And I am wide, wide awake.

I can, most likely, count the number of times I’ve been wide {wide} awake at 7:30 in the morning — on one hand.

I’ve stated before that I am not a morning person, even though I enjoy the feeling of getting a “full” day in. I’m much more alive at night. I’ll always have a thing for late night hours.

Prior to having FOH, my biggest concern was sleep. I’ll admit that I carried around this fear that I would never again have restful sleep, and I could kiss away nap time. Sleep is a big deal around these parts. It’s at the top of my list.

I come from a long line of family nappers, so it’s only natural it runs in my blood.

I am here to reassure you Mama’s to be out there to not fear the lack of sleep. I heard from a number of women prior to birth that I would know what to do once I had FOH. That the Mother Instinct kicks in. It’s true, People. No bullshit here on that front.

As soon as I had him, a switched was flipped in me. Along with an immediate confidence that surprised me. A confidence of knowing what had to be done and that unquestionably, I was going to do it and I would have the inner knowledge to be able to do so.

No doubt, I am sleep deprived. But it is a different kind of sleep deprived than before. One where I can still function without feeling like I’m pushing myself to function. I’m exhausted, yet there is a reserve of energy any time I need it.

Tonight, FOH was up at 1:22, 4:10 and 6:20. All of these were short feedings — minus the 46 never ending and very long session we had at TC’s last night before coming home. Every time I thought he was done and I’d go to pull the boob out, he’d clamp down and start sucking again.

This proved to be highly uncomfortable, because he didn’t have all the boob needed in his mouth, yet enough to continue getting milk. I still don’t get how to break nipple suction and I’m beginning to think it’s not possible with this kid — that’s how strong his sucking is. Every time I’ve tried, it ends up hurting more. I eventually gave up and just let him continue till he was done. A damn long 46 minutes, to say the least.

Now that I feel like FOH and I are settling into some sort of routine. one where I know what to expect, I find a sense of relief and comfort. It helps me to enjoy this time a little more fully.

There is nothing like holding your new child in your arms and feeling their little body rise and fall to the rhythm of their breath … to be able to offer a safe place of love and security in my arms … just to snuggle up close and marvel at how perfect and beautiful FOH is.

To think, he’s already three whole weeks old. Where did these last three weeks go?! Well, we know where they went. My main point is how quickly three weeks has passed. I’m sure I’ll be saying the same thing in three years.

I need to get busy on Part 2 of The Story. Because I’m sure you’re just dying to know the full on details of what it was like to push a kid out of my vayjay. Am I right or am I right?

I’m going to go enjoy this morning … sit on the porch with a cup of coffee {been craving it like crazy post birth}, with FOH up against my heart. We’ll sit and swing and I’ll try my best to memorize every detail of us being together.

The sounds of the birds. The train passing by. The dog next door. Cars on their way to work. This is one of those mornings I need to memorize, to be able to pull out of the remember when bank when I have a particularly challenging morning, afternoon or day in general.

It’s one of the best ways to remember this Truth: that all is temporary, including us; our existence. And in that temporary, there is an underlining well being that permeates. Always.