Mendolonium

Well, the last four weeks have been interesting:

• 4 weeks and 2 days ago I sat in our obstetrician’s office after getting an ultrasound and heard that there was a potential anomaly in our baby’s heart.
• 4 weeks and 1 day ago we had a fetal echocardiogram which pronounced our baby’s heart perfectly “unremarkable”, but raised concerns about his growth (or lack thereof).
• 3 weeks and 4.5 days ago I woke up to irregular contractions and the feeling of my water breaking.
• 3 weeks and 4 days ago we sat in our obstetrician’s office and heard our babies heart decelerate during a contraction, followed shortly after by our obstetrician strongly recommending that we go to the hospital to have labor induced ASAP.
• 3 weeks, 3 days ago we welcomed our perfectly healthy baby Henry into the world.
• 8 hours later we brought baby Henry home and began our life as a family of four.
• 3 weeks and 1 day ago the entire family (excepting Henry) came down with bronchitis.
• 2 weeks and 6 days ago I planted this summer’s crop of tomatoes.
• 2 weeks and 5 days ago a burgler tried to break into our home as Thomas took his afternoon nap and Henry nursed in my arms.
• 2 weeks and 1 day ago Jeff’s part-time job turned into a no-time job.
• 1 week and 1 day ago I made baguettes.

Even without the bronchitis and the burglar, the first few weeks (in truth, the first few months) postpartum are tough.  Physically, I am doing pretty damned good:  I am 20 pounds lighter than I was just a few short weeks ago, we’re taking 3 mile walks on a regular basis, and my arthritis is relatively tame.  Mentally, I’ve got emotional whiplash.  We’ve gone from the emotional devastation of believing our baby had a heart defect to the utter elation of finding out that his little walnut sized heart was just perfect, to the anxiety of an early and induced labor in the hospital (we were planning a homebirth), to the joy of welcoming our new son into the world.  The first couple of weeks after Henry’s birth revolved around nursing a tiny baby, caring for a sick toddler who woke up nearly as often some nights as his little brother, and trying to decide on a name for said little brother.  Life felt quite surreal.  I hardly ventured into the kitchen, much less cooked anything remarkable.

About a week ago, I was passing by the file where I keep my recipes and in an instant I felt the postpartum fog blow away and I was seized by the urge to make Fleur de sel caramels.  I pulled out the recipe and made them that night; cooking sugar to a beautiful golden brown whilst Henry dozed in the sling (brazenly disregarding the “Never cook while baby is in the sling!” warning printed on the package…these days it seems I don’t cook without a baby in the sling).  As I went through the file I found the recipe for baguettes which I made up two days later; kneading dough while I talked and sang with Thomas.  The next night I pulled out a cookbook to inspire me to use the nearly one pound of peas Thomas and I had picked earlier in the day.  It’s going to take awhile for me to find a sense of peace regarding the anxious, quick, and medicated nature of Henry’s birth.  I’ve cried more over the past four weeks than in the past four months.  I haven’t slept two and half hours in a row but once in the past 3 weeks and 4 days.  Neither my maternity clothes nor my pre-pregnancy clothes fit me properly.  And in true postpartum style, I am typing this entry with one hand, the computer resting on a nursing pillow, while baby Henry alternates sleeping with fussing with nursing at one in the morning.  But…I am back.  As long as I am cooking, I feel like myself.

Life is going to be challenging for awhile, but I am trying to focus on the babies and the baguettes…and when I do, life feels just right.

This entry was posted on Sunday, April 19th, 2009 at 12:53 am and is filed under Theodore, Thomas. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.