One thing that other parents warned me about, but I was still utterly unprepared for (other than the sleep-dep) was the terror that comes from having a child. Even when I have time to lie down and get some much-needed rest, I lie there awake with my brain hamster-wheeling over all the horrible things that might happen to River, and I bawl my eyes out with worry.

Part of it is that he's just so damn *fragile* right now -- his little head is so small and soft and the world is full of hard, sharp surfaces -- but then there's also the stuff in the future (which Xeney does a great job of describing here). I don't know how to raise a boy! What if he gets beat up, attracts a bully, falls out of a tree, wants to be a gymnast and make his mother walk around with her heart permanently in her mouth in fear? Or worse yet, what if he *is* a bully (though this I worry less about -- I feel like he's already got a little personality and it's not a bullying one, but then again what do I know?).

Anyway, that fear of him getting hurt or even accidentally hurting him myself is a constant, gnawing fear that I don't see going away anytime soon. It's exhausting.

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I still need to do a birth story entry, but I want to do a good job on that and I don't have the energy right now. Physically, I'm wrecked. Not only am I still running on not nearly enough sleep and trying to recover from major abdominal surgery *and* labor, but now I have an infection from breastfeeding. They don't warn you about this, though it's there if you look it up/ read far enough in The Nursing Mother's Companion. I felt achey and horrible last night, like I was getting the flu (but I've had a flu shot, so I was pretty sure it wasn't that), and one of my breasts had a hard, red, painfully tender spot with shooting pains after nursing. Fun! Today, I called the advice nurse, who told me pretty much what my book told me to do but wouldn't help me further because I didn't have a temperature. I tried to nap, shivering under two down comforters for two hours, while my darvocet wore off. Taking my temp. not on darvocet gave me the needed 101 degrees for them to take me seriously, so now I have antibiotics (thanks to Tim running out to the pharmacy while I switched from chills to sweats and tried to nurse a fussy baby to relieve engorgement) and have to see the doctor in 48 hours to follow up.

This just doesn't seem fair. I feel like my labor and delivery were hard enough without *also* giving me mastitis. It's as if my parenting trial-by-fire of the first six weeks just wasn't challenging enough, so I'm getting the advanced, see if you can handle *this*, course. I don't mean to tempt fate by mentioning this, I just think I've earned the right to complain a little here.

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On a more positive physical note, when I finally remembered to weigh myself on Thursday (a week after giving birth), I found out that I've lost 26 pounds from the highest weight I was during my pregnancy (which was recorded the Friday before I delivered; I lost about 8 pounds by the next Monday just being so sick from labor that I hardly ate). Whoot! Big baby, big placenta, lots and lots of blood, amniotic fluid and water weight. And, of course, breastfeeding (which helps you lose weight), which I would say is going fairly well except for that freaking infection. Anyway, not that I'm up for dressing up and going out or anything (besides, it's hard to find clothes that don't rub the cesarian scar and also allow for easy-access for breast-feeding), but it's nice to be getting my waist back. And a little sad.

Saturday, before I started feeling really cruddy, we had Mom watch River while Tim and I ran to the baby store. It was the first time in 10 months that he hasn't been with me, and I missed him about 5 minutes into the trip. I guess that's that old terror thing again. That and I just love the little guy to pieces. He's still so sweet and perfect. Especially when he's not crying, but even then...