Posted by Duff

No, I didn’t name my son Atticus. I wanted to, but I got vetoed. For the longest time, it was going to be his middle name. Something for him to aspire to. But, in the end, these two Agnostics kicked it about as Old Testament as you can, choosing from a pool of Biblical names. Go figure.

My dreams were right. A little boy who looks so much like his father, it’s eerie. And already has the same issues with dairy (at least the two of them can split a cheeseless pizza in a couple of years).

This experience is mercifully different from the first time. Atticus has somewhat predictable sleep patterns. Is willing to lie on his back with little protest. Will sit in his bouncer while we eat dinner. My husband and I scratch our heads. How could this happen? Is this what everyone talked about? Will it last? While we wait for the other shoe to drop (and I still expect it to), the following random thoughts:

When you get a c-section, why can’t they give you a complimentary bikini and leg wax? What a waste of perfectly good anaesthesia.

I much prefer healing from these stitches than the other kind. Not to say that I wasn’t scared when the doctor, midwife, and several specialists recommended the emergency Cesarean lest we cause Atticus permanent hand and arm damage. But 2 weeks later, I’m a happier camper than I was after my first delivery.  It’s not every day you get to face one of your biggest fears (emergency surgery performed while fully conscious) and say “That was the easy part.” Go figure.

It still is kind of sad and disconcerting not to be able to hold your baby for a few hours or care for him for a few days (though it was beyond description to watch my husband act as sole parent during this time – something he didn’t get to do last time. )

I am already both sad never to be pregnant again and relieved, dreaming of the diaper-free years still a few years ahead of me. Which makes middle of the night wakeful periods a commodity and every picture a relic in the taking.  But holy crap, wine is good.

I’m in the pre-smile trenches. So far he has a strong set of pipes, but reserves his baby bird screams for feeding time, and diaper changes (given my blood sugar issues and recent experienced birth-related indignities, I can hardly blame him) prefers to sleep on me and already needs a haircut.

As for the rest, the jury is still out. Looking forward to getting to know you, counselor.