2 Weeks and a Certain Amount of Post-Partum Weight-Loss Later....

Things I love about not being pregnant any more:
1. Having this baby in my arms.
Yeah. This is pretty much the best part of it. He's my favorite new thing. I'm still twitter-pated. I am obsessed. I'm obsessed with singing to him and talking to him and making him dance the Macarena (because I'm the coolest mom ever) and taking pictures of him and giving him so many kisses that he spits up just to get a break from all the lovin' and telling him how beautiful he is and letting him hold my pinky and nursing him and all that jazz.

2. Losing weight like a mad, mad fiend.
Never in my life have I dropped poundage this rapidly. It's the bees knees. All I've done is cut out sugar and it's like, 'WHABAM!' Yup. Whabam.

3. No more swelling.
I enjoy being un-puffy.

4. BENDING!
You just can't understand the joy of picking things up until you haven't been able to for a good several months.

5. Getting out and wearing some of my favorite 'not pregnant people' outfits.
It was like Christmas going through that box. Oh the outfits!

6. Being able to eat a normal amount of food and not hungering for more after feasting ravenously.
I love feeling full!

Okay, that's it for my list. Here's how the first two weeks went:

DAY ONE
Ouch. Ouch, ouch, ouch. Couldn't move. Couldn't sleep. Much anxiety about my brand-new, very tiny baby child whom I loved more than I could stand. He was terrifying. It is absolutely THE most unnerving thing to love something so vulnerable. His fragility plus lack of sleep equaled a certain amount of insanity. Also, my hatred of hospitals began during the first day of his life.

DAY TWO
Ouch. Pain continued. Worsened slightly. I struggled to get out of bed and was bleeding more than I felt was reasonable. This was a dark day. A dark, dark day. They wouldn't release us after the fist 24 hours (thanks to the crummy hospital pediatrician that I can't even talk about lest I start crying. We hated him. All three of us.) so we were stuck in that same room again and I'd gotten no sleep because hospitals don't let you sleep. Apparently they think that it's okay for brand-new families to be disturbed every hour on the hour. Day two was marked by many tears and the beginning of my insanity.

DAY THREE
Finally we were released and home. But I was still losing my mind due to lack of sleep. Bouts of crying fits continued. Nightly. I would just dissolve into hysteric tears. I had anxiety attacks about my baby dying and other such irrational calamities like Shem getting into a horrific car accident and being hospitalized or dead. It was bad. Bad. Also, there was much pain.

DAY FOUR
I reached my limit this day. I was either sobbing or choking back tears from the moment we got up. The baby had nights and days completely mixed up and I hadn't gotten more than 2 or 3 hours of sleep since labor had started five days previously. That night, I asked my dad to refer me to a therapist. I was convinced that I was literally losing my mind. To my dad's credit, he didn't laugh. He just explained that I was suffering from sleep deprivation and that the cure was simple: I needed sleep. So, I went home and did what? Oh yeah, dissolved into torrents of sobs and told Shem that I thought I was losing my marbles. He is amazing! Have I ever told you guys that?? My husband is amazing. He gave me one of the sweetest blessings I've ever, ever gotten. That night, for the first time since going into labor, I slept for long enough to regain some of my sanity.

DAY FIVE
Day five was excellent because of the sleep I'd gotten the night before. This was the first time since he was born that I was really able to enjoy my little boy. My anxiety about him disappeared and I was becoming more accustomed to the new tasks I had and was loving loving him. But that night was a rough one and I hadn't gotten enough sleep in that one night to make it okay that I was up with him all night.

DAY SIX
Another rough day in which I thought I was on the fast track to crazy town. That night, a miracle occurred. My wonderful cousin, Shannon, who has a 2-year old little boy, brought me some things of hers that literally changed out lives. She brought a swing and a breast pump. She brought a great many other things as well, but those are the two things we'll focus on because they are largely the reason that I sit here today...alive. First of all, I started pumping and Shem agreed to give him a bottle at some point in the night. Second of all, Luke LOVES that swing. Loves it. He sleeps in it. Soundly. So this was another night in which I was able to sleep. And THEN my husband showed the world once again what a gallant, sexy, wonderful, amazing man he is by creating a schedule that goes thusly: He takes the first half of the night armed with a bottle and patience and stays up with our little boy until around 1:30 or 2:00. He feeds him and then puts him down at which point Luke then usually (usually) sleeps for another 2 or 3 hours and I wake up around 3:30 or 4:00 (sometimes even as late as 5:00) and am usually up with him for the rest of the night unless he goes back to sleep after I feed him in which case, he likes to sleep in. SO. Starting this night (with only a few exceptions) I have gotten anywhere from 5-8 hours of sleep. AAAAAmazing. Seriously. I feel SO much better these days. And granted, my sleep is usually interrupted and spacey and isn't always the deepest sleep, but compared to the fog I was in the few days after giving birth, this is NOTHING. I am so blessed.

The following few days have been very enjoyable for the most part. We've had our ups and downs and occasional gassy nights, but on those days, I've got a wonderful mother and sisters who watch him while I take naps. We also have amazing people in our ward who have brought us meals and have checked up on us. We've been so blessed. And life is so good. Thank you all for your prayers and help and well-wishes. We are doing VERY well. =)