Verguenza

The day after Isabella of Castile gave birth to Katharine of Aragon in a temporary field camp, she passed her soft, mewling babe off to a wet nurse, mounted her steed and rode off with Ferdinand to continue the fight against the Moors (crimson velvet gown flapping in the wind, I imagine). A week after I gave birth to Jude, I waddled gingerly around our cul de sac, hanging dolorously on Mike's arm, stepping wide in my blue flannel pajama pants and Mike's oversized, holey Beatles shirt. Nothing like a fiery Spanish queen to put you to shame.

Despite my slightly longer recovery, replete with several birth "souveniors" (which did not include puerperal fever, like most of Isabella's contemporaries, gladly) today my midwife pushed and prodded and declared me whole. Although I have no immediate plans to mount a trusty steed or zealously join any kind of military campaign, I feel I can at least conquer my cul de sac with enthusiasm (minus the velvet gown, but only because of the heat) and maybe even push this ole' bessie to strolling boldly around the block, wee babe in tow, for no other reason than to feel this body move again.

The Sea Change

Jude is a month old today. In 15 minutes, actually. This does not seem possible because it doesn't feel like I have had a month's worth of sleep. Maybe a few weeks worth, but not a month. Unfortunately, I have never handled lack of sleep very well. I behave like I did as a pre-teen who stayed up too late at a sleepover. My parents can attest to the seething storm of crankiness I always was the next day. The years have only made me worse. Despite the grogginess of the new era, we are delighted by our little man. Sometimes I still get weepy when I look at him. He's so beautiful.

After a month of convalescing, I'm starting to feel my body fall back into equilibrium. For weeks after Jude's birth it felt like I was inhabiting a stranger's body. My suddenly heavy and pendulous breasts, tender and shockingly practical. My Grinch-like belly, saggy after being taut and teeming with life. My lower region an alien landscape of a body pulling back together again. And my emotions, ah, my emotions. More stable. The violence of birth on the body was a sudden sea-change that left me sputtering in the wake. Luckily, the smaller, more delicate body that emerged, his unnerving vulnerability, continues to pull a veil over the former pain.