Baby Girl is six weeks old. I thought I'd be writing more often, but during those rare times when I'm not nursing or holding her as she sleeps, I'm either trying to get stuff done or napping myself. Truth be told, this entry is being typed on my iPhone at 3:00am. (Truth be told, I'm finishing this post three days later because the demands of motherhood be that way sometimes!) Lord have mercy...
Anyway, here are some of my thoughts six weeks into this thing called parenthood...
On Nursing...
As soon as I made the decision that I wanted to have children I knew I wanted to breastfeed. Hubby and I were in agreement on this issue. He's from Ghana and formula feeding is a rarity there. I have nothing against formula (I am a formula fed baby), but I do believe that breast is best. Plus, breastfeeding is a profoundly theological statement, pointing to an Awesome God who wonderfully created these bodies and promised to supply all of our needs according to His riches in glory (Philippians 4:19). That being said, breastfeeding is a commitment not for the faint of heart. Formula would have been easy (and expensive), but in the words of James Cleveland, "...nobody told me the road would be easy, but I don't believe He's brought me this far to leave me." My hope is to exclusively breastfeed for six months and introduce solid foods around that time in addition to breast milk for the next six months until she's ready for cow's milk.
On Pocketbooks...
Yesterday I ventured out without the baby. Hubby was armed with pumped milk and bottles as I headed to the nail salon for a much needed manicure, pedicure, and eyebrow wax. Like the ladies at Black Girls Run say, you gotta preserve the sexy. (More on preserving the sexy in another post...I should be cleared to exercise during my OB/GYN visit tomorrow.) In any case, it was the first time in six weeks that I left the house without a diaper bag and with my pocketbook. Yes, a pocketbook! It felt strange, to say the least to have such a small bag. These days when we go out I throw the essentials—my wallet, keys, and make-up bag—into Baby Girl's diaper bag and keep it moving. And as much as I love my Vera Bradley diaper bag (thanks to my sister!), I am looking forward to my once a week outing with my Coach bag. With the simple switch of a bag I went from being identified as Baby Girl's mother to Donna. It reminded my that my identity is not solely rooted in motherhood. As an avid watcher of makeover shows, I have noticed that most of the women who are made over were once fabulous women who completely lost themselves when they became mothers. Don't get me wrong, I would do anything for our daughter and am delighted to function in my new role, but I believe that one of the ways that I can be good to her is to be good to me. That said, maybe I'll buy a new bag for my outings (ok, ok, it's a stretch...I know).
On Birthdays...
I turned thirty-six a month after Baby Girl was born. A few days before my birthday hubby asked me what I wanted. Nothing, I replied. Birthdays are usually a big deal to me, but in an instant my priorities shifted. I didn't want a gift. The attention is on Baby Girl now and I am content with celebrating the BIG birthdays—40, 45, 50, etc—from here on out. To my surprise, hubby brought me two dozen roses to commemorate the day. They brought a huge smile to my face and a sweet aroma to our home.
On Having Children After Thirty-Five...
This isn't about geriatric pregnancy as one of the sonogram doctors reminded me that I was (When you conceive past the age of thirty-five, even if its just months after, some folks have a way a making you feel like you should be hanging out with Betty White). This is more about my crazy thoughts that perhaps I should have had children right after my partying days were done. I used to stay up and out until the wee hours of the morning and could function on little sleep. But I've grown old and have been used to getting 8-9 hours of sleep for years now. I thought insomnia during pregnancy was no joke, but nighttime feedings have left me delirious at least four days a week. Everyone tells me to nap when she naps, and I try, but I also try to get dinner on the table and housework done. I'm not the woman who can rest with dishes in the sink. I just can't. All that to say the younger club-hopping Donna would have been able to handle this new schedule. Thanks be to God that His mercies are new every morning; Although I've been tired (to the point of delirium some days), I have been able to meet Baby Girl's needs without compromising our household needs.
On Mothers and Motherhood...
After just six weeks into my new gig I have a newfound respect for mothers and for my mother. Seriously, this is the hardest work I've ever done and the most rewarding. Not that I thought motherhood was easy, but like the slogan for a now defunct MTV show that I can't remember the name for: you think you know, but you have no idea. Shout-out to the moms out there, and special hanks to my mom for raising us AND for coming to be with me as I made the transition into motherhood.
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