My Own Worst Enemy

I just finished rereading Eclipse last night, (loved having something to look forward to at 2:30am) and I'm dying to see the movie. I saw the previous two movies grudgingly. I felt like I had to see them after investing the time in the books. I'm not going to pretend that I didn't love the books, I did. LOVED them. Finished them all in a week and even contemplated waiting to read Breaking Dawn because I didn't want it to be over. I loved the books and felt pretty meh about the movies. Sorry Kristin Stewart, I just don't believe you as Bella.

I can't really figure out why, but I really, really want to see this movie. Every Facebook or Twitter update about a friend waiting in line for the midnight showing, every shot of Twihards camping out makes me outrageously envious. Maybe it's the ridiculous amount of media coverage, but I don't really think so. I think it's that I can't, or that it's just so much harder to get out of the house now. My husband is more than capable of taking care of both kids, but the baby gives him a hard time. I ran to the bank and post office today. I was gone for thirty minutes and she cried for twenty-five. It's not that he can't handle it, but I just feel like he shouldn't have to. That I should just suck it up and stick around the house for the next couple of months until she gets past the screamy stage. That I should take her with me when it's possible and skip going out when it's not.

Usually, one of the great things about the summer for us is that we get the best of both worlds. Before we had kids I was a teacher too, so we've always had summers off together. Plenty of time to spend together, but also plenty of time to do our own thing without feeling guilty. Sharing the workload. Taking turns sleeping in. Now, rather than taking an hour for a pedicure, I find it to be a luxury that I can leave the house with just the baby, who sleeps most of the day and isn't prone to taking off at a full sprint away from me in a crowded parking lot. Still, I wouldn't mind an hour or two to myself.

And, I can have it! He's encouraging me to leave. To meet a friend for a movie, run errands alone, whatever I want. I'm standing in my own way. Aside from feeling guilty, I would have to pump. I despise pumping. It's uncomfortable and time consuming and, given that this baby nurses around the clock, is hard to fit into my day.

There's no pleasing me right now, is what I'm saying. I've moved past the weepy stage of new motherhood to bitter and cranky. Not bitter about the baby, or motherhood itself, just a sour attitude in general. Makes me awfully fun to be around lately, I'm sure.

The Upside of Babies

Besides the ridiculous cuteness, of course.

I mean, really with the cuteness.

Food: People are always bringing food to new moms. My moms club has people sign up for six meals for new moms, spread out over several weeks. When you factor in leftovers, and husband's weekly barbecuing, I've hardly had to make a meal myself since coming home from the hospital. The best part? Not having to think about what to make, or do any of the grocery shopping.

Vanity: Anytime I put on something without a stretchy waistband, people are telling me how great I look. I assure you, this isn't true, but it's a great ego boost despite the fact that I can't wait to get back home into my yoga pants.

Feeling like Supermom: People are very quick to praise a new mom who manages to get out of the house (especially if there are multiple children) and be somewhere on time. Of course there are those whose thinly veiled, "You're awfully brave for bringing a tiny baby out so soon," insult/comments, but I'm doing my best to ignore those. In fact, I walked away from the person at church who tacked on, "...particularly with the Pertussis epidemic," to the end of that statement of church. I've got enough to worry about, I don't need strangers adding to my anxiety load, thank you very much.

Hormonal Highs: I've said enough about the downside of hormones, but there's more than that. There's the crazy, rose-colored-glasses love of all things that comes along with it. Like looking at this face and realizing how unbelievably lucky I am, even if my pants don't fit, and I have no idea how I'll manage to get dinner on the table once it's not being delivered directly to my door.

How Did He Know?

In between doctor's appointments last week, I spent a lot of time trying to decide on a new pediatrician. We met a doctor in the hospital who I instantly liked, but she's geographically undesirable. Even if I could justify the trek to her office for appointments, she's not affiliated with the hospital closest to us, which also happens to be a Children's Hospital and I love it there. I mean, I hope to never have to go there again, but unfortunately we've already been there twice, and my kid is a fearless daredevil, so I can't really rule it out. There's another doctor who comes recommended by a family friend, who is extremely local and affiliated with the hospital I want, but I've never met him personally so I worry about making the wrong choice. (Whoever said I would be a more relaxed parent by the time the second baby came along was so very wrong.)

Related: Why does the insurance company's website have to be so complicated? Depending on how I searched, the doctor both was and wasn't covered by our insurance, or in a couple of cases, wasn't listed in the directory at all.

Last week we had our two week appointment for baby H. (Seriously, I need a better name for her.) She's gained all of the weight she lost since leaving the hospital and then some. Ten ounces in one week! My doctor, who I had completely written off in my mind, had done a complete personality 180. He was happy to see the baby, he explained everything in the reassuring detailed way that I like, he even said that motherhood obviously agreed with me. Where's the doctor I've been silently loathing for the past three years? The doctor who suggested that I had completely missed the boat in terms of potty training my three year old and would now have to suffer the poopy consequences?

I'm not saying that this makes up for scaring a very emotional new mother with his unnecessary anecdotes. It does confuse the issue a little bit. At the very least I'll feel guilty when I have to pick up my kids' medical records to transfer them to the new doctor. Whoever that may be.

I'm in SO much trouble, aren't I?

I had to return a birthday gift for Bub yesterday to Crazy 8. Nothing in the boys section was grabbing me. Do I really need ANOTHER t-shirt or pair of cargo shorts?? Naturally, my store credit and I made our way to the girl's section.

This baby has a closet full of clothes. She wears fully matched outfits, right down to the ridiculous bow on her receding baby hairline, just to go to Costco, otherwise we'll be packing away too-small clothes with the tags still on.

Still, I can't help myself.

I left empty-handed because I couldn't make a decision, but the extreme WANT was there.

Behold:

Ric Rac Tank



Floral Ruffle Top



Floral Embroidered Dress



Dot Tiered Hem Dress



Sparkle T-Strap Sandal



Bow Espadrille Sandal

Trouble. So much trouble.

Quiet Time

Rather than fight with Bub to get him to nap the other day, I let him have quiet time.

Sort of.

I mean, there wasn't anything quiet about it at all.

There was this.



That's only half of his bookshelf.


I think he could learn a thing or two from little sister.

Night and Day

Last night there was water spilled all over his bed, a change of sheets and pajamas. Bedtime stretched on and on after coming down from the grandparent high. There was a poopy pull-up at the precise moment the baby decided she wanted to nurse, NOW. There was an earthquake that ramped up slowly causing me to look around to see if the dog had jumped on the bed or if there was some other explanation for the movement until the unmistakable rumbling shook our poorly constructed tract house violently. There was a quick leap from the bed to the doorway just in time for it all to end. There was a baby none to happy to have been interrupted from her peaceful meal. There was a middle of the night three year old waking that the husband mercifully handled.

This morning there was a maternity skirt that fit without making me look pregnant or horrifically muffin topped. There was a quick stop at the store that just happened to be right next to the donut store. Let's get a dodut, mama! There was no argument from me. There was a trip to the park while it was still cool, before the sun made the slides miserably hot on small legs. There was the success of the first outing alone, with both kids, that didn't entail a doctor's office. Oh, and after returning home, there were no fewer than four poopy diapers.

Thank goodness for small favors.

Mental Health Day

Did I mention that my husband went back to work when the baby was four days old? To be fair, he only had a week and a half left in the school year, finals to give, a classroom to pack up, yearbooks to distribute. We're now down to three days left in the school year. Three days. I'm so looking forward to Thursday when we wake up and I know that he's home until late August.

Until then, I'm shamelessly taking all the help I can get. When my mom offered to pick up Bub for the day, take him to the beach, keep him at her house for naptime then bring him home fed and bathed just before bedtime, I asked how early she could be here. Husband has graduation at school tonight and won't be home until well past bedtime, so today is the perfect day.

I have a to do list to get through, then a stack of unread magazines, a Kindle with several half-finished books, including the newest book for my book club, and the first True Blood Season One disc to keep me busy.

Or maybe I'll just nap all day. Either way, it will be glorious.

Poop Watch 2010

So my baby doesn't poop. How's that for Saturday morning conversation. Breastfed newborns should be dirtying diapers all day long, and we have seen maybe two dirty diapers since we've been home from the hospital.

We've been to the doctor. She had an abdominal x-ray (came back normal) and bloodwork to make sure that her low levels of jaundice were staying low (they are.) At this point we're on the wait on see plan. My pediatrician told me he's never seen a breastfed baby go this long in his twenty-five years of pediatrics. Already she's a high achiever!

He also made the mistake of telling me a horror story about a baby who presented much like ours who died at two weeks of age. Everything seemed fine, and then it wasn't. He told the story to explain why he was doing the x-ray, even though he though all signs were pointing away from this particular problem. I appreciate his being thorough, but all he had to say was, "I really don't think this is what it is, but I would feel better if we just run this test." I'm not sure that he's ever met a hormonal, postpartum mother before. As a result, I'm on the hunt for a new pediatrician with a better bedside manner.

So, it's back to the doctor we go on Monday if nothing has happened. I'm really hoping that things get moving for my girl before then. We're both miserable.

Tears/Happy

Things that made me cry recently:

• My mom leaving. Dudes, she lives 30 minutes away and will come over any time I ask her to come. I think the only reason she hasn't moved in is because she wants to give us space to get used to our new family. She came to help me take both kids to the doctor (where Bub had to get a shot, ON HIS BIRTHDAY. Nice planning, mom.) and hang out with us for a little while. She left, and I barely had the door closed before I sobbed. In fact, I'm crying right now reliving it.
• Quinn's "funky" performance from last week's Glee. Too many pregnant girls. I'll never be pregnant again, wahhhhh.
• Every single person who asks me how I'm feeling. Well intentioned, to be sure, but it breaks me every single time.

Things that are making me feel a little bit better.

• June Gloom mornings. I'm tempted to pack up the entire family and move into my parents house where it's cool and overcast all day. I'll have to settle for overcast and cool mornings that make playing outside downright pleasant. Also, no morning sun means that our house doesn't heat up and stay hot for the rest of the day. Win/WIN.
• Leftover birthday cake. Friends came over to meet the baby and brought Bub a birthday cake, the day before his birthday. The next day, we got him another cake for his actual birthday. I'm making it my personal mission to be sure that neither of those cakes (one of which is an ice cream cake) goes to waste.
• The person who responded to an email response that I sent saying "I never meant for you to answer this question! I can't believe you're even functioning at this point!" I have to remind myself that this baby only a week old and we're doing pretty well, even if I do have to cry it out every now and then.
  

Day 6: The Reality

When I had Bub, I was wholly unprepared for what to expect. I had read every single book on the subject, but there are so many things that no one tells you. I had no idea that recovery would be much, much worse than labor. No idea that the flood of hormones would render me a weepy, anxiety ridden mess. No idea that regardless of how much weight I lost, my clothes would never fit right again.

This time I knew. I was prepared. And, in the weeks prior to delivery, my anxiety started to ramp up in anticipation of what was to come.

I had a raging case of the baby blues last time around. I did some pretty extensive Googling, and I'm certain it wasn't anything more extreme than that. However, baby blues is an awfully cutesy name for something that is anything but cute. I would cry constantly. My mind wouldn't slow down long enough for me to even take a nap. I worried about every, little, thing.

This time around, things are similar. I'm not crying much, but that's because I'm make a concerted effort not to cry much of the time. Once I get started, it's hard to stop. It does seem like the more time I spend convincing myself that things are okay, they actually start to feel okay. Kind of.

The anxiety is another story entirely. I can't visualize how I will get from point A to point B. Having done this once before, I remember that eventually she will have a bedtime before 11pm. According to Bub's baby book, he was going to bed at 7pm by the time he was two months old, but I have no idea how we got there. I know that she'll eventually have a more predictable routine. At some point, Bub started taking two consistent naps a day, but again I have no idea how I got to that point.

Other things that run on a constant loop through my mind:

• How I'll manage with two kids in public
• How we will ever leave the house if she continues nursing around the clock
  
• How I'll get Bub down for a nap while managing the baby (his pre-nap routine is a bit extensive)
  
• What our new routine will look like (when Bub was a newborn, I had panicky moments when I realized I had no idea how to keep a toddler busy and entertained. He was maybe three days old at this point, but it was imperative that I understand what to do with a two year old and how to schedule my days.)
• How we will ever manage to get on a new routine
  
• Guilt over taking time away from Bub
• Guilt over not being able to give my undivided attention to the baby
• Guilt about looking forward to my husband's last day of school next week when we can start playing a man to man defense
• Guilt about being frustrated with Bub all the time

There's one major difference this time around. Last time around I was so in my head I couldn't enjoy Bub the way I would have wanted to. He was loved and cared for and had his every need met, but I wasn't sad to say goodbye to the newborn days. This time, I'm relishing the newborn days. Not the extra stuff, but I can't get enough of this baby. And, of course, there's guilt about that too.

As hard as it is for me to see my way from problem to solution, it's equally hard for me to believe that there's an end to this. Even though I know that there's an end, I can't feel it yet. That's the hardest part.

Baby Girl!

I have no idea what I'll call our newest little one here, so for now we'll go with the ever creative, baby girl.

We welcomed our baby girl last week.

Edited to add: 9 lbs, 5oz!!

Look!









We're all so in love and adjusting to a life where sleep is just a distant memory quite well.