Friday, December 16, 2011
What once was, now has been replaced.
Our dog has inexplicably become the red-headed step child. What once was the apple of our eye, has now hastily taken the back seat in the Blackburn house-hold. One might ask how such a travesty can occur. My answer to you is a 12 pound, eating, pooping, keep her mommy and daddy on their toes, machine. Her name is Emery. And she has taken over our lives. One diaper change at a time.
Emery came to this world October 24, in true overly dramatic, movie-like fashion. After a 34 hour labor, and an hour of pushing with forceps, she finally decided to grace us through a C-section. Her mommy wasn't ecstatic about the news of surgery, but was grateful nonetheless for her safe arrival. The first words emanating from the doctor as he pulled her out of my tummy, were "Wow, she's a huge baby!" That she was. All nine pounds seven ounces of her.
Before it was time to push, Emery decided remaining posterior (face-side up)was the only way she would attempt the birth canal. After an hour of coaxing and in reality trying to force her out, we all knew it was not going to happen safely. We pulled the plug and I came to grips with the fact that I wouldn't, in actuality, be giving birth. Despite my utter gratitude for her health and safety, I somehow felt inadequate as a mother. In this situation, I couldn't by any means give birth the natural way. It was disheartening, but in the grand scheme of things, it really didn't matter. I had a beautiful, dark-haired baby girl and I was happy. Besides, I dealt with a horrendous pregnancy for a while, so I guess that in itself makes up for my lack of birthing skills.
The next hurdle was breast-feeding. Truth be told, no one informed me of the frustrations nursing has to offer. I assumed your milk comes in the day you give birth, that your baby latches on right out of the womb, and that the natural feeding system is stress free and easy as pie. Boy, was I mistaken. After attempting to throw in the towel numerous times, I decided to stick it out no matter what it took. After all, I had a C-section and was not about to fail at nursing.
The nursing plight became a thing of the past, and baby and I were well on our way to a successful feeding relationship. I was once again a well-equipped mother.
Emery is gracefully aging into a post-newborn. She is almost 8 weeks and continually shows signs of contentment such as smiling, cooing, gurgling and adorably kicking her legs. As each week passes, she miraculously develops into an older, wiser, and more mature infant. Her progression is quite astonishing and sometimes I find myself wishing she would stay just where she is. A cuddly, squirmy, sack of potatoes.
Although our dog's walks and morning cuddle sessions are no longer to her liking, we still love her and consider her an integral part of our family. Emery and Stella will one day undoubtedly become best friends.