Third Time's the Charm

This is what I have in my lap as I type this morning...

I have had five and a half years to forget about how exhausting it is to have a newborn. One wouldn't think that a little thing weighing less than seven pounds could cause so much stress and so many aches and pains. This time around I am, of course, not only dealing with the usual stresses and fatigues that accompany having a new baby, but also coping with the aftermath of surgery. This morning I was moaning to George about how achy my back was and how much I'd love to have a really good stretch. Fear of feeling like I am going to rip my stitches, unfortunately, is preventing me from attempting that good, deep stretch. Ouch!



But I did not sit down here this morning to write about the aches and niggles that will soon fade from my memory. (God was very clever when He gave us all New Mom Amnesia without which none of us would ever have more than one baby.) I did sit down to write about how being a third time mom means being a much more relaxed mom. I know from experience that these discomforts are only temporary. I know how glad I will be in a few months that I persevered with breastfeeding even though at the moment it fills me with a bit of dread. (You will be grateful that I won't go into any more detail than that.) I also know how short of a time we will have someone so tiny and helpless in our midst, and if she wants to be held and nursed constantly... so be it. She will not desire my attention near as much when she's thirteen, so for now, I can take it.



Better still is the rapport that I have with my husband the third time around. When we had our first baby, there was a game we liked to play called "I Am Way More Tired Than You." As you might imagine, this is a game that no one ever really wins. This time around, we know each other so much better. I know that a happy and well-rested George is a much better partner than an exhausted and unappreciated one. This is why I refrain from rolling my eyes when he says he's tired. I know he's tired, and I also know it is not a competition to see who can be the most miserable. Who would want to take that trophy home?


My house is not as clean and tidy as I would like, and there is nothing I can do about it... And I am okay with that. Being not-okay would serve no purpose. We have been eating lots of frozen pizzas and fish fingers lately, and I say, "So what?" This all shall pass. One day I will be back in my kitchen (more than likely with Lili strapped to my chest), and there I shall cook up a culinary feast, but for today, fish and chips and a happy family are all I need.


Also did I mention that I haven't put on real clothes in about eleven days. I am at peace with the fact that this is my time to heal. There will be time to hike up mountains, to cook and clean, to travel and go on outward adventures soon enough, but for now the adventures are all happening inside my untidy house. The main characters are my husband, my children and me, and my costume is George's old garish tie-dyed t-shirt and a pair of polka-dot pajama trousers. It isn't perfect... or maybe it is.