Perspective

My baby wears me out... Especially at night because getting up three or four times a night to feed him, change him,'or keep him company is rough.

But everytime I see him curled up sleeping, my heart melts and I realize that sleepless nights aren't so bad.

Sleeping Arrangements

My baby refuses to sleep on his back. He screams if we even think about not placing him on his stomach. This has led to awkward sleeping arrangements because we simply cannot allow him to sleep on his stomach due to the risk of SIDS.

So... My husband and I have assigned ourselves shifts: I watch Chipmunk from 8p-2a, and my husband does the 2a-7a shift.

Zack let's Chipmunk sleep ontop of his chest, and I swaddle him tightly and put him in the boppie between my and Zack's heads. When this arrangement failed to work, I have taken him to his own room or the living room and stayed up with him for most of the night.

Well, last night, we decided that I should do my shift while sleeping and holding Chipmunk in the recliner in our bedroom.... And this was a great idea because I and Chipmunk ended up sleeping straight from 8p to midnight.

When I woke up, I realized that he had drooled on my shirt... And I...

Had drooled in the top of his head.

*don't judge me... or my drooling baby*

All Things Come with Practice

The first week (or two) at home with Chipmunk was a learning experience to say the least.

I was pooped on and pee'd on... And so were my sofas.

Of course, my parents' and husband's explanations for these mishaps were that I moved too slow when changing his diaper. Needless to say, I got HELLA offended by their rationales because, unlike my husband, I didn't get all that hands-on training in the hospital because I was laid up after having had my abdomen sliced and pried open AND I was tripping from the pain medicine (which was later changed after realizing it was making me loopy and hot as hell).

Well, now...

I can change a poopy diaper... At 2:00am... In the dark... Without so much as a whimper from my baby...

Because I do it in NASCAR pit stop speed!

The only thing I have to do now is learn how to get him to go back to sleep because he has now sucked down another three ounces of milk, is climbing up my torso, and staring me in the face.

Out of Your Hands

The saying (and truth) goes... Babies come when they want. Some early, some late, some "on time".

That darned expected due date is just that... expected. I look back on my friends and their pregnancies and realize that only one (out of about five or six) gave birth on her due date. Three of us were early and one was late.

When I went to my doctors appointment that fateful Thursday, I had no clue at all that I'd be having my baby the next day. The news of my induction took my husband and I by surprise considering we had another two weeks and had planned accordingly (I had just gone to the grocery store and bought an army load of meat so that we'd be prepared to not cook when the baby came... in two weeks. All but the roast was spoiled when we returned home five days later.).

But with the knowledge of the fact that I wouldn't go into spontaneous labor, we celebrated our last pre-baby day eating all we wanted at the Cheesecake Factory (which seems to be our unofficial celebratory restaurant). Ironic enough... When we were seated at our booth, we realized that our wedding song was playing (By Your Side by Sade). Afterwards, we ran home; I got my eyebrows done and washed my hair and Zack cut his because we didn't want to look busted on any hospital pictures. We were only able to plan that much and nothing more. Everything after that was out of our hands.

We try to plan more now that he's here but guess what... All we can do is try.

*Happy Birthday, ZYG!!!*

Jealousy...

I will admit... After having carried Chipmunk for 9 months, I wanted him to look exactly like me and have my personality. I felt like that much was owed to me for carrying and having a baby.

Anyhoo... our kid looks just like his dad with the exception of my complexion and fingers and toes. I won't complain about him not looking like me because he's so... darn... cute and snuggly!

But dang!!!

Maybe he'll look like me as he gets older?

Lean, Mean, Pumping Machine

I pump every three to four hours because my body forces me to and to have a stash of milk in the fridge.

After reading some stuff on a baby app and on the Internet, I wondered if my milk supply would dry up because I wasn't nursing. If this happened, I'd have to resort to giving Charlie *gasp* formula. Don't get me wrong... I was raised on formula and have no bad feelings toward it, but it gives my baby THE WORST gas. We had to supplement in the hospital until my milk came in, and I thought my heart would break after every feeding when Chipmunk cried because of the discomfort.

It was in those formula moments that I decided to breastfeed no matter what it took. So now... I pump (because nursing usually feels like razor blades attacking my poor nipples)... I pump like my life depends on it.

And after nearly three weeks... I have just pumped my own personal best despite what those crazy people say on those apps and on the Internet... I just got *drum roll, please*



9 ounces!!!!!

That's three whole meals for Chipmunk!

Woo hoo!!!!!

All By Myself

Zack went back to work a few days ago, and my mom went home yesterday after being here for a few days.

So now... Its just me and Chipmunk.

Just between you and me... I cried after my mom left.

I held my sleeping baby and told him that mama was lonely but that we would both be ok. He responded by snuggling into my arms.

Baby's Breath

After having experienced and witnessed the effects of holding a sleeping baby, I am convinced that baby's breath contains some sort of gas that puts adults to sleep...



This baby has made us (and anyone who holds him) narcoleptic.

Momminesia

When I was pregnant and while I was in the hospital having Chipmunk, I asked women (read: mothers) a lot of questions about their experiences during pregnancy and childbirth. My first question would be...

"Do you have kids?"

Then I ask if pregnancy was awful for them and how painful their delivery was. I rarely asked a question in "the positive". I always expected them to say that they had horrible pregnancies and that labor was the most painful experience of their lives.

But to my surprise, they would always get thoughtful looks in their eyes and make the followin statements:

Oh... Pregnancy and delivery weren't that bad!
Sure it's painful, but it's not that bad!
I really don't remember, but it wasn't as bad as people say.
I had three babies... All natural! So, it couldn't have been that bad.

Please note that "bad" is a word used in all the answers...

That's because "bad" was the word I used to describe my symptoms and my expectations for my upcoming delivery.

I realized that these women had developed some sort of mommi-nesia. It's a type of amnesia that affects women sometime during the post-partum period.

I was affected by it around the fifth day after delivery... Because those four days following the surgery were BAD!!!

I have run into a couple of pregnant friends who just seem to be totally over their pregnancies, and I realize that they probably sound the way I did during that last month.

When I speak with them (and anyone else for that matter) about pregnancy and labor, I sound just like those women I spoke to before having my baby.

My responses to their questions are positive and upbeat:

"I feel great! It really wasn't that bad and it definitely wasn't as bad as I expected!"

"My pregnancy? Oh! It was really good and easy!"

"I'd do it all again in a heartbeat if I could afford to have another right now!"


Because the truth is... In the grand scheme of things, pregnancy and labor weren't so bad... I mean, I've had cramps that were worse!

Angel Wings

Our little Chipmunk is two weeks old today, and we've enjoyed getting to know his mannerisms and pieces of his personality.

One of his most interesting characteristics is that he smiles and giggles... In his sleep. No matter how much we try to make him laugh when he's awake, we just can't duplicate the responses he gives when he's asleep.

I like to think that, when he's sleeping, he's playing with the angels he left in Heaven, and he's being tickled by their wings.

So Long, Good Friends

I didn't gain much weight or swell much during my pregnancy, but I did find that I couldn't wear many of my shoes or my wedding ring set. As a compromise, I wore only my wedding band and the same three pairs of shoes for the last five months.

The shoes I wore were a pair of black Nine West flats. I bought them nearly ten years ago, and it took forever for me to break them in.... but once they were broken in, they were as comfortable as slippers.

Needless to say, they took a beating these last five months because I wore them with everything and all the time. I remember being at a doctor's appointment and needing to take them off. Once I got them off, I was embarrassed at all the gunk that was stuck to my feet: old crumbling leather, caked up lotion, and other crap. I quickly wiped off my feet and toes hoping that no one would notice.

At that time, I realized that my love affair with my beloved flats was coming to an end. I needed to get rid of them, so I vowed that I would throw them away after I had the baby.

So... this blog post is in honor of my loyal shoes...

"Dear Nine West flats, you served Charlie and me well, and we love you!"

Black and Blue

While in the hospital having Charlie, I was given a total of five IVs... two in my right arm and three in my left. I experienced the pleasure of blowing two veins in my left arm, and as a result, this is what my arm looks like... two weeks later!

Look! No hands!

So... Here I am.

Sitting in my bed.

Hooked up to a breast pump.

That may not seem strange since it is now big business for women to breastfeed. I didn't seem strange to me either especially since my husband went out and purchased one of the nicest pumps out there, the Freestyle Medela.

I was really excited about using it as It allows me to pump with no hands. The pump attachments hook to my nursing bra straps and the pump does the rest.

This is the first time I've hooked it up to use it handsfree. If I wanted, I could fold laundry, cook dinner, or complete a yon of other household chores all while pumping both breasts. As I look down at this contraption, I feel like one of those cows hooked to a milking machine. I feel weird. I feel like cow.

Labor and Delivery

In continuation of the last post...

I labored from right before lunch to 5:00pm, and I didn't dilate past five centimeters. At that time, I had tremendous pressure in my right hip, and turning on my left hip made it worst. It literally felt like someone was jarring off my right hip with a crowbar. All this even with the (useless) epidural.

When my doctor walked into my room and sat on her stool next to my bed, immediately told her I needed a c-section... She agreed.

At that moment, two or three other people came into the room and started prepping me for surgery. I was so tired that it didn't matter what they touched or saw of me. Next thing I knew, I had confirmed that I was numb from the chest down and was being wheeled to the OR.

As I was wheeled down the hallways, turning this way and that, I forced myself to stay awake... With inconsistent luck.

I opened my eyes and noticed the sterile room and all the people. I asked where my husband was.

They confirmed again that I was numb. I was hoisted onto the operating bed by a team.

A blue sheet was raised in front of my face. I heard my doctor's voice.

I willed myself to stay awake. I saw Zack standing at my head.

The doctors were talking about things non-surgery related like vacation, working at other hospitals, and their families. I thought that all these snapshots of my c-section were not at all like what I'd seen on Special Delivery and The Baby Story.

I was told that I'd feel pressure and like I couldn't breathe. I "held my breath".

I doze off for the hundredth time.

I heard them ask, "Daddy, what is it?!"

I woke up knowing that this was a huge moment and that I'd beat myself up forever if I missed it.

I looked over my shoulder at Zack. He smiled and said, "A boy!!!" I smile.

The screen faded to black.

I woke up after some unknown amount of time and realized I hadn't heard my son cry. I asked why he wasn't crying and where he was.

Someone placed a bundled baby in my face and said, "here's your son! You can kiss him." I kissed his forehead; they took him away.

They wheeled me to the recovery room.

I am so glad that I could stay awake to experience those snapshots of my son's birth!