No one around this joint can keep their hands off of her, so it's a good thing that she likes to be snuggled, preferably in the crook of your arm.
I've wanted to come here so many times last week, just to write down all the lovely little bits about her. Like the way she smells like milk and sleep ... or the way she constantly smiles in her baby dreams ... or the way she makes sounds like a kitten when she is drifting off ... or the way I lean down to kiss her and then draw in a deep breath of her neck ...
Obviously, I never made it. But you understand, I know. Even now I am typing this one-handed as Mopsy uses me for a pillow.
Monday is Rob's last day of vacation and then I'm on full time HomeFront duty once more. I am so grateful that Rob had a week of vacation that he could use for Mopsy's homecoming; I know many dads who would love to be home in those early days but cannot. This past week we've just been cocooned with all our little chicks, enjoying a babymoon of sorts.
I am a little nervous about what the new normal routine will look like. I know it will all work out over time, but I like to joke that Rob is like my heat shield. He protects me from the rigors of re-entering the atmosphere of Planet Newborn. Without him, I get a little fried before it's all over.
But I can't deny that things feel a little different this time around; a little more peaceful, a little quieter than the homecomings of some of the other children.
It's hard for me to put my finger on just why it feels different. I'm still tired, I'm still not great with handling prolonged periods of little sleep, I'm still annoyed by the state of the house, but if I move all of that to the side, I still feel lighter and more . . . buoyant . . . than I have in a long time.
I think it's a combination of things. Superficially, I am glad to have my body back. As lumpy and saggy as it may be, it's still mine. I loved carrying Mopsy, I truly didn't mind sharing my living space with her, and her pregnancy was a good one, but the end was just a grueling haul to the finish line.
I'll still have moments when I pass a mirror and wonder where that big round belly went and I'll feel a little wistful. And then I'll sit comfortably behind the steering wheel and breathe deeply and I won't feel the least bit wistful.
Besides the physical pain, I spent a lot of time at the end of this pregnancy dealing with almost overwhelming fear. About everything. I wasn't having panic attacks or anything that severe, and I'll elaborate more when I finally finish my post on Mopsy's birth, but there were moments when I was almost crippled by fear. I accomplished very little during those last days.
I've had some rough times with post partum depression after some of the other children, most notably Fiver, so I always try to keep that on my radar. More importantly, Rob keeps that on his radar since I cannot always be relied upon to recognize what's going on with my own brain.
I guess only time and hormone levels will tell, but I'm not getting the sense that I'm headed in that direction. I can't explain it, it's just a gut feeling. I'm sure I'll get blue - I always do - and I know I'll get frazzled and a little strung out before we all settle in, but I'm rolling with it.
I can only concentrate on one day, one hour, one moment at a time. Right now, spring has sprung. Right now, the days are sunny and flowers are everywhere. Right now, I have a sleepy and delicious new baby. Right now, I am happy and thankful for tender mercies.
Right now, I am going to live. I am going to enjoy. Period.