Tomorrow Lydia will be two weeks old, and the past 13 days have been filled with two activities:

(1) Being absolutely IN LOVE with this face

and (2) Breastfeeding.

I was told that breastfeeding would be a full-time job. The only difference is that with a full-time job, you only have to work 8 hours a day, plus you get weekends off. However, in a classic combination of her Tata’s metabolism and her Mama’s appetite, this little wonder is ALWAYS HUNGRY.

They recommend nursing every two hours, but that two hour clock starts when you begin nursing. So if she nurses for 45 minutes, then wants to be rocked for another 20, I have like 40 minutes before she starts to get fussy again. That is if she’s not cluster feeding, which she almost always does first thing in the morning, and again with gusto at evening time (more on this in another post).

She is also a pretty lackadaisical nurser, meaning, she favors a suck-suck-snooze eating pattern, making feedings a lot longer than they “need” to be. Fortunately, I am growing more comfortable and adept at nursing in various locations, like during a picnic at the lake 🙂

Being the sort of overly-organized, chart-maker that I am, I was inclined to download an app to time and track Lydia’s breastfeeding sessions. Huge rookie mistake. Looking at the charts and times led me to second-guess her hunger cues (“You couldn’t possibly be hungry again!”), which in turn led to two days of a very fussy baby. We do implement other methods to sooth her when she’s fussy, but if she is making the baby-bird, lip-smacking face, chances are she is genuinely hungry. It doesn’t really matter when she ate last, or for how long. She is trying to gain weight and she needs to eat whenever she wants to! So, in short, I deleted the app, and I trust Lydia to tell me if she wants food, even if this means we are nursing a lot.

I love that we have this time together. I love that my body is able to provide nourishment. As an added perk, I love that she is helping me lose the baby weight. But, I’m not gonna lie, I am counting down the days until I can start pumping (so that I can take a shower or a nap without worrying about her getting hungry) and introducing a pacifier (to help calm some of the times when she is probably just nursing for comfort). But no matter how hard it is for me to sit still, or how sore my nipples get, or how hungry or tired breastfeeding makes me, it is more than worth it to see her peaceful, satisfied face.

Yesterday was gorgeous outside–55 and sunny–and we took baby out in her new stroller to walk around Campus Lake. Toward the end of the loop, we took a detour into the actual campus–on the sidewalk in between buildings–with budding college students swirling around us.

A surreal and bittersweet feeling came over me. It blows my mind that I still live here, that I’m walking my daughter on this campus, that I’m using the word daughter.

I moved to Carbondale when I was 18, the August after I graduated from high school. I had an incredible 4.5 years of film school with an army of friends all around me. It was my own personal 1960s: extensive debauchery and avant-garde art. Finding that right mix of collegiate intellectualism and barbaric partying. Sipping tea and listening to NPR after a night of naked keg stands; watching Stan Brakhage and Maya Deren films on mushrooms; eating sushi and discussing bell hooks before using change to buy 40s. A simultaneous refinement and abandon.

I did leave this town for a little while after graduation, but before too long the lure of performance studies called me back. And what I thought would be two more years of the same turned into seven years of something completely different.

I mean, some parts were the same.

But I had no idea that I would complete not just a masters, but a PhD*; that I would grow so much as an artist; that I would give up drinking (2 years + 5 months so far); that I would spend six years (and counting) with the man I would marry; that I would grow a baby, birth her, and walk her around on the very campus that I grew up on.

Life is full of surprises.

I have never personally purchased or worn a piece of SIU merchandise, but I think I’m going to pick up a onesie or two. Lydia doesn’t know it yet, but this campus is an important part of her story.

*note: I don’t have a PhD quite yet, but I defend my dissertation in less than a month!

During my pregnancy, I walked a lot. During the early months, I would switch between walking the 2.2 mile paved path around campus lake, hiking the 2 mile very steep but very beautiful trillium trail in Giant City State Park, or really going for it with the 4 mile scenic journey that is called Little Grand Canyon. Once I got my morning sickness a little bit under control, I started doing these hikes about three times a week.*

During the third trimester, things got a little trickier. That is when I discovered a walking trail called Green Earth: Chautauqua Bottoms, which was right on my way to school. This easy, 1 mile loop was just what the doctor ordered, and I began walking this path almost every day (weather permitting).

On Tuesday, we took advantage of some warm sunny weather and brought Lydia on her very first hike (outside of Mama’s body).

Hiking while pregnant was one of the best parts of the job. On these walks, I felt most connected to the mysterious little person growing inside me. I’m so happy to be able to walk the same paths where I daydreamed about meeting her, with this delightful baby strapped to my chest.

*note: Although I’m sure these walks kept me and my baby healthy, they did not prevent me from gaining 70 lbs.

Lydia Louise Kos was born at 7:05pm on Saturday, January 31, 2015! She was 7lbs. 13.8 oz and 21 inches long.

Most of my labor was done at home with Rafal and my wonderful doula, Michelle Patula, and by the time I arrived at the hospital I was 6-7 cm dialated and 100% effaced. I had a completely natural vaginal delivery, of which I am very proud. We were able to leave the hospital after 24 hours and we spent our first night at home as a family on Sunday.

The nights are long and sleepless, but the smiles are warm and deep. I can see the faces of so many people I love in her face–my mom and dad, my partner, myself–and I am floored by the realization that every single person in the world–from the the most generous to the most evil–was a sweet, little creature like this once. Something tells me that life will never be the same.

Primary impetus for this blog: Rafal (my partner) does not want me to post pictures of the baby on Facebook. Without getting into all the reasons why, or my counter-reasons, or the myriad exchanges we’ve pleasantly shared, I will just say this: I lost. So I need to fulfill my desire to share pictures of my beloved babe another way.

In addition, I’m pretty bored. Over the course of the past month, I have transitioned from the hectic life of a bakery worker/college instructor/dissertating graduate student to that of a loafing pregnant woman. And I am running out of craft projects and meals to cook.

Although I’m sure things will get a whole lot busier once this babe emerges, and although I will be teaching a couple of 8-week courses in the Spring, the tentative plan is to spend the upcoming May through November (maybe longer) living in a National Park and being a stay at home mom. I’m going to need a creative outlet.