You may or may not be aware, but your girl is a Swiftie. That's right, y'all. I am a Swiftie. Did I seek out this lifestyle? No, I actually just woke up one day and realized Taylor Swift writes lyrics I am able to strongly relate to, and also Spotify notified me that I was in her top 0.5% of US listeners for the year. This was a few years ago, and I've continued to be in her top listeners in the years since. No doubt she's seen my name a few times. Honestly, RB listened to her so much in the womb that I seriously think her music has a special kind of soothing ability on him.
So, why this song for my first post? Two lines, specifically 1. "Life is emotionally abusive"
2. "It's like snow on the beach, weird but fucking beautiful."
Those two lines sum up parenthood thus far, I'd say.
Life is emotionally abusive. RB was quite colicky for a few weeks and, hand on the bible, Beau and I were on the absolute edge of insanity while we rode that wild ride. We love, love, love our son, but we do not at all love colic. It's already hard having a newborn. For some reason, the universe thought we'd benefit from the added challenge of one that screamed for hours on end for no reason and did not care for anything we tried to do to soothe him. If you're not familiar with colic, we envy you. It's basically the word doctors use to medically describe your child when they cry for absolutely no reason and there's pretty much nothing you can do except cry alongside them. Praise the Gods we are through that now. It was kind of like a big middle finger from life, forcing us to listen to our baby cry and not being able to make him feel better. There were many midnight car rides, skin to skin, baths with mom, lots of music, rocking in our rocking chair, warm bottles, Windies (if you don't know what that is, it's basically a way to de-gas your baby, and it is an absolute godsend, I would give the inventor an actual fuckin' kidney if they need it for what they did for us), walks outside, walks inside, sitting in the quiet, listening to white noise, and just straight up crying in the dark. RB is the first baby Beau and I have really ever interacted with, and boy, were those first few weeks humbling.
It's like snow on the beach, weird but fucking beautiful. This line right here, y'all, it hits differently post-partum. Being a parent is still weird to me. To think I'm this little boy's mom, that I am his source of food, that we are his source of happiness and protection and how to learn how to human - it's just a trip to me. It always takes me a little time to fully digest a new title, if you will. When Beau and I got engaged, I didn't really even process the tag' fiance' before we got married, and even then it took me a year to get used to the moniker 'wife'. I'm really just slow to digest change. This may stem from my childhood, or this may just be who I am as a person. To think I'm a mom though, I'm still wrapping my mind around it. It might always be weird to me that I grew this little creature inside of me, got him out, and fed him from my body. If I think about all that too closely, I kind of start to have an existential crisis because it is just so damn trippy.
It ain't easy, momming. Parenthood is not for the weak. I say this humbly, and 8 weeks in. But good God, it is a beautiful thing. To see his smile each morning, and to watch him do his crazy little baby stretches; to watch him wiggle and coo, and to listen to him tell us about his day in his little baby language each evening. To give him a bottle at 3am, and to be totally content just to watch him sleep and eat at the same time (very impressive skill to have mastered at this age, IMO). To be totally sleep deprived and yet functioning pretty okay because he's a whole source of energy for me. To hear him cry and be able to calm him. To get him to sleep and start putting together a routine for our nights. To watch him watch Happy. To see his smile when he sees his daddy. How stupid proud I am when he dirties a diaper. Watching him discover his little caterpillar fingers.
The whole thing is just fucking beautiful. And we're just getting started. ♡
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The last blog I had, I would kind of obsess over how things were written. I'd worry about if they'd read the right way, if they'd offend, etc. I'm doing it a little different this time. I wrote this in one sitting, and I'm just going to post it. I have a goal for myself this year, and it's to be myself without apologies more often. This is one way I'll be doing that. If you don't like the cursing, or if you don't like how I describe my experience, you are welcome to not read this blog. If you choose to continue, I thank you for your support, and I look forward to putting more of my feelings on paper and getting them out of my head.
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