Reintegration

On Monday, January 14th, my life was forever changed.  On that day, our little one was born.  Just shy of six pounds and utterly adorable, the hospital staff referred to her as, "Peanut" throughout our two-day stay.  I'll continue referring to her by the moniker, or "P," on this blog. 
  
I've been working on writing her birth story with hopes of posting the events of the past few weeks chronologically.  But I've fallen behind.  There are so many things I've been experiencing as a new parent, so much about which I've wanting to write, and the days keep slipping away into timeless cycles of nursing, changing, rocking, and sleeping.  Today I decided to forget chronology.  I'm going to go ahead and start posting again, and will work on finishing the pending entries when I can.  Here's where I am today. 

**************************

With the exception of two car service trips to the pediatrician, I haven't left our apartment at all in two weeks.  Not even to step outside the building and breathe the frigid city air.  I've been living in a secure little indoor bubble with Peanut.  While it's been fun getting to know her and quite a privilege to have the time and space to adjust to life as a parent, I have become increasingly stir-crazy.  Not doing anything remotely related to my "regular" life - working, walking, taking the subway, having dinner with friends, running errands - has only reinforced the bubble and made me feel like I'm living in some alternate reality.  My life as a parent hasn't yet connected with the rest of my life at all.  I've subsequently been in a weird emotional space where despite the fact that my life is entirely changed, time feels oddly suspended.

Tonight, when S came home from work, I left P with him and walked to the grocery store in a first step toward reintegration.  The store is only five blocks away, but it was the first time I walked anywhere at all since giving birth, and it felt like a huge accomplishment to make it there.  Given that I'm still recovering from the delivery, am in pain, and am pretty slow-moving, I walked at about half my typical pace, meaning that I was constantly in the way of pushy commuters and rambunctious children on the sidewalk.  It was a scary experience.  I did my best to avoid getting shoved while simultaneously reminding myself to breathe and release tension in my body every few steps.  Step, step, breathe, lower shoulders.  Step, step, breathe, move neck from side to side. 

I finally made it to the store and walked the familiar path down the aisles.  Past the organic fruit and vegetables, through the shelves of bread and cheese, over to the tea and tortilla chips.  Though I was walking excruciatingly slowly and my maternity coat was hanging shapelessly off my non-pregnant frame, I felt as if nothing in my life had changed.  Scooping rolled oats from the bulk bin into a plastic bag, it was hard to remember that I'm a parent, and that everything is different.  I was simply back in my "regular life" compartment.  Even though I couldn't have even been at the store without having S available to care for P at home.   

As I handed my purchases to the cashier at the store, she looked at me and exclaimed, "did you have your baby?!"
"Yes," I smiled.
"I thought I didn't see a belly any longer!" she said.  "What did you have?"
"A girl," I replied.
"Oooh, congrats.  That was fast!  Even though it probably didn't feel that way to you."

On the contrary, I thought.  It was fast.  In the blink of an eye I got pregnant, grew a baby, and birthed her.  I anticipate this precious time on parental leave will go by even faster.  It won't be cold January forever, P will grow bigger and stronger and I'll be able to take her outside for walks and eventually, even to the grocery store and on the subway.  Reintegration will happen and I will have the opportunity to be a parent with a full life both inside and outside our apartment.  I imagine I'll even think back to this weird bubble-time somewhat wistfully, wishing I could have more opportunities to be stashed away with P for days on end, just she and I, cuddling and singing and gazing at one another in awe.  For now, I'll welcome the little chances I can get to step outside, breathe the air, and stretch my limbs and brain cells just a bit.