A marathon. It’s long. It’s excruciating difficult. And when you’re in the thick of it, it’s almost impossible to see how you’ll ever make it through.
My beautiful baby boy was born just over two weeks ago. The labour was arduous with all sorts of interventions. Just before 6am, our little bundle of joy was born and we started the marathon already exhausted.
I’m not sure how I survived the first week. It was by the far the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. I wept every hour. I struggled to feed him and wondered how I’ll ever keep him alive, let alone happy and healthy. But somehow (I know how: with the help of so many incredible family members and friends), we made it through.
The second week was a little less difficult but still weepy and still hard.
And now, we’re on the third week. My amazing mother-in-law is here with us for the week helping me adjust to life without my husband. My little angel is currently sleeping on her chest. So much joy. I’m already freaking out about next week – my first week truly on my own.
But as my doctor said yesterday, this is a marathon. A three month (if you’re lucky) marathon. The only way through is… well… through.