Our captor is wearing us down. But just as we were seriously considering giving up, he smiled at us. Really smiled. The face-splitting, eye-squinting grin. And he wasn’t even on the changing table when it happened!
Hooray!
Note: I find it very difficult not to write in the “we” form here, whether I am describing his experience or mine. I suspect this has something to do with the way I feel like he’s not actually a separate being, but rather a part of me, a rogue organ that escaped; an additional limb. I also never thought I’d ever refer to myself as “mommy” in an out-loud voice, as in “mommy needs to change her shirt again because you spit up on it, yes; mommy’s right here, don’t worry…” But I do, frequently.
* * *
Life Serial:
1.
I can’t believe I have a baby. Me. Who is this person? How did he get here? Well, we know how, but still. (The WHO of him — baby, not band — is still in development.) And yet, as strange as this should feel, it doesn’t. It feels totally normal. Weirdly normal. I have a baby. This is my life now.
2.
The times I love him the most — I mean love like so sweet your teeth hurt but you still want more — tend to be when he is sleeping. Is that weird? This warm heavy fleshy BEING, eyes closed, breathing gently. I swear, he emits a soft glow.
3.
The biggest diaper blow outs seem to occur when he’s sitting in the baby carseat. Must be a good position for intestinal release.
4.
Yesterday I got to sleep in till 11. And yet I was still tired.
5.
I worry a lot that I’m not making enough milk. Apparently this is a common fear. (We’ll confirm or deny quantity concerns at his next weigh-in this week as sufficient weight gain is the only relevant barometer of milk production, at least according to pediatric medicine.)
6.
I worry a lot that he will suffocate — on too-soft bedding, in a *wrong* position in a carrier, or that he will fall out of his bouncy seat, the swing. Or that he’ll just stop breathing, mysteriously. Basically every warning label I read lodges somewhere in my overtaxed brain and grows roots, branches, leaves, fruit. (It doesn’t leave, although I’m hacking at the trunk with as much logic as I can muster, and every day the boy stays alive helps.)
7.
As always, Scott is a superhero. Not only does he get up and do all the diaper changes during the night (I’m in charge of input, he’s output), but he also brings me drinks, food while I nurse, bounces and rocks baby boy to sleep like a champ, sleeps himself in spite of the fact that I have the light and TV on while nursing at odd hours, does dishes and folds laundry and pays the bills, and more than just the manual labor, he ridiculously adores this little boy who has come into our lives and turned us completely upside down.
*beaming*
love you all
You know, you can weigh him at home. We did this when we were freaked out Jack wasn’t gaining weight fast enough.
Get a digital scale (a kitchen one) with a flat top. Get a translucent plastic bin slightly larger than your son. Put the bin on the scale, then turn on the scale and zero it out. Quickly lay your (naked) son down in the bin. If you can pull this off when he is sleepy, that’s best. If he wiggles it makes the weight hard to read.
It may not be super precise, but it was remarkably close, and gave us good piece of mind that he was getting enough milk.
Jane Huber’s last blog post..Jack at a glance 1/22/8
I am still laughing. I felt like tossing you out the nearest window but then you smiled. (It was only a one story house.)And I let you live.
I love the input/output division of labor!
mayberry’s last blog post..Aww! His first pee fountain!
I’ve said it before, but I shall say it again – I love the way you write so honestly. It always takes me back to exactly how I felt when I had my daughter. I don’t read Baby Blogs generally because I am not at that stage with my life, and because often they don’t really tell it how it is. But you do – and I love to read your pieces and hear how you are getting on.
I really wish someone would give you the confidence to let go of your worries re milk production. If you have a blip in weight gain it is nothing, just stick at it, if he is smiling and weeing and pooing, he is doing fine.
Reluctant Blogger’s last blog post..Childhood Freedom
Three and half years after his birth and I still refer to myself as “Mommy” when I talk to my son — it’s habit forming. And no, it’s not at all weird to love him most when he’s sleeping — it is then that you really get to marvel at this beautiful boy you have brought into the world.
And yes, very common to worry that a breastfed baby is getting enough milk — I used to drive myself (and my husband) crazy worrying about it. Jane’s got a good idea with using a scale at home. I used to weigh myself holding my son and then weigh myself alone — the difference being my son’s weight. And I’d agree with Reluctant Blogger, too, about the confidence. Sounds like you’re getting the output so the input must be good, too! You and he can do it! You and he ARE doing it!
I totally relate to #s 1, 2, and 6. Would LOVE to relate to #7:) I’ve lurked for a while since our babies are the same age (mine was born Dec 16) and just want to say I love reading your blog!
eva’s last blog post..One Month “Old”
Nobody can convince you of this, but I’ll repeat what the others said – you are doing fine, the baby is getting enough milk, and worry is unnecessary. Believe me, I have been in your shoes and I can testify.
Leila’s last blog post..Mark Bittman’s 100 Simple Summer Dinners
I can relate very strongly to #1 and 6. .I still check that my baby’s breathing when she’s sleeping! I wonder when that worry will cease.. .
I wish my husband helped out more. So far all he does is a couple hrs in the evening, but really, even then it’s shared time with me. He won’t get up to change a diaper, actually hardly ever does it at all. . .he does get me glasses of water when I’m nursing though. If he’s not working.