The last two weeks have been… surreal. I can’t think of any other way to describe it, really.
The first week passed in a strange sort of haze. We went to sleep around 06:00 the day Kyra was born, and I slept with her next to me on one side, Martin on the other. I woke up around 10:00 and lay staring at my little girl for a while. It didn’t seem real, yet it seemed the most natural and obvious thing in my life. I couldn’t begin to break down the week that followed. I know that Martin was wonderful with his daughter, and I know that my parents were so supportive. I know that meals appeared in front of me a number of times a day and that I’ve never had so many emails and text messages in one week, yet I don’t think I’ve replied to half of them, cause I don’t remember who I’ve contacted or not. I know that we bathed Kyra in a baby bath on day three (leaving the vernix on her to protect her skin as long as possible) and that having my mom around to help with the practicalities was the biggest blessing to us. When we were exhausted and just needed more sleep we were able to hand Kyra to my folks and they looked after her, they made sure we ate, had clean clothes and bedding and didn’t have to think about dishes.