Home yesterday from the hospital with Madeleine Lucy.  I learned the hard way that when my doctor said, “Don’t lift anything bigger than your baby," the car seat didn’t count as “baby."  I almost died picking her up out of the car.  My mom had the house spotless, clean sink in the kitchen and fresh linens on our beds awaiting our return; those little touches only your mom thinks of that make such a difference.  I can’t believe our little family has grown from two to three.  I’m supposed to be the mommy now; the one with all the answers.  I have no idea what I’m doing.  How long do you think it will take everyone to figure that out?  I look at her squirming obliviously on the changing table; am I supposed to talk to her?  Sing to her?  Tell jokes?  Politely ignore her nakedness?  I thought maybe the mommy instinct would just magically come in, like my milk supply.  Maybe it's on its way.

Let’s talk for a sec about what I’d like to call the big breastfeeding lie:  “Breastfeeding shouldn’t hurt!”  I’m not afraid to admit it; I’m ten days into this thing and my nipples are killing me!!!!  And before you all start typing your replies, sending me advice about having an expert observe me and it’s probably Madeleine’s latching, let me just tell you that I’ve been observed by the hospital staff, my OB, Madeleine’s pediatrician, a consultant, and a fellow mother, all of whom tell me Madeleine’s a pro at this and we’re doing everything right.  But I’ve got blood blisters on each side, and it hurts almost unbearably each time she latches on and starts to eat.

Hormones suck.

It’s official.  We have a baby!

A copy of Madeleine’s birth announcement came in the mail.  Seeing her name in print made everything seem so, I don’t know, unchangeable.  As if we’d only borrowed a baby for a while to play at the parenting thing, but now that we’ve announced it to the world, we’re in this for the long haul, no exchanges, no refunds.  Not that I want to exchange her; but I imagine that now that we’ve announced it, I’ve gone from some hip chick with a baby to a mommy.  Does that make any sense?  A sort of reference point shift for my identity.  I’ve been looking at this whole thing as if she’s my daughter, and now suddenly I’m her mother.