I have seven friends who have had babies in the past two months and thinking of all of them, and talking with a few of them has made me so reflective of those first few weeks with a newborn. Ivar is now 8 months old, and I honestly never would have believed how different every single month would be. What I remember is that during those first two or three or four months life is still so fragile, people’s germs are offensive, sleep is light and constantly interrupted and everything is new and awkward and exhausting.
Of course it’s all wonderful and tiny and precious too. I think I tended to write more on this blog focusing on the sweet, delightful moments.
But I just want to throw this out there for the new mamas out there whose boobs are sore, eyes are droopy and patience is shot: be good to yourself. Those first three months are really crazy. Nursing a baby with no head control and spazzy limbs is difficult. It gets easier when the baby grows a bit and can literally crane his head to help out. Figuring out how to change your baby’s diaper in a public restroom with no changing table is tricky. Once winter started to thaw our car became sort of a nursery on wheels and we found the back seat was great for changing poopie diapers and for nursing.
I was getting my hair cut today and had a flashback of me nursing Ivar on the toilet in the Juut Salon in Edina. While nursing him on that toilet he fell asleep and I remember feeling so grateful that he would sleep through my haircut. Until I stood up. Then the automatic flusher woke my son. As I remembered this I kept thinking, “why on earth did I bring Ivar to a hair appointment?!!” And you know, there is no good reason. I think I was just that desperate to get out of the house that day.
All this to say, as I sat in the waiting area today, drinking my cucumber water and flipping through a Bazaar magazine I realized that everything has gotten easier because babies get easier. Or maybe it’s just that I figured out what I was doing (and figured out that it is best not to bring Ivar to my hair appointments). But as the baby grows up there are so many helpful changes that just make life more doable. Huge milestones changed the way I planned my day to day. Suddenly Ivar could go for much longer between feedings and then he started eating cereal which seems to really stick to his ribs. He also can sit up on his own so that I can leave him in his crib playing with toys or on a blanket on our bedroom floor and he can entertain himself while I do my own thing. Now every baby is different, but I still don’t think I realized that this season was ahead when he was just a tiny peanut with skinny legs. (I know he'll be mobile soon. Don't rain on my parade...)
More than anything, just know that it goes so stinking fast. I can’t believe he is already 8 months and I can’t believe his thighs have tripled in size. Eventually you will begin to relax more and enjoy better, quality sleep. Eventually you will start to feel qualified to take a trip to Target and not end up in tears crying with your baby by the time you get back to your car. Eventually your little babe will affirm you with the sweetest thank-you you’ve ever heard, crying “MMMmmmmm” when he wants you. And only you will do, because you’re the one who gets up at night, runs back in the house for the umpteenth time to grab the diaper bag, ends up as soaking wet as the baby you are bathing in the sink, finds poop on your knuckles hours after you changed that diaper, and walks in endless circles while bouncing and singing.
You can do it. You’re the mama.
3 comments:
And, you can be grateful that YOU were not the one who fell asleep as you nursed Ivar on the toilet. :-)
Very well said:) It's funny how you tend to remember all the sweet and good moments and the frustrating moments seem to fade with time. I can tell you with the second one, you think about things differently...this being after four days of having the second one:) I'm anticipating every little thing she does and don't want to miss anything.
Reading this reminded me of when you stopped over when Jasper was really little and Ivar was about 5 months old. We sat on the couch nursing and you watched me wince as Jasper latched on. Then you assured me that it would stop hurting, as if you had completely forgotten that pain until you saw my face and the little 8 pounder on me. That gave me hope back then.
And now Jasper is 5 months himself and you're so right - every month is different. And better. Yahoo!
Wanna play soon?
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