Weights, Waits and Measures.

I had an appointment with the midwives this week, a 6 week check-up, where I found out my weight for the first time since before Noah was born. Something that used to cause me a decent amount of anxiety has been put in its place.

"Do you know why women get butts and bellies when they're having a baby?" our lactation consultant asked us when we met her last month. I shook my head. "Because you are going to need to be comfortable nursing your baby for many hours a day. An ass like a Kardashian is going to help you sit and a little pillow belly is going to cushion the baby while he nurses."

Biology trumps vanity. I'm finally grateful for birthing hips.

Noah hit 10 pounds this week. His thighs have rolls and dimples. His belly swells after he finishes eating and he's growing like a weed. Our weight scare early in his life make me grateful for every ounce he gains and much less irritated about the ounces of extra padding I'm sporting.

Weight means health. That's good to remember.

After six weeks, any semblance of schedule is beat out of you. When I stopped resisting the insanity of the unreliable number of hours he slept or the unpredictable amount of time I'd have free per day, things got easier. I feed him when he squawks. I sleep through his grunts. I chop things for dinner a little at a time in-between fussing and then I wait until I have a decent stretch of time in the late afternoon to prepare it. I've stopped getting angry when he's STILL hungry or pees on himself AGAIN or fusses nonstop. Now he gets fed, changed or stuck in the stroller for a walk so he can fall asleep.

This has been an exercise in zen, in letting go of the control over my days. It took a long time to beat it out of me, but now here I am. Feeding this kid while typing this blog post and eating dinner with the same hand. I'm patient now.

I used to think I was patient, but that wasn't patience. That was the genius of distraction disguised as such.

I started running again on Wednesday night. I'm taking it slow, redoing the Couch to 5k plan. I was dressed and ready to go when Chris got home that night so he could tag in and take the kid while I hit the streets for my first run. I turned the music up so loud that it was impossible to think about anything but the task at hand. Who needs a vacation when you can get so far away by just listening to music? (Me. Me, I will need a vacation in 2013, for the record. That was just a poetic thought.)

Tonight I did the second run; I get such pleasure from moving and zoning out! Running isn't about losing weight this time. It's about motion and music and finding myself again for 20 minutes on the dark streets of Cobble Hill.

And maybe that's one of the best things that has personally happened to me in becoming a parent. Tasks that were stressful chores before, things like exercise or cooking dinner, mean something different now.

Now they mean freedom.

1 comment:

EricaRW said...

cheering for you!