Yikes. It says something about the state of things around here that I didn’t even realize that yesterday’s date was 11/11/11. Perhaps it’s for the best. How best to mark such a calenderic event, anyway, besides feeling vaguely panicked about not finding a meaningful, memorable way to mark it?
We’re over two weeks into two-kid-hood, and all is well. I’m off painkillers completely now, though I’m still taking the occasional Motrin for annoying and persistent pain from breastfeeding (though this finally seems to be settling down). I had my two-week checkup earlier this week, and my incision is healing perfectly; I was released into the world as a regular human being, done—finally—with monitoring and checkups and daily questions about whether I’m bleeding or cramping or leaking fluids. Andrew and I had driven into Manhattan for the appointment, taking Greta with us (leaving a feverish, coughing Lucia at home with Andrew’s mom), and we even managed a stop at Zabar’s for cheese and olives before heading home. Real human life!
And nothing signals I’m-healing-successfully-from-a-C-section like a trip to the worst Target in the country, which is what Andrew and I did on Thursday. Fortunately, another, better indicator of said healing is having dinner out, which Andrew and I also managed to do last night—we had Thai food just a few blocks from home while both little ones slept soundly at home under Granny’s watch. Today, all of us walked to the farmer’s market and joined the bustling crowds buying apples and Indian corn and leeks. It sometimes hits me as I look around on these gorgeous, crisp fall days that I missed out on an entire month of life—all of this was going on while I sat in a hospital bed on 59th Street, reading vampire novels. And even though Lucia was a bit surly, and Greta needed to be nursed on a bench, it was a relief to finally be part of it once again.
Now we are on our own: Andrew’s mom left today, and it’s just the four of us. On Monday, it will be just me with the girls, as Andrew returns to work for a while before using more of his ridiculously generous paternity leave. Good thing I still have six Percocets left! Ha! Kidding! At least, I am right now!