6 Weeks

I'm in bed. I've just coaxed Maya to sleep, and honestly, I'm a little afraid to get up and go pee, even though I really want to, for fear that I'll wake her up. She never cries for no reason, and tonight, the reason is tiredness. Seems like a pretty straightforward solution, to just go to sleep, but not without first letting mama and daddy know how much she hates being tired. Well, me too, little lady, but I love going to sleep! Let's do it together! SLEEP PARTY!

She is officially six weeks old, as of Sunday the 5th. More significantly, it has been six weeks since I had a baby. Six weeks of healing. Of adjusting. Of pelvic rest and ignoring chores and being lazy because I'm tired and I'm tired and also I'm tired. I gave myself the full six weeks - it would be my window, my milestone for how long I'll let whatever I was doing just be enough.

But after... that is when this thing gets real. I needed time to just be for a second, but I also had to give that time a limit. I know me. I'd totally run with it and end up either giving myself no time at all and burning out before things even got real OR becoming a total sloth and watching TV forever while the dishes and the laundry team up to conquer the house.

I used to panic when she slept. I didn't know what to do first. Sleep? Watch TV? Eat? Shower? Clean? It was like I had few precious moments to do whatever I wanted and all I could think about was how angry I was that I was forced to choose between keeping myself alive and keeping myself clean. What kind of a world is that? Now, it's not as scary when deciding what to do with myself when she sleeps. (Though I am still rejecting this whole sleep-or-shower scenario.) Life is getting easier. More normal, if such a thing exists.

I'm excited about living life in my new role. I'm excited about having actual standards again, standards that involve the gym and a semi-clean house and, if we're super lucky, laundry that is not only clean but folded.

But whoa. Let's not get too crazy too fast.