I am so dreading Dave’s return to work. Have I mentioned? Because I am. We’re so lucky, I know, to have even had THIS time, but still. I’m going to miss him.  It’s so great to see him so involved, and so totally INTO the fatherhood thing. Tonight he was looking at her and said "She really IS beautiful, like, more than other babies, isn’t she?" His chest is going to implode the first time she smiles at him, you think?

Things are going well here — we went for another walk, and since it’s been 80+ here, all the neighbors were out, so she’s now met EVERY neighbor on our street (that wanted to meet her, anyway, which is five houses worth.)  I also managed to get her in the KKAFP in the tummy-to-tummy hold, which is great (though, not so much on the hottest day of the year thus far, but will be nice when we go to the grocery store or whatever, I’m thinking.)  She’s also learning to hang out in her bouncy seat & swing, which makes the idea that I might get a daily shower in more feasible.

Daily showers have been key to my state of mind so far. They are easy to get when Dave’s here, obviously, but I’m hoping some bouncy acclimation will help me get showers on solo days, at least showers before noon. It’s like hitting reset or something. I’m hoping to keep it up.

Things are going well, though — Ingrid seems to be doing all that she should be, at all the right times.  My postpartum hormones have me extra-emotional, especially in the evening, when I get the "8 oclock weepies" where I cry for no reason for a while and then recover. And I HATE TO CRY.  I really miss being pregnant, honestly. And not in an "I was the center of attention!" way, because I really wasn’t, but I miss the baby that was inside me. It’s almost like they are two separate entities, like Ingrid is her own amazing person, but the baby that marched in place and hiccuped and rolled around inside of me is gone. My belly feels flabby and floppy, while pregnant it was tight as a drum, wrapped around the creature inside.  It’s just odd to not have her THERE all the time, and to be actively working to help her forge some independence from me. 

Anyway, I don’t think my weepies are in the realm of PPD (but we are sort of keeping our eyes open to that, based on my own history) but just part of the biological process of postpartum recovery.  Having a baby is BIG EVENT, you know?