The first two tiny weeks. I'm a sack of spuds high on adrenaline. Waddling rather than walking, whilst substantially and absorbantly padded. Afterbirth pains - nobody told me about those. Breastfeeding agony - I knew all about that. He is staggering and beautiful and perfect.
The first Beyond Puerperium (below centre)
Walking is back to normal. Astonishing Pammy A sized ta-tas. Visits to the bathroom no longer feel like a violation. He continues to be divine, gaining a pound per week. But my decreasing adrenaline is inversely proportional to increasing tiredness, reaching a perfect storm around week six, during which things may be said and later regretted. Mummy, what does "flipping" mean?... Why did you call Mr Funny Bunny "that flipping stinky rabbit?"
The following week brings some personal progress, and a routine begins to emerge. And baby giggles. Lots and lots of giggles.
The second Beyond Puerperium (below right)
Who knows what the next phase will bring, but those colours spell Christmas...
Joining in with Yarn Along this week - though I'm afraid there's been no time for reading round these parts. Must try harder...