Babies are a lot of work.

About a year ago I reconnected with my best friend from middle school and the beginning of high school. Thanks to facebook, we were able to get in touch and few months later met for coffee. It was great, and really fun to share how our lives have changed and the people we've become. By the way, I used to despise facebook, and email, for that matter. I thought it was ruining society as we know it/knew it, and swore I would never join this world of the internet. Well, so much for that. Now I am the antithesis of my former self. I check facebook and email multiple times each day, and for goodness sake, I write a blog!

All of that to say, my friend recently had her first baby. Recently as in, her baby is only two weeks old. If you've ever had a baby, you are well aware that those first two weeks are rough (well, the first six weeks, in my opinion). As my friend shared, "nothing could have prepared me mentally for this." It's true. The overwhelming need to love and protect this little life, the desire for sleep, the feeding and changing of clothes and diapers, the care of yourself (which often comes in last place). And on top of all of that you have to stay sane!

It took me a while to really fall in love with each of my kids are they were born. Sure, I loved them and there's no doubt I would have done anything for them, but that moment of boding that everyone talks about, didn't happen for a few weeks. At the time I felt really guilty about that. Everyone talks about love at first sight, and this amazing moment where your baby is put on your chest and poof you're bonded together. I don't know, maybe I couldn't get past the fact that I'd just pushed for three hours with no drugs. Yeah, that may have been it. I'm just kidding. The whole natural birth experience was what I'd wanted. I'm a small person, void of "birthing hips", and I wanted to prove to the world that I could do it. I did. So there. Isaac was a different story. I was depressed, and wanted him out, and didn't really care how it happened, so I opted for the epidural. Epidurals make birth so boring! Anyway, when I was signing the discharge papers after Isabella was born and the nurse said, "Now she's yours for the next eighteen plus years!" I started sobbing. What had I gotten myself into and why were they letting me leave with this baby? It all worked out, and I've kept her alive this long, so I think we're doing okay.

With Isaac, I felt fairly detached at first. He was unexpectedly born with a birth defect (metopic craniosynostosis). For weeks before his birth I'd been telling people that something was going to be wrong when he was born, I was sure of it. Mother's intuition, I guess. Just when we started bonding with him, it was time for his big surgery. His appearance was so changed after his surgery, that I felt I had to re-bond with him. After his bandage was removed, I cried because I was happy that the surgery went well, but also because my child looked so different.

If you're reading this, and you're a new mom, it gets better! I promise! Just hold your baby and snuggle, and when people come over, just tell them to wash the dishes and leave you and the baby alone. You'll never get those moments back. Even though I certainly don't want another baby (and I obviously don't mind admitting that), it's so fun to look back at pictures of when my kids were born and remember how tiny they were. Especially when Isabella gets mad at me for winning Candy Land, and stomps off to her room, I can think back to how to cute and innocent she used to be. She's still cute, of course, but now she tells me she doesn't like what I'm wearing, and has to point out the pimples on my face. Oh how things change.