Heavy Baby

I got in the shower yesterday, and my arms were sore.

I ached all over, and my shoulders strained while I washed my hair.

It was reminiscent of the days when I lifted weights with clients all day. Or the fitness conferences I attended where we had challenges that tested my physical limits.

I really enjoy strength-training, as a rule, so I tend to have pretty decent upper-body strength.

But I hadn't been this sore in a while. Furthermore, I haven't lifted weights in a while, either.

Well, I haven't lifted weights in the traditional sense.

But I have been hefting about a 24-pound baby. All day. Every day.

Ella is healthy and growing. And I'm fairly used to lifting her up and down and around a lot, thanks to the fact that she enjoys nursing, clean diapers, and frequent changes of scenery and entertainment.

But thanks to Ella's new favorite new plaything, I'm getting a whole different kind of workout.

Because that new favorite plaything? Me.

Dear heavens, she's obsessed with me.

She wants to be in my arms all the time. The only time she's content to be down and playing is when I'm in the room with her. If others are there, she hovers about my ankles. And if anyone esle makes a move at her - to wave at her, pinch her cheek, or pick her up - she grabs at me, burying her head on my chest or shoulder. She's not content to let anyone else hold her. She only semi-tolerates my husband, and if I'm anywhere near, she positively leaps out of his arms at me.

At my brother's wedding, I held her for eight hours straight. She'd screech if others came toward her, including her grandparents and father, whom she's normally big fans of. My arms were going numb.

Do you know what it's like to heft about 24ish pounds all day? In heels? And a pencil skirt?

Ouch.

The thing is, I get it. We were in a loud place with lots of strange people, which is likely very overwhelming.

So she wanted her mama. And I love my baby, so I obliged.

But when she writhed out of her own father's arms and grabbed my hair as I tried to sneak away to go to the bathroom for the 17th time? Well, Mama was over-stimulated, too.

I am the first to admit that I love holding and wearing my baby. But sometimes, I get a little out-touched.

It's physically and mentally exhausting.

And it's getting worse.

She's incredibly intense about the fact that I can't leave her sight. So much so that I almost regret moving into a bigger house because gone are the days where I dash into another room to grab something, and Ella never realized I was gone.

It's silly, but it's rough.

And yet, it's also a joy.

When Ella sees me, she lights up. Her whole body smiles and waves with glee.

She mimics me and cuddles up on me and holds onto me. I've been holding onto her for months, and finally, she's holding onto me, too.

Every morning, when we wake up, and she beams at me, I can't help but snuggle her in and smile right back.

Gosh, I love that girl.

My beautiful, wonderful, super-clingy girl.

I adore the mess out of her.

But man alive, I sure am sore.

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Any other mamas have babies who are the picture of happiness until you try to let someone else hold them? Any other mamas have babies who never scream until you try and get a few minutes to yourself? Any other mamas hold their babies so much that their arms actually get ripped from the sheer workout it causes?

As always, tell me I'm not alone.

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Happy Tuesday, everyone.