Every night, without fail, at 2 AM
Step 1: Wake up demanding to be fed.
Step 2:Nurse until milk is pouring out of mouth and dribbling down chin.
Step 3: Smile and coo like it's the funniest thing ever that he woke mom up and isn't even going to drink a full meal.
Step 4: Fall back to sleep immediately
All of this takes place in the span of under 8 minutes.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Friday, February 13, 2009
Baby Update
I really wish someone had told me these words of advice:
The first 8 weeks of parenting suck. No, it's not just the lack of sleep. It's not just the whole readjusting to a new identity. It's not just freaking out over your new mom body. BUT I PROMISE IT GETS BETTER (why didn't anyone tell me this?!?!).
I'm going to be brave and say it- newborn babies are boring. They can't smile for you yet. They're not cooing yet. They are totally incapable of doing anything but the following: crying, pooping, peeing, nursing.
But then the baby hits 8 weeks...and it's amazing. The torturous 8 weeks are so beyond worth it the first time your baby wakes up in the morning and smiles for you.
Now according to everyone I know, I am incredibly lucky, and I know I am. James is such a good baby. He barely cries- ever. He is already sleeping an 8 hour chunk. I was totally terrified I was sleeping through his cries, and I actually stayed up all night recently to listen for his cries. SILENCE. He's either sleeping or in the most amazing quiet alert state, watching everything around him with wonder and awe. The only time he cries is if his view of the world is covered or he is seriously hungry. His wonder at the world is one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen. That still doesn't take away the fact that the first 8 weeks suck beyond belief.
The first 8 weeks of parenting suck. No, it's not just the lack of sleep. It's not just the whole readjusting to a new identity. It's not just freaking out over your new mom body. BUT I PROMISE IT GETS BETTER (why didn't anyone tell me this?!?!).
I'm going to be brave and say it- newborn babies are boring. They can't smile for you yet. They're not cooing yet. They are totally incapable of doing anything but the following: crying, pooping, peeing, nursing.
But then the baby hits 8 weeks...and it's amazing. The torturous 8 weeks are so beyond worth it the first time your baby wakes up in the morning and smiles for you.
Now according to everyone I know, I am incredibly lucky, and I know I am. James is such a good baby. He barely cries- ever. He is already sleeping an 8 hour chunk. I was totally terrified I was sleeping through his cries, and I actually stayed up all night recently to listen for his cries. SILENCE. He's either sleeping or in the most amazing quiet alert state, watching everything around him with wonder and awe. The only time he cries is if his view of the world is covered or he is seriously hungry. His wonder at the world is one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen. That still doesn't take away the fact that the first 8 weeks suck beyond belief.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Breastfeeding Begins
One of my earliest baby-related memories is watching my aunt nurse her firstborn son. In fact, memories from my mother's side of the family are flooded with visions of swollen breasts and nursing babies. So naturally, my plan from the start was to breastfeed my son. I was breastfed. My siblings were breastfed. My husband was breastfed and is very supportive of breastfeeding our son. Two weeks before James' birth we purchased nursing bras and nightgowns and my mother gave me a book on breastfeeding. Everything was set to go.
The morning after James was born I had what was probably one of the most bizarre yet amazing experiences of my life.
My husband went home to take a nap, and my mother came by to see her new grandson. Minutes later, my abuela entered. There are no words to describe this woman, but I will attempt to. Abuelita, or "Lita" as we call her, is half old world and half new world. She's stuck somewhere between Nuevo Laredo and Arlington, VA. She puts toothpicks in her avocado pits and attempts to grow a tree on the windowsill. She belongs to a "grandmas only" duck pin team. She has a portrait of a neon blue bull fighter next to a picture of my abuelo in his American Army uniform. She eats frijoles refritos on Wonder Bread. Seriously. And boy, does this woman always have a story for you. My brothers and I used to play a game where we would try to think of the most random thing possible and bring it up with her to see if we could stump her story telling. It has yet to happen. And I love her. I love everything about her. She can drive you crazy, but her stories and food and quirks make everything worth it.
That morning, I had old world Lita standing in my room. My mother and my grandmother sat with me and showed me how to help James form a proper latch to the breast. There I was, totally exposed to my mother and grandmother. 1 year ago I would have died at the thought of this, but for some reason, the situation felt totally right. Lita held James while my mom helped me get situated, and when I was ready for him she said, "zhoom! eet eez tiyime for lonch leetle whun!" and placed him on my breast. And then James began to chomp away. I've never really identified with my Mexican heritage, my mom's family assimilated big time in the 50s and lost a lot of their culture, but for that moment, we were in Mexico, and it was beautiful. If only every woman could have this kind of support from women in her family, then maybe a lot more women would breastfeed.
The morning after James was born I had what was probably one of the most bizarre yet amazing experiences of my life.
My husband went home to take a nap, and my mother came by to see her new grandson. Minutes later, my abuela entered. There are no words to describe this woman, but I will attempt to. Abuelita, or "Lita" as we call her, is half old world and half new world. She's stuck somewhere between Nuevo Laredo and Arlington, VA. She puts toothpicks in her avocado pits and attempts to grow a tree on the windowsill. She belongs to a "grandmas only" duck pin team. She has a portrait of a neon blue bull fighter next to a picture of my abuelo in his American Army uniform. She eats frijoles refritos on Wonder Bread. Seriously. And boy, does this woman always have a story for you. My brothers and I used to play a game where we would try to think of the most random thing possible and bring it up with her to see if we could stump her story telling. It has yet to happen. And I love her. I love everything about her. She can drive you crazy, but her stories and food and quirks make everything worth it.
That morning, I had old world Lita standing in my room. My mother and my grandmother sat with me and showed me how to help James form a proper latch to the breast. There I was, totally exposed to my mother and grandmother. 1 year ago I would have died at the thought of this, but for some reason, the situation felt totally right. Lita held James while my mom helped me get situated, and when I was ready for him she said, "zhoom! eet eez tiyime for lonch leetle whun!" and placed him on my breast. And then James began to chomp away. I've never really identified with my Mexican heritage, my mom's family assimilated big time in the 50s and lost a lot of their culture, but for that moment, we were in Mexico, and it was beautiful. If only every woman could have this kind of support from women in her family, then maybe a lot more women would breastfeed.
Monday, February 2, 2009
My Baby Turkey
I should have known my son would come on Thanksgiving. Since my husband's family and my family both live within 20 minutes of our townhouse, my husband and I were at a loss of what to do for Thanksgiving. We had visions of eating three turkey dinners (both my parents also have both families in the area) and my husband carting my pregnant ass out in a wheelbarrow. Fortunately, the conundrum was solved for us.
On my 37 week postpartum appointment (11/25/08) my blood pressure was ::slightly:: high, so my doctor decided to induce labor. I will save you the labor story, because I've found that unless it's someone you know intimately, labor stories can be kind of boring. I will just say this- I spent 24 hours in the hospital while they tried to induce labor, I had 4 doses of Cytotec, sweeping of the membranes (OUCH...hurt more than the contractions), and almost 10 hours of pitocin until finally the Dr. sent me home. 1 hour later, while getting some much needed sleep, my water broke and my husband and I were back at the hospital.
On Thanksgiving Day at 1:18 PM, my son James was born. He was and is a beautiful baby boy. At that moment my life changed forever, and for the better, even if it is much earlier than I ever expected it to happen. My husband and I are ecstatic for our new journey through parenthood (We're also pretty excited that we'll be in our early 40s when James starts college!). We certainly had something to be very thankful for this Thanksgiving.
On my 37 week postpartum appointment (11/25/08) my blood pressure was ::slightly:: high, so my doctor decided to induce labor. I will save you the labor story, because I've found that unless it's someone you know intimately, labor stories can be kind of boring. I will just say this- I spent 24 hours in the hospital while they tried to induce labor, I had 4 doses of Cytotec, sweeping of the membranes (OUCH...hurt more than the contractions), and almost 10 hours of pitocin until finally the Dr. sent me home. 1 hour later, while getting some much needed sleep, my water broke and my husband and I were back at the hospital.
On Thanksgiving Day at 1:18 PM, my son James was born. He was and is a beautiful baby boy. At that moment my life changed forever, and for the better, even if it is much earlier than I ever expected it to happen. My husband and I are ecstatic for our new journey through parenthood (We're also pretty excited that we'll be in our early 40s when James starts college!). We certainly had something to be very thankful for this Thanksgiving.
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