So perhaps you’ve come across several of these witty, knowing essays or comfort books that view parenthood from hindsight, that remind us all of older adults who with a wink and a nod speak volumes of having been there and done that with a newborn, toddler, and teenager. But now, it’s my turn. These are the most recent things I’ve learned from G:
1. At 3am, the standard footie pajama snaps will have me more perplexed than solving calculus problems.
2. There is a certain natural law to pooping, much like gravity: if I haven’t seen a poop in about 3 diapers, I’m in for a showdown involving at least 3 fresh diapers and 2 changing pads.
3. The dynamics of a five-week old’s facial expression rivals any academy-award winning performance.
4. My five-weeker has made my husband and I closer, on many levels, but partially because we are now battling a force to be reckoned with... in contemplating our next move, I find myself looking at him only to see the same bewildered expression on his face. Plan schman.
5. Five weekers don’t come with a manual, yet I seem to be poring over every baby book we have trying to solve our feed-to-feed mysteries.
6. The grunts, sighs, and gurgles that come out of my five-week olds asleep or awake little body are the coolest sounds I have ever heard.
Okay that’s six, so one for each week and and one to grow on!
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
My Tiny Human
Motherhood is kicking my ass. There; I said it. I’m actually typing this when I should be in bed, between my new baby and my concerned husband - he’s genuinely and rightly worried about the impact prolonged bouts of broken sleep might have on his already slightly manic wife. But I need to get these words out before I forget them again; I now inhabit one of two spaces; the stupor of the sleep-deprived, or the acumen of the adrenaline-pumped newly parented. In the former, I can barely remember my name; in the latter, I could’ve written my dissertation in a week.
In this rare moment of lucidity, however, I raced downstairs to type some thoughts into my blog... only to be interrupted by my tiny human (soonafter said tiny human vomited all over herself, me, and our brest friend). So I am now finishing this day after, and I can’t remember what I was going to say.
One thing I will say, though, is I think my baby sometimes switches places with another baby... one who likes to trick me into thinking she wants to eat when really she wants to sleep, or has me go through 3 diapers in a single change... but both babies are so cute I don’t mind guessing!
Which baby are you going to be today, Gracie?
Monday, November 1, 2010
The Road to Continence
WARNING: This post is rated “C” for candid...
So people often think about continence, or more likely, incontinence, as referring to one type of bodily fluid, but after having a baby, I assure you that there is more than one kind. I can count four, no five, if you count night sweats, types of incontinence that accompany the postnatal period. My goal here is not to disgust, but rather to educate... or at least come clean.
Let’s start with the most obvious: tears. Wow has new mama cried. And it takes so little; really no external stimulus required. Maybe it’s nature’s way of helping you to empathize with your new baby, who also has incontinence of the eyes. All I know is that SPCA commercials, music with any sort of meaningful lyric, and anything but the happiest of tones of voice should be kept out of the vicinity of new mamas. Although it won’t matter, they’ll cry anyway.
Dairy cow. That needs to be milked, particularly first thing in the morning, or else the second kind of incontinence.
The night sweats thing might have somewhat to do with the space heater now occupying our room, but it’s also hormones, I’m sure.
The remaining two I’m not going to divulge much information about here, because they’re rather private, but let me just say they are reasons number two and three of why a private room after birth is a must (followed only by the importance of the precious couple of hours of uninterrupted sleep needed for survival). There’s a lot of trauma that happens downstairs, and for a while baby won’t be the only one wearing diapers. And I’m not talking about poo.
At day 21 of Grace’s sweet little life, I’d say I’m about 80% continent. I’m on my way back!
So people often think about continence, or more likely, incontinence, as referring to one type of bodily fluid, but after having a baby, I assure you that there is more than one kind. I can count four, no five, if you count night sweats, types of incontinence that accompany the postnatal period. My goal here is not to disgust, but rather to educate... or at least come clean.
Let’s start with the most obvious: tears. Wow has new mama cried. And it takes so little; really no external stimulus required. Maybe it’s nature’s way of helping you to empathize with your new baby, who also has incontinence of the eyes. All I know is that SPCA commercials, music with any sort of meaningful lyric, and anything but the happiest of tones of voice should be kept out of the vicinity of new mamas. Although it won’t matter, they’ll cry anyway.
Dairy cow. That needs to be milked, particularly first thing in the morning, or else the second kind of incontinence.
The night sweats thing might have somewhat to do with the space heater now occupying our room, but it’s also hormones, I’m sure.
The remaining two I’m not going to divulge much information about here, because they’re rather private, but let me just say they are reasons number two and three of why a private room after birth is a must (followed only by the importance of the precious couple of hours of uninterrupted sleep needed for survival). There’s a lot of trauma that happens downstairs, and for a while baby won’t be the only one wearing diapers. And I’m not talking about poo.
At day 21 of Grace’s sweet little life, I’d say I’m about 80% continent. I’m on my way back!
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