The Bad JuJu - Part Four: And Baby Makes Three...

And Baby Makes Three... Two

Watching my daughter's birth was surreal.  "T" spent most of his time on the blackberry crackberry, while my mom held my hand and answered my every need.  She is the most giving, selfless woman I know.  Her whole life was her children, which is another reason why I yearned to be a stay-at-home-mom - if T was bringing in close to six figures - why not?  It wasn't like we would starve or have our utilities cut off because someone forgot to pay them and didn't give his wife access to his bank account after leaving on a business trip halfway around the world.   Wrong again.

When my daughter was ready to poke her head out, the doctor asked if I wanted a mirror positioned so I could "see."  I was facinated and embarrassed at the same time.  I asked Thomas not to look, as there are some things between a man and woman that should be upheld as sacred.  But it was like passing a car accident on the highway - you couldn't help but look.  Til' this day, her arrival through my birth canal has been the best 5 seconds of vision my eyes could ask for. 

While not the most attractive scene, it was amazing.  T later told me he could go his whole life without seeing that again.  I KNEW he would be disgusted, which is why I told him to LOOK AWAY!  Suffice it to say, our sex life would take a plunge into dormancy following Sara's birth.

So, there I was, in the suburbs...with a husband who didn't communicate and a baby who cried...alot.  T had sold his truck and was using my car as our single mode of transportation.  I could use it if I wanted to get up at the but crack of dawn, wake and feed a baby, change a diaper and screw up her morning nap time - which was my only time to myself.  It was sacred, that time...

You could call it "stuck"..."isolated"..."alone" - whatever it was, it didn't agree with me.  The "free spirit" began to get her wings clipped.  I would look through photo albums of trips I'd taken with friends, ex-boyfriends, business...I'd spend time staring at my "skinny jeans" - wondering if I'd ever wear them again.  And then I'd hear the distant cry of my daghter, and all selfish thoughts went out the window.

Looking down at this little human with large round eyes that seemed wise beyond her years made me that more determined to start shutting down the person I used to be - fun, outrageous, carefree and adapt to whatever this baby would need me to be.

I remember telling my friends who were appalled at my situation, "When you have a baby, you give up the right to be frivilous."  I think that fell on deaf ears, especially for my generation whom I deem the "instant gratification nation"