shelled & deshelled

We had our first tiff since Joshua arrived.

It revolved mainly around my highly uncomfortable engorged breasts, how the milk would drip everywhere when I was trying to nurse, and my childish jealousy towards how Hubs was directing all his attention to the baby instead of to me.

After all, there would be no Joshua if it wasn’t for me, right?

Hubs had said even prior to getting pregnant that his predominant duty was as a husband, then a father. But now that he’s really risen the ranks to fatherhood, somehow things didn’t turn out the way I thought it would be.

Yeah, he’s great with the baby and all that, and I probably should be very thankful for such a godsend. But being the woman who has gain stretchmarks, excessively swollen feet and sore stitches, shouldn’t I be granted some tender loving care too? He says he helps with the baby so that I can rest, but how much can I rest when I need to be awake every 2-3 hours to either breastfeed or express milk? And how would his caring for the baby help with my painfully swollen feet and ankles? He had offered to massage my feet in bed to help the circulation going, but by the time we really got to bed, he was knackered and morally it just felt wrong to ask him for it. I would rub my own feet if I could reach it without feeling like my stitches would burst.

My constant streaming tears during the argument, coupled with his flu and fatigue, drove him up the wall. He told me he needed some time out, and sauntered out the door.

Almost 30 minutes later, he came back. With a 5kg pack of UIC laundry detergent and white light bulbs to replace the current yellow ones in Joshua’s room and the dining table. I was complaining the night before about how difficult it was to see milk stains and check for wet diapers in yellow light.

Sometimes my emotions really get into a fix. His shallow emotional being and yet that sensitive side. How can someone be so contrasting?

He walked up beside me and pulled my head in to rest on his tummy, stroking my head. “You’re right. I’ve been spending too much time with the baby. I should pay more attention to you. I’m sorry, ok?”

And that was all it took to make me feel so much better.

I reserved a video online from CineNow, and he gladly walked over to the rental machine to pick it up. Although the movie experience was broken up by visiting parents and Joshua’s feeding needs, it was still good. ‘200 Pounds Beauty’ made us laugh out loud, and that was definitely very good for our psychological health. I almost cried at the ending.

What was best about the video, was that Hubs sat right beside me with his arms around me while Joshua laid fast asleep beside us. This is probably what they call ‘familial bliss’.

On another note, I think I might be having those famed postnatal blues. Or I could just be back to my old crazed self.