First day on our own

I had high hopes of starting on Ian's birth story installments today, but it's 11pm already so that's gonna have to wait. Today was my first day "on my own" with the baby as Rich went back into the office today. I started my day solo about 1am as Ian couldn't decide if he wanted to nurse or rage against the Man and Establishment so was combining the two. I took him downstairs to the recliner and we slept relatively well there (with a few breaks for nursing) until a little after 8. I actually thought I had dreamed Rich coming downstairs to tell me goodbye.

Shortly after that, my aunt called to report a Patient First that had H1N1 flu shots in stock, so the boy and I packed up and headed that way. I haven't had the flu in I can't even remember how long, but with the boy being possibly at risk I figured my flu shot could do a double duty for us both via breast milk.

That excursion led us to discover that Ian's diaper bag and babyhawk carrier were still in Rich's car, so we had to head to the office to retrieve that. But then I had to pee and then the boy had to eat and then next thing you know it was lunch time so we all went out for Mexican. After a brief trip to retrieve my breast pump, I headed over to my OB's office to show off the product of all our hard work. Ian was a big hit with Dr. D and all the nurses and it was nice to have a bit of a celebration over a job well done.

The best part of my day, though, has to be the three hours I convinced Ian to nap with me this evening. He and I cuddled in the bed while he made adorable cooing noises. I used the iPhone to record those adorable noises for posterity so that when he's a teenager I can just buy a baby doll and have it play this on infinite loop.

Ian sleeping (MP3)

I also woke up at one point and noticed our hands next to each other, each with our thumbs tucked in. Forgive the low light photo but I was using a cell phone camera in the relative dark of our bedroom.

It was a nice way to finish off the day.

Much improved day

Today is much better than yesterday. Actually, over the course of the day it's steadily improved. I woke up around 7 and after an hour of feeding and an hour of rocking chair time, I was ready for Rich to snuggle our son so I could shower and rally.

Breakfast and a productive Target trip (woo more nursing bras and yoga pants!) led to a trip to the park (two laps around the park and I survived!) and cheeseburgers for lunch. Our little boy slept through all our outings and has been a perfect little snuggle bear this evening.

Ian and I have nursed/grazed in 5-10 minute spurts while rotting our brains watching a marathon of Bridezilla episodes. It's been awesome. Rich ordered us pizza and delivered it to my recliner. I'm hopeful that Sir Grunts-a-lot will sleep soundly for some large chunks tonight.

So with that I leave you with more precious little boy. You'll have to just imagine the adorable little cooing noises.

The first baby step is to admit you have a problem

Back when they were about three months old, I told my cousin that her twins were like tiny drunks. They can't feed or dress themselves, you can't understand what their saying though they're really adamant about telling you and anything they try to do for themselves just makes a mess. I now have a tiny drunk of my own but today he's been a mean drunk.

You know those beautiful long fingers he has? They've been gripping my nipple with his dagger fingernails that I swear grew since this morning and trying to turn the faucet on my boob to get to the milk. Even once he latches on, he does the angriest nursing routine ever, frowning and grunting and stiff-arming my sternum with one arm while clawing at my side with the other.

Once he's had his fill and I assume he'll be content, he just sits in my lap and grunts angrily and frowns at me. He started all of this last night and by 3am we retreated back to the recliner because it was the only way both of us could sleep.

He's eaten twice as much as he normally does today and in 8 minute spurts where I think he's done and 5 minutes later he's demanding another drink from the bartender. God forbid I tell him he's had enough or maybe I should call him a cab or he should take a nap, he just looks at me like "you're not the boss of ME," grunting and gesturing wildly.

This afternoon after a very late lunch Rich said he was going to mow the lawn. I told him I was going to try taking the boy upstairs for a nap. He had been sleeping peacefully in his bucket and I was hoping I could just sneak him out into the bed and cuddle for a bit.

As soon as I got him upstairs he woke right up, demanded a drink, got in a punching match with my chest, farted continually with no remorse and refused to be consoled for an hour while he reminded me of the injustice of his situation. He never actually cries but just grunts angrily and thrashes around. After an hour of all that, I finally got him swaddled up and in my arms (because despite nursing for 45 minutes he refused to sleep lying down). Just then Rich came in from mowing the lawn and asked how my nap was and I just stared at him. Of course the baby was cooing peacefully in my arms for the first time all day.

Thankfully, Christie sent me an email the other day with the heads up that her baby went through a growth spurt between two and three weeks where she was really fussy and ate a ton for a couple of days before she slept non-stop for a day. Had I not had this tidbit of information I would have really worried that this mood change was foreshadowing of things to come. Because if this is not just a growth spurt, I'm putting this little drunk in a 12 step program pronto.