Things I’ve Learned

In the 2 weeks of being an actual, full time mommy…….
I learned that having something’s entire lively hood depending on you, can send you to the cliff of intensity… but once you’ve made that journey to the cliff, it doesn’t stop. You would think it would taper off slightly, given that you’ve reached the intended destination.. but it doesn’t. The worry, the lack of sleep, the borderline obsession over the babies health… all push you slightly over the edge. Once dangling from said edge, you simply exist there in an alternating state of balance. Sometimes you hang by a foot, a toe, a finger, the whole hand…. sometimes you end up in an unexpected free fall….. no matter how you look at it- your at the cliff, hanging over the edge, thinking….. wow, if I wasn’t so tired, this would be some pretty heavy shit.

Hunter S. Thompson, one of my all time favorite writers, once said “The Edge… there is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over” haha.. this is how I feel about the first few weeks of being home with a newborn. It’s a confusing palette of colors on an emotional pinwheel. In my lifetime, I’ve always been blessed (or cursed) with the gift to truly feel every emotion. Be it lust, love, passion, joy, anger, hurt … whatever. Now, the sensation that I thought could never reach a deeper level- managed to somehow slap some scuba gear on me and plunge me well beneath that previous comfortable level of emotional existence. Little baby smiles melt every moment of tension, 2 full uninterrupted hours of sleep feel like an entire day spent relaxing with PJ’s & comic books……. figuring out baby cues through a series of indistinguishable crying spells…. feels like the first time I passed a French or Italian test…… (of course, only to promptly forget everything learned for aforementioned exam) or the first time I successfully told the cab driver in Spain that I didn’t speak Spanish but my Mother spoke excellent Spanish, and she would give directions, and pay him… so “apresúrese para arriba!” (hurry up!) (it helps to point energetically in the general direction of where you would like to go, or if the Spanish speaking person is with you, to point idiotically at them. Whatever magical combination I used, I was successful.. and that feeling of triumph is the same feeling I get when learning to speak “Crying Baby” which by far… has to be the worlds oldest language.

I’ve learned that all choices have direct consequences. If you now decide to stay up late, or not eat well or not rest when you can…. you will pay for it. Either within the next hour, or through out the night. Since…. baby doesn’t take your choices into account. It’s all about him… and he’s totally fine with that arrangement. Just because you decide to stay up late to work on the computer, read a book, watch TV or simply stare at the wall drooling… once you do decide to go to bed… baby will know and baby will wake up and start playing the guess-the-cry game. So if you wait until your ready to actually sleep or are so damn tired that you can’t literally stay awake any longer… you’ve then officially made a shit choice. Baby will still work on his own agenda…. which means you are now pass the point of patience, you’ve used up all energy reserves and pretty much… have reached the land of the totally fucked. I’ve seen it happen to the man, and I’ve had it happen to me. It sucks to watch someone else go through it, and selfishly, it sucks tenfold to feel your zombified body going through it. Even worse, is once you have gotten some precious down time… then you wake again to work through the rounds of babydom… you actually feel bad for letting yourself get to the point of total exhaustion, which put you into a place of no patience. It’s a delicate balance.

I’ve learned that once you have a baby on the scene, that even the most solid of relationships take a hit. Both good and bad. Looking at the baby and seeing the man you love in the baby’s face, smile, chubby little cheeks, gives you a sense of total completeness that can’t be explained until you’ve actually been there…… knowing that this little guy has the grown up version of himself to turn to when he needs Daddy advice, or Daddy knowledge, hugs, girl-advice or whatever it is that sons turn to there Daddy’s for…. knowing that he has started off this life with that advantage, gives me a feeling of hope for the little dood’s future. Being from a single parent family, the importance of having a strong father figure in a child’s life, is one that I’ve felt strongly about. I lucked out, since without actually having a Dad around, my Grandfather stepped up and took on that role.. but as I grew up, our age differences took its toll….. but thankfully, the delicate years we’re solid and well behind us. It was in my teens that having an actual Dad around, would have helped a little more.. at least helped my mom with a newly rebellious daughter. ha…

I’ve discovered Fear has many different avenues. Having a baby makes you look at the world in a different light. I feel like I’m relearning how to exist peacefully in a city that suddenly seems more dirty, dangerous and crass then it ever did before. I’m also learning to work through this new feeling of Vulnerability. I’m amazingly self-sufficient. I’ve taken care of myself through wildly dangerous situations and have always come out in a good light… but the newly fierce feeling of protectiveness is so intense, that it’s taking some serious mental mojo to get those neurotic levels back down to a manageable plane.

I’ve discovered that when I’m not mentally, physically and freakishly exhuasted…. that I am literally itching to get back to Fight Club. Not to train Muay Thai, since… the way I look at it is like this, if not I’m physically healed enough from birth to have sex yet, then I’m damn sure not ready to get into a sparring match… BUT Fight Club comes with many different avenues. I can do the basic bag work, cardio and combos with out doing much more then losing weight & letting off steam annnnd getting my fine little booty back. Which, I noticed in the mirror yesterday, has lost its tone from lack of weight training BUUUUUT I’m losing baby weight, which is nice. Breastfeeding, a great weight diet that’s just as fucking hard as any other diet. haha… If you’ve ever breastfed, then you know what I mean.

I’ve learned that breastfeeding means you have just literally made the ultimate commitment to someone. When he’s hungry, your life goes on perma-pause. Taking a shower is the biggest luxury I’ve experienced so far… so it’s the only time I can really step away. If he’s hungry every 30 mins, I’m there, if it’s an hour.. I’m there…. two peas in a breastfeeding pod. The man helps out through out the night, but I worry that he’s reached his level of exhaustion & frustration, and during a time that I’m carrying my own weight in frustration, exhaustion and physically run-downess…. it’s hard to find a happy middle ground. I want him to rest, but I need the help…. I want to help him not be frustrated, but it’s work stuff that I simply can’t help with… I pick up his feelings more then I’d like to, since by doing so, I end up internalizing his feelings. Its a habit I picked up with the ex. I rarely talk about him since there’s really no point if you ask me, I made a good choice and ended a relationship that wasn’t going anywhere good. However, he was the kind of guy that if I walked in during an moment of emotional imbalance… anger, frustration, mad at the world type vibe… I inadverntaly walked into the line of fire, and instead of working through his emotions with a little bit of decorum and maturity, he would let loose on me. Pick on me about everything, until he finally got a rise outta me.. and I’d fight back, then we’d have this huge blow out over nothing, and he’d end up feeling better since he had been able to let off some steam.. but I’d feel terrible. Drained, confused, sad…. I’m just not one of those people who enjoy being fired up like that… I mean, there’s a line to draw, I’m no push over by any means.. but my first course of action is to approach a situation with logic. What’s wrong, is there a solution, and how soon can said solution be implemented? That’s my MO. Fighting for the sake of fighting is dumb to me…. but he’d rile me up and push all my buttons, till he hit the right ones and I’d fight back. To get to the level of being upset, it takes a lot. Anyway, my point to that was, now I pick up on everything and by instinct, try and get away from it before it explodes on me. I know that the man isn’t this way, and that it’s not his style, and truthfully, it’s something that I’m working on… to not react that way, but it’s pretty ingrained in my reactionary make up… so it’s taking time to sort it out. Does that make sense? I think I lost my point somewhere in that scooby do flash back.

Well..I’m going to finish my coffee and get ready for the Pediatrician appointment. I think there’s a diaper waiting for me too……. oh happy days… hello mother hood, good by sex appeal. hah