One week old

I looked at the clock through a sleepy haze this morning and said to Matt, "Hey, exactly one week ago at this moment I was getting my epidural." As soon as the words left my mouth, I realized, Wow, that means I have a one week old baby! And what a week it's been-- filled with so much joy, so many sleepless nights, so many tears cried in frustration, so much anxiety about my parenting abilities, and so much love for one tiny person that I can hardly stand it.


I'll be the first to admit: I am definitely in the infamous "survival mode" stage right now. Thank goodness I had read about it and prepared myself for it or I might be convinced that I'm a crazy person who is more fit for a straight jacket than parenthood.

My pre-parenthood way of thinking: I hope I have the baby before Thanksgiving so he can be home for the holidays and meet everyone!

My post-parenthood way of thinking: Oh my gosh, there are germy relatives everywhere and all they want to do is hold him and touch him!

Here are some other things that my first week of mommyhood has taught me that I was not, in any way, prepared for:

-I now fully expect to be peed or pooped on every single time I change a diaper. It's pretty much a given. As soon as that fresh air hits his smooth and adorable bottom, he can't help but shower me with a little gift (or two).

-Sleep is a distant memory. Of course I knew I wouldn't be sleeping in until noon with a newborn baby but I had no idea that I would spend more hours awake than asleep during the night. I also had no idea that I'd learn to be (relatively) functional on 4 hours of sleep.

-Things that I used to find just mildly annoying send me into a near-rage these days. Blame it on the aforementioned lack of sleep or the astronomical amount of hormones surging through my body right now or some combination of the two. But if you ring my doorbell more than once? Get ready to endure the wrath of Kerri. If you don't wash your hands and you touch my perfect little baby? Watch out.

-Post-baby bodies are hard to adjust to. This has nothing to do with weight gain or a somewhat doughy stomach. Thankfully, my weight is coming off quickly and easily so far (knock on wood). It's about the post-partum bleeding. And cramping. And just the general soreness that goes along with being in labor for several hours and pushing a 7 lb baby out of a very small opening. And while I enjoy the size of my new boobies, I don't enjoy how painful they are to the touch. A simple hug makes me wince now. And the cracked, bleeding nipples are just about as pleasant as they sound.

-The crying. Oh, the hormones. I have no coping mechanisms other than crying right now. If you say something remotely insensitive to me right now, I'll cry. If you make me mad, I'll cry. If there's an especially cheesy holiday commerical on TV, you can bet I will be bawling my eyes out by the end of it.

These are just a few of the things that I wish someone had told me to expect just so I wouldn't feel like an insane, frazzled new mom.

But all of these things are a very, very minuscule price to pay for my precious son who is undoubtedly the love of my life. There are absolutely no words to describe the bond I felt with Camden from the moment he was placed on my chest one week ago today. It's an all-consuming, powerful, and selfless love. It's knowing that there isn't anything in this world I wouldn't do to protect him. It's wanting the very best things for him, regardless of the sacrifices those things might require of me.

When I was pregnant, I often felt like I was in love with someone I'd never even met. And then the moment I did meet him- that long awaited, magically surreal moment when his eyes first met mine- I felt like I had known him my whole entire life. He was meant for me, for us. I may be unsure of a lot of things as I flounder around aimlessly as a new parent, but that is one thing that I am absolutely certain of.

Happy birthday, Camden.