Nature Is A Tricky Bitch
I don’t know, but I think I might have pushed out my mind when I pushed out my baby. Or maybe it got tangled in the umbilical cord by mistake. Is that a thing? Because I’m not sure if I felt this insane when I had the Destroyer.
I probably did, but Nature is a tricky bitch you see.
She has a way of romanticizing all the parts about childbirth and motherhood as if they were set to a soundtrack and put together like a montage. I know in the logical side of my brain that labour with Buddy was really tough this time, and the recovery was way harder. It was like running a marathon without training for it first. But in my memories of it, I only think of how amazing it all was.
And as I try to remember those first few weeks with Destroyer, I imagine her as this perfect baby who only cried a little in the evening. Unlike the monster that I have birthed now, who pretty much screams unless he is eating or sleeping.
But the truth is that none of the prior statements is true. Destroyer made me cry out of frustration. Buddy is not a monster. And when I have my shit together, he doesn’t scream ALL the time. Just most of it. And even that may be a little melodramatic of me to say.
If he didn’t look so much like me, I may have eaten him by now. But he is just so fucking beautiful that I couldn’t bear not being able to stare at him all day. I guess I’ll have to just be satisfied with nibbling on his toes and smelling his new baby smell.
So anyway, because Nature is such a tricky bitch we continue to procreate and make more babies because they are so adorable and worth it once they are done eating and screaming on a two hour rotation each day. But I am smart, you see. S-M-A-R-T. I am documenting my shitty days so that when I beg Husband to impregnate me for a third time, I can refer to this blog and remind myself that it’s not as sexy as that bitch Nature would have me think it is. And make an educated decision about it.
I love my children. Forever and to the moon and back.
But some days just blow. Some days are really, really hard. Fact.
Skype date with wine anyone?