and then there were 3

Being the first time parent to a new born is like drowning in a vat of maple syrup. Sticky and wondrous to be engulfed in so much goodness, yet totally terrifying because you are literally drowning in it all. There is a reason people don’t swim in syrup.

It is impossible to know how much of anything we are truly getting right. The fact that they let us leave the hospital with this perfect tiny creature still baffles me.

The unexpectedness of how exhausted we feel is topped only by how shocking the mysterious reserves of energy to keep going appear from.

Our household pre pregnancy was a solid 8-9hrs of blissful slumber per night.

I have probably collectively had that in total over the entire last week. At one point I woke up in the hospital – from sleeping on the recliner chair that surely is intended only to mass murder all spines – to such desperately sand filled eyes, sawdust thick blood and a chalky ache in my bones, that I loudly and dramatically announced to the nurse, who was checking in on Claudine, that I was so tired that I was going to expire.

“I feel like I am going to die” I wailed and
the kindly nurse nodded condescendingly as she changed the IV and checked the incision of my wife, who just had major abdominal surgery after 36 hours of labour.

We all laughed as I pulled my shit into perspective pretty quickly and quietly got back to my back murder lounger for another fitful 12min bout of sleep.

The tangle of emotion that can ravage you when you see your baby for the first time and learn with each passing day of trial and error on how to keep her safe and healthy is nothing that I could have been prepared for.

Probably for good reason because it is all so very much of everything,both good and bad, that if we truly knew it before hand, we humans might never bother to procreate.

It is hard and achingly beautiful.

My sister flew in and arrived on the day Averie was born. In fact, baby was still playing the miserable game of being the stuck in the engaged position when her plane landed. (The actual story of the labour is another post entirely, I still need to process it all)

Trudy knew exactly when to be here and both Claudine and I can say with absolute certainty that we would have not thrived or survived as well without her. Her help was to such a thorough degree that I now wonder if we are supposed to give her our baby as a thank you gift. Perhaps this was her plan all along…

Trudy flew back home to her life and family in Trinidad tonight, so until Claudine’s parents come visit on the weekend we are down to 3.

Two fumbling moms and one very sweet baby all trying to learn each other’s language.

I type this with her little breath squeaking on my chest and the top of her head on my lips. I don’t know how I ever managed to do anything any other way before.