Well, hello there. It’s nice to be back.

As you can imagine, things have been crazy around my little world because of the arrival of our new baby. Hannah is the most amazing, wonderful, beautiful human being I have ever met. With such a status, why shouldn’t she demand my whole being?

I’m finding out that my whole being is pretty much what it takes to raise a child. Motherhood is the most rewarding — and difficult — thing I have ever encountered.

I’ve had to temper my expectations a lot in order to keep myself from going nuts. When I was pregnant, I had this notion that I would magically transform into Martha Stewart/Mary Poppins/Ina Garten with a body that will spring back into shape (with the added bonus of having an Olivia Palermo face. Aim high, right?).

When the baby arrived, I just turned into mush.

I loved my baby from hour zero, but that love did not change reality: sleep is necessary, post-delivery recovery is difficult, and hormones rage. I had more than my fair share of the random bursts of tears, convinced that I was just barely keeping my baby alive. Needless to say, the first couple of weeks were pretty rough.

I’m still getting the hang of motherhood. I had to temper my expectations a lot to keep my sanity. If I can just make sure that I don’t ruin the innate greatness of Hannah and have a hand in her growing up safe and healthy, I would already consider myself a success in motherhood. Her being a prodigy (although I am still convinced that she is) would just be a bonus.

Edit: Apparently, my sanity is such a concern that I unconsciously mentioned its condition twice.