I started a post about motherhood THREE WEEKS AGO and now here I am attempting to finish it. It's just going to have to be as brief as I can make it, since we seem to have entered the notorious 6-week fussy period and daytime naps are not really happening. In fact, I just got Graham to go down for a nap, knock on all the wood everywhere, and therefore I need to write this and then go join him in blissful unconsciousness because, yeah, I am friggin exhausted and brain no worky so gud on just a few hours a night.
(I'm watching him on the monitor as he squirms in his crib. This update may not make it for another few weeks)
(It is now 45 minutes later. The nap was a no-go. SHOCKING.)
(He is farting. I am drinking decaf and pretending it's helping.)
So basically, with my brain in its current state, I have probably nothing to say that's very insightful. Motherhood is a crash course. It's not easy, but it's amazing and surreal. Growing a person who subsists solely on liquid that comes out of your boobs is really weird. At first I was like: This is a cool bonding experience! And now I'm like: I will do this because it's the right choice, but once that year is up, the tap turns off.
That's not to say that breastfeeding is particularly difficult, just that it's extremely demanding. I did attend a breastfeeding support meeting, which was helpful and revealing -- so many women struggle with breastfeeding in a variety of ways. (And also, I have absolutely no judgment against women who choose not to breastfeed. It's none of my business what you do with your boobs or how you feed your kid.)
Also, pumping is pretty much the worst. That is all.
Graham is still sleeping in our room, in his crib. This is good and bad. Good because I can respond immediately if he needs me. They're recommending you keep the kid in your room for like six months nowadays to prevent SIDS. Six months ... I just don't know. He makes so much noise in his sleep, particularly starting around 5 a.m., when he's decided he hates his swaddle and needs out of it immediately so he can hit himself in the face with his hands and piss himself off. This is a fun game newborns like to play. I'm at a bit of a loss.
Anyway, he generally wakes every three hours, from start of feeding to start of feeding, and because he has reflux, I hold him up for half an hour after each feeding, so that leaves me with maybe two hours of sleep between feedings, thus explaining why I answer "I don't know" or "I don't remember" to all questions these days. I don't know. And I don't remember.
I've addressed eating and sleeping, which just leaves pooping. Pooping is all normal. We went up to size ones in diapers and I'm considering checking out the earth baby diaper composting service because holy diaper-filled landfill. We are producing a horrifying amount of trash right now.
Changing boy diapers seems fraught with more danger than girl diapers, particularly because boys are able to, and do, pee on their own faces. Just ask Graham, who needed an outfit change at 2 a.m. today.
(And who needs another diaper change right now but is being SUCH A GOOD BOY while he sits in the rock n play while it vibrates. I said to a friend a few weeks ago I could take it or leave it, in reference to the vibrator, and I take that back, big time. That thing is a life saver. As are the swing and the moby wrap.)
So yes. Six weeks is a fussy age, but also right about when babies start to realize the boobs they've been sucking on are attached to an actual person, and then they smile at you and it's like, ok. You are pretty much the cutest thing ever.