I had my post-partum visit today, which means I am in the clear, no longer remotely pregnant or anything related to it (though my hormones still beg to differ, I think). Since my doctor's office moved a few months before I went in to confirm Grace was on the way, that was my first time in the office not pregnant. It was full of women with their husbands, women with bumps...and me. It was sad. I realize this is very annoying of me, as I hated being pregnant, especially at the end, and swore I would not feel this way, no matter how many women tried to tell me otherwise.
I was wrong, OKAY?!
I read in the Baby Whisperer that she thinks women need to "move on" when it's been two months since their delivery and they're still processing it. I decided to turn that on its head and give myself two months to stop fighting it and just miss my bump and the excitement and anticipation, and then I need to suck it up and stop being such a drama queen. Since I'm not very good at avoiding drama-queenism in general, we'll see how that goes;)
In other news, this has me totally horrified. Here's the thing: I've taken care of shaken babies and kids with various other non-accidental traumatic injuries, some of whom did not survive. Too many to count. So I always said that while I would prefer in-home babysitters to day care, at least at a day care center, there are too many witnesses for someone to shake your baby. Turns out that's not true, either, and it fills me with a black, soupy dread that I have never experienced before. Losing a child is so completely horrible and wrong, it's impossible to fathom, but the thought of my child's last minutes being filled with so much pain, cruelty, and terror- that is something I know I would not survive.