Mother Bear

When we left the hospital the first time around, my nurse gave me the litany of discharge instructions as outlined for C-section patients. There is a magic 6- week restriction for any number of things. I am not to lift anything except for Oliver. No vacuuming. I can do laundry, but only if I transfer items from the washer to the dryer one item at a time (just say "no laundry," then, I thought. How ridiculous.) No sex. No comment. (Family readers, you're welcome). No driving.

To be honest, I have felt up to doing just about nothing. And I don't anticipate being back to "normal" at that 6-week mark. I still take the stairs at creeping pace. I am very tired. Still sore. At times, very sore. The infections that took over no doubt complicated my recovery, especially considering that they were harboring in my bloodstream and my uterus. This was not a normal course of recovery.

Therefore, I have been hibernating in my house on the hill. I am a Rapunzel of sorts, only more practical because hair that long would just be a very bad decision for a new mom. And I love our house but I'm grateful it's not a castle because as I've said, I'm not taking stairs at a run. In my hibernating days, I have not been particularly bored, but have longed a bit for sunshine, fresh air, and connection with the outside world in general.

My mom came to help out and get me out of the house yesterday. We went to Target for groceries. As in, I sat at a table in a Starbucks nook next to Oliver, who was snuggled in his carseat in a shopping cart, while my Mom grocery shopped. This outing alone was exhausting, and I didn't even walk up and down the isles. Though tired, I was happy to have gotten out of the house. This is when I saw her. Another new mom. Her baby was smaller than Ollie. I initially smiled with affection at the little infant, then began to observe with a tinge of jealousy. I stood helplessly next to my Mom as she loaded the groceries into the car, loaded Oliver into his carseat, and corralled the carts. And then watched as The Other new mom independently did these things for herself.

I frowned. Okay, and teared up a bit and whined. It's not fair. Not only do I wish I could be back to "normal," to do things for myself and my son without restrictions and pain, but I also grieve the loss of a more-or-less normal maternity leave. It makes me mad. Instead of looking for ECFE classes to join locally, I am arranging for transportation to doctor's appointments. Instead of putting Oliver in the stroller for a walk, I am putting up my feet.

But surpassing the loss is immense gain. Perspective: Oliver and I are healthy and so well-taken care of. We have had floods of friends and family offering love and support, help, food, cards, prayers, company. We've been far from going through this alone. Looking back at the Target parking lot, I realize that I had what the Other Mother didn't. My Mom, by my side, in addition to a legion of others. What better way to spend my maternity leave: blessed.