What A Difference A Week Makes
Internet! You do not know how long I’ve waited to update you! But between my busy schedule of VISITORS! DIAPERS! ATTEMPTS AT HYGEINE! and BOOBS BOOBS BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOBS! I have not really had a minute to spare.
(Because most spare moments have been spent staring at this face.)
I am dying to write all about her birth before all the tiny details leave my scrambled brain, but until they design an infant that can sustain the weight of a laptop on her side while I feed her, I’m just going to have to keep putting it off until I find a decent amount of time. So instead I bring you the Cheers & Jeers of the past week of my life/the very first week of Sadie’s.
- The lactation consultant who worked very hard to get me an appointment on Friday after a harrowing night (see JEERS), and the fucking MAGICAL nipple cream she prescribed that worked so fast & so well that I’m convinced it’s either made from unicorn tears or pure heroin. Possibly both.
- TOOTSIE! (And thanks for asking about her, 4th reader). Tootsie has totally surprised us all and has reacted to the baby with…disinterest and mild contempt. She’s a little attention-starved and gets pretty pissed if we try to bring the baby to her (it’s only OK when SHE approaches the baby herself), but she still seems to love me and has not tried to sell the baby on eBay. Yet.
- Breastfeeding. Some HUH? Internet, I never, EVER expected breastfeeding to work for me. Like, at all. Which is why I didn’t bother to really learn a damn thing about it before having the baby. My sister has such a tough time with it back in December that I ended up with her pump & nursing bras by default, and thank goodness for that – otherwise I’d be walking around the joint looking like something from National Geographic. I’m so shocked that I’ve been able to sustain my baby’s life with the same funbags that don’t even require a damn BRA when they’re not hormonally enhanced. I give most of the credit to the baby on this one. Although in her crankier moments she gives my boobs a more withering look than I myself used to give them in junior high.
Put those damn things away, lady.
- You guys. The comments, the de-lurking, the general atmosphere of support. It’s meant so much, and it’s also driving me CRAAAAZY that I haven’t had the time to check up on YOUR lives (via blogs) for over a WEEK! SACRILEGE! But take note: if you are responding to me on Twitter, I can’t see your Tweets. I am only tweeting from my cell phone, usually while breastfeeding, because that is how I roll.
I have the evenings & sweater cows plan.
- Our pediatrician, who we randomly chose from a list after a casual endorsement from one of the midwives. He came to the hospital on Easter Sunday to give our little pigeon the once-over, and spent all kinds of time getting to know us without even a hint of Impatient Doctor Not Wanting to Work on a Holiday-ness. We had a great first appointment with him last week, and he also handled a panicked 4am call from us (again, see JEERS) so wonderfully that I think we might adopt him and raise him as our own.
- The magical, instantaneous disappearance of my heartburn and indigestion. Seriously. The night my water broke? I was knee-deep in Tums. Three hours after Sadie was born? I shoveled down hospital cafeteria baked penne, a salad, and the driest brownie this side of the Mississip’ and went straight to bed without so much as a burp.
- Friends and family bearing food & fresh flowers. Well, THANK GOD breastfeeding is supposed to burn all kinds of calories, otherwise you’d have to saw me out of the TV room in two weeks’ time thanks to all the food my mom & visiting friends have provided. We’re talking ham, scalloped potatoes, meatloaf, chocolate cupcakes, beef stew, macaroni & cheese NOM NOM NOM NOM NOM. I also have a bounty of gorgeous flower arrangements to look at while I stuff my face. (I wonder if any of them are edible?)
- I’ve taken a bath or shower every blessed day! Even today, which is my first day home completely alone with the baby. I credit her superior napping skills (which she totally inherited from me, by the by) and my high standards of trying not to smell like a dumpster by 3pm every day. It’s good to have goals!
- Sadie Rose
- Sadie Rose
- Sadie Rose
I guess you saw that one coming.
- The time last week when Sadie spit up blood at 4am. Oh yes, wasn’t that a fun adventure? Turns out when one of your nipples has been mashed to a pulp after a few early bad latches in the hospital, the baby will end up ingesting a fair amount of blood at each feeding, which she might spit up. WISH SOMEONE HAD MENTIONED THAT. Anyhoo, one panicked 4am call to the pediatrician later and everyone was fine. Except my nipple.
- The sudden disappearance of my ass. So, the postpartum body: not quite as bad as I expected! I mean, sure, things are still very much NOT like they were before pregnancy, but I’m patient. The belly goes down each day (I’m pretty sure it’s just redistributing up into the boobs), and the upper thighs seem to be settling down a bit, but my ass? Like, the one I had when I went into the hospital? GONE! POOF! Bring on the Mom Jeans. What the fuck? I am holding out hope that the ass just appears flat next to my copious amounts of boobs. Only time will tell.
- The hours between 6pm and 12am, also known as The Hours During Which Someone Replaces My Calm, Sweet Baby With A Breastfeeding-Averse Hellbeast. I heard somewhere (and I am too tired to find out where) that every baby has a fussy time of day, so I guess that’s what it is. All’s I know is that Sadie gets GOOD AND PISSED when I try to breastfeed her during those six hours. Once she latches she’s OK, but getting her to latch is a bitch. Oh, and then? Sometimes she tends to let out her frustration on the boob in question.
Feels kinda like this.
- This weather is bullshit. One of the reasons I was excited to have a baby in April was that the weather would be turning warm. HA HA HA, says the weather, which will be rainy with a high of 45 tomorrow. That kind of weather always makes our ancient, drafty house even draftier, resulting in a very cranky Jive Turkey and a Spats with feet and hands like miniature (and adorable) ice cubes.
- How many times do I have to tell people at work that I am NOT IN THE OFFICE, but rather at home taking care of the person who fell out of my vagina? More times than the THOUSANDS I already told them, apparently, since I am STILL getting daily emails from coworkers who must have assumed I went on vacation after getting really oddly fat for 9 months. Bless their hearts.
- The passage of time, and how it’s making my baby grow up every day, bringing me closer and closer to the day she leaves home and further and further away from the days where she falls asleep with her tiny, warm head on my shoulder. Wah.
- HORMONES. See previous entry for evidence. Good Lord.
As it’s now approaching 8pm and I have a long four hours of Boob Wars ahead of me, I’m going to sign off for now. More to come!
That’s what YOU think, crazy boob lady. I have a projectile pooping planned for tomorrow morning that will throw a nice wrench in THOSE plans.
Entry filed under: Gobble-gobble.