Rosie getting her diaper changed last week.Rosie is now 2 months old.... and, even though time seemed to move like syrup, I still can't believe it's already been 2 months.
I felt like I lived and breathed every second of Rosie's first week. It was brutal. There I was, trying to take care of this baby who I didn't know. I didn't know what she liked, what her tendencies were. The first week was a constant struggle to befriend her.
I started off doing the night shift by myself right off the bat. I remember the first night went quite well, but I think that's because I didn't sleep at all and therefore, wasn't abruptly awakened. The second night, all hell broke loose.
By the time morning finally came, I had no blankets left (she had thrown up and pooped on all of them), no face cloths, and no bed (Rosie had crapped on my mattress). I remembering feeling such deep panic that night. I went and bought 6 receiving blankets that same day.
Not only was I adjusting to a newborn, but my body felt like it had been hit my at least 5 dump trucks. My feet and hands were swollen twice there size. My breasts were rock hard and sore from nursing. The pain from my episiotomy was like no other. Sitting comfortably was impossible and caused searing pain... but standing hurt my feet too much.
Despite all my pregnancy research, nothing prepared me for the amount of pain I was in (and my pain tolerance is quite high). I think women block those days from their minds and don't tell other people, because if other women knew the truth, they would never have babies.
Honestly, that week alone convinced me that I will ever have children again. Only if I have a surrogate mother and a live-in nanny.
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