Hard to believe there can be so many changes in a mere seven days. I don't mean the obvious -- there's a fourth Merrill in the family, Greta is a big sister, our carefully crafted routine is now chaos -- I mean the ones no baby books warned me about. Like my sudden fear of turning corners with Lincoln in my arms, imagining I'm about to crack his head on the door jamb. Or how fast my heart beat when Greta leaned in to kiss him for the first time and I thought she was going to swat him across the head. I didn't know my stomach would lurch when both of them start to cry at the same time. And then what to do: Who do you comfort first? (I've been trying to soothe Greta, rationalizing that Lincoln's lungs need crying now and again.)
Other observations: On Saturday, Greta dropped the -my. She now calls me Mom, except when she's really whiny. No idea why. Maybe she heard me addressing my Mom all week? And when I rocked Greta before her nap on Sunday, she leaned in close and whispered, "No Lincoln, Mommy, just Greta." I wonder over the next days/weeks/months/years how we'll balance the relationship with each of our kids individually and collectively -- making sure they both feel nurtured and loved. And I can't help but wonder how I'll behave as a mother of two. I haven't had to worry about that this first week -- between Rob & Mom waiting on me hand and foot as well as helping with the kids.
By the way, this
Cesarean hurts a lot more than the last. I'm still gobbling two
percocets per dose and intend to use up all my pain
meds! The doctor checks out me and Lincoln tomorrow, so hopefully his growth and my recovery are on track.
It's Monday morning now and Rob just dropped Mom off at the airport and Greta at daycare. That helps sink in all these realities. But as I rest here on the bed, with Lincoln's lips curled into a slight smile post-feeding, I can't help but feel happy about our two children and the promise I see in them every day.
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