What Were We Thinking?

I’ve asked myself this question about ten times this week. Not because I’m over it, but I think just because it’s hard. A lot. And yet I find myself dreading going back to work and missing any part of this whole process. Even the parts that, for lack of a better term, suck. The lack of sleep is a big one. I love sleep. I slept a lot before Owen. I’m still adjusting. I would LOVE five or six consecutive hours. And I keep saying things in my head like, “I can’t wait till he’s older and sleeps through the night.” Then I feel bad because I think about how much has changed already and how quickly the time has gone. Owen is seven weeks old today. Seven weeks! The memory of the day he arrived is still vivid and fresh as if if were last week.

Fortunately, my body feels much better than if it were last week. That’s the best part of time passing. Beginning to physically feel a bit more like yourself. I wore a size medium today. To celebrate, I finally used a gift card I’d been saving and treated myself to some new running pants from Athleta to hopefully inspire me next week when I tackle some light jogging. My larges are starting to feel big again and although my belly is still mushy and a little paunchy, careful selection of wardrobe items means that I’m starting to get into my pre-baby stuff. Not all of it, mind you. Some of those items fit as a result of a lot of pavement pounding and discipline, so it might be a while before I get into the skinniest of attire, but I’m on my way. Nine pounds to go to hit pre-preggo weight, and more importantly, one or two more sizes, depending on the item.

And why, when I’m lamenting big issues like returning to work and leaving the little munchkin, am I sweating something as stupid as my appearance? Because I’m a better mom when I feel good. I feel good when I’m fit and healthy. Even though that fitness is currently limited to walking, it’s something. And dropping baby weight was important to me. The long road will be less the weight and more the shape which will involve strength training and core workouts at which I’m horrible. So I’m not signing up for any 10Ks any time soon, but we’re getting there. Owen helped by adding his 9.5 pounds to my lunges this morning. Then the lunging motion put him to sleep, so it was win win. Mommy and me work out time! Then I tried to put him in his napper at which point he promptly woke up and commenced a blood curdling scream that could only be quelled by nursing. Of course.

As my body becomes less and less of a complete train wreck, it’s much easier to think that this will all work out. Everything will be great. However, the moments of sleeping baby beauty, ridiculous adorableness, and laughable cooing and ahhhh-ing seem rare. The aforementioned moments of screaming and crying until he can’t breathe seem to be far more prevalent. These are the moments that make us ask, “What were we thinking?” And then he curls up on Jon’s chest and falls asleep after a coo or two, maybe a little squeak. We remember.