Original post at http://pastorandbartender.blogspot.com/2012/12/22-weeks.html
I'm growing increasingly terrified of having a newborn in the house again. I've realized that, of all the critical moments in pregnancy, labor, and birth - nothing traumatized me quite like those first few months with Vicki. She is a slightly needier-than-average child, and she was just intense for the first while. She still is, but now it's fun and exhausting. Then, it was scary to me. I remember the night that she was about six weeks old (the eve before my first Mother's Day, no less), and she cried the entire night in my arms. Screamed. Nothing could calm her. I cried and cried and asked Jeff, in total seriousness, why we ever thought this was a good idea.
I guess I'm just not much of a "newborn" person. And that's okay. Not every mother has to love every stage of childhood equally. Who knows - maybe this new baby boy will be completely different. And of course, as they say, you never step into the same river twice. I'm a totally different mother now than I was then. Maybe it will be even worse! Yay.
In other news: sodium. At the end of my pregnancy with Vicki, I got freakishly puffy. Huge. Swollen. Painful to walk on blimp feet. Rings wouldn't fit. Had to buy new shoes as not a single pair of my normal ones fit. Could hardly smile and show my teeth because my face was so water-logged. Started snoring for the first time ever in my life because my nasal passages were so swollen. It was awful.
|36 weeks with Vicki. Told ya.|
So . . . photos!
|Sorry for the dim and blurry. I'm at a beautiful stone chapel, about to do the rehearsal for a lovely couple's wedding.|
|Could've toyed with it in iPhoto and fixed some of it, but . . . I didn't.|