you only feel what you feel

The hormones are balancing themselves out, I suppose, and the weepiness comes and goes. A couple of days ago I looked at some pictures a friend of mine took of Frances and my pregnant belly and I got completely overcome with sadness that my alone time with Frances is gone. Since I quit work—5 weeks ago or so—Frances and I had settled into a little routine, a sweet kind of symbiosis, a world that worked for the two of us each day. And now there's this interloper. I fear that I will be spending so much energy just trying to figure out how to get both of them strapped in for a trip to the grocery that I won't be able to fully see and experience either of them... That all my energy will go toward managing the two of them that I won't get to enjoy them.

I realize that other folks have done this before me. I realize that many many folks are doing this right now, and seemingly without too much angst. Perhaps it just takes some getting used to. Perhaps once I figure out the logistics I'll settle back into routine and develop my relationships with both of them, together and individually. Perhaps it's all just anxiety on my part. And as I write this it's clear to me how unnecessary this anxiety is—the situation will be what it is, and I'll deal with it as it comes, and being anxious about it helps me none. But, as I was reminded last night at a ppd group meeting, you can only feel what you feel.

Frances has been gone three days. Yesterday on the phone she said, "Mama," and when I asked if she was having fun with her Grammy she said, "Da," which is her word for yes. She also blew me a very loud kiss. Today she's at the zoo with her Grammy and aunt and cousins. The plan is for her to stay with my mom until Sunday, which will be five days away from us, the longest she's been away. I miss her but I'm also getting sleep. This space has allowed my father-in-law to do several jobs to get the house ready to go on the market; he put up a new storm door, painted the front porch, patched the bathroom floor, finished shoe moulding in the kitchen, and more. I'm very fortunate to have this kind of support. On the one hand it's hard to have folks in your house/space for so long, but I'm also aware that it is their being here that's allowing me to recover and adjust to this newness. I'm trying to keep everything in perspective.