2 weeks into the motherhood. Thanks for all the congratulations.
I am still trying to get into and enjoy the motherhood. It is the most tiring job in the world. I don't regret it the slightest - he's the most gorgeous little person in the whole world (and I am sure no one would dare say that I am biased) and the most amazing thing that happened in our life (This little man has grown into an individual with his own characters. He is not just a 'baby' anymore, he's Oliver who gets cranky when he doesn't get his food, always refuses to close his eyes even though he was yawning and yawning, and loves a drive in daddy's car; it is hard to believe he is the same helpless little creature born 2 weeks ago and the same person who was in my tummy for 9 months). But the whole thing has given me a new meaning on the new mummy syndrome:
Banana in pyjamas - No, it is not Oliver's favourite show. It is how I feel since I spend more time in my pyjamas than ever during the day. Most of mornings I would get up just to feed Oliver straight away and do not even have time to have my breakfast first or do other thing first. You just don't have time to look pretty anymore (taking shower is even a luxury) and anyway, the minute you put the baby down after a feed he'll wake up demanding more within an hour -there's no time, and frankly, why bother?
Walking zombie - All flesh and no soul, I am operating on the automatic gear like a walking zombie at the moment. Apart from being the milking cow I am, I switch on by the tiniest coo and sniffle from the little one. I jump straight from the bed instinctively, without thinking or anything. Scott scolded me for doing that when my stitches were still fresh from the surgery room. The other day we went to Ikea with Scott's mum and only in the car I realised I was wearing my home slippers - ugly ripped apart batik slippers. But do I care? Not a slightly bit.
Mixed feeling, baby blues - The third day at the hospital I had my first episode of baby blues. Tired, not enough sleep, incision pain, and been in the hospital all by myself (Scott went to work that day), I burst into tears in front of the midwife (apparently this is normal, since all the pregnancy hormones that gave me that 'zen' feeling suddenly shut off on the third or fourth day). Scott and I have been working as a team from the day we went back from hospital and Scott's mum had been here helping us out for two weeks as well, so I am more less better (although I would love to have ten hours of unbroken sleep. He is so angelic (mostly when he's asleep) but sometimes I still feel like putting him in the basket outside the gate with a little note "free to take home".
I am still trying to get into and enjoy the motherhood. It is the most tiring job in the world. I don't regret it the slightest - he's the most gorgeous little person in the whole world (and I am sure no one would dare say that I am biased) and the most amazing thing that happened in our life (This little man has grown into an individual with his own characters. He is not just a 'baby' anymore, he's Oliver who gets cranky when he doesn't get his food, always refuses to close his eyes even though he was yawning and yawning, and loves a drive in daddy's car; it is hard to believe he is the same helpless little creature born 2 weeks ago and the same person who was in my tummy for 9 months). But the whole thing has given me a new meaning on the new mummy syndrome:
Banana in pyjamas - No, it is not Oliver's favourite show. It is how I feel since I spend more time in my pyjamas than ever during the day. Most of mornings I would get up just to feed Oliver straight away and do not even have time to have my breakfast first or do other thing first. You just don't have time to look pretty anymore (taking shower is even a luxury) and anyway, the minute you put the baby down after a feed he'll wake up demanding more within an hour -there's no time, and frankly, why bother?
Walking zombie - All flesh and no soul, I am operating on the automatic gear like a walking zombie at the moment. Apart from being the milking cow I am, I switch on by the tiniest coo and sniffle from the little one. I jump straight from the bed instinctively, without thinking or anything. Scott scolded me for doing that when my stitches were still fresh from the surgery room. The other day we went to Ikea with Scott's mum and only in the car I realised I was wearing my home slippers - ugly ripped apart batik slippers. But do I care? Not a slightly bit.
Mixed feeling, baby blues - The third day at the hospital I had my first episode of baby blues. Tired, not enough sleep, incision pain, and been in the hospital all by myself (Scott went to work that day), I burst into tears in front of the midwife (apparently this is normal, since all the pregnancy hormones that gave me that 'zen' feeling suddenly shut off on the third or fourth day). Scott and I have been working as a team from the day we went back from hospital and Scott's mum had been here helping us out for two weeks as well, so I am more less better (although I would love to have ten hours of unbroken sleep. He is so angelic (mostly when he's asleep) but sometimes I still feel like putting him in the basket outside the gate with a little note "free to take home".
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