Tuesday, 5. July 2011
We took Harper to her 2 week doctor appointment last week and the highlight of the visit was that she gained 9 ounces! And, I must say, if this little trick hadn’t gained anything I might have thrown myself on the floor right there and screamed until someone swaddled me and gave me a paci dipped in Patron. I swear I have been breastfeeding (or pumping) nearly 24 hours a day for the past 19 days. Breastfeeding has been far harder than I ever imagined, although I will say that my nipples have finally thrown in the towel and succumbed to the beast that is Harper’s mouth. I did not know that babies could suck cracks the size of the Grand Canyon in one tiny nipple. Nor did I know exactly how painful it was going to be.
Having said that, we are extremely lucky that she’s a good eater. She latched on from the first day, and has not looked back. She eats constantly, night and day. She is now able to drink breastmilk from a bottle, and it doesn’t affect her ability to breast feed. This means that Laef can do one of the nightly feedings. I can’t even tell you how nice it is to have that one little break. Of course, sometimes she will finish the bottle, and after trying to rock her into a coma, Laef will bring her back to me 45 minutes later and say, “Chris Farley is hungry again.”
She eats constantly.
At first this meant that I was confined to the couch or the rocking chair for most of the day and night. I will say that I do cherish those moments when she is making the “this tastes soooo yummy” sighs and her whole body is completely relaxed. I could stare at her for hours.
But sometimes I need other things to keep me occupied. So when Laef had to go to work and I was by myself for the day, I had to make sure that my command station was set up before I started feeding her. (I am just now getting to the point where I can be mobile or move around without having piercing pain).
Once I have my command station set up, Harper and I conquer the world. I’m so thankful that she eats well despite the fact that she usually shits herself halfway through, which means she grunts and kicks her legs violently while working it out, all done with my nipple in her mouth because God forbid I politely pull her off to help her burp or work out her giant shit. She does not like to be interrupted for anything while eating.
Fine by me, little Diva. Eat with your pants full of shit.
Anyway, Laef and I are approaching week 3 and I can’t really say that we’ve got it all figured out. Some nights she sleeps a max of 2 hours per stretch, other nights she will go 5 hours. But we can never count on anything because things change daily. And that is the hardest part. Just when we think we figure something out and think we’ve mastered the 3 week old who runs the household, she switches it up on us and we’re back to square one.
The good news is that Laef and I have both been in this together everyday since day one. I don’t think anyone truly knows how hard it is mentally until you’ve been through it. So I don’t have to explain to him why I’m crying after having been up all night. He already knows. Having someone in you’re corner who knows exactly what you’re feeling makes it a lot easier.
Because we all know that when I was crying because of PMS he didn’t have a fucking clue what was going on, nor did he understand why it was such a big deal that he missed the hamper for the 6ooth time.
Some days we look at each other and roll our eyes. Other days we stare at her and smile and say, “We did this.” We feel so happy and and so lucky. Even if I never have any idea what day of the week it is, and 3 p.m. is no different than 3 a.m.
At the end of the day, whatever day it might be, she has changed us both in a myriad of ways. I didn’t know I could give so much of myself and expect nothing in return. I didn’t know that Laef and I could talk about her epic shits and how many grunts it takes for her to finally be done.
Or how F’n cute she could be.