You guys!  I’m sitting at my computer for the first time since Tuesday, which means this is the first time I’ve been downstairs since I came home from the birth center.  THERE’S A WORLD BEYOND THE FOUR WALLS OF MY BEDROOM.

Life is going very well over here, but man sakes alive they’re not kidding (’they’ being the faceless multitudes of the women who have come before me) when they say that caring for a newborn is hard.  You survive childbirth, which is in and of itself the kind of thing you’d like to rest from for a week, and then you rush headlong into meeting the needs of a tiny, inscrutible little person.

Your body is sore, if you’re unlucky (like me) you have stitches in unmentionable places that hurt like a son-of-a-gun, your boobs are going haywire, you’re covered in fluids, and to top it all off you sleep in hour-long stretches if you’re lucky.  Your schedule is annihilated, your house is probably a mess, and then hormones kick in and suddenly you’re weeping because your husband brought you a glass of juice.

Seriously, does this not sound like all kinds of fun?

The reason I’m writing all of this is so I remember.  Everyone always says it’s hard, but I never really knew what that meant and I want to remember what this felt like.

I also want to remember the first time my milk came in, and how proud I felt of myself and my body when I saw him get full and content.  I want to remember how incredible it felt to give birth, how amazed I was the first time I saw my son, and how when we got home and put him in the bassinet for the first time I sat there thinking, “I have no idea what I’m supposed to do next.”

I will fully admit to struggling a lot with new motherhood.  It’s exhausting anyway, but I’m also dealing with painful stitches that make everything more difficult.

The only thing that keeps me going is the support of Wes and our family.  Wes has kept the house running, tirelessly doing the dishes, greeting visitors,  bringing me food, changing the baby.  Wes’ mother, who should be a candidate for sainthood, has done everything for us under the sun.

She comes over every day, encouraging and supporting me.  She answers my questions, brings over supplies, makes us meals, changes diapers, draws me baths, and is generally just the epitome of the perfect helper.  It would be impossible to overstate how absolutely crucial she has been to getting us through this time.

So yes, my birth story is coming, as are posts about how awesome motherhood is, but for now I’m just going to be honest about my life as it stands.  Where it’s got tough spots, funny spots, bewildering spots, and falling-asleep-in-the-bathtub spots.