Cliche & Lovin’ It

Two weeks ago I had my little baby boy. His name is Tucker and he is the love of my life.

I used to roll my eyes and gag at all the lovey pictures and professions of eternal love from people and their new babies. “What’s the big deal? It’s just a baby.” Ok so maybe I was a bit callous, but I had six younger brothers and sisters, bottles and diapers got old fast when I was younger.

I would like to take this moment to formally apologize to everyone I’ve ever felt that way towards in the past… And I would like to take this moment to apologize to everyone who feels how I used to feel because I’m probably going to annoy the snot out of you over the next year…. And moving on!

Tucker is the most interesting thing I think I’ve ever experienced. I think I can say the same for Jessy too. I was a bit nervous about how Jessy would interact with the baby.

I know that’s an awful thing to say, let me digress so I don’t look like an ass. I love my husband, but for the most part he isn’t overly emotional and lovey. Which isn’t a bad thing, it makes the lovey moments more special when they happen. And it also makes him easier to get along with, because I prefer rational people (even if I’m not always rational myself). I was scared that the baby wouldn’t get the lovey from Jessy on the level that I know I can give, scared that Tucker might not bond with daddy like I think he should.

Boy was I wrong. Jessy has surprised me by jumping into the “Daddy” role pretty much instantaneously. He talks to baby, takes care of baby, and even asked if he was doing enough to help. I accidentally dropped my phone on baby (I’m a terrible person I know), and while he didn’t cry and wasn’t hurt, Jessy still took baby and cooed over him for a good ten minutes. He’s a great daddy and a fantastic husband.

I feel complete. I have a family. I don’t think I could love them any more even if I tried to. I was scared that I would feel like my life is over, my goals and dreams out the window. Instead I feel like those goals and dreams aren’t worth my time, I’d rather be spending time with Tucker anyway. I’m really thankful to my husband for taking care of the finances while I get to stay home with baby. If I had to work I would, but I would be sad to be away from him.

Speaking if sad, his crying sends me over the edge. The other night we were on our way home. I had forgotten his backup bottle at home, (breastfeeding) and he started to cry because he was hungry. Obviously I couldn’t pull him out and feed him in a moving car, and we were so close to home that it didn’t really make sense to pull over on the side of the road (which is unsafe anyway, we were on a major trucker route). So he cried, and it hurt me. I felt so helpless. My baby was hungry and it was my fault for forgetting his bottle. I was close to tears before I crawled in the back and gave him his pacifier at least, which held him over till we got home. I never thought crying would bother me this much. It makes me feel like I’m failing as a parent, which I know is ridiculous. Jessy later confided that he doesn’t like it when baby cries either. We both feel the same way.

So there. I feel cliche, I am cliche. But I don’t give a rats patootie because my baby’s opinion is the only one I want. I could be shunned from society and hated by everyone in the world, so long as my family loves me.



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