The Baby and the Bathwater

The baby is here. She arrived Wednesday morning at about 5:15 in the am. Mel had been in labor for about 17 hours and pushed for a mere 26 minutes. There are about a thousand cliches that are all true when a person talks about how a baby changes their lives. Right now as I write this, Maeve is making fussy noises in the room next door and I am about to stop this sentence and go check on her.

And that little anecdotes sort of sums up how a newborn effects (affects) a person and family. Everything interrupted. Thoughts, intentions, to do lists are all put on hold. We walk around with tired stupors on our faces, large black/blue circles drooping from our eyes, the stunted blinks as we try to recall names of people we have known for years, dates and times, that our poor brains can not search for. It is hard to express how much sleep deprivation one suffers. The Boob Whisperer herself at the hospital was correct when she told us that no one can express how tired you will be. We worry over poop, over pee, over feeding times. I am now thinking in terms of ML, which is about half the space between one's eyebrows.

So, it is true. Everything is fundamentally changed, and it is amazing that even with nine months of preparation, how jarring and stark the changes are. I thought I had grown as a person since my marriage, that I had sorted through my selfishness, filed it away behind kindness, eagerness, almost out of hand when reaching through words to describe me. But, this baby has shown me otherwise. When I have thought complaining thoughts, or have verbalized those words about late night feedings, about screaming cries that literally hurt my ears, have felt the irrational anger at a perfect little girl who can not help what she feels or wants. My selfishness blinks at a large neon sign right in front of my face.

So, I think for all the prayers that I have said for this baby, I probably should have been praying for myself. I hope this is God working in me, pressing patience into wet clay skin, imprinting selflessness into my most recessing genes. I see it in my head, how he builds me brick by brick, woven with mortar and fiber, the bricks of love layered in some unbreakable bond, that even I who resist naturally and heartedly can not resist. For, I do want to be better than this; I need to be better than this amateur parent I am now.

Note: this blog took 3 days and 8 interruptions to write. I may never write another comprehendible, fluid blog again--apologies:)