Here is my fourteen pound two-month-old. I was wondering if I was just overfeeding him (can you do that with breastmilk?) but he isn't fat the pediatrician says, he's just big. He's only in the 83rd percent for his weight but he's in the 99th percentile for length. So he's tall. Probably be like Nathaniel.
I knew I was in for a life-changer but it's just been too long for me to have remembered quite how difficult this is. I can't believe I did this four other times. Or that people around me are doing this all the time and making it look easy!
I get NOTHING done most of the time.
I pretty much sit around all day holding Will.
See those lips?
They're sucking out my brain.
It's true--I'm certifiably stupid. I can't remember things that I've always been able to remember. Even if I can think I open my mouth but can't seem to form words. It all just comes out as mindless babbling. I'm embarrassed to listen to myself. How can I be expected to argue with teenagers in this state?
I've decided I'm not that good at this parenting a baby thing. I'm just not a hard-liner. When I was a bleary-eyed mess in the hospital I had friends visit and say they never stayed up with their babies in the hospital-- they sent them to the nursery. "You need your sleep. You're going home to a house full of kids." I had never sent a baby to the nursery before. The second night I finally called in a nurse around 3am and said, "Ok, take him. I haven't had one hour straight in 48 hours." Forty-five minutes later I called her back, "Bring him back! I can't sleep!" She said he would be so glad because he was very unhappy. Of course then I felt guilty. I decided to pull myself together and stick it out with him and asked her to bring in a bunch of crackers and cookies to keep me awake. I remember light was coming into the room before I finally got an hour of sleep.
Two months later I've bought the books.
I'm swaddling and shooshing and Will is not sleeping.
Wanna know why he's so big? Because he eats all night long.
Not only can't I think but sometimes I'm afraid to even drive. I'm walking around in a perceptual fog with a glazed over look all the time. Last night I slept from midnight to 4am, got the kids off to school and went back to bed 'til one-o'clock. The day before that Will got shots and I held him the rest of the day while he fussed. That night did not go well. After finally getting back to sleep sometime early in the morning I slept through until 8:20am. "Peter! John and Rebecca are supposed to be leaving for school right now!" But he can't find the kids so I call the lady I carpool with and she tells me they were waiting outside as usual. I know the only reason John was ready was because he was king for the day at school. (A miracle, I tell you. And also, do you know how embarrassing it is to call someone to confess that you don't know whether your children went to school or not?)
Beings that I've been around the block with this before I know this time is short. I try as hard as I can to ignore the house falling apart around me and just enjoy my baby. I'm too tired to do much else anyway!