Other Thoughts from Motherhood.

Continuing in the theme of my experiences in new motherhood, here is a collection of shorter thoughts I've been collecting in the first six weeks of my baby's life:

The pattern on my borrowed breastfeeding cover.

- When I turn this breastfeeding cover around, it becomes a cape. 
Backstory: My husband and I have a housemate so I often wear a privacy cover at home while breastfeeding. When I briefly stand up from the couch to get something, I might flip the cover around so it falls behind my back rather than taking it off for a moment. The thought that it's a motherhood cape makes me feel magical and cheers me up.

- I'm really coming to love mornings.
I never hated them, but now they are especially precious and ever so needed. I am finding particular truth in the verse, "Sorrow may last for a night, but joy comes in the morning." (Psalm 30:5) Everything seems possible in the morning, light finally in the sky, especially with a cup of coffee. I was never a regular coffee drinker nor needed caffeine daily until this baby. But now, plus a little sleep (not enough, but some), I am ready to do Today. "The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; His mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness." (Lamentations 3:22-23)

- When someone's baby is inconsolable, you hand them back to mom.  I am now that person.
This thought, that I am the ultimate solution, is overwhelming at times. Especially now, in perhaps her fussiest stage: the dreaded six-week mark. I feel so ill-equipped to be the final hand-off person, the end of the line. To my husband, breastfeeding seems like the magic key to baby's happiness. But when she doesn't want that, I'm not so special anymore. Of course, she's still biologically bonded with me: my scent, my voice, my face, my touch. Yet in her red-in-the-face rage, even those hold little power. Still, there is no other mother. This is an awesomely heavy realization.

- I find that when I am in a room with tall ceilings, my thoughts are more expansive and my mood more positive.
Someone should do a study on this, if they haven't already, to find out if people truly are more creative or more optimistic in taller rooms. Of course, simply changing location is good. Since my baby was born, I'm in my house a lot, and I haven't returned to work yet. But I do believe I am particularly more creative when I'm in rooms with higher-than-average ceilings. I need to remember this when I'm having writer's block or particularly struggling with the adjustment to parenthood.

Anyway, just some thoughts to share.
I remain thoughtfully yours,
Ellen H.