The Marathon

My friend Kelly made an accurate statement about these early weeks of motherhood. "It's a marathon, not a sprint."

Since I've never run a marathon, I can state without authority that there are two components to a marathon-- the physical capability and the mental fortitude.

The physical ability to survive and somehow function on 1 hour of sleep is really no problem, similar to pulling an all-nighter during finals week in college. Sure you can do it. Even zombies somehow eat.

It's your mind which begins to break. You realize that you're completely exhausted and tired of being needed. You realize your husband, although loving and helpful, will never be able to fully substitute for you. There is no equity, as much as you both may want there to be. He may agree to take the baby for an hourto let you get some sleep, but the baby will still cry and beg to eat. Your breasts will begin to hurt. You are hypersensitive to every noise from the baby, making it impossible to rest anyway...and once the baby finally settles down, despite the fact you said you never would, you check every 20 minutes to make sure the little one is still breathing while dear hubby snores soundly in bliss.

Clearly, he is not as hypersensitive as you.

It is at this point you begin to compile a Letter to God on how this whole process could really be improved and how ridiculous it is that as the mother you had to suffer through morning sickness, exhaustion, the mood swings, bloating like a beached whale, the pain of labor, pushing an 8-and-then-some-pounder out, and all the other little inconveniences no one tells you about (like sitting down after having a baby) only to have to be the sole feeder and primary 24 hour caretaker of a little being. Really, be it by evolution or design, it could be done better. Why can't we be penguins?

The physical capability is there. An hour of sleep feels like a day at the spa. It's the mindset which is harder to change, and changing it is the essential component to staying sane.

After a few days, I decided to just camp out in front of the TV. Turn on the most mind-numbing, guilty pleasures (All, unsuprisingly, on E! I've kept up with the Kardashians and even delved into Holly's World). Relax. Let go of pre-conceived notions of what "should" be happening. Be thankful that my baby is healthy enough to ask for food. Be glad that she's eating frequently enough to grow. Recognize this is just how it is. Accept her. Accept me. If I've got to stay up all night, I might as well just "float like a cork."

It's not unlike adjusting to a new culture but without the potential stomach issues.

And finally, enjoy the feeling as she falls asleep nestled in your arms...so calm. So sweet. So, so relaxing...you can't help but nod off...until you startle yourself awake in a panic that you'll smother her, that is.