Admission

I have to confess that I never understood. I never got it. It never made any sense to me, but now - now, though - now, it so does. Wow. Now, it makes sense.

Everyone said I should sleep while I could. They said I should enjoy the peace and the free time and the general freedom of being able to go and do as I pleased. They offered to bring me meals, because "once she comes, you won't want to cook." They said it would change, and that I would understand all too soon; even as they said that, though, I doubted it and chalked it all up to their uncanny exaggeration abilities.

Now, though, I understand that it was no exaggeration.

Everything has changed.

For several weeks, when I was up feeding Leah in the middle of the night, I was reading "Chicken Soup for the New Mother's Soul." In those bleary-eyed hours of the morning, I was especially prone to self-pity. "I want to sleep," I'd think. "Poor me.....I'm so sleepy......I'm so tired......This is so hard.......Poor, pitiful me....." (I wouldn't think those exact words, but that's the main gist.) Reading something more uplifting, though, was good for me, and it reminded me in those times that I'm not the only woman to ever have gone through this adjustment and that it will get better and that someone (lots of people, actually) understand what it feels like to love someone so intensely but to struggle with the change that they brought. In any case, the book - which my Granny bought for me when she found out I was pregnant - was a lifesaver to me in those very early weeks.

One night, as I sat feeding Leah and reading the wonderful book, I came across a line that summed it all up. I don't remember now which article it was in, so I can't put my finger on it now and can't quote it exactly, but it said something like this: "Everything slows down to a glacial pace, but you can't keep up with anything."

"Yes!" I thought. "That's IT! THAT'S why this is so hard!" I was so excited as I realized that in that one sentence was the reason for the feeling I had that I was banging my head against the wall.....running in circles.....whatever illustration you may choose for staying exhaustingly busy but making no progress. At the end of every day, I look back and wonder, "What the heck did I do all day? I know I was busy, but seriously.......WHAT WAS I DOING?" There's a reason for that.

I'd get up and, starving, know I needed to eat breakfast. As I made my way to the kitchen, a cry would catch my attention. This cry wasn't from Leah, as you might expect. This cry was from my breasts and I realized quickly that I needed to spend some time with my pump for a few minutes before Leah woke up. In serious discomfort (you know what I'm talking about), I would sit with my breast pump for about 10 minutes before the cry I heard was from Leah, and she would want her breakfast. I would take care of that and would get so sleepy that we dozed off together when she finished. I would wake up with only moments to spare before she wanted to eat again. Once that was taken care of, I'd go in the kitchen to get my breakfast and, while my Eggo was in the toaster, Leah would cry. I wouldn't know why, so I'd run to her side. Captivated by her beauty, I'd stay there long after I realized that her cry was nothing more than her realizing that she had a voice and could make noise. My stomach would growl, and I would realize that I still hadn't eaten. Back to the kitchen I'd go, where my waffle was now cold again. I'd scarf it down in about a minute before I saw the growing collection of bottles in the sink that needed my attention before she needed to eat again. I'd wash the bottles and mix up some formula, and then realize that Leah needed to be changed. Up the stairs we'd go, where the diaper change would become a minor calamity. She'd pee or poo as soon as I removed the diaper, which would mess up her pajamas. This would necessitate an entire outfit change. Before I could do that, though, I'd have to admire her for a few more minutes, and then go through all of her adorable clothes to see what might fit and what she might be able to wear that day. Then I'd stare at her for a few more minutes before moving on with the diaper change and getting her dressed. I'd see how cute her outfit was, and then realize I needed a picture. I'd find my camera in the diaper bag, which reminded me that I needed to restock it before I went out again.......so I'd do that before I forgot.....and then she'd need to eat.... On and on it would go, and before I knew it, Scott was home, it was suppertime (thank GOODNESS for those lovely people who brought us food!), and we were trying to get ourselves to bed. All too soon, it all began again; staying up in the wee hours of the morning made the days blur together to the point that I couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.

Preparing a meal for myself suddenly was of little importance, which was a good thing since it took so long to do so. My goals for the day were usually little more ambitious than simply taking a shower. A successful day was defined by a sleeping, full, clean baby.

At some point, I realized I understood what everyone had meant with their well-intentioned warnings. I realized I had become a member of the sisterhood of mothers, and as a result, I, too, had developed an understanding of the trials and tribulations of taking care of a newborn.

As a result, though, I also developed a keen understanding of the fulfillment that comes from nurturing a little one and watching her grow, and of the love that wells up like a spring in the heart of mothers when they look at their children.

I finally understand.

They can't do this to sleep-deprived new moms. Should be illegal.

Yesterday I was checking email for a couple of minutes while Leah slept on the couch, propped up on some pillows, nearby. I kept checking on her, and she was dozing away.

At one point, I looked over and saw this beautiful little face looking over at me. Granted, I was sitting in front of a lamp that seems particularly intriguing to infants, but she was looking at me.

I did what came naturally, and started talking to her. We talk to her a lot, naturally, but we don't usually get much response from her. She turns toward Scott's voice when he gets home from work at night, but I think she is so used to my presence that she doesn't usually respond at all when I talk to her. Yesterday, though, she reacted. Yesterday, she smiled at me. Yesterday, she showed a glimmer of recognition that I am Mommy and that she actually likes me. Yesterday, we turned a very exciting corner.

Little Tarheel

We really aren't sports junkies - I promise. Scott is a big North Carolina Tarheel fan, and is known for his trademark light blue hat. When we got married, someone gave me a white Tarheel hat to match Scott's; when people found out we were pregnant, the baby was likewise given miscellaneous North Carolina paraphernalia. We added different light blue items, and this outfit was the result.

Leah was decked out today for the North Carolina - Duke standoff tonight. Daddy's excited, so Leah is, too. We took these pictures this morning and sent them to Scott at work.

His response? "That's my girl!"

Did you notice that she lost more and more items of clothing as the photo shoot wore on? She wasn't too sure about the hat, and she constantly kicks off her right sock. (Mom, isn't that what I did as a baby?)

Reaching Out

This is going to take me forever to type because I'm typing with one hand. Why? Because my left arm is occupied with holding a finally-sleeping baby (and is going completely numb) and I don't dare put her down because she'll wake up.

Problem? Yes.

We don't hold her all the time, but as of lately, she won't sleep really well unless we are. This is definitely problematic.

Because our own sleep is at a premium now, I'm increasingly interested in how it might be possible to get this little person used to the idea that there are some times (daytime) that are more acceptable waking hours, and there are some times (namely, the dark ones) when sleep is very welcome.

I've done some reading on the subject, and I know it's really too much to expect that she would be on a routine and sleep through the night at this point. However, it's not too soon to introduce her to the idea.

Any suggestions?

Little Cheesehead

On Super Bowl Sunday, Scott seized the opportunity to dress Leah up in her Packers ensemble.

Yes, we all knew the Packers weren't playing, but how could we resist this?

In Love

We're adjusting, and it's getting to be more fun and less overwhelming. It's still tiring - I think it always will be - but we're all getting to know each other better and are settling into our new normal.

And is this not just the sweetest face you've ever seen?! Her little personality is starting to emerge, and it's so exciting!

Adventures in Motherhood: A Little Bit of Disarray

Because I shared the good, bad, and ugly of my pregnancy, I think it's only fair to share the same aspects of new motherhood. I've had this story just waiting to be posted for several weeks now, but I think I had to let the trauma of it all wear off before I could write about it. I'm kidding.......but only sort of.

When Leah was about a week old or so, I had to take her to the pediatrician for a weight check. She was gaining weight very, very slowly, and they were somewhat concerned, so we had already been in a couple of times to have them plop her on the scale and see how things were moving along. (The situation has since been resolved. Not a problem.)

In any case, I wasn't yet cleared by my doctor to drive or carry much, so I recruited my (very willing) mom to go with us and help with the trek to the doctor. On the way home, we stopped at Sonic for a mid-afternoon snack. It started out smoothly enough - Mom and I were in the front of my car enjoying our tater tots and onion rings, and Leah was sleeping in her seat in the back. Before long, though, Leah woke up and wanted her snack, too.

I moved to the back seat to feed her. This, in and of itself, was a first, since it was broad daylight, a public place, my car, and, well, nursing. You've gotta do what you've gotta do, though, so we did. When I pulled her out of her seat to feed her, though, I made the first of many unpleasant discoveries: she was soaked through with baby pee. Soaked through. Her little jammies were saturated and cold, which was undoubtedly part of her sudden tantrum. In my new-momness, I (wrongly) figured that her hunger was more urgent than the condition of her clothing, and set out to fix that. I fed her as best as I could in such small quarters, with her fussing the whole time, and then began to try to change her.

As I laid her on my lap to assume the changing position, she spit up. And kept spitting up. "Hurray," I thought. "We're off to a great start."

I made quick work of removing her sleeper. Well, it was as quick as it could be, considering the newness of all of this for both of us, her growing rage at my incorrect prioritizing, and again, the compact quarters in which we found ourselves. Once I got the sleeper and diaper off, another unpleasant discovery was made as she quickly let me know that despite the overabundance of, um, stuff in her diaper, she was not finished.

Yeah.

Oh, yeah.

Let's just say that we had a complete inventory of bodily fluids before it was over. (Well....there was no blood. That's something.)

Add to this my hysterical laughter and (un)gratitude that my daughter chose those conditions for my first-ever diaper change away from home, and the image of my mother leaning over the front seat taking pictures....and yeah. You have a blog post.

Since then, I've learned a lot and have been through other misadventures of new motherhood, but this - being the first really big one and being caught on camera - had to be shared. There will be lots of others, I'm sure. Stay tuned.