I’m not sure how to start this post because I have stopped and started it a thousand times already since Violet made her way into the world.
The post I had all ready to publish a few days ago has been reevaluated under less hormonal circumstances and deemed just the type of sap worthy of my teenage diary but not necessarily the world wide web. Turns out I really can’t trust myself to write anything decent when I’m hormonal and sleep deprived.
Here’s the thing about me and sleep deprivation: we’ve never been a good match.
I can deal with it in the privacy of my own home, and around close friends and family, but I cannot be trusted around words and coherent thoughts and rules of grammar in such a state.
This could mean a few things: I post a lot of wacky, typo-filled essays on my “deep” thoughts about life with an infant, I overcompensate and post only the facts, or I just don’t post at all and hope you all know I am alive by my instagram account.
How about we just stick with the facts for now?
Violet Virginia was born on the morning of April 2, at 7 pounds 8 ounces and 19 1/2 inches. That makes her four weeks old. I find that hard to believe since it simultaneously feels like she was born yesterday and as though I have never lived life without her.
I am both massively impressed with what my body is capable of doing (the female body is amazing, you guys), and a little emotional about the fact that I don’t recognize my reflection in the mirror quite yet.
I am acutely aware of the fact that I am only human, and can’t protect our child from all harm, as much as I would do anything to keep her safe.
Looking after and loving this helpless human is exhausting–a different kind of exhaustion than being primarily concerned with my own needs. In a much deeper sense, that is refreshing. And really hard.
This is the kind of love that is tempted to worry, to make a lot of what used to seem important seem trivial, and a love that threatens to change me to my core.
And that’s kind of scary.
But having children is scary. From the positive pregnancy test to the last few contractions, to the crying baby whose tears you can’t interpret, to the fear of loving so strongly that you would never recover if you lost her. Combine this vulnerable state with sleep deprivation and hormones and you have the perfect setup for near-insanity.
And yet, parenthood is as common as waking up in the morning. It happens every day, to all kinds of people, and the vast majority come out alive.
That’s really pretty remarkable, all things considered.
I’m hoping to be in the vast majority, for the record.
I’ll be posting more soon! For now, tell me, what’s new? Pretend I’ve been living in a cave for the past few weeks and anything you say will be news to me. Hypothetically speaking.