You don't know

You'd think that if everything is going smoothly that you'd end up having a pretty stellar day. JT is eating on schedule, his poop is turning the appropriate colors according to the charts, the dresser was delivered and was better than expected, I had a grape soda for the first time in months, I balanced the checkbook and cleaned out the stack of junk mail from the kitchen table. Instead I hide away in my bedroom for some solitude and wind up standing in the shower crying my eyes out. Perhaps all the peacefulness and smoothness of the day allows the senses to absorb more? I can't put my finger on it. It's a bit like when you're hurt and you can make it through the day without noticing the pain. It's not until when you finally relax at night and lay down that the throbbing becomes noticeable and more pronounced. That's a bit of what I'm feeling tonight. This baby business is more overwhelming than anyone can ever explain to you. You can't be prepared for this. I don't think it matters if I had read every book out there or didn't read anything at all. It's all an individual and personal experience. Your birth story and the first two weeks are nothing compared to mine. And vice versa. You don't know tired until you've been up with a 7 pound human in your lap staring at you for 6 hours. You don't know the beauty of 3 hours of sleep punctuated by intermittent wakings to check on that above mentioned human. You don't know frustration at laying on your back for the last week because you can't roll over without your insides ripping. You don't know the feeling of helplessness at having to being hoisted up by your husband because you're stuck. You know, but you don't know.