My schedule. It's not until you are bang in the middle of it that you realize how much physical, emotional, and mental space these tiny little things occupy. Reminders that she is now in our lives are scattered across the house, from cloth diapers and swaddles hung up to dry indoors (since the Sun is playing hide and seek with Kerala) to gifts from friends and family to her purple rattle which we take chances entertaining her with. Ever since she's come earthside I have mostly lost track of time. It doesn't matter to her whether it's a 3 pm on a Wednesday or a 12 am on a Saturday, if she need to be fed and comforted, she needs to be fed and comforted. Babies and their needs transcend time and space.
My body. Pregnancy, delivery, and feeding changes you so much that even the most body positive person can go through moments of intense shame and negativity with regards to their body. Pregnancy gave me luscious hair and great skin and the delivery left me a cute as a button baby, but also hairfall, tiger stripes, and a body I don't recognize in the mirror. It's hard to grapple with this change, especially when you have people telling you how much weight you have put on. Well as they say, if it takes 9 months to bake, it takes 9 months to unmake (or something along those lines)
Also, now that your body is a dairy manufacturing unit, you smell like milk all the time. But hey, your baby loves the smell, so who cares!
My emotions. My Z has completely rewired my brain. All my emotions have lined up and decided to play dodgeball with my mind. One moment I am euphoric, the other I am so blue I don't know what to do.
I don't sleep the same anymore because I startle and wake up to check if she's breathing. I guess guilt and paranoia the constant companions in this journey. Every sigh, every lump, every hiccup, every spit up convinces me I am the worst mother to the best child. I can't stop obsessing because I feel like something sacred that I should protect inside me is now out unprotected in a world that has dangers lurking in every corner.
No matter what my emotional state, mostly my heart is a puddle around my feet because I can't handle how much love I feel for some one that just came into my life.
My photo gallery. I have become that parent. The one who photographs even the shadow of a smile. I have videos of her hiccupping and maybe a hundred odd photos of her sleeping. Talking about babies sleeping, why do they look so darn cute?! I might have spent an hour and a half putting her to sleep but when she does sleep I want to kiss her chubby wubby cheeks which will definitely wake her.
My sensitivity to sound. A sleeping baby is a landmine you don't want to set off. I get pissed at even door creaks now. Which is not really productive in India where there's a constant symphony of mixer-grinders vigorously grating coconuts, pressure cookers whistling the different stages of lunch, clothes being violently cleaned on washing stones in the backyard, sputtering rickshaws and motorcycles that seem to like giving their all to the horn when they pass houses that have sleeping babies in them. What's the point of even putting the baby to sleep really...
My search history. Who knew I'd spend hours googling and reading up on the color and consistency of baby poop and vomit. My Google searches now begin with "do newborns.. " or "Is it normal for newborns.."
There's a lot more but I don't want Z to take complete control over my writing too. As it is, she's taken over most other things. Not that I am complaining...I kinda like this little one
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