I have now gone so long without writing or posting that if I am to return to writing and posting, I must first write about not writing.
I hardly wrote through my pregnancy, and didn't write at all during the first 7 weeks of my son's life (he's 7 weeks old today). I don't have a good reason why. Really, I've had plenty of time. In fact, the closest thing I have to a good reason for not writing is that I've been overwhelmed by disbelief.
During the pregnancy, and even now, I've been unable to completely wrap my mind around the idea that a brand-new human is appearing on the planet, thanks to me and Trent (with the lion's share of the work done by me). I wanted to write how unbelievable it was to think that there was a little person growing inside me, but I think I frankly didn't really believe it. My baby-bump seemed like
just that: a bump. Just a round thing. It was bizarre to think there was a little folded-up person inside, being all person-y. The shape didn't even seem right. I just couldn't imagine it.
Birth itself was insane. So painful and impossible and insurmountable and terrifying and overwhelming -- I couldn't even think about the baby. All I could do was think, "Just poop...just poop...just poop..." (advice a friend of mine gave me shortly before giving birth), and try my damnedest to get myself out of my predicament (having a baby stuck inside me) alive.
Once it was over, I kept saying, "I can't believe it! I can't believe it! I can't believe any of it!" It was all so amazing so as to be unabsorbable. I took a brief break from saying, "Holy shit!" and "Hallelujah!" (that it was over, not that a baby had been born) and "I can't believe it!" to tell the baby what a good job he had done surviving the birth. "You did so good, Baby! You did so good! I can't believe how good you did!" I couldn't believe he was alive and healthy to boot. I couldn't imagine being trapped on the inside of what I had just experienced. I'd been so sure I wasn't going to survive being on the outside of it, I had assumed there was little hope for the human stuck inside me, but I'd been too consumed by concern for my own survival that I hadn't been able to worry about the baby.
After giving birth I felt, for lack of a better word, fucked up.
We didn't sleep the first night. The baby (it will be a while before I am able to think of him by his name) was awake, whimpering and suckling. "What about that long sleep they're supposed to do after birth?" I thought. I wished I had brought some formula. I'd heard stories about formula acting as a soporific for babies ("...he sucked down that bottle and that child slept!"). If I'd had some with me I would have given him a little via a syringe and feeding tube placed on my nipple. But I didn't have any.
So awake it was. "This is how it goes, huh?" I thought, "You give birth then get NO REST?" Suddenly the idea of taking the baby away to the hospital nursery made a lot of sense. But they don't do that much anymore, and my Birth Wish List specifically stated that myself or Trent was to remain with the baby at all times.
...
Hmmm... I am starting to get really into this. And it's 5 to 8 -- time to help little Reid go to bed. I fear if I don't post what I have now, I'll leave it unfinished in the "drafts" bin forever (that's another problem with posting -- half-finished posts left too long unfinished). Whereas if I post this now, I will get a little hit of pleasure from clicking "Publish" and actually successfully posting something. Also I will be beholden to you all to finish the story, right?
I hardly wrote through my pregnancy, and didn't write at all during the first 7 weeks of my son's life (he's 7 weeks old today). I don't have a good reason why. Really, I've had plenty of time. In fact, the closest thing I have to a good reason for not writing is that I've been overwhelmed by disbelief.
During the pregnancy, and even now, I've been unable to completely wrap my mind around the idea that a brand-new human is appearing on the planet, thanks to me and Trent (with the lion's share of the work done by me). I wanted to write how unbelievable it was to think that there was a little person growing inside me, but I think I frankly didn't really believe it. My baby-bump seemed like just that: a bump. Just a round thing. It was bizarre to think there was a little folded-up person inside, being all person-y. The shape didn't even seem right. I just couldn't imagine it.
Birth itself was insane. So painful and impossible and insurmountable and terrifying and overwhelming -- I couldn't even think about the baby. All I could do was think, "Just poop...just poop...just poop..." (advice a friend of mine gave me shortly before giving birth), and try my damnedest to get myself out of my predicament (having a baby stuck inside me) alive.
Once it was over, I kept saying, "I can't believe it! I can't believe it! I can't believe any of it!" It was all so amazing so as to be unabsorbable. I took a brief break from saying, "Holy shit!" and "Hallelujah!" (that it was over, not that a baby had been born) and "I can't believe it!" to tell the baby what a good job he had done surviving the birth. "You did so good, Baby! You did so good! I can't believe how good you did!" I couldn't believe he was alive and healthy to boot. I couldn't imagine being trapped on the inside of what I had just experienced. I'd been so sure I wasn't going to survive being on the outside of it, I had assumed there was little hope for the human stuck inside me, but I'd been too consumed by concern for my own survival that I hadn't been able to worry about the baby.
After giving birth I felt, for lack of a better word, fucked up.
So awake it was. "This is how it goes, huh?" I thought, "You give birth then get NO REST?" Suddenly the idea of taking the baby away to the hospital nursery made a lot of sense. But they don't do that much anymore, and my Birth Wish List specifically stated that myself or Trent was to remain with the baby at all times.
...
Hmmm... I am starting to get really into this. And it's 5 to 8 -- time to help little Reid go to bed. I fear if I don't post what I have now, I'll leave it unfinished in the "drafts" bin forever (that's another problem with posting -- half-finished posts left too long unfinished). Whereas if I post this now, I will get a little hit of pleasure from clicking "Publish" and actually successfully posting something. Also I will be beholden to you all to finish the story, right?
