Wyatt is here. In fact, tonight at 11:17 will mark one week since his birth. And in a meandering way, this post will commemorate the week of his life thus far.
We’re doing great. Eliza is slowly adjusting, but for the most part pretty happily. A little insecure, occasionally bratty, but mostly okay. Pretty much what I expected, overall.
Last night I left the house for the first time since Wyatt’s first doctor’s appointment on Wednesday. (As an aside, can I just say that whoever decided the pediatrician needs to see the infant four days after his birth was never a newly postpartum mother? I started crying with the first logistical question the receptionist had to ask me.) I merely went to Family Video to take back a movie, but as I drove away in the crisp, golden evening I felt giddy and free.
Most nights I don’t want to go to bed because I don’t want the nighttime feedings to begin, but every morning I feel better than I expect to.
Every single day I look at Wyatt and marvel at the fact that I, even I, gave birth to this baby without an epidural. I did not think I had it in me. And really, I didn’t, but by the time I thought I was going to die and told my doula, “No, seriously, I’m getting an epidural,” I was within a half hour of Wyatt’s birth and there was no time to hook me up to the IV for fluids. And I’m so thankful, too, because now I’ve done it.
You can take this with a grain of salt, because I know that people are genetically predisposed to think this of their offspring, but seriously? Matthew and I make the prettiest babies. Wyatt is awesome.