Seasons

Well, he's finally here: our little Jamie was born sixteen days ago, and is just as sweet as he looks.

The pace of life has changed dramatically. Not to be faster though – I have to confess it feels very, very (almost painfully) slow… I think this time around – third time around(!) – I am finally learning some lessons about the benefits of surrender. Visitors to the house have commented how little crying there is, and I feel like that's because, at least at the moment, I'm doing a good job of following Jamie's lead. When he needs to feed, I feed. When he needs to rest, we rest. EVEN, and this is the difficult part, when I want to be out, and busy, and losing the baby weight ASAP, and going to the farmers market, and getting the garden ready for spring and and and…

Which is not to say that I do nothing for myself. But I'm trying to remember that he is so very, very little, and there is no harm – indeed, much to be gained – in meeting him where he is.

A wise woman told me her advice to new mothers is not to be "all baby all the time", which made me realise that after my daughters were born I WAS all baby all the time for literally years, without pause. And I don't think it was good for me. So while I've been following Jamie's lead, which involves a lot of slow living, I've been trying – some days more successfully than others – to do ten minutes of making every day. Knitting so far, as the sewing machine would take too long to set up and pack away. Simple garter stitch and stockinette I can do even when half asleep. I also have HEAPS of reading (=breastfeeding) time, which has been a pleasure. My mental/inner life is alive and well, even if there is little to show for it outwardly.

(The small miracle of ten minutes stolen in the afternoon sun.)

It's frustrating though. I have thoughts, and plans, and desires, and yet here I am feeding AGAIN, for what feels like the millionth time today. I want to move. I want to feel light again. I want to make and wear clothes that are not easy access. I would love the time to make a decent salad. So I'm trying to remind myself that this is a season of my life: it will pass, but until then my work is to try and remember that it has charms all its own. Not the least of which is this sweet, soft-haired head I can cradle in one hand while he sleeps…