I've realized that there are several things that scare me about parenthood-- both silly and serious. I thought I'd list them here to share! Feel free to chime in with your own.
1. The way you insist on sleeping in your swing. Normal babies just stay upright. You insist on flopping yourself to the side and curling up in a tiny ball. We gave up trying to straighten you up after two days at home, but I still worry you're going to end up smothering and/or breaking yourself.
2. When a big truck drives by, because it shakes the apartment and makes me think that an earthquake is going to flatten you with something.
3. When I'm changing you and you shoot poop.
4. That you've refused to poop for the last day and a half. Really, honey, I'll take the shooting poop of terror over none at all.
5. When you take a quick pause in your breathing, then start breathing really fast. I know it's normal, but it worries me.
6. The noises you make when you're eating. It sounds like you're some kind of tiny monster.
7. When you bite me when I'm trying to get my nipple back from your alligator-jaws. I end up scared that I'm not going to be getting it back.
8. Putting you into your bassinet without the 'bumpers' that we learned how to make at the hospital. I've seen you. You've been trying like hell to roll over- to the point that you exhaust yourself. I just imagine you rolling in the night and smacking your head on the wood or ending up face-down and smothering. I really worry about your breathing a LOT.
9. That I'm not doing something right, despite all signs pointing that I am.
10. That somehow, I'm going to end up not being there when you need me. Really. This one worries me so much that sometimes, I don't want to leave the room, just so I can be sure that you're still okay. I'm certain that this will fade as I get used to your sounds and spaces of silence and the weird things your little body does.
11. Speaking of things your body does, that tiny erection you got startled the hell out of me. I didn't know babies could get those. You've proven me wrong more than a few times now.
12. That you keep sneezing. I know it's because your nose is tiny and that that's how you clear it- or because there's some new, strange scent in the air, but it still worries me. Clearly, it's the black plague. Clearly.
13. How fiercely I love you scares the crap out of me. It's such a big, big feeling. I'm not used to feelings this big.
14. That I'll drop you. I'm terrified of dropping you. I was told that I'll never drop something I want to hold, but I'm clumsy and you're a squirmer.
15. How you scream bloody murder when we change you sometimes. Half the time, you lay there happily and watch me. The other half, you scream like I'm trying to kill you.
16. That the milk I'm heating up for you will be a bajillion degrees and burn your face off. This won't happen, I know, because your Daddy and I are religious about checking the temperature... but it scares me. The heat, it might be lurking.
17. Your soft spots. I'm afraid to touch them. I don't want to hurt your brain. ;; _ ;;
18. That my bits will never go back to how they were before. Things still feel horribly wrong down there. I'm looking forward to everything feeling normal again.
19. Sometimes, I get scared that the crying will never stop. It usually does once I get you to latch or change your diaper, but when you had that nightmare and woke up screaming in terror, I was petrified that I'd never be able to make you feel better.
20. That I'll do something horribly wrong and mess up beyond repair. I know the best I can do is try, and that's what I'm going to do.
Love you, Treefrog. <3
- Mommy
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Monday, September 3, 2012
Dr. Bink's Breastfeeding Guide for Beginners
1. Secure howling baby in your arms, then wrestle with as he tries to yank down the front of your shirt. Wonder briefly if he has any idea what the concept of patience is. Decide he doesn't, and attempt to speed efforts to free a boob.
2. Detach baby's mouth from shirt.
3. Pry baby's hand off nipple. Attempt to secure it under your boob. Eventually give up and just let baby flap his free arm around.
4. Wrangle your boob with your free hand, while holding your irate, hungry, mouthing-at-air baby with the other. Attempt to shove boob into baby's open mouth.
5. Repeat step 4 as needed until baby latches on.
6. Gnash teeth in frustration when baby lets go, licks you and falls asleep.
7. Wonder if baby is lying, or if he is actually sleeping. Attempt to move baby into a different position.
8. Realize baby WAS lying.
9. Worry about dropping baby when he launches himself sideways toward your boobs. Repeat steps 3-5.
10. Send praises and burnt offerings to your deity of choice when baby actually nurses. Once finished, burp baby and attempt to interest him in the other boob.
11. Try not to yelp too loudly when baby chomps down to use your sore nipple as a bink.
12. Pry baby off boob.
13. Attempt to soothe irate baby with promises of more nursing later.
14. Twenty minutes after feeding, realize your boob is still hanging out of your shirt. Be thankful noone was home to see, then sit down to relax... while you can.
2. Detach baby's mouth from shirt.
3. Pry baby's hand off nipple. Attempt to secure it under your boob. Eventually give up and just let baby flap his free arm around.
4. Wrangle your boob with your free hand, while holding your irate, hungry, mouthing-at-air baby with the other. Attempt to shove boob into baby's open mouth.
5. Repeat step 4 as needed until baby latches on.
6. Gnash teeth in frustration when baby lets go, licks you and falls asleep.
7. Wonder if baby is lying, or if he is actually sleeping. Attempt to move baby into a different position.
8. Realize baby WAS lying.
9. Worry about dropping baby when he launches himself sideways toward your boobs. Repeat steps 3-5.
10. Send praises and burnt offerings to your deity of choice when baby actually nurses. Once finished, burp baby and attempt to interest him in the other boob.
11. Try not to yelp too loudly when baby chomps down to use your sore nipple as a bink.
12. Pry baby off boob.
13. Attempt to soothe irate baby with promises of more nursing later.
14. Twenty minutes after feeding, realize your boob is still hanging out of your shirt. Be thankful noone was home to see, then sit down to relax... while you can.
To my son
Dear Elijah,
You were born 9 days ago, one of the happiest (and most painful) days of my life. You were a hard pregnancy, and an almost harder labor-- two weeks of early labor, and twenty-two hours of the real thing until I got to hold you, wet and sticky and reeking of something new, on my chest. I would do it all again in a heartbeat, knowing that in the end I get you.
You're sitting in your swing that Nana got you right now, making tiny baby noises while having your (possibly very big) baby dreams. I'm not sure what you're dreaming about- maybe The Boobs? Maybe it's about Mommy and Daddy. I'm sure that we're more than just shapeless pink blobs now that you're starting to open your eyes. And your eyes are marvelous, my boy. Everyone keeps telling me that they're going to change, but I think that they're going to stay the gorgeous slate-grey that they are. I'm not sure where you got that grey from, since Daddy and I both have blue eyes, but it suits you. It goes very well with your full head of blond hair.
I know it annoys you when you're trying to sleep and I keep petting your cheek or fussing with your hair or marveling over how tiny your toes are. But as new as you are to the rest of the world, I've been getting to know you for the last nine months; finally getting to see the little fingers that were poking me or the feet that dislocated my rib? It's amazing. I can't get enough of looking at you, playing with you and holding you. Which is perfectly fine with you-- you seem to prefer being held over anything else. The bassinet is acceptable when you're very, very tired. The swing is okay, most of the time. But being held by Mommy or Daddy? That's the absolute best thing in the world to you, my little Treefrog.
You're wondering, "Why does Mommy call me Treefrog?". When you're curled up against my chest, with your little head tucked under my chin, and your tiny butt planted in my hand, and your feet/legs curled up under you? You look like a treefrog. One of the pretty, sweet green and white ones that I used to have when I was little. We also call you Troll and Monsterman. It makes me happy that you're going to grow up in a house where we have strange endearments like that. I promise to try not to call you these things in front of your friends when you're older, but... I'm not making a guarantee. I might slip up and call you my Monster in front of that cute girl. Or Treefrog in front of the guys. I'm sure I won't be forgiven when I do that... so I'll just abuse the privilege now.
You do such amazing things, Eli. You're advanced in what you've figured out how to do so far. Really advanced. You lift up your head when you're on my chest and look around. You know how to grab your bink and hold it in your mouth. You try to launch yourself sideways to get to The Boobs, which apparently, you're supposed to hold off on doing for another week or so. You're my surprising little boy, and every day is bringing something new and amazing.
And so that I don't forget-- when I went into early labor, there were two earthquakes. Almost 24 hours, exactly, after you were born the earthquake storm started. August is also the month of the Blue Moon. You're full of omens, little boy. I'm hoping they're all good ones.
But to wrap this up (because you're starting to fuss like you need a diaper change), I love you. Your Daddy loves you. The emotion that I have for you is new and deep and terrifying and wonderful. I want to do everything in my power to give you the stars and make your life beautiful. I love you, I love you, I love you. Forever.
- Mommy
You were born 9 days ago, one of the happiest (and most painful) days of my life. You were a hard pregnancy, and an almost harder labor-- two weeks of early labor, and twenty-two hours of the real thing until I got to hold you, wet and sticky and reeking of something new, on my chest. I would do it all again in a heartbeat, knowing that in the end I get you.
You're sitting in your swing that Nana got you right now, making tiny baby noises while having your (possibly very big) baby dreams. I'm not sure what you're dreaming about- maybe The Boobs? Maybe it's about Mommy and Daddy. I'm sure that we're more than just shapeless pink blobs now that you're starting to open your eyes. And your eyes are marvelous, my boy. Everyone keeps telling me that they're going to change, but I think that they're going to stay the gorgeous slate-grey that they are. I'm not sure where you got that grey from, since Daddy and I both have blue eyes, but it suits you. It goes very well with your full head of blond hair.
I know it annoys you when you're trying to sleep and I keep petting your cheek or fussing with your hair or marveling over how tiny your toes are. But as new as you are to the rest of the world, I've been getting to know you for the last nine months; finally getting to see the little fingers that were poking me or the feet that dislocated my rib? It's amazing. I can't get enough of looking at you, playing with you and holding you. Which is perfectly fine with you-- you seem to prefer being held over anything else. The bassinet is acceptable when you're very, very tired. The swing is okay, most of the time. But being held by Mommy or Daddy? That's the absolute best thing in the world to you, my little Treefrog.
You're wondering, "Why does Mommy call me Treefrog?". When you're curled up against my chest, with your little head tucked under my chin, and your tiny butt planted in my hand, and your feet/legs curled up under you? You look like a treefrog. One of the pretty, sweet green and white ones that I used to have when I was little. We also call you Troll and Monsterman. It makes me happy that you're going to grow up in a house where we have strange endearments like that. I promise to try not to call you these things in front of your friends when you're older, but... I'm not making a guarantee. I might slip up and call you my Monster in front of that cute girl. Or Treefrog in front of the guys. I'm sure I won't be forgiven when I do that... so I'll just abuse the privilege now.
You do such amazing things, Eli. You're advanced in what you've figured out how to do so far. Really advanced. You lift up your head when you're on my chest and look around. You know how to grab your bink and hold it in your mouth. You try to launch yourself sideways to get to The Boobs, which apparently, you're supposed to hold off on doing for another week or so. You're my surprising little boy, and every day is bringing something new and amazing.
And so that I don't forget-- when I went into early labor, there were two earthquakes. Almost 24 hours, exactly, after you were born the earthquake storm started. August is also the month of the Blue Moon. You're full of omens, little boy. I'm hoping they're all good ones.
But to wrap this up (because you're starting to fuss like you need a diaper change), I love you. Your Daddy loves you. The emotion that I have for you is new and deep and terrifying and wonderful. I want to do everything in my power to give you the stars and make your life beautiful. I love you, I love you, I love you. Forever.
- Mommy
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