Forrest turned 1 month old yesterday. I had a mini-meltdown. Not because he's growing so fast (which he is) and not because I'll never have this stage again (I won't, but I won't miss it).
I had a mini-meltdown because the fact that Forrest is 1 month old means that it's been over a month since I have had any time for myself that hasn't been delegated to sleeping, showering, or pumping. I am so thankful that I've been able to nurse my son, but the truth is, breastfed babies are very needy. And their needs can only be filled by the Mama. So even though there have been many moments in the last month that I've wanted to hand him off to my husband and run screaming out the door, that's just not an option.
I cannot wrap my head around people that love the newborn stage. I feel kind of crap-parent putting this down in writing and my, oh my, how I adore my son and would do anything for him. But I look forward to the fun ages, when he starts to be mobile and interact more with us. When he isn't 100% dependent on me to meet all of his needs. When my entire life doesn't revolve around which child needs something from me at this moment.
It won't be like this for long.
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