Holy shit. I've had a baby for three weeks. They let me take him home from the hospital and no one's realized they've made a terrible mistake and called or sent someone to take him back. How is that even possible? I know I'm almost 40 years old, but a lot of the time I barely feel like a grown up myself and now I'm in charge of a whole other person? That's screwed up.
So, you ask, how's it been going? Remarkably well, would be my reply. Q is proving to be a ridiculously easy baby. I'm not trying to brag; both M and I are genuinely befuddled at how we got so lucky. For the first couple of weeks Q was basically just asleep most of the time, to the point that we were setting alarms to wake us up at night to make sure he fed every three hours. Once he regained his birth weight, our pediatrician gave us the OK to drop that back to every four hours, although since then we've found that he generally wakes himself every 3 and a half hours or so. All of this means that we've been getting long-ish stretches of uninterrupted sleep at night, which everyone told us we wouldn't. I feel like I'm jinxing us by even telling you about it, but there it is!
|Can't you see I'm sleeping? NO PHOTOS!|
We've also had the added bonus of having family around to help out with stuff around the house. M's mom spent the first few days home from the hospital with us, and then my mom arrived for two weeks. It's been awesome not having to worry about dusting or laundry or getting dinner, or conversely having someone look after Q while I sneak away to take care of some chores. Not gonna lie, I'm a little nervous about how I'm going to handle things once we're finally left on our own after my mom leaves this week!
Breastfeeding has also been going pretty smoothly, apart from the to-be-expected initial nipple soreness. So far I've managed to stick exclusively to breastfeeding, and my supply seems to be decent enough that Q is gaining weight like he should. I've read more than enough blogs to know that I'm extremely lucky to be able to do this at all, so here's a huge shout out to my ta-tas for doing their thang. I am however wondering when the magical fat-melting part of breastfeeding starts. While I lost about 22 pounds pretty quickly after birth, it seems like I've plateaued now with 10 more to go to get to my pre-pregnancy weight. Add to that the fact that my FUPA has now been replaced with a full-on c-section scar belly overhang, and there's a lot of work to do once I get the go-ahead to start working out again.
Of course things haven't been all rainbows and unicorn farts, and I don't want to pretend like it is. Q does get fussy at times, and I get frustrated because I have no idea what he wants. I also had a major crazy hormonal breakdown about a week postpartum where I essentially lost it at M because he is a
hoarder packrat collector and I was sick of looking at piles of his stuff now that we also have baby clutter to deal with. Then I bawled because I felt bad for getting mad at him, since he'd basically been my man-servant for days while I parked myself on the couch with a baby on my boob. Yay for violent mood swings!
All in all, though, I'm mostly just amazed and overwhelmed by how lucky I feel right now. And I say that despite being projectile-pooped on at 3am this morning. Because...this face!