I Birthed a Bloodhound

The first 19 hours of Madeline's life ex-utero were deceivingly quiet. She greeted visitors with curious attentive eyes. She faced heel pricks with barely an whimper and never seemed phased by strange beeps, noises or laughter. "She's sooooo peaceful and quiet," was the common refrain. Then everyone left and it was just Madeline, her mom and her dad. And she cried and she snorted. Yes, snorted and it was the cutest thing we'd ever heard. She did it more and more when we got home.  I'd come running when she started snorting. She even lifted her head up and looked around while doing it. So then we praised, "What a strong little girl she is!".

I looked forward to hearing her snort until I realized that this was actually the sound of the dinner bell going off every 2 hours, sun up and sun down.

My child was sniffing me out with perfect precision like a bloodhound. Hunger and instinct are a deadly combo. They move my daughter to migrate her way through sleep and darkness to the source of her food...me. After 2 weeks, that little snort isn't quite as cute.  I fold my arms to cover my chest so she won't catch my scent when I check in on her. If the fan is on in the room I avoid sitting downwind. I feel like I have committed a crime and K9 is out to get me...and I'm guaranteed to get got.

No one told me that her sense of smell was THAT strong.
or that you don't get to mentally recover/take a deep breath/just one last moment of peace after giving birth.
or that I would miss being pregnant (especially when she hiccups).
or that my front tooth would fall out for no reason...3 days after giving birth...because life isn't hard enough.
or that I would feel like I am about to break at least twice a day.
or that I would be so consumed with the color, amount and consistency of another person's poop.
or that each day would bleed into the next and the next day would be another never-ending cycle of shift-changes where you always have the next shift (but seriously, what day is it?).
or that I would so easily stop saying, "Good Morning" to my husband (sorry James) because I am sleep deprived and feeding again.
or that I would never eat a warm meal again.
or that I would now have to meticulously place things like my phone, drink or snack on my left or right  depending on what side I am holding her.
or that I would pace the house if she isn't in my arms like a dog does when someone else is holding her puppies (and that I might actually growl a little).
or that I could fall so deeply in love with a little human who sharts in her diaper while I hold her as I eat my dinner that took entirely to long to microwave because she insists on being held...she smiled at me after she pooped (not even mad).

So she snorts...and I am the only one she is searching for. When she sniffs me out her needs will be met as she finds her way to my heart and warmth, all that she has known for the past 9 months.  I gotta wrap things up because she is napping therefore I should be doing the same...With every sniff, grunt and snort I reminded how much I need to seek God out with this intense amount of trust, determination and assurance. He will never run from me when I need Him. He is my all and all.

During a nap together

All I do is open my arms and she sniffs and scoots her way over...eyes closed the whole time. 

This face in the wee hours of the morning. She is just sweet perfection.