Canyon Moon | H.S.

Made From Love (85)

"I think it's nap time, baby." I say softly, cradling a tired and fussy Juliette to my chest.

"I'll take her."

I try not to sigh in relief as Harry holds his arms out for her, but I'm so tired it just slips out. He gives me a gentle smile as he takes her out of my arms, and I watch him head upstairs, gently bouncing her as he goes.

Two months isn't very long, but sometimes it feels like we've been parents for years.

Harry's been wonderful, and I'm starting to genuinely wonder if he made a deal with the devil or some shit, because there's no way he can be this perfect naturally. I don't think he's genuinely fucked up once in our whole relationship, and it almost makes me angry when I think about it.

I actually sent Anne flowers, with a card thanking her for how she raised him cause lord knows there aren't enough of him in the world. She phoned me in fits of giggles when she got them, only making me even more glad that I'd done it.

It feels a bit like Harry and I have been on radio silence the past two months, both of us just taking the time to adjust to being parents. I can tell some days he gets fidgety, but he plays his guitar for a bit and seemingly feels better.

Parenting is a rollercoaster.

People try to prepare you for it, but there's genuinely no way to prepare. Half my time is spent just taking things minute by minute, focussing on keeping her happy and making sure she's not hungry, or uncomfortable. The other half is spent worrying about her future, and panicking when I realise that I'll be thirty one the year she starts school.

Also my boobs hurt, a hell of a lot. No one properly explained how uncomfortable breast-feeding is either.

My head twitches towards the stairs as I recognise the sound of Harry singing, and a smile twitches my lips.

He definitely made a deal with the devil, because not only has he been borderline perfect, his singing voice is practically a fool proof method to get J to fall asleep. It's sickeningly adorable, but as much as I mock him for it, I'm not really complaining. Not only do I love hearing him sing, but it melts my heart every time I witness it.

My body's barely getting back to normal but the sight of him singing softly as he holds her in her arms almost makes me want to get pregnant again.

I've been struggling with that too, not being pregnant. I was warned about the effects of postpartum depression and the emotional upheaval that happens after you give birth, but some cynical part of me assumed it wouldn't affect me.

I've had it easier than a lot of mothers do, but it hasn't been great.

Harry's held me most nights, rubbing my back as I cry and drying my tears patiently. He doesn't understand, he regularly apologises for the fact that he doesn't understand, which makes me chuckle slightly, but he's there. He's never once complained or even questioned why I feel so awful, which means the world to me.

It's not all the time. The majority of each day I feel okay, but most nights it hits me. It's like a phantom feeling that I'm still pregnant, and my body can't quite readjust to not carrying a baby anymore.

It's like I've got separation anxiety despite Juliette being literally ten steps away from me at all times. I can't even think about being away from her for any length of time or I start hyperventilating.

It's also made me feel super antisocial. Some horrible insecurity managed to worm its way into my brain, that friends only liked me while I was pregnant, that I'm some sort of disappointment to them now, and that they don't want to spend time with me. Then the thought of that makes me miserable, and then I think they won't want to spend time with me because I'm miserable.