Three Months

This post was supposed to be published in November.  I'm one day shy of that.  It may have happened on time, but, frankly, I had parenting to deal with.

Last night Abishai finally laid down to sleep in his bassinet at FOUR AM.  See what I did with the caps there? That's me crying in caps. I used to tell people that my son was a comfort nurser.  I would even use the phrase "if he could nurse 24 hours a day, he would".  I think he's been listening the whole time and laughing on the inside as he was preparing his surprise assault on my would-be full night of sleep.  As he was listening, he tactically devised this plan to initiate sleep-destruction mode on the one day that his mother was going to attempt to have a full day of activities.

Mom's plan: Out with the girlfriends at an arts and design show in the morning and then taking him along with me to meet my high school girlfriends at a baby shower in the afternoon.  Back to back activities for a first time mom who has spent the last 3 months dreading leaving the house.

Abishai's plan: MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!! Mission Zombie Mom!

SURPRISE! You're not sleeping tonight!

When I finally placed him in his bassinet at FOUR AM (I hope you're reading this with inflection), he didn't go down without a fight.  He usually nurses at 10pm and goes down after some rocking and more comfort nursing by 11.  Last night, with a few intermissions with dad making attempts to soothe him, he nursed from 10pm to 4am.  Sounds extreme, right? Like I should have woken up in the midst of a bloody, chapped mess on my chest.  Thankfully that wasn't the case.  He'd fall asleep for a few minutes or so and I'd carefully try to pull away.  Some attempts, he'd even let me lay him down, but only for seconds till he'd stir and start screaming, eyes wide open. To my surprise, he was actually actively sucking the majority of the time.

I finally pulled away around 2am as he jolted Matt awake with his screams.  "I'm just going to let him cry it out," I say to him, "whatever." Confused, Matt suggests we just let him do it in his crib to which I then reply, "Meh.  If we leave him in his crib he's all by himself.  It's abandonment. At least here he'll see that we're both right next to him when he cries.  That's just negligence. It's not as bad."

I'm pretty sure Matt just rolled over and magically tried to shut out the cries while ignoring my blatant argument against all logic.  Yes, I'm aware that negligence and abandonment are pretty much the same.  In fact, it might have even been worse to let him cry next to us.  Letting him know that we clearly see he is upset, but we just. don't. care.  Whereas, we could have made the argument that we didn't hear him while he was in his crib.

Bah.  I pulled him tightly against my tired chest and shushed him a few times in his ear while he screamed it out.  I don't know exactly how long it took till he fell asleep, but my drowsiness made it bearable.

During my pregnancy and in the last three months of Abe's life, I have tried carefully not to pidgeon hole myself into a certain parenting method.  I tend to skew towards Attachment Parenting, but not fully in some areas.  I told myself I'd never use the cry-it-out method, and yet, my desperation drove me there last night.

I worked so hard to have the ability to breastfeed.  Through many moments of ugly-crying sessions, being attached to a pump multiple-times throughout the day, and smelling like maple syrup because of Fenugreek supplements, I'm not about to give all this up for one night of crazy.  One day, this closeness will be gone and our mother-son bond will be different.  The moments where he's full and he turns to face me and smile as if he wouldn't want to be anywhere else but in my lap smiling are few in the grand scheme of things.

Originally, this post was going to be about thankfulness.  Thankfulness for being blessed with Abishai's life, a supportive husband, and encouraging family and friends.  This morning, as I sit here wide-awake in the aftermath, nursing him again for his first feed of the day (technically not the first, but we'll pretend) he is peaceful and I am thankful for that.  I'm not quite sure how the rest of the day will go or if he even recognizes what happened last night, but I refuse to be anything but hopeful. 

It's been three months and my boy is teaching me new things every day.  I laugh as I glance at his 3 month recap photo above and see the irony in sharing that he sleeps through the night.  Sometimes.  Sometimes is okay.  I'll take those sometimes and work towards the every time. 

And since it's now December and not November (my original post deadline), I leave you with this. 

The day after Thanksgiving marks the official start to everything Christmas.  So in getting into the Christmas spirit, I started singing Abishai Christmas songs while in the bath.  Something jolly, I thought-- why not that song about Santa being on the roof.  Completely in tune and on melody, the following line escaped my lips...

"Up on the rooftop reindeer claws..."

I paused and gave Matt a quizzical look knowing full well that I had just began transforming the Christmas classic into a horror film theme song.  With a tilted head and look of concern, Matt looked at me and said, "Claws? Reindeer claws, honey?"  I am now laughing hysterically realizing that I now had the makings of a Christmas song where Santa probably snatches children out of beds too.

I ended up singing the rest of the song... with the correct lyrics.  Abishai sat in his bath completely unimpressed. 

ABISHAI IS NOT IMPRESSED

2 Months

As perfect evidence that parenthood is busy, this post is 2 days late.   Did I attempt to start this post prior to the 28th so that I could have it ready in time? Of course!  Did I ever finish it so that I could post it? Of course not!  It's surprisingly hard to type when there's a baby between you and the keyboard.  

Our little Abe is 2 months old.  In the last month we've slowly watched his personality emerge and have tried to keep track of all the fun(ny) and not so funny moments we've been having.  Here are a few from the last month:
 

Cry me a river
Why certain methods for getting a baby to stop crying work some times and not others is beyond me.  We swaddle, swing, shush, put him on his side/stomach, sing, and many combinations of so many other things only to find that he suddenly stops a crying fit once you're standing on one foot while reaching an itch on your shoulder or some other pretzel like stance which you no longer want to move from because supposedly "he likes this".  (excuse the run on).  When there's sudden silence, Matt and I flash each other the "Don't. Move." look.

Bloody Lullabies
Then there's Grandma Teofy.  Boy does he love his grandma.  He could be screaming and the moment he's wrapped up in Grandma Teofy's arms he calms down.  She rocks and swings him for a good five minutes while singing some old hymn and he's out cold.  Out of all the hymns you could choose, without fail, my mom chooses the ones that focus on the crucifixion of Christ.  Without fail, I've overheard my mom rocking him to sleep to "Old Rugged Cross" or "Rock of Ages".  We're not sure if he's comforted by the warmth and coziness of grandma's arms or that songs about Christ's sacrifice on Calvary give him the reassurance he needs to drift into a drowsy sleep.  Every now and then she throws in a "Kumbahya" but it surprisingly takes him longer to calm down.  Signs of early appreciation and reverence for the Gospel story, maybe?  All we know is that his lullabies are so far removed from "Rock a Bye Baby".

Lock me up... I'm crazy
One of the first tasks that a first time parent learns is how to swaddle-- aka baby blanket origami-- and if you don't get it exactly right or just tight enough, then your folding efforts are worthless.  When the swaddle is perfect, it's shocking how quickly Abe calms, but, if you read my last post, you'd see that our sneaky little Abe is an escape master.  I've come to really love the swaddle sleep sacks that do all the work for you and keep him bundled up with the genius use of some velcro straps.  The best part about those (other than the fact that he can't escape out of them overnight) is when I finally release him for his diaper changes.  Not only does he already look like a prisoner in a straight jacket, but when that velcro comes undone, he stretches out like he's finally being let out of his jail cell for yard time.  He sighs, stretches out as far as he can, then gives me the "yeah, I know I only have a few minutes of freedom" look. 

Number Twos
You'll come to learn that some of my favorite stories to tell have to do with bodily functions.  C'mon, let's be honest... farts and poops are funny.  In the last month, Abe's farts have transformed into big-human farts.  The ones where when you're holding him, they erupt with such resonance that you look at him and think "That was you, right? Right?".   (For the record, he always looks back at me with the "who me?" look.)

The other day, Matt was holding him and our friend thought Matt let one rip and Matt stood there trying to defend himself while Abe innocently stared off into the distance as if he was too busy contemplating the meaning of life to so disruptively pass gas. 

After a consistent series of those rumbles, they're almost always followed by the sound of pipes gushing.  A more recent addition is his pausing to strain.  One time, I was feeding him, and he stopped to make the straining sound for almost a whole minute.  Silence. Gush.

Hide & Seek
When I finally get him to go to sleep, I try my best to get things accomplished-- like eat or shower.  In the world of motherhood, finding that time is akin to a unicorn sighting.  On the rare occasion that I can shower (aka "rinse") in the middle of the day because he is in such a deep trance, I try to go as quickly as possible.  Yet, often, my shower is disrupted by his feeble cries of loneliness.  I had to run out of the shower, dripping wet and naked, drag his bassinette into the bathroom and convince him that although he can't see me, I'm still there.  It's like a bad game of hide & seek.  Between shampooing and soaping, I've probably opened the shower curtain 4 times, waving at him, and saying "I'm here! I'm here!". 

Nothing is Clean

In the last 6 years of marriage, Matt and I had never washed our couch cushions.  I know, gross, but they got an occasional vacuuming. Finally, we unzipped the covers of the cushions and threw them in the wash.  As if Abe already has a developed sense of malicious humor-- minutes after placing the cleaned covers onto the couch cushions, Abe has the spit-up moment of a lifetime all over them.  Sigh.


Paparazzi!!!
I've had a handful of people tell me that I don't post enough photos of Abishai.  As. You. Wish....

First Month Frenzy

We survived.  All three of us.  I can't believe that Abishai is already a month old.  Surprisingly, it went by so fast.  I looked at a friend last week, and with dismay in my voice said "Wait... what do you mean September is almost over.  We just finished August!"  Boy does time fly when you're caring for a newborn constantly.

Parenthood is the hardest thing I have ever done. Seriously-- running a marathon is easier.  Although, I guess you could argue that parenting a newborn is somewhat maranthon-esque.  Feed, burp, change diaper, swing, rock, put down to sleep... repeat with no breaks or sleep.  That's a marathon!

As tiring as parenting can be, it's extremely fulfilling at the same time.  There's a weird balance.  It's amazing how much energy you can muster up to get you through a day on maybe 2 hours of sleep.  I thought I was a rockstar at surviving all-nighters in college, but man, this is like the Olympics of all-nighters.  In one 24 hour period I will have nursed Abe 10-12 times, been pooped or peed on at least once, and maybe had one full meal-- yet, 10 seconds of a smile or giggle makes all of it worth while.

Our first month was one roller coaster ride of frenzy.  Our first week home, I ended up with an infection and a high fever, causing Matt to rush me to the hospital for CT scans and blood tests.  On that same day, we learned that I hadn't been producing any milk at all so our poor little guy went an entire week with little to no nourishment.  Here we were, first time parents, thinking we had the best baby on the planet.  He was sleeping for 5 hour stretches his first week.  We later learned that he was just lethargic and dehydrated from not having any nourishment and, as a result, was losing weight instead of gaining.  

Soonafter, I was doing everything known to man to increase my milk supply-- herbal supplements, natural galactagogues, and prescription medications.  Several more days passed and I woke up one morning with milk!  Thank the Lord! Now, we have a full supply and little Abe eats like crazy.  At one point, he was eating at the top of every hour.  Finally, by his third week Abe made it back to birth weight and we are happy to announce that he is now past that and gaining steadily. 

How people survive this alone is beyond me.  My parents came and stayed with us for the first 2 weeks, feeding us, helping with tasks around the house, and eventually getting up in the early morning hours to help me change diapers.  My mom would stay up on the weeknights tapping my arm every time I'd fall asleep while nursing and graciously taking Abe so that I could go to the bathroom or take a shower.  I would not have survived those first few weeks without her. 

In addition to my parents help, our friends participated in a meal train and brought us dinner every other day during his first month.  We had some pretty awesome meals, too.  Not having to worry about dinner those first few weeks was a life saver.

I have a true appreciation for mothers now.  After my first few all-nighters, it was like a lightbulb went off in my head.  Sitting in his room nursing at 2am, tired and in pain from recovering from surgery, I realized the sacrifice that a mother makes for a child.  You put aside all of your own personal needs (hunger, hygiene, and sleep) and your pride to make sure that your child is provided for.  It's only been a month and I can't remember the last time I actually showered before noon or took the time to brush my hair.  It's all about survival mode and if you're in nothing but a nursing bra and pajama bottoms at 8pm, but your child has a clean diaper and hasn't missed any feedings-- you've done your job and it's been a good day.

We're only one month in and I've still got so much to learn and experience and definitely more stories to share.  The adventures of Abe are just beginning...