So, you know.

You grow this baby in you.

For more than 9 months in most cases.

You are with this small person from the very beginning, his inception.

You feel the fluttering of his moves, feel his flipping and somersaults.

Feel all those small movements change to big, hard kicks and pounds.

You can tell when he likes something, when he gets excited. His reactions to sounds, light. What soothes him.

And then…HE'S BORN! He comes on out!

And it's like meeting this person that you've known so well, for so long – and yet, in this deep and impossibly love-filled intimacy – he is a stranger.

 – only he's not

He's this person who's been inside of you all of this time, you are just starting to get to know him, that's all.

And when you do, as you do, as you slip into that match of the person in you and the person outside of you – it's like falling in love.

And it's happening to me.


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Well, Mikey.

First you took the baby out of my arms to feed him when you got home from the laundromat (and doing all of our laundry) at midnight.

I had the worst headache of my life and I crumbled to the couch in gratitude.

When I woke up it was 2:30 in the morning and you were still feeding the baby.

I took him from you then. You looked pretty tired.

You made me oatmeal – the good kind – and even added fresh blueberries this morning. You wiped up the milk Moxie spilled (for fun!) all over the floor, changed her blowout, dressed her and wiped Micah's butt when he was bellowing out, WOULD YOU WIPE MY BUTT NOW PLEASE?!

Then you came and took the baby from me and burped him. Unasked. Just to give me a break.

And I thought to myself… my God.

You have about 5 billion points right now.


It's always like this, isn't it?

The hormones – those damned hormones – raise you up all high-like, you are a toast of some frothy substance. Raised high, you catch the light and bask in it then BAM,

you are dropped and you come crashing down on that cold hard floor without so much as a thin carpet to break the fall.


Only "you" are really me, and I might be exaggerating a little. It's not quite as bad as I've made it there. I just liked using the word "frothy".


But it has been bad – I sit there on that couch sometimes and look around my narrow world, framed by this tiny apartment that feels even smaller now that there are even more bodies inhabiting it. I look around and just feel a foot dipping into that Pool of Blue, you know that one – it's all dark and sticky and just wants to drag you down. Because, I wonder, how in the hell are we going to get this together? What in the hell were we thinking with homeschooling and three kids? This leaving thing – the Pan Am – how is this ever going to come together?


It's then that I feel all kinds of stupid for having a big imagination and even bigger dreams.


And yank myself out of the shallow end of that Pool – who needs that shit? – and I just try not to think of anything if I can't think of something bright. It's the thought version of what our mothers always said: if you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all. If you can't think of something positive, then at least keep your mind blank.


This picture is a visual to me of what it's about: some things (like the photo in the background of myself on the slide ladder as a child) are in sharp focus and everything else just a tilted, off-centre blur.


That's usually when I feel like I'm going crazy, when myriads of memories from my childhood come into sharp focus.


And they are mostly dark.


Pivoting away from it, from that place of sadness and hormone-drenched Blue, I am intensely grateful that I am alive now – when we can talk about having these feelings at all. That I don't have to pretend that everything is hunky dory, peachy-keen; that I know I'm not alone, that you have probably been where I am. That you might even be in that place yourself right now, you may even be in deeper Blue.


And we all have each other – we can reach out and ask for some love.


We don't have to be alone.

There were better today before today and better days will come again.


It's been a long time since I've been as unable to write as I have these past few weeks.

A long, long time – it comes down to not being able to type over his head (yet) and not getting enough sleep (yet) which both boil down to not latching on correctly (yet).

The whole latch thing is not dire – it's simply a work in progress. Getting to know each other, taking some time. Having two other kids around does NOT make this process easier.

I know this sounds all kinds of "bad mommy", but I'm also pretty set on Mac's being okay with the breast or bottle, with breastmilk or formula. I locked myself up pretty tight with Moxie and her breastfeeding, in which she'd only take the breast – I don't want the same thing to happen here, with him. I want some feeding freedom.

I want to share the feeding love!

Give the kids a chance to help out, too

Moxie is really getting into her new role. She hears Baby Mac cry and will dive over for the bottle or pacifier.

I'm also pretty sure that "Mac" is her first very conscious, carefully articulated word. She goes for it, "mmmmmmmmaaaaaaaaaaac". And then checks with his signing nickname. Then goes back, "mmmmmmmmaaaaaaaaaac" (the 'ck" sound is barely there for her), then she runs through ALL of our names and signing nicknames before heading right on back to "mmmmmmmmaaaaaaaac".

It's endearing. It's adorable. For some reason, it also makes me tear up.

Hormones. I'm telling you. They never stop.


Speaking of which. I think the "blues" came and went. I found myself crying over things like, oh, the sun shining and then I was snapped back to my version of normal. I hope that was the end of that. I'd like to think it was.

The healing is still on a solid positive. My back has been hurting and I discovered yesterday that I DO really need those painkillers still and I DO really need to take it easier than I have been. But overall, this is still pretty smooth. Knock on wood.


Mikey's back at work full time. Before he went back though, we slipped off to Fisherman's Wharf. Tourists in our own backyard.

It was kind of fun.

The real tourists kinda got under our skin and made us want to get away from them. But it was fun for a while and we still have our Bucket List to plan out.


Right now my head is a mass of fog from lack of sleep and there are piles and mountains of things to Get Done. I wanted to this to be a smooth and flowing post with lots of pep but I guess it's just going to be what it is.

And that's okay, right?


– The Moxie Doll giveaway is still on – easy comment entry with 3 winners!

– Most all of the photos here were posted on instagram/facebook – if you care to follow the thread, I'm at 'withalittlemoxie' on both.

And tell me, do:

What's new and good in your world right now?




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