I'm Starting to Like My Baby

I know that seems like something that should be automatic, but it really kind of isn't.  At least, not after losing your first baby.  It took me months to even associate that the baby in my belly was mine.  And it took until now for me to smile when the baby kicked instead of grimace.

But I did.

I think part of it is heavily involving myself in building the baby registry.  I passed a couple of things off on my husband, who is just better equipped to make some of these choices.  Sorry, but I just don't get the differences between bottle warmers, diaper bags, sterilizers...you handle that part, hon.

But I am shopping for the rest of the stuff we will need, and even though shopping in general is kind of stressful, it's nice to really use my brain and think: "what do I want to see Jack in?  How do I want to diaper him?  What pattern do I want on his sheets?  His clothes?  Will he like mice?  Puppies?  Monkeys?  Trucks?"

Speaking of diapering...

There is some kind of mindset out there that a woman who has a child simply CANNOT handle any extra tasks.  This is one of the reasons my mother has been pushing me so very hard to use disposable diapers instead of cloth, even though I have already made up my mind that cloth will work the best for us, our home, our trash pickup, our baby, and our community.  But you know, a woman just gets so BUSY during those first few months, that you don't want any extra stuff like LAUNDRY to worry about.

Okay...look.

I challenge that.

I can do as much as I need to.  I can make time.  I am boss at making time.  I can go without sleep because Jack needs to eat, needs a bath, needs a lullaby, needs anything, and that includes a change.

I don't think we need to convince women before they even have their children that once they get here, their lives will be ruined and packed to the point that clicking a couple of buttons on a washer is just TOO MUCH WORK.  You know what I honestly don't want to do?  Drag several bags of nasty, gel-filled, shit-filled poop sacks outside, down the driveway, and to the curb one time per week after letting them stack up in my house because if you put them outside the coons will litter the yard with them.

I promise.

The walk to the washer with reusable, rinsed out, bad-out-sprayed diapers and covers in a washable, leak-proof diaper sack is about a million times easier.

And even if it wasn't, I could still do it.

Because having a baby doesn't make me incapable.  I've been busier.  Try doing all the baby tasks, but with four 4-day-old kittens who don't want to eat because you aren't their momma, whose tummies hurt from a sudden switch to formula.  Hmm...I believe I recall finding time to do laundry back then, too.

Go figure!