Pregnancy and pandemic: 1 week postpartum

So, it’s actually closer to two weeks postpartum, but life is a little more hectic the last 11 days so let’s just pretend it’s still a week.

We brought #TheTrilogy home less than 48 hours after delivery which seems insane to me considering her arrival on earth. My recovery is going well though, but I really wish I could help more with the boys; especially #TheSequel. He’s still too little to understand what’s going on and doesn’t get why Mommy can’t scoop him up for snuggles, or put him in his chair for snacks, or get him down when he’s finished. That’s been really hard.

Also not being his bedtime buddy – that’s harder than I thought it would be, too. I’ve put him to bed (nearly) every night of his life and now I can’t even walk up the steps to at least be part of the routine. It’ll get better, I know that. And I’ll heal and be able to go back to picking him up and snuggling him before bed, but I wasn’t ready for recovery to take those things away from me.

But, that’s sort of par for the course these last five to seven weeks. Not a single thing has gone according to plan. Nothing. For a person who schedules, plans and coordinates things for a living, not being able to control the outcome of my own daily existence is maddening. I’d be lying if I said it isn’t affecting me. I’ve cried a lot over the last 11 days.

Today marks day 44 of my quarantine. In case you’re curious, day 42 was my breaking point. It’s the day I cried the most and the hardest at the loss of normalcy. At the loss of physical connection. The loss of control. But I’ve given myself permission to feel all the feelings. To recognize they are valid. But I’ve also given myself permission to not live in those feelings. And to find some peace and comfort in the loneliness of having a newborn that requires 100 percent of your time and attention.

One moment of peace and comfort came just a few days ago as Brett was putting #TheSequel to bed. Every night we sing a bedtime song indicating it’s time to go upstairs for bed. It goes:

Night night Baby (insert baby’s name)

Night night Baby

Night night baby

It’s time to go to bed

I don’t know the tune of the song we use, it’s something we modified from our swim class. If you take lessons through Emler Swim School, it’s their bye bye song for the littlest swimmers. Anyway, we sing that to him so he knows it’s time to go upstairs. And when we start singing it, he waves his little hand and says “bye bye” and walks towards the steps. Wednesday night as he was walking to the stairs I said “good night, buddy; I love you!” And he responded “I love you” and that’s the very first time he’s said that and my hormonal, emotional, quarantine weary mama heart couldn’t handle it and I cried all over #TheTrilogy’s head. Sorry ‘bout that, Sis.

But those are the moments I’m trying to remember. The ones that are surprising and new. The funny ones. The silly moments that make me belly laugh (even though it hurts to do so). #BabySuddreth has been particularly threenagey lately and I know this quarantine is a large reason why, but tonight I played him a video of the Happily Ever After fireworks display from Disney World and he was mesmerized. He shouted excitedly as he saw characters he recognized “MOANA! WRECK IT RALPH! LIGHTNING MCQUEEN!” And he pretended that he was the person making the fireworks appear in the sky. It was magical.

So postpartum life in quarantine isn’t exactly what I had planned, but it’s also creating some pretty incredible moments I might not have gotten otherwise.

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