Love in human form

Today, my son is three weeks old.

Writing that makes me proud, scared, exhilarated, anxious, full to bursting with love, and back to proud again, with plenty of other emotions jumbled up in there as well.

His birth was about as textbook perfect as births go - had my "one week overdue" midwife appointment on Wednesday, at which I complained that my friend K had just had her baby the day before. However, by 6am Thursday morning, I was having the occasional contraction. At 2:50, my water broke, and at 6:50, my son was born.

All of my philosophy on life, being as close to what naturally occurs as possible, is exemplified in my son. During my pregnancy, I hardly ate any sweets or simple carbs and focused on eating tons and tons of grains and protein - even though eating fried eggs, boiled eggs, scrambled eggs, omelettes.... got really boring - until the last month, when I just got miserable and started eating maple bars. So far, there have been almost no pesticides or processed foods going into him either in utero or via breastmilk. I am hoping that this will give him what he needs to grow up healthy, and reduce the risks of autism or ADD/ADHD.

Having a child is the most scary thing I have ever experienced. Everything I do is focused on making sure this little person is taken care of. When L came into my life, she needed supervision and care, but she was already two years old, mobile, eating regular food and sleeping (mostly) through the night. My son is completely dependent on me for food, although with pumping my husband can help, for comfort and care during the day, and he sleeps with me at night. It's an awesome responsibility, being so important to him, and knowing all the dangers there are to children that run over and over in my head - one of the hazards of working in product safety.

For now, I'm content just to stare at his face and tickle his toes and sigh over how amazing he is. I'm glad I'm good at compartmentalizing my fears and locking them away or I'd be a neurotic mess after just three weeks with my perfect, tiny, wonderful son, much less the many years to come.