CJ Cregg (ucbfeminista) wrote,
CJ Cregg

Bella Marie Cregg-Seaborn was born on Wednesday, May 17th. She looks like her father-- she's gorgeous, all nine pounds eleven ounces of her. It all seems so much more real now that we're home, and the (almost) nine months I had to get ready for this in no way prepared me for the reality of having her here. It's incredible. She's taken to breastfeeding like a champ, although I have yet to get completely comfortable with it. I feel like a dairy cow, and somehow I let myself believe certain things would simply Not Happen to me. I should have known better after I was quite clearly proven wrong regarding my idea of how painful natural childbirth would be. I'm utterly terrified of needles and the though of anyone putting one into my spine still makes me queasy, but if I had it to do over again, I'd get the fucking epidural.

I was also mistaken when I allowed myself to believe that My Child Will Sleep Through The Night. I'm slowly resigning myself to the fact that I'm never going to sleep again unless I shadow her, sleeping for an hour and a half or so at a time. The only problem with this is it denies me the chance to watch her sleep, an activity I've found to be remarkably fascinating over the past few days.

For all that I find her sleep to be fascinating, I don't think it holds a candle to how amazing Sam seems to think this whole thing is. He's wonderful with her, and it's absolutely adorable to watch. He's fallen completely and totally in love, and if it were anyone else, I might be jealous. Then again, I didn't realize until we got home this afternoon that I'd managed to forget his birthday, so I have no right to complain. (To be fair, I'm not sure he remembered either).

We're home. The baby's healthy. We're together. When I think about that, the rest of it ceases to matter.
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