Time. It passes too quickly and too slowly. There is never an in between. I don't know how to keep track anymore. From one sleepless moment to the next it turns from one day into another and I keep getting them mixed up. I feel cut off in a way. I get so consumed in just holding her that I forget to even talk to anyone who isn't actually living with me. I'm working on that. I'm doing the "new mother routine" of picking her up every time she makes a peep. It's a bad habit, I know it's a bad habit, but I keep doing it because I can't resist. Not right now. She's only a few months old, it's okay for now. After what we went through I'm not apologizing for this, I'm not justifying myself to anyone about it. I don't want your unsolicited parental advice anyway.
Clingy. I'm so clingy. I'm attached, I'm overbearing, I love too fiercely. I want to be around him all the time, I feel like he doesn't want to be around me enough. Maybe I'm smothering him, making him sick of me without even realizing it. I hope not. I know it's not the case, not in reality. It just feels like that sometimes, but it might be the exhaustion. It's heightening everything I'm feeling by tenfold and sometimes I can't control it. It's PMS on steroids. I'll take a step back. The last thing I want to happen is to lose him or be pushed apart. I wanted this to bring us closer. I want to know what he's thinking about, what he's feeling. I'm not a fan of needing reassurance. I should make an exception.
Guilty. I feel guilty. Not in the way that it's veering on postpartum depression, but in that I feel bad for loving this child so much while I still miss the other. It's nothing that can be helped, time can't go back to change what happened. It's still something that crosses my mind in the silence of the night when everyone's asleep, when Emma's propped against my chest because she didn't want to sleep anywhere else. Sometimes I wonder what it would have been like otherwise. I wouldn't have the same appreciation that I do now, I would be taking so many more things for granted, I would have complained about the sore back and the nausea. I wouldn't have Emma who I love more than I ever thought or knew myself to be capable of. To a degree, I understand why it had to happen. I'm grateful for it.
I never want to forget these moments. The little ones where she's tucked in my arms and the house is quiet aside from the soft noises brought on by sleep. I don't mind not getting enough sleep as long as I have him beside me and her against me. I wish pensieves really existed.
Being this hungry all the time needs to be illegal.
