Interim

I sat down with the intention of finally writing. Then, my 6 week old wouldn’t allow me to have use of both hands. He wanted me to hold him. His sweaty, heavy body squished up on my shoulder held me captive, leaving little imprints of his ears and hands meshed into my soft and easily impressionable postpartum body. His tiny rapid breaths sounding like a soft choo-choo train swiftly chugging along as he clings to me for dear life (as if we don’t have some kind of physical contact about 18 hours of the day already). And I couldn’t do it.

I couldn’t put him down and let him fuss just to write. I wanted to. Of course that made me feel guilty, but it’s true. I didn’t want him to cry, but I wanted him to let me have use of both hands for once. Because for me, one-handedness has been a kind of prison, where my mind becomes a cage for all the things I wish I could tell you all. I’m barraged with a million thoughts and ideas that are fuzzy drunk on lack of sleep and a constant overdose of oxytocin that pours over me every few hours when I nurse his sweet, soft little figure. My head is a junk drawer of good ideas and half-ass attempts to reach out to you all and say, “I’m here! Don’t forget me! I’m here! I’ll be back! I swear! I’ll be back…”

You see I’m in this weird time. This interim between postpartum and being back to “normal life” whatever that means, however that’s been redefined with two instead of one. Everything is in a state of slow change- neither new nor complete. My body, my mind, my emotions, my sense of self: it’s all still healing, changing, finishing up this huge transformation from mom of one son to mom of two. Stuck in interim.

So just know, I’m coming back. I am. I have so much to share. So much to fill you in on.

Postpartum this time was a complete 180 from last time in some ways and exactly the same as others. I consumed my own placenta (never thought I’d say that) and the effects were surprising. More on that later…

I can’t stand this transition from one to two because it makes me a person I don’t like. It’s turned my toddler in a person I’m not a fan of either. The sun is breaking through the clouds now, though, and I stress less; I see my sweet boy more than the incessantly obnoxious toddler that I’ve been cohabiting with for the past few weeks. More on that later…

I never did show you the finished results of my toddler’s “big boy room” or the fun DIY stuff I did to complete it that turned out pretty awesome. More on that later…maybe.

There are things I used last time during postpartum that I loved and hated this time and visa-versa, both for personal care and for baby. I was surprised at the difference a few years can make. More on that later…

And most of all, I want to share Everett with you all. I’ve been doing a fair share of it on Facebook and Instagram, but his birth story was not what I thought it would be, but it was still amazingly different than with Lucas. I can’t wait to tell you. More on that later…

For now, just know I think of you all often. And every struggle, every moment where I think, “I’m failing.” Knowing you’re all here, fighting alongside me, struggling and thriving and kicking ass at this motherhood thing, it pushes me to keep my chin up. It reminds me that #iamenough and so are you.

I’ll be back soon, I promise. Let me just keep enjoying this time of his heavy sweetness. I know it’s only for a little while.