hazed

Since the G-man turned 2 months old, he's been putting me through a motherhood hazing ritual.

It started on Friday...we were hanging out all day, waiting to go to G-man's first SUNS game.  He woke up at around 2:00 p.m. screaming.  I laid him down to change his diaper, but he wanted none of that.  So, without buttoning back up his Suns onesie, I picked him up and fed him.

As I was feeding him, I noticed a HUGE gash on his face.  It was bloody.  The poor kid had scratched himself while napping which, in retrospect, probably caused the intense screaming.  I felt SO bad.

Well, he had quite a lovely feeding, and felt very content...when all of the sudden, he took a huge poop.  Now, this happens all the time.  What doesn't happen all the time, and hadn't happened until that time, was a very wet feeling on my pj pants.  I looked down, and sure enough, I was soaked in G's poop.

I ran to the bathroom, trying to save the onesie, because we had a game to go to!!!  But, in that moment, a wave of panic set in.  I put him in my sink, and took off his diaper, but then realized I needed to wash him off, so balancing him carefully, I reached over and turned on the water to Tom's sink.

After I rinsed him off, I turned off the hot water knob, but didn't THINK about the fact that the cold water these days is ICE COLD.  That set off a screaming spell.  Ladies and gentlemen, I felt SO bad...I just wanted to plunge myself into a pool of ice cold water to pay penance for my sins.

I gave him another bath in his bathtub, which he didn't enjoy like he usually does (I wonder why!!!), and he was so upset that after we finished, he threw up.

But I'm proud to say, friends, that I saved the onesie!

Yay, mommy!!!

So, we were all dressed and ready to go!!!

And G was a champ at the game!!!

I think he was overstimulated, so he slept most of the game in his moby wrap. :)

Our second hazing ritual came during our 2 month checkup.  We went and did the usual.  Our little peanut is 10 lbs. 9.5 oz. and 22.5 inches tall.  He's in the 25th and 35th percentile, respectively.  Who knew that Tom and I would make such a little peanut?

Anyhoo....our doctor said that Grant looks great.  When we put him on his tummy, he scooched himself down the table to doctor's amazement, and he predicts that Grant will be an early crawler.  Like early as in SOON.  EEK!

Oh.  Where was I?  Hazing.  Right.

So...the hazing part was when the nurse gave Grant his three shots.  Right before that, she gave him his oral vaccination for Rotovirus.  He LOVED that!  (Why can't all children's vaccines be oral?)  We were told to expose his little adorable thighs and lay him on the table:

Then, trying to be the strong mom that my mom insists I can be, I held one of his hands, and Tom held the other.  I looked into his eyes, and then the nurse stuck him.

Let me tell you, there is quite nothing as heartbreaking as watching those little eyes look so content then widen in horror as he realizes he's just been stuck.  Repeatedly.

I was going to take an "after" picture, but all I could do was scoop my little baby in my arms and comfort him and nurse him.

When I prayed to be a mother, I confess I didn't really think much of these types of moments.  But now that I'm going through them, I wouldn't trade these experiences for anything.  For some reason, I feel more bonded to Grant because of them.  And I am beginning to understand the heart of God the Father a little more, too.

Because, now, I understand that our Father doesn't want us to experience pain.  But sometimes pain is necessary to ensure that we are healthy and safe.  And He wants nothing more than to comfort us...and you know what?  No one can comfort us the way He can.  And no one can quite clean up our messes the way He can, either. :)

I know that this is the tip of the iceberg when it comes to hazing.  But, it's been a growing experience for me and a bonding experience for us.  And I am loving motherhood like it's nobody's business.

So I say, bring it on! :)

by the dawn's early light

I still can't believe I get to wake up to this every morning.  My heart is full.  I love this boy.

That is all.

P.S. I know...he sleeps on his tummy...bad mommy...but he hates being swaddled, cannot sleep while on his back...and he has great head control.  No bumpers, though...this little guy can move around like crazy already!

P.P.S. No, he doesn't sleep with the blanket...it was just a great photo op.  I'm not THAT bad of a mommy. :)

happy (belated) 2 months party animal!

Oh my.  This post is a day late.  For some reason, I thought the 19th was today.  Fortunately, I realized that it was yesterday just in time to capture my monthly picture of my big boy.  It's amazing to see how much he's grown, and I'm really glad that we're documenting him through the year.

He was such a little peanut when he was born:

And our little peanut grew...

And look at him now!

We're having lots of fun.  G smiles a lot and we have lots of "conversations" now.  He's quite a vocal little boy and a voracious little eater (and, therefore, pooper!!!).

G doesn't seem to like sleeping too much.  He's quite a party animal at night, especially.  Our nights look like this:

G: Party in my crib!!!  Par-tay!  I said, PAR-TAY!!!!!!!!  BYOB (breastmilk)!

M: zzzzzzzzzzz.....nooooooooooo.......

G: PARTY! PARTY! PARTY! PARTY!

M: fine.  

G: PARTY!  Woohoo!  Did you bring the breastmilk?

M: Yes.  Drink up, party animal.

G: Woohoo!  

Two minutes later....

G: zzzzzzzzzz.......

M: Dude...you can't invite someone to a party and crash like that!  That's kind of rude! ;)

Sigh.  It has occurred to me that this boy is using me as a human pacifier.  But he's waking up wailing, so what am I going to do?  I'm going to see if I can soothe him without feeding him in the coming nights.

G, as a present for turning 2 months, do you think you could maybe start sleeping for 5 hours at a time?  I would so appreciate it, if you could. :)

If not, it's okay.  I love you anyway, my party animal.

inadequate

That's how I've been feeling lately.

I feel like that with respect to my relationships with my baby, my husband, my family, my friends, and even my dog.

Being a new mom has been wonderful and glorious, and overwhelming and frustrating at the same time.  There are so many opinions about how to do things out there.  So much information.  So many experts.  So many methods!

You think you're going to go with this or that philosophy, and then you hear something that makes you question yourself.  So you change courses, and then you hear something else that changes your mind.

It's maddening, really.

We've been battling sleep issues.  I cannot figure out what we should do, if anything at all, because Grant is only 8 weeks old.  And there are so many different methods.

Baby Wise. Baby Whisperer. Ferber Method. Attachment Parenting.

Which one is best?  Which one is best for Grant?  Is he going to be emotionally scarred for life? Is he going to be spoiled? Am I ruining him? Am I ruining myself? My family? My marriage?

Frankly, I don't know.  I don't know what is best for Grant.  I do know that, at 8 weeks, we are nowhere near being sleep trained.  And it's going to be tough going to work in a few weeks if I can't get more than 2.5 hours of sleep at a time.

And then we'll probably visit the topic of inadequate at that time to add work to the list of things I'm not doing well.

I'm sitting here in the dark, listening to Grant in his bassinet whimpering...and now crying...and moving his little legs around, making weird noises with his diapers.

I'm fighting the urge to run over and hold him.  To make him feel better.  Because someone's conventional wisdom says I need to let him learn to soothe himself.

But I go over, and shush and pat his little diapered behind to sleep, and all is calm again.

And I wonder if I'm ruining him.  I'm terrified, actually, that I'm ruining him.

And I wish I had something profound to say at this point about something I realized.

I have nothing profound to say.  I only realize is that this is just the beginning.

And now I realize why my mom and my grandmas spent so much time on their knees in prayer.

oh happy day!!!

In the spirit of TMI posts, I just had to pop in quickly to say that G and I have reached a new milestone!  Today, for the first time, G ate without the use of a nipple shield!!!

Because of my anatomy (I won't go into details here), G had a really hard time latching on and, as you recall, the first couple weeks of breastfeeding were HELL.

So our lactation consultant recommended we try nipple shields and said that sometimes it was a short term solution that we could eventually get off of, or we might have to use it for the entire duration of our breastfeeding period.  She said to try and get him to eat without it from time to time, but every time I tried G would get SUPER frustrated.  So I resigned myself to having to use the shields indefinitely, which is a bit of a pain because it's just one more thing I have to clean and carry around, but I was thankful we could breastfeed at all!

But today, for some reason, I decided to try once more.  G's been going through a growth spurt for the past week, so he was eating every 1.5 hours today.  Tired of washing the shield, I thought, "What the heck, I'll try.  He's been crying all day anyway!"

And it was like the heavens opened up and the choirs of angels sang "AHHHHHH!"

Actually, no.  It wasn't like that.  It was more like G screaming his head off and then finally...FINALLY settling down and eating!

If I wasn't so concerned about getting him to latch on again, I would've gotten up right then and done a happy dance.  So I did a little happy dance in my head.

Since then, we've had 3 feedings where I didn't have to use the shield.  Oh happy day!!!  I lavished praises on my boy the whole time. :)

That is all.  I will try to refrain from posting more TMI posts...at least for the foreseeable future, so you all come back, you hear???

rock star and duggar babies

A rock star.  That's what my OB called my lady parts.

Ew, right?  And funny, right?  Well, I laughed, anyway.

Basically, she said I've healed well (like a rock star) and am cleared for take-off.  I can resume all "normal" activities, like exercise...and eh-hem...what we infertiles like to refer to as baby-dancing (or BD).

I laughed again when she asked me what form of birth control we're going to be using.  'Cause, um, remember...G is an IVF baby, and an ICSI baby at that???

She then told me about how she's seen it happen...you know, the infertile who goes through tons of treatments, finally has a baby, and then gets miraculously pregnant 2 months after giving birth.

Yeah, right.

I mean, I guess I've heard that you're most fertile in the year after you give birth.

And I do happen to know several folks who HAVE gotten pregnant post IVF baby birth.

But those things don't really happen to me.

And when I was on the pill for a brief 6 months, those things made me ca-razy with a capital C.

And...I kind of want to be pregnant again.

Like, now.

Like, I want another baby.

Yeah, Tom gave me the same look that you're giving your computer screen right now.  I'm loony, I know, 'cause I used to think the Duggars were ca-razy with a capital C until I had Grant and now I find myself wishing I had 19 children.

Not really.  Maybe more like 4.

Oh...but that would bring us back to the birth control question........'cause we do have 2 little frosties waiting for us to go get them again.  Remember them?

Lord willing, they would both implant and then we'd have twins!

Or, we wouldn't have a successful cycle and then we'd be going through a fresh IVF cycle again.  And if that wasn't successful, we might be complete as a family of 3.  And then would I regret going on birth control during the year I was technically "the most fertile"?

Le sigh.

Frankly...this is a moot post for now, because I'm using the most effective method of birth control...the "this new mommy is too tired" abstinence form of birth control.

Birth control and baby dancing.  So funny I could cry.

*Apologies to my sisters who probably just threw up in their mouth reading this post.*

mulling over the mundane

This morning, I woke up to feed G and he smelled like curry.

Correction: his PJs smelled like curry.

Weird.  I haven't had curry in over a week.  And it's totally weird to have your infant smell like curry.  Totally unexpected and just plain wrong IMO.

Speaking of infant smells, my current favorite smell is his breath.  Tom pointed out that I'm just smelling my own milk out of G's mouth, but I think all infants have the best breath.  I have probably inhaled that smell almost as much as I have kissed G's little mouth...which is about a thousand trillion times.  Because whenever I kiss those little lips, he gives me a big fat smile.

Speaking of smiles, G started "social smiling" last week.  Um...MELT.MY.HEART!  Sometimes, he'll be eating, and then he'll look up at me and give me the sweetest smile.  Maybe...maybe...that is just gas.

Speaking of gas, my little G can fart and burp like a grown man.  It's pretty disgusting and cute at the same time.  I wonder if he'll learn to control it as he grows up, or if this is just going to get worse.

Speaking of growing up, my little man is growing!  He has a well-developed double almost triple chin and there's fat growing around those little skinny limbs of his.  I never understood why moms loved to see their kids eat and grow until G came into my life....but let me tell you, there is no sweeter sound than hearing G gulp, I mean GULP, down his milk...because my body is helping him GROW!  Incredible.

And because he's growing, I'm happy to report that we are FINALLY out of newborn clothes.  The 0-3 month clothes are slightly big on him, but we didn't have a lot of newborn clothes (because I thought he was going to be a 10 pounder!), so it's nice to have a bigger selection of new clothes.

Speaking of new clothes, today I dressed G up in a new outfit:

....because I have my post-partum checkup (NOT looking forward to that!) so I had grand plans of a mommy-son date to the mall and Bed Bath and Beyond.  So I got G all dressed, got myself all dressed (which these days is a feat all its own), got the diaper bag ready, got G in his carseat, and pulled out of the driveway.

But something didn't seem right.

Sure 'nuff, one of the tires is completely flat.

There are few moments that are as deflating as the "Wow-I-just spent-the-last-2-hours-gettting-ready-for-nothing-and-I'm going-to-get-charged-$25-for-missing-my-appointment-and-didn't-we-JUST-replace-this-tire?" moment.

Enter my knight in shining armor...on his white horse granite Prius, who is rushing home as we speak, so I can make it to my appointment.

My hero.  I swoon.