it’s crazy how much this whole motherhood thing changes you. seemingly, overnight. people tell you before your baby comes that he/she will change everything… and you think, “ha. whatever.” but seriously, it does.
for instance, yesterday I went to lunch with one of my favorite friends in the world, shellybellyfelly. I have not seen her in about six weeks. I was giddy to go… once I got there I couldn’t even focus. all I could think about was grayson. was he ok? did they need me? did they remember to give him the gas drops? and the list goes on… I still enjoyed seeing my friend and I would kill to be able to hang out with her more… and not worry about my little man the whole time… they say it gets better… who are “they” again? I wouldn’t mind fact checking a bit… har har.
also, it’s amazing how much one can get done on four hours of sleep. in. a. row. I will def be happy when my little boogie butt starts sleeping longer. 3 hours is about his max at a stretch right now and honestly, he’s kicking my pooper.
when we first brought him home, I had a serious case of the baby blues. well, I don’t have anything to compare it to, but it was not fun… I know that. when he was first born I felt really guilty about the fact that he came early. like really effing guilty. I thought there had to be something I could have done to keep him in… and people kept telling me, “it was just his time to come…” or “he was ready…” all I thought when I heard these things was, no – he wasn’t ready. he had to be on a friggin’ breathing machine. but I digress.
I was still functioning. I was getting up to feed him and change him. and I smiled trying to find what I was supposed to feel. I kept looking at this little person wondering, “is this it? is this all I’m going to feel?” I faked it though. I kept him near me as much as possible, trying to force myself out of the cloud… and I wouldn’t tell my hubs or mom what was going on. I wanted them to think I was good at this. that I was handling everything like a supastar. but every time someone else took him, i.e. my mom or john… I just wanted to curl up in a ball and cry… and I did. over and over. but I hid all of this… and looking back, I wish I hadn’t. I’m lucky to have a ridonkulously patient and understanding husband that luffs the crud outta me… and my mom, though our relationship has been rather bumpy at times, I think she would have understood… and they could have helped me have a little validation… which I think may have been… well, comforting.
luckily, it didn’t last long. something strange pulled me out of it. he started to have blood in his poop. I freaked out and called the peed. I ended up taking him in that day (he was a week old) while my hubs slept (he works the night shift)… and I found that needing to take care of him and make sure he was ok helped me finally connect with him. plus, I had to take care of me too… finally realizing that john was going to be working a lot… and it was just going to be me and little man. and that he was going to need me. clear-headed me. end of story.
and that’s all it took. I’m smitten. (oh, and p.s. he’s fine now. he’s got a sensitivity to cow’s milk protein and I have to stay away from dairy… and the formula (gasp!) we supplement him with can’t have it in it either. code word, outrageously expensive)… but he’s totally worth it. and I’ll touch on the whole breastfeeding game later. I can’t deal with that now. I’m too pooped to poop… and the night has just begun. lucky meh.