A Good Man

Can I just brag for a second about my husband? Ryan has bent over backwards to help me maintain my sanity through these first three weeks of parenthood. A girl couldn't ask for a better hands-on daddy for her child. Last night, he took the late shift with Wyatt, letting me go to bed early and then giving him a bottle during his midnight feeding so I could get a real block of sleep. (And other than rock hard skipped-a-feeding boobs, it was pure heaven!) I can't even explain the difference in my attitude after a night where I actually got something I used to take for granted: REM sleep. There is an actual sanity difference. My brain is actually functioning in a whole new way today. I didn't even know I could feel this normal.


So, yeah. Nice to meet you. I'm Shannon.


I'll be honest. I have no idea if this is the start of the rest of my life or just a blip on the radar. It's very possible that I'll be a weepy mess again in a day or two. Or maybe, like people keep telling me, things really will get easier and my emotions really will stay stable even when it's hard again. I can't predict how things will go. After all, I certainly didn't predict round 1. But it's nice to recognize myself today. The familiarity is amazingly comforting.


Okay, more pics of my munchkin:





















He actually does live places other than his swing, and he does wear clothing other than Naartje, ha ha, but what can I say? He says, "Take my picture, momma. I look fantastic," on days with those two things in common. :) Come to whatever conclusions you want...

Coping with Imperfection

My sister-in-law said it best when she told me being a new mom is like starting a new job with no experience and being expected to know what you're doing. She's right. And there's no warming up period. You're pregnant one day and thrown into the deep end of motherhood the next. I can honestly say that I'm not very good at this. And if I'm perfectly frank, there are days I wish this were a job I could just quit. I love my son. That's part of the problem. If I didn't love him so much, maybe I wouldn't feel so horrible about not being very good at this. But instead, all I want is to get it figured out, so I don't mess him up. So I don't mess my own life up in the process. I want him to be happy and content. And he seems pretty miserable half the time, which breaks my heart.

I've read enough to realize that I'm still floating through the "baby blues". I come up for air sometimes. Occasionally, when I get enough sleep, I feel almost human again. But eventually, even well-rested, the gray cloud comes back and I wish I could just run for the hills. I want to be good at this. I want to be one of those women who realize this is what they were born for. I'm praying that maybe I'll feel a little more like that once I get past the first 6 weeks... or maybe the first 3 months... depending on who I talk to.

Breastfeeding may be part of the problem, too. I'm doing it exclusively, and at the moment, it makes me feel like a prisoner. I hate feeding or changing him in public, so I dread all outings. My version of time to myself is running out to pick up some take-out for dinner while Ryan watches Wyatt as quickly after a feeding as possible so I get home in time to feed him again. I'm grateful for those little blocks of time, but until I can either pump enough to get more than an hour or two away (something I haven't figured out how to do, and in what time to do it in) or else put the little guy on formula (which I have in my head might make me a bad mother, since breast milk is so much better for him - how selfish of me to even want it, right? ...sigh), I don't think I'll really feel like much more than a glorified cow who doesn't speak the language of her calf.

So, yes, this is a little more of the storm. And while there are moments of sunshine - Wyatt has started smiling frequently, usually in his sleep or when he's starting to drift off, and he is still insanely adorable - the storm is still the point leader.

The Storm and the Sun

As I waited to give birth to my son, there was a lot of talk of "the calm before the storm". I can now describe a little about the storm. The first few days were kind of rough. Beautiful, magical, and rough. First, there's just the physical recovery. Let's face it: They don't call it "labor" for nothing. :) I've also experienced what 80% of women experience: the baby blues. And I've realized that they have nothing to do with mental instability and everything to do with circumstance. Sure, your hormones are a little crazy, but more than anything, you're just so sleep deprived, you get weepy. And when that sleep deprivation comes from a new baby, you also feel overwhelmed. You get a little scared that you'll never sleep well again. And, you get a little lonely, because no matter how beautiful your baby is, he can't talk to you or reassure you or even listen with understanding to what you have to say. I cried in the middle of the night at first when Wyatt had his days and nights mixed up and wouldn't sleep for hours at a time. I would sing to him through tears. I've been a chubby, weepy, physically less-than-completely-healed mess. And so, I experienced some stormy weather.

Now for the sunny weather. We discovered that if we keep Wyatt awake and stimulated as much as possible in the evening, and give him a sponge bath before bed, he seems to associate night more with sleeping. And so, last night, he slept for two blocks of three hours each. That gave me almost 6 hours of sleep. Six hours. I felt like a new human being this morning. I had energy. I enjoyed every moment with my son. I got dressed in one of the cute tops Ryan picked up for me when I realized I had nothing that felt right for the postpartum bod. It's amazing how much sleep can effect your outlook on life!

Oh, and here's the kicker: I weighed myself this morning. And although I still weigh more than I ever thought possible, I was excited to see that I've already lost 17 pounds in 6 days. 10 pounds since I've been home from the hospital. And I know there's still more water weight that'll come off pretty fast because I still have cankles and puffy feet. It's pretty nice to know that my starting point for the long journey to a pre-preggo body is going to be a little lighter than what I'd assumed. Don't get me wrong. It'll be a lot of work. But every pound that drops off now is one less I'll have to lose later. And that, my friends, is true sunshine.

Here are some new pics of the little dude: