I think the hormones have caught up to me. I am sitting here with tears rolling down my cheeks.<\/p>\n
It’s not feeling overwhelmed. It’s not a loss of self. It’s not pain or frustration with breastfeeding. It’s actually kind of silly – or at least it seems like it to me – but it is what it is: I keep getting upset that time is moving forward. I have this desperate desire to capture every single thing about this time that I possibly can, whether it be in words, pictures, video, or some other way to soak it in and lock it in my memory banks. Every little face and squeak she makes is the most adorable thing I have ever seen. But, obviously, there is no possible way to capture everything. (And then when I try to do so, I start getting panicky that I’m spending time on my computer instead of holding her or watching her.) I worry that she’s already growing up, and as much as I look forward to finding out who she’s going to become I feel panicky at the thought of losing who she is now, if that makes any sense. I talk to some of my friends about how wonderful it is when they get older, too, to reassure myself. <\/p>\n
I love waking up in the morning and watching her wake up. I love waking up, period, simply because I can return to this reality where she really is here. I’m pretty sure somewhere underneath there runs a current of fear and anxiety that this will somehow go away. I mean, I did it… I got through the pregnancy, I birthed her alive and well, we brought her home. But there are some moments in a day when I feel anxious because life feels too normal, too close to “before.” At times like those I just try to spend my time holding her to reassure myself that she’s still here, that life isn’t back to how it was before.<\/p>\n
I look at her sleeping on my lap and just start bawling because she’s the most beautiful thing in the entire world. I love her so damn much it hurts. I hope she grows up knowing how very precious she is to us, how very far we came to get here, and that we would walk through hell for her.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I think the hormones have caught up to me. I am sitting here with tears rolling down my cheeks. It’s not feeling overwhelmed. It’s not a loss of self. It’s not pain or frustration with breastfeeding. It’s actually kind of silly – or at least it seems like it to me – but it is […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":71,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[178,200,434],"class_list":["post-2977","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized","tag-anxiety","tag-crying","tag-hormones"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/lunardreams.net\/baby\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2977","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/lunardreams.net\/baby\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/lunardreams.net\/baby\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/lunardreams.net\/baby\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/71"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/lunardreams.net\/baby\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=2977"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"http:\/\/lunardreams.net\/baby\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2977\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2978,"href":"http:\/\/lunardreams.net\/baby\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2977\/revisions\/2978"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/lunardreams.net\/baby\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=2977"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/lunardreams.net\/baby\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=2977"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/lunardreams.net\/baby\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=2977"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}