Losing An Arm

Becoming a parent means acquiring a whole new set of skills. You learn how to change a diaper quickly and carefully so the baby doesn't get too upset, bathe someone who doesn't want to unclench her tiny fist, and creep out of a room very quietly so as not to wake the infant who HATES to stay in her crib.

But perhaps the most interesting skill is learning how to do absolutely everything with one hand, because you always have to assume that the baby will be taking one for herself.

Evelyn spends approximately five to six hours a day nursing. Add to the the fact that she's a total mommy's girl who wants to be held as much as possible, and there you have the loss of my left arm.

For the last six days that I've been a mom, my left arm has been incapacitated by the fact that I'm usually using it to hold the baby. So far, I've learned to go to the bathroom, make Kool-Aid, put away laundry, and yes, type with one arm. I don't mind though. I'm enjoying these precious days when she wants to be so close to me that she can hear my heartbeat. Someday, she will be a rambunctious teenager who, just like that song from "The Grinch," won't want to touch me with a 39 and a half foot pole.

When I gave birth, I had no idea that along with the belly I've been carrying around for nine months, I would also lose a limb I've been using for 21 years. But just like losing your time and freedom when you have a baby, the arm is a happy loss. Right this minute, Evelyn is fast asleep on my chest, giving me a few minutes to stretch this arm and work the small muscle control in my hand before rigor mortis sets in.

I can only imagine that as my daughter gets heavier, my arm will become abnormally and disproportionately buff from hauling the extra weight. And really, what else could a mother ask for?