Postpartum Past 3 Months (ranty, but not really)

I'm exhausted. They weren't kidding about the sleepless nights. I'm less exhausted than I was during his first month, when I would dream about REM sleep *rimshot* while I nursed him every hour or two. These days, he sleeps through the night, nudging me only thrice throughout for snacks here and there. Sleeplessness can get you on the edge, especially when you have no choice over the matter. It's a little like staying up cramming for exams the next day, except if you snooze, your kid loses. And if your kid loses, oh woe le guilty mom.

The occasional internal outcries of "I want my life back" are muted in the collective wail of hundreds of other first time mothers, and in the collective "Told you so"s by veterans. Remember when blogging was only beginning to become a thing? And most blogs were just rant-fests by angst-ridden pre-teens (hello and goodbye tabulas)? This phenomena shortly led to the Emo subculture. The emo subculture led to just generally not taking suicide seriously.

I learned CHILD REARING is the great sacrifice women bear. NOT Child Bearing as I so naively assumed. Child Bearing, as it turns out, is only the beginning.

I won't lie. This blog isn't a rosy press release of the adventures of M. Linaban and co. I'm tired and depressed. A year ago, I wept over losing my freedom. I was right AND wrong.

It is true that the number of friends who come a-calling significantly diminishes once you have kids. Then again, I was the friend who went visiting to begin with, and it isn't as easy to go to your usual watering holes when they have a NO MINORS sign on the door.

"I just have dwarfism."

This significantly puts a damper on your dating life. When Before Midnight came out, Chris and I took turns to watch, because they wouldn't let the baby in the theater. Even though he was asleep (and usually sleeps through movies).

So here I was, in the darkened theater, crying and raising the occasional fist to Celine's words about female empowerment and the burdens that we are born to/bear. It was almost as if I was single and childless again, til the guard came over to me to tell me my supposed date was outside with the baby and that Malaya was hungry. Oh irony.

It also isn't as easy to pursue things. It isn't as easy to get out of the house (despite the boy loving his little excursions). We have weather and convenience to consider. We have his moods to weigh.

And while my zippers close again now (Yay!), I now have little aches and pains here and there. I don't feel as youthful and as energetic as I did a year ago. This can probably be remedied by a good deep tissue massage, a visit to the chiropractor and regular stretching, but...

Jeezus jeezus jeezus.

But on the flip side, my daily consolation is apparent in this blog. Watching the curmudgeon grow up is more than consolation actually, it's reward. Waking up with only three hours of sleep to his hello's and good mornings gets my brain producing the necessary endorphin fix to fool the rest of my body into thinking it isn't tired. How can I ever consciously do wrong to the brightest light in my life so far?

I guess all I'm trying to say is that I never realized how much of a game changer children really are until they happen. I get it now. I can die now, as long as he thrives.

Of course I don't mean I'm killing myself, are you nuts?