The First Couple Weeks

So we have been home for a couple weeks now, and we're hanging in there and adjusting to life with two kids. Not that it's easy to have a toddler and a baby (there are just not enough hours in the day), but as far as the transition goes, it has been AMAZINGLY smoother from 1 to 2 than it was from 0 to 1.

I guess you don't really realize the first time around that, somewhere along the way, you ACTUALLY figured out what the hell you were doing.

I'm much more in tune with Macy than I ever was with Liam. I am not one of those moms just born with this supernatural maternal instinct. It's a learned thing for me. This time around, I learned that "I'm hungry" is not the only reason a baby cries. This is contrary to my mom's beliefs, who tends to find every possible way to hint to me that she needs a bottle at the slightest sign of a whine. I have learned, however, that when she does this ever-so-endearing high-pitched squeal thing, it means she's having gas pains; I figure the last thing she would want to do would be to eat at that point.

I remember reading things about people learning their babies' different cries and what they mean, thinking, "I didn't know there was a difference - they all sound the same to me!" Now I get it.

Of course, my main point of contention during my first few weeks with Liam was the whole breastfeeding thing. Kid wanted nothing to do with it, and deep down, Mom wanted nothing to do with it. Kind of a lethal combination (and add some thrush to it) for the whole notion of breastfeeding. I finally traded my pump for my sanity after a month.

This time I went into it with the mentality that I will give it a shot, see how it goes, and not make any judgments as to my self-worth as a mother if it turned out to be a miserable failure. As I previously mentioned, I vowed to use the shield for assistance. It worked like a charm; I was able to breastfeed her successfully, and eventually I was able to remove it and breastfeed her directly.

She loves it. So much, in fact, that it puts her immediately to sleep (I admit - on a few occasions I have put her to my boob for the sole purpose of getting her to sleep). I can usually succeed in getting her to feed in her sleep for about 7-10 minutes before it becomes a lost cause. I end up with one side partially deflated and the other engorged, and then after all that effort I have to pump anyway. So here we are, back to exclusively pumping, though only for about 10 minutes every 3-5 hours and NOT during the night. Much more compatible with sanity (plus there's the question of 10 minutes on the pump vs. 45 minutes of feeding, and the choice becomes clear).

Let's insert a Mommy Confession, a la Abby J's blog here. There is one reason and only one reason that I am continuing with this madness: to lose the baby weight. There ya go. It has nothing to do with anything else (my main concern was getting her every possible drop of colostrum, which I succeeded in doing). One may call it selfish, but hey - I have been breastfeeding for 2.5 weeks longer than I would have if it was not a factor, right?

I really don't know how much longer I'll go. I feel like I am getting pretty close to where I feel comfortable in my post-baby weight (I guess I need to make my way to my parents' scale so I can see how completely off-base I am in this), so the whole thing may go by the wayside pretty soon. I will not look back.

Fortunately, sleep deprivation hasn't been much of a factor since the first couple nights we were home. Macy's Circadian clock was a little backward there for a little while, but eventually she figured out day vs. night, for the most part. We're at the point now where (knock on wood) one of us has to get up when she starts stirring (usually during the 2:00 hour and the 5:00 hour), change her, feed her, and put her back down.

Unfortunately, sometimes the "change her" part turns into a bit of a marathon as we hear one explosion on top of another. The night leading into Father's Day (before she figured out the day vs. night thing), I took on baby duty the entire night. I ended up with a pile of 8 dirty diapers come morning (9 if you count the one where the tape broke off mid-change, which was actually no less frustrating at the time). There is just nothing worse than hearing that rumble and release the moment you're securing the tape on the new diaper. I either forgot about this, or Liam wasn't so explosive.

The good thing is that she RARELY spits up. She's getting to be a chunk and loves to eat, but I'm amazed at how little of it comes back up; I have washed about 1 burp cloth. I guess it's a trade-off, considering her hyperactive butt.

Anyways, there's an overview of our first couple weeks as a family of 4. Overall not NEARLY as scary as I had anticipated. I find myself wondering why I EVER thought that life was difficult with Liam as an infant, back in those days where he couldn't go anywhere...What EVER were we complaining about?!