I kind of enjoyed my 4 days in the hospital after the kid was born. Aside from the major abdominal surgery/recovery, the constant temperature/blood pressure taking, and learning to walk all over again, it was kind of like a little mini-vacation. 

It got a wee bit harder once we got home.

Oofta. (Uffta?)

Our induction was scheduled for a Thursday. J's birthday was Tuesday - I don't even remember what we did to celebrate. I do remember Wednesday, though. I was sitting at home, taking a nap in the afternoon, and it suddenly occurred to me that it was the last day of me just being me. I had a moment. It was a big deal. That night J and I went out to eat at our favorite little Mexican restaurant - a place we frequented when we were first dating. It was nice to spend some time talking about us. Our story. Everything leading up to this new, massively huge chapter that would start the next day.

Speaking of the next day, things actually went pretty well. I know some people have had not-great induction experiences, but mine was good. 

However, by the original definition of "successful induction" (meaning a vaginal delivery), mine was not. It ended in an unplanned c-section.

Okay. Yes. I did not enjoy being pregnant. This shouldn't be too surprising - I was pretty vocal about it. The last month was miserable (relatively speaking) and I wanted nothing more than to be done. 

People kept telling me I'd deliver early. After all, they had delivered early. That's how it works, right? If your neighbor delivered early you probably will, too. Science for the win. 

It wasn't helpful. I wanted nothing more than to deliver early. In fact, my ultrasound tech had said I was measuring a little over a week early - for a 12/30 due date as opposed to a 1/7 due date. In fact, I wanted to have my baby on 12/27. Not sure why, but at the time it made a lot of sense. When 12/27, 12/28 and New Year's Eve came and went, I was still pregnant. And HATING IT. But people kept saying, "I bet he comes early! He'll probably come tomorrow!"

Only 4 weeks have gone by already. Time has never stood so still so fast.

Are those strange sentences? Perhaps. 

But maybe you understand. The days run seamlessly together, simultaneously suspending the passing of time and accelerating it beyond light speed. It's only been 4 weeks, but's been 4 weeks already! 

I've been hesitant to write about our experience so far... for a few reasons. One, I'm exhausted. You know? I barely have the time. Two, I'm afraid of being judged. Because it happens. Parents are super judge-y. People are super judge-y. At least, they can be. And our experience is probably one that a lot of people would judge, because I have seen similar experiences vilified all over the place. 

Our Tiny Human made his grand entrance on January 8. Suffice it to say, he's awesome. And exhausting, and exhilarating, and heart-breaking, and a million other things.

He sleeps in his crib at night - score! Refuses to nap there during the day - what?? He loves to eat - no surprise there. He's crazy strong and has the biggest, brightest eyes humankind has ever known. He's our whole world. (Along with our dog, who would like me to mention that she is loving her new role as "Nana" from Peter Pan.) 

One year ago I was working hard to finish up the last remaining hours of my last internship for my master's degree. People would ask me, "What are you going to do with yourself now that your degree is done?" It was a good question. Anyone who's gone to grad school (or has gone back to school for any degree, really) knows that it's a life-suck. You are plunged into the world of your degree and don't really get much of a reprieve until it's over. (Or, if you're me, until you take 2 semesters off for personal sanity reasons and then start up again.) 

What was I going to do with myself?