The moral here? Don't be embarrassed about getting help, and, if you feel like jumping off your roof or running out on your marriage because you feel like you can't take the anxiety anymore, you're probably not just overreacting.

Fast forward three months and I feel like making Elliot was the best thing Bobby and I ever did together. As someone who always wanted to be a "business lady" growing up and never a mom, I have totally shocked myself with the feelings I have for that little boy. Honestly, if I could I I would stay home and play with him all day, every day. He has these big blue eyes that smile when he smiles just like his dad. And he is a wiggly busy guy who likes to hear himself "talk", just like his mama. We're now at the stage where he is emerging from this larvae-like condition into a real baby. He's even reaching for things, trying to get them in his mouth, and trying to roll over (if only he could coordinate his top and lower halves to move at the same time!). It's like all of the sudden this little thing is interactive!

But the three month mark is not without heartbreak, and today was a difficult day for me - probably the saddest day I have had in a long time (not counting hormone-induced post partum ickies). I returned to work. For those of you aware of my quandry (shout out to my book club girls) you know how I felt about this step. All in all it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be, but I watched the clock all day long and kept looking at the picture of him that I had with me. And then I raced to pick him up. As I approached the front door I could hear him fussing around, but as soon as I walked in the room he stopped on a dime and that was the best feeling in the world.

For those of you who are moms, I now understand. I get it. And I love it. For those of you on the fence, take it from a former fence-sitter (and man, was I ever) it is so much more worth it than you can imagine.