Thursday was O’s 2 month birthday. This marks two months of being the twenty four hour a day seven days a week non-stop needs meeter. It means that for two months I have gotten no more than 2 hours of sleep at a time. I slept in for the first time today, meaning I slept for a whole 3 1/2 hours! Between sleeping (or rather not sleeping) I have produced endless quantities of breastmilk, been peed on, pooped on, spit up all over -sometimes all at the same time- I have seen O’s first smile, watched him find his thumb and figure out how to suck on it, watched him get closer and closer to figuring out how to roll over, listened to him coo and “talk” in increasing quantity and carried him and carried him and carried him… two months has flown by, and he is more adorable everyday.
Somewhere in these past two months I realized that “I” am somewhat lost to myself. I am O’s mom and S’s wife. I still exist without these roles -I am fairly certain- but I am not sure who that “I” is anymore. On Friday, I went bike shopping at Kulshan. I “test drove” (such a weird concept to me) two bicycles and for a moment I remembered I am me. I was riding a bike, and I wasn’t thinking about making dinner or worrying if O was crying because I was gone. I didn’t feel like I had to rush back because O might need to eat. I haven’t ridden since before I got pregnant, and it felt so good. I was riding this bike, not because I am a wife or because I am a mom, but simply because I could. I came back to the store, lungs burning, thighs aching, smiling… a little more integrated, slightly more whole.