I'm totally convinced I understand how this "forgetting" thing works... There's something about childbirth that disables the part of your brain responsible for short-term memory, so that within a few days you're completely convinced that it's possible you could consider giving birth again – even if your family is now supposed to be "complete". I've been promising to write a letter to myself about this:
Dear Self,
You DO NOT want to be pregnant again, or give birth again. It's a really bad idea.... etc etc.
Already I am looking at that sentence and thinking, yeah right... alright for you to say... but what about me... What about what I want???
Dude. I am you (can clucky women be reasoned with??)
But how unthinkable to close the door on the tiniest of possibilities that there might be another time in my life where I gaze down into those newborn eyes, alternating between focus and fading out into milk-sated bliss. I will blink and this time will be gone, I remember that much from before.
Other things from before? – Not so much. Anyone would think I'd never had a baby with the amount of stuff I've forgotten how to do. Seems I'd also forgotten about the delights of engorgement and finding myself drenched in fusty breast milk (fresh and regurgitated), married with the magical experience of bleeding for the first time in 10 months as well as the associated injuries of childbirth.
To add insult to injury is –of course – the emotional fragility that accompanies such a 'messy' physical and emotional state. It's the first time in a long time I've felt tears spring forth so readily and with such drama! It's like literally drowning in tears at times, at the drop of a hat. It's happened on a couple of occasions... most notably when Cole decided he was going to express his displeasure/frustration by smashing his poor little head deliberately against the floorboards in the lounge room. I felt it like a knife through the heart, to think that he was feeling such intense and confusing emotions that this was the only way he could deal with it. We both cried and hugged and it was the first time I dropped my "happy face" that I'd been putting on and said, "It's hard, isn't it?" – it felt so good to be honest in that moment, even if he had no idea what I was talking about. It has been hard to see my firstborn child become (necessarily, I suppose) something else in my eyes... I had expected to have conflicting feelings about, and toward, the new baby – but not to have my feelings for Cole messed with in such a full-on way.
Everything between he and I had been perfect. Maybe it's not "true" that this has changed, but I am doubting myself: wondering if things have to change, or if there's room for another love as big as the one he and I have shared?
Funnily enough, it's actually Cole who's showing me the extent to which this might be possible. Only a week and a day in and he surprised me tonight (completely overtired) by wanting to give Freya a goodnight kiss without being prompted. He is such an affectionate and sweet little soul, that I don't want to buy into this fear and doubt that managed to creep in when I've been at my most vulnerable. But I expect I'll have more to report on this as time goes on.
Today I had to ring Helen because I had forgotten what 'happens' when the umbilical stump comes away. I could smell it through Freya's clothes this morning, it was truly gross... and when I looked, her singlet was bloodstained and the dried stump was hanging from the inner granula by a thread. I thought the general state of things looked pretty bad so I was worried about infection, but Helen assured me it all sounded very normal – although I would need to clean it very thoroughly. I also took the opportunity to complain (shock, horror!) about my graze, as it has been hurting rather a lot (for a graze, I'm thinking) and she reminded me about the Manuka honey and made me feel like I should definitely go and get some; as well as some alcohol swabs to clean Freya's umbilical region.
So it's been a day of grossness, to some degree; with smelly, oozy, decaying flesh to deal with... followed by a nice slathering of honey on the nether-regions. Of course, if it's for medical reasons, it's perfectly okay to mention it in one's blog. If it had been for more recreational purposes, then it probably wouldn't... although I guess nobody would be expected there to be any recreation taking place quite so soon!
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