Our Little Village

Abby loves me, but I think she might already be a daddy's girl. Of course, she's with me all day -- she gets overstimulated (read: sick of me) just like I do. But when Daddy is around, it's all good. If I hold her the way D is, in the picture above, she squirms and fusses til I turn her horizontal again. With him -- she could lie on his chest like that for hours, happily snoozing. This photo was taken in the hospital, but to my pleasure I have been treated to similar views nearly every day since Abby came home. I love seeing them together -- can you blame me?

For her part, Abigail is so big I almost don't recognize her. More pictures forthcoming, I promise, but for now, take my word for it. She is huge! She spends a lot more of the day awake, too, which is truly fun. She also makes smells and noises not unlike a baby pig. :) I adore her.

The other thing I don't recognize lately is me. Lord, I can't WAIT to start physical therapy again. I never thought I'd actually look forward to exercising. Everyone says I look good for someone who's just had a baby, but even if that's true, I don't recognize the size, shape, or texture of my body and I don't like it one bit. I want to be able to MOVE (and I want to fit into my clothes!).

At this moment I am trying to type with both hands, but it's not working very well. I am getting a lot of extra "Q"s and "W"s. My left hand dexterity really isn't there yet. As for walking, I've pretty much stopped using the walker except when things are bad (usually at the end of a long day). I even managed Border's yesterday and today's ob-gyn appointment without it. I stumble around a bit, and move very slowly, but I carried a grande decaf skim no-foam latte across the doctor's office lobby! I could be wrong (I often am), but I think that maybe the only thing that remains a real obstacle for me is complete muscle atrophy. Between my illness, the pregnancy, and my c-section, I sometimes feel like I don't have a muscle in my body that works. I still have to use my hands to lift my feet into the car. When I'm really tired (like wee-hour feedings of Little Miss), I still careen around the house a bit. My back is so weak, spasming and sore, sometimes I can't get up out of a chair with Abby Jane in my arms. This is why I am so looking forward to working out. Anyway, I'll let you know how it goes. They've told me that I can bring Abby -- that ought to be interesting. I'm looking for a sitter, but haven't found one yet.

We just enjoyed a long holiday visit with S & R. There are strange and difficult things about being non-custodial parents, and they get stranger when you add a non-stepchild into the mix. S, my 6-year-old stepdaughter, was trying to figure out yesterday why her baby sister, Caitlin (her mother's new baby with her second husband) was not related in any way to her new baby sister, Abby. Not stepsisters? Not half sisters or cousins? Maybe S has it right; maybe there should be some kind of "village" mentality that acknowledges that we are all related in some ways.