Hurray! I found a nice gym with a nice crèche. So nice in fact, that I’d rather spent my hours sitting in the crèche than on the gym floor, but I guess I have to grow up here. I will have my fitness assessment (uh-oh…) tomorrow, and for the first time in her short life, little L will be looked after by strangers for a total of 60 minutes. If mummy doesn’t burst into tears and rescues her before the time is up, that is.
Yes, it is true what they are saying, they grow up faster than you could ever imagine. In her unbelievable fabulousness, little L is soaking up her environment like a little sponge, discovering her own hands to grab mummy’s nose or punch herself in the face. Apparently, she hasn’t discovered coordination yet. At two months of age, she loves being propped up to not miss a tiny thing of what is going on around her. So we splashed out a little and ordered this fabulous bouncy chair from Mamas&Papas. I particularly like the tag that is dangling from its side. It left me wondering which message they are trying to get across.
Finally, I am not only allowed to drive again, I also feel capable of doing so for the first time in 10 weeks. In addition to the constant headache, sleep deprivation gives me the feeling of having a major hangover – without having had the fun of getting insanely wasted the night before. I don’t know if I am actually feeling better, or if I am just getting used to feeling spaced out all the time. What I definitely won’t get used to is being constantly weepy. It’s pathetic, really. There is not a single day where I won’t shed a few tears.
What? It’s Wednesday again? Where has the week gone? I blame my virtual absence on the great weather and the fact that I got more confident in taking little L out. We had a blast attending coffee mornings, picnics and going for walks. Almost bursting with pride, I paraded my beautiful social butterfly in her pram, dressed to the nines in Petit Bateau (little L, not me), making the most of the sunny days. Well, almost.
Let’s call this first week ‘awareness week’. I was pretty aware of all the nasties that made their way into my stomach.
However, thanks to one of the best diet boosters ever, I managed to shrink a little. Despite being totally off our usual schedule – we went to Germany last weekend to introduce little L to her great grandma – and a long car journey that made us pass France (pain au chocolat & sandwich jambon, fromage, beurre) and Belgium (waffles and chocolate), and finally guided us to our final destination, Germany, land of the Jaegerschnitzel. And did you know that there is a range of Ferrero chocolate snacks that are exclusively available in Germany? Of course, I had them all.
The other day I have been awarded twice. Just in time to cheer me me up in all this mummy-madness. And because I am sleep deprived beyond believe, I am going to keep it short and sweet:
Little L was six weeks yesterday, and so is my scar. I went to see my GP on Monday, and here is the verdict: Everything hunky dory, I can get pregnant again. Hooorray! Only kidding.
Six weeks of sitting on the sofa, stuffing my face with chocolates and ice cream – all with the excuse of having had a caesarean – have come to an end. In fact, I couldn’t move much right after surgery. But even though I could have been more mobile recently, I just haven’t upped my speed or the amount of moving around at all.
Little L was five weeks last Tuesday, and somehow it feels as if she’s been with us forever. Life without her is a distant memory and seems as long ago as a restful night. At the same time everything is still brand new and she surprises us every day with another trait of her personality shining through. I could gaze at her for hours and hours, feeling so blessed and lucky to have her. Of course, she is the most perfect, amazing, beautiful and smart little creature the world has ever seen, and I am almost bursting with pride. Vowing to respect her privacy, I have to fight against the urge to plaster this blogg with her pictures.
Even in school I have never been good in either keeping up chain mail (hence my seven years of unluckiness regarding questions of the heart) or taking awards with pride. It embarrassed me when my mum showed pictures of me on stage in my tutu to strangers, or when she framed and wall mounted newspaper articles featuring her offspring.
We are having a couple of exhausting days. Lots of screaming – or should I say shouting? barking? – as soon as I try to put little L down for only a second. The only thing that seems to sooth her is my nipple in her mouth, her little body clutched closely to my chest. We went from feeding every three to four hours to nonstop feeding. And as quickly as my sleep deprivation increases, my sanity goes out of the window with every new feed. Only a few weeks into little L’s life and I already feel like a failure. Why can’t I give her what she needs?