Nine Pearls-Blogging for Fun and Cash Prizes

The Opposite of Blue

We’re 4 weeks out.

Because I have a history for depression, my husband and I are on the lookout for postpartum mental problems. I almost expected to have immediate, severe PPD.

So far, so good, though.

Actually, aside from the sleep situation, which I’m getting sort of used to, I feel like I’m actually well above normal.

I dig this whole mommy thing. We lucked out. He’s a “good” baby—when he’s upset, it’s usually for a discernible reason, and I cross my fingers that I won’t jinx it. When we wake up for the day, I feed him, smother him in kisses and play jazz music for him. He makes me giggle. Eventually, I figure, he’ll giggle back.

He’s a sweet-natured little thing.

I just feel ridiculously lucky. You know those Hallmark-inspired, “We’re so blessed” moments that Faith Hill and the like cough up in interviews? I hate those. They seem so fake and wankery and wrong. But, I get it, now.

My kid is the bee’s knees. The snake’s hips. The cat’s pajamas.

He’s awesome.

And, my husband is awesome—he’s helpful, and patient, and not at all being an immature idiot like some dudes do after their first is born.

Did I mention I’m lucky? ‘Cause I’m lucky.