Thoughts on (New) Motherhood

I won't spend the majority of my posts gushing about my  precious baby girl is (although I could), but I decided it was high time I wrote something about her. She is, after all, amazing. I may be biased because she's mine, but it really is true.

Adeline Grace Maier--she's a gift straight from heaven to our home. When I look at her, I am flooded with awe, still find myself in a state of disbelief that she's mine, and am amazed that my love for her is growing just as fast as she is growing. I easily get lost in her eyes--she's so alert now, and it's such fun to just enjoy locking eyes with this little person who grew inside me. (Which, by the way, is still mind-boggling).

I'm finding that motherhood is just what I thought it would be in many ways, but it truly is harder than I thought. I was prepared for difficult.  I'm not naive, you know (well, not all the time at least). The things that I expected to be hard are hard, and the things I expected to be easy are easy. It's the things I didn't know would be difficult that makes transitioning into the role of mother so frustrating, tiring, and sometimes bewildering.

That's not to say I don't like it. I love it. It brings out a new me, the me that's been praying and waiting for this moment since I was a little girl dreaming about being a mommy.

So what didn't I expect? I didn't expect to feel so devoid of affection. Here I am giving tons of it to the sweetest little thing on earth, but since she's too little to give it back, I feel like I'm giving and giving, but not getting anything back. I know she's a tiny little infant and isn't capable of affection like I am just yet, but it's still how I feel. You'd think that getting affection from my husband would help--and it does, when I get it. But we're so busy trying to juggle the baby, trying to keep her happy, that I think we forget to make time for each other. Either that, or we just don't know how to yet. Sometimes we go days without hugging each other, not for lack of wanting to, but because we just can't figure out how to, I guess, what with trying to keep up with the baby. But I need them. So much, especially now.

Hugs communicate more to me, sometimes. They say "You're not alone," and "I'm glad we're in this together," and "I know it's hard, but we'll get through it." Quick smootches don't really say that. Sure, they say "I love you," but sometimes that's not enough. Is that scandalous to say?

I know Joey loves me. I don't doubt it for a second. And I don't doubt that my little girl will soon be returning my smiles and will be big enough to give me hugs back. But for now, in this in-between time, I'm trying to remember that this is not the way it'll always be. Our life is turned upside down for now, but eventually it'll set itself right again (won't it?).

Taking the good with the bad, the easy and the difficult, it's like eating bittersweet chocolate. It's good, very good, but it's not all sweet. There's enough sweet in it to make it palatable--intoxicatingly good, even. But it's not all sweet. It's earthy and complex, has a tinge of power to it, and isn't something to be taken lightly. Appreciating both the components of bitter and sweet is the only way to enjoy it. And that's how I feel about being a mother. There's difficulty to it, things that I've had to let go of and things I'm getting used to, but there's so much good, such awe and wonder that comes along with it that I can't think of anything but good things to say about it. I love it, and I love my little Addie.