Thursday, January 20, 2011
What do you mean I haven't been around? Why, I'm overflowing with photos and nattering. Just not here, not right now. You see, I'm enjoying the beauty of the baby-moon, and in order to preserve that bliss, I'm recording like a mad-mama, between feedings, during naps, late at night when my eyes are crossed and I've given up on all mama-trickery. And because of this, along with other obsessive blog-readings, I've decided to go ahead and make the space public again. It's one of those will-she-or-won't-she propositions, one of those obnoxious forms of waffling I take on. Ryan always knows to hold onto what he's offering because I usually change my mind--no thanks to tasting his beer and then all of a sudden, I must taste it. For now, I'm offering it up for whomever wants to read about the journey--from all those desperately hopeful posts during the infertility treatments to my pregnancy frustrations to that crazed labor story to now, becoming a little family of three. The link: roots + wings. Come say hello!
It's been two and a half weeks since the whirlwind birth (can one call it a whirlwind when it was two days of labor? things were always happening, after all) and I've finally begun to unfurl from the family bed and into the wide world of the house. Actually, I've only been back in the bed for two days, due to an infection from my surprise! c-section, but unfurl nonetheless. I'm taking on the tasks that would have been mine from the start, but Ryan has taken them on with much charm--changing diapers, doing laundry, contacting the insurance company about overly large and frightening bills, that sort of thing. One begins to lose that get-out-of-chores-free card as the wound begins to heal.
I write this in the minutes leading up to my first class, which I am not teaching. I am officially on maternity leave, though only for my teaching duties; for my studenting duties, the light has flashed on, and I have a pile of books to work my way through, not to mention an incomplete to tidy up from last semester. I'm taking two independent studies, more or less, one taking a close look at the poetry (and prose-by-poets) of motherhood and the other is deemed 'thesis credits,' which means I'll be communicating and meeting with my thesis adviser as I progress on my manuscript. This means, of course, that I need to actually progress, but I've begun generating again, and this makes me happy. Of course, I'm learning that I am both a slow writer (or a writing-in-bursts writer) and a writer who isn't in love with the editing process (fear), a combination that is tricky as I face my final semester.
It doesn't help that all I want to do is snuggle with my little babe all day.