This post has been a work in progress since September 16, two days after Olive was born. Every day I added a paragraph to the account of her expedient birth (four hours all-told of labor; I'm told I'm an anomaly), of the range of emotions that followed, of my struggle to back away from the computer (which c'mon people, why the hell not browse the Internet while nursing?). And every day, a new distraction that has kept me from finishing this post. I have several versions, each with a new start. Today, I finally said, to hell with it. Just start writing, and once you have a semblance of a schedule and more than five minutes to devote substantive thought toward a more organized post THEN I can get all prosy.
H-band just asked me how I'm feeling. I'm feeling good. Relieved and grateful to the point of tears that when I look at Liv I see the universe has delivered well past my hope for a healthy baby. And I'm feeling like I'm living in molasses. Every accomplishment--whether it's eating lunch or just getting dressed--requires a plan, and is often thwarted. I endeavor to return to my cup of yogurt, or finish flossing, and often get sidetracked. I often feel half-done, and distracted by this little girl when she struggles to focus on me. I stare at her and realize that the day is already over.
Staring at Liv is perhaps the most inefficient thing I've ever done. There's no multitasking involved, and it could be a while before she realizes that the face attached to the boobs belongs to Mom. But I've set a new goal that I intend to reach: When she finally can focus her little eyes on me I want to be looking back.
