She’s currently weighing in at a formidable 8lbs 15oz, and a measuring an alpine 22 inches long. She has a handful of needs:
– To eat
– To be warm
– To sleep
– To poop and/or pee
Why, then, one might ask, does it look like a tornado hit my house and I don’t know what day it is? It’s incredible. Emmie is a bundle of cute and love and squishes – and she’s the center of my universe in more ways than one. I think that I respected moms before my little boss came to town, but now I’m in awe. It’s the most important thing I’ve ever done – and without question the hardest.
You know in LOST, how Desmond was tasked with pushing the button in the hatch every 108 minutes? And if he didn’t do it, WHO KNOWS what was going to happen?
He really does love you, Penny…
Nursing feels like that. So much so, that I think maybe a new mom wrote that whole story element. The difference is that I do get 120 minutes instead of 108. That’s the toughest part – that she’s relying on me for such a fundamental thing: food.
Moms have been doing this for eons, ya’ll! What? They were doing this before Advil, before breast pumps, before disposable diapers, before epidurals, before any of it. Again, what? Between my two grandmothers, they had 11 kids. I have one. Uno. And she’s the ultimate shot-caller. She owns my days and my nights and all my thoughts.
I think of myself, and of my generation as very fancy and intellectual and empowered, but there is some righteous power in women’s history. They did all this while taking too much crap from a society that didn’t fully recognize their value and rights.
Women, moms through history, you are amazing. You are inspirational. I’m proud and humble to join your ranks.
Gotta go, I’m on the clock.