Chronicles of Alien Development — Welcome to the World

The alien has arrived!! She Charlie (not He Charlie) was born at 9:30am on Memorial Day. Perfect timing.

We had an ideal delivery. Charlie probably wouldn’t agree based on this picture, but if you have to be squeezed through a tiny canal on your way from a safe, warm world to a cold, foreign one, I’d say the way she did it is the way to go.

Scheduled induction. First pregnancy. 12 hours start to finish. I pushed for 40 minutes and my husband literally helped deliver her. Even the nurses kept saying “You are so lucky. This does not happen.” Yeah, we know. The Universe finally did us a solid.

It’s ironic, too, because I vividly remember laughing hysterically at our Birthing Class when the instructor asked us to describe our “ideal delivery.” Having just found out we needed to move for 3.5 months to different cities with one weekend in which to pop out a kid if my husband was to be present, “ideal” seemed like an immense luxury we were not going to be afforded. But ideal it was.

As is she.

With her Daddy’s chin and her Momma’s cheeks, Charlie made her earthly debut at a healthy 7lb, 9oz. Per the picture, she’s got a set of lungs on her, and like all the sassy women that came before her, let’s you know when she is displeased. She feeds like a champ, often and voraciously, and I swear she already perks up at the smell of bacon. With long fingers and monkey toes, she’s destined to be a rock climber or a trapeze artist or just that girl who can never find shoes. Her personality is evident; she smiles after a good poop, scrunches her brow when you misread her needs, and is ready to pound it out even while sleeping.

It’s been trial by fire in the week since her birth. I’ve been around babies plenty, but there is absolutely zero preparation for having your own. It is the most humbling, overwhelming, amazing, exhausting, love-filled adventure of my life. Things I’ve learned through delivery and Week 1:

• Contractions are a bitch. I don’t care how high your pain tolerance is, that shit hurts. Epidurals are AH-mazing. Get one. Even if you’re not delivering a kid. You won’t be sorry.
• There are OH SO MANY things your body does after delivery that are rude, crude, and socially unacceptable. The jelly belly is by far the strangest feeling I’ve ever had. Who knew when the space in there was no longer taken up by an alien that your entire abdomen would literally just deflate?? Mighta been nice to have a heads up on that one.
• Breastfeeding hurts. Lanolin helps. The “engorgement phase” is how people get pregnant again right away. A little PSA for the men out there — this is not a congratulations gift for you. Get a cigar. Drink a bourbon. Do not even think about touching my nipples!
• Baby smell is like crack. Their heads smell good. Their feet smell good. Even their ears smell good. And they’re so soft. I would snort baby smell.
• It is freaking hilarious to watch your kid poop. Besides my husband, I have never seen another human being so content and proud after going #2. I know they can’t smile yet, but I swear the look on her face post-poop is at least a smirk.
• Sleep deprivation blows. And it is unavoidable. Humans are not meant to rest in 1–3 hour stints. My brain feels like sludge. When I can sleep, I go down so hard I’m pretty sure I black out. And when I come to, its like that old computer that takes 15 minutes to load. I’m spinning and spinning and spinning…
• What babies are exposed to in the womb does transfer. Charlie is completely unconcerned by the three large dogs that want to lick her in the face. She doesn’t wake when they bark, she is unphased by the hair dryer, but slam a door, and the kid startles like you just tased her.
• Necklaces are out. My week old baby will literally choke a bitch if you’re wearing one. I find it ironic that means I had to take off my Gratitude necklace. I guess my gratitude is so abundant now its no longer necessary to wear it around my neck.
• You do fall more in love with your partner the second you see them with your baby. Watching my husband hold his daughter makes me insanely proud I chose him and overwhelmingly humbled that he chose me.

There’s precious little that I’m sure of at this point. Most of my days with Charlie are a series of trial and error experiments. Each day, I fail less at meeting her needs quickly (ie. before she loses her shit). We are learning each other, and I am learning what it means to be “Charlie’s Mom.” In moments like these, though, when her cuteness or sweetness or just there-ness overwhelms me, there is one thing I know for certain…

I will never be the same.