This has been hard. I knew bringing a second baby home
particularly with Stella still being so young would be challenging. I think I underestimated it. I think what’s caught me off guard is that the stuff I though would be easy hasn’t been, and vice versa. I started a blog 4 days ago and just haven’t had time to finish it. I’ve got notes and intentions of writing at least 3-4 more and just can’t get it out. It sucks as I enjoy this online raving that I do. It’s cathartic and it’s really about the only release I have. Now I feel as if this stuff is bottle-necking or coagulating in my noggin. This makes me feel crazier than I do already.
There has been some acting out with Stella, but not as much as I would have thought. Her diet has been a bit out of whack, but mainly her bedtime has taken a huge hit. In a week it’s been moved back by 2 hours, and it takes the sacrifice of at least one live bull and chicken to get her to go to bed. By the time she finally is asleep, the grown ups are so annoyed and exhausted that there’s no time for ourselves or each other. This makes all the arguing amongst ourselves feel even more intense, when there’s no time to spend just sitting on the couch holding hands and watching Elementary or Big Bang Theory as a way to connect. There was even some drama with my mother and husband which hasn’t helped. When I try to think about the cause and effect, it seems so ridiculous. Yet it became this Thing and this Thing made/makes me feel worse. It’s awful enough when the 2 people you usually want to talk to the most about your troubles don’t feel accessible to you, but when you add in recovery from a section, 2 children under the age of 3, and the 103 magnification of hormones, it’s so much worse.
But back to Stella. She really is OK. The miscellaneous grown ups have done their best to give her outings and adventures. I feel totally conflicted. On one hand, I feel this immense sense of relief when she’s out and about and then guilt at my relief; I’ve been blown away at how big and strong she is compared to Felix and I just can’t/don’t trust her near him. That’s a big sense of guilt, too. How can I not trust my wonderful little girl? And I hate that I’m missing the adventures she’s having, although the respite it brings is so necessary.
I know this shit all balances out in the end. I feel like such a pussy for whining and bitching, and the non-stop weeping is horrendous. I’m still within the 2 week window where these emotions are “normal” according to the professionals, but you know what? This IS NOT NORMAL FOR ME. I hate it. If there was a pill I could take yesterday to make this feel better, I would have taken it.
The one and probably only solace I have is that Felix has been the most chill, calm baby I’ve ever seen. This kid just naps, eats, poops, and looks around. He hardly ever cries and at night sleeps at least 3 hours at a stretch. He’s nursing like a champ. I’m almost afraid to type those words, fearing the dreaded jinxing of myself, but there you go.
Sorry for unburdening myself on you, internet buddies. It’s just been a hell of a week. I hope to be back soon with my usual angst about bodily functions and the like.