Zazoo

Motherhood. 

Here we are, 7 weeks later.

Again with a post that might contain the word boobs.  Or the word blood.  Or guilt turned not.

Not for the faint of emotions.  Or those that are just here for the baby pictures..

So.  There are lots of things they don't tell you about motherhood.  And about having a newborn baby. 

Here's one:  It is REALLY REALLY HARD.  Like REALLY hard.  To have a newborn.  Especially when you are used to (THIS) and then your life becomes (THIS).

Life is completely different from going to Hill meetings, strategizing for clients, writing, thinking and doing smart-y things.  But it is hard in a different way.  There is this little person who is totally and completely dependent on you for everything.  EVERYTHING. 

He needs you when you are showering.  He needs you when you need a potty break.  He needs you in the middle of the night.  Sometimes twice.  Or three times.    It's a lot of pressure.

HE NEEDS YOU.

Hard isn't necessarily bad.  It's just a total mindshift from what you have been doing for the last 30 something years of your life... which is focusing on you. 

Being a mom is my job right now.    I'm still figuring out how to dominate it like I do my daytime job, but hopefully we are getting there.

One of the most interesting conversations I've had in the last seven weeks was in the thros of breastfeeding hell, I asked one of my friends when they had that moment.  I called it the "zazoo" moment.  The moment where you think "My life has been nothing before this moment when I brought this baby into the world" moment.

I asked because I hadn't had it.  The ZAZOO.

And she explained it to me.  The Zazoo is different for everyone. 

Movies depict the zazoo when the baby is born.  Everything is sunshine and light, and it is the happiest you have ever been.

I figured I was a delayed zazoo-er.  Pregnancy took some time.  I.E. 30 months to accomplish.  I probably never fully accepted that I was able to actually BE pregnant.  And to actually have a BABY.  That is OURS. 

Then labor took some time.  A c-section is what I needed (and probably what I wanted), but behind that curtain, it all seems detached.  You don't SEE the baby being born.  You don't have the pushing and the counting and the breathing.  You are strapped to a table.

Your baby got taken to the NICU for a few hours, and you didn't get to meet him for awhile.

Then visitors are coming in and out.  Tripoli falls.  An earthquake happens.  Baby gets jaundice.  A hurricane happens.  You stay in the hospital another night.

Still no Zazoo.

You go home.  Breastfeeding is HARD.  REALLY REALLY HARD.  (More on that in another post). 

You can't do it.  You feel like less of a mother.  Baby loses weight.  You feel guilty.  Still no zazoo.

You are maintaining.  Sustaining.  Survival mode.

You know what they don't tell you? 

That the zazoo comes in so many ways. 

Zazoo creeps in at the first bath.  Zazoo comes when you feed him for the first time alone in public without showing any b**bs.  Zazoo happens when he pees on your husband.  Zazoo happens when you get that first smile that might-be-gas-but-you-know-what-I-think-its-a-smile. 

Here's my Zazoo.

ZAZOO