So, if you're having a baby and you've never had a baby before and you get home from the hospital and lock yourself in the bathroom at one point (or, hey, at perhaps 27 points) because you cannot understand why on earth you decided to do this, to invite a screaming, needy, ridiculously small thing in DIAPERS into your home (and into your used-to-be-normal sleep schedule), I have only this to say: give it two weeks. Two weeks is going to feel like an eternity when you're in that locked bathroom, I KNOW, but you'll get there. You'll slowly and painfully make it through those first 14 days, and then you'll somehow surpass those 14 days and things will be so much brighter and easier and lovelier on the other side. Things won't be perfect -- can't offer you that nugget of hope, sorry -- but in comparison to those first few nights, you will feel so good and so powerful at the two-week mark that you will actually understand why people have more than one child.
Kyle is in his third week now, and we're settling into a routine and a schedule (albeit a schedule he regularly offers his middle finger to) and we're (finally!) starting to figure him out. We've figured out that he would much rather lay on his dad's chest than anywhere else, and he gets irritated if we tightly swaddle him, which prevents him from sleeping with his hands where he prefers them: draped across his face. He is constantly looking around suspiciously as if he's trying to work out his thoughts on this world and how he feels about being forced to live in it. He hates the changing table and hates having a bath, but he gives in after a minute or two and stops screaming. He can lay in his bassinet for up to an hour, wide awake, before he gets angry and begins crying for someone to Do Something. He has never once cried in the car seat or car, and something tells me we may find ourselves driving around the neighborhood at 4 a.m. He is still so tiny -- so much tinier than we ever expected, which makes me want to hunt down every person who told me he was going to be GIGANTIC and force them to buy us a few newborn articles of clothing -- and we have an entire dresser full of washed clothes that he can't fit into yet. He already seems to have the personality of his father, which does not shock me ONE BIT because this is a child who spent all nine months in the womb making me sick one way or another. Oh, and his full head of dark hair seems to be lightening up a wee bit, as in, SEEMS TO BE TURNING A SLIGHT SHADE OF RED. This may be me wishfully thinking, but let's all go ahead and cross our fingers, OK?
I'm sure you do not care even a little tiny bit that nursing is going much better for me, as well, but look at that, I went ahead and told you anyway. I have graduated from spending the entire half hour in the rocking chair to hanging out on the couch with him while I watch "Friday Night Lights." I've already inhaled a season and a half, and I could kick myself for AGAIN finding a little-watched show too late, knowing that it will probably be canceled just as soon as I've caught up and then I'll be forced to watch fan videos on YouTube until I find another show to become obsessed with. This is what happened with "Veronica Mars" and so, help me out here, are there are any other shows I should begin immediately watching?
We've been lucky enough to have a steady stream of people in our house, bringing us meals and doing our dishes and just offering us support. It's great to have so many people love our son already, and Mike and I have even been able to get out of the house on our own more than once because of all the people who are so eagerly willing to watch our screaming, particular, adorable child.
Now that I've returned to the land of Feeling Somewhat Normal, I plan to start returning emails and phone calls and finishing up our thank you cards and sending out birth announcements and, yes, blogging regularly as well. And, fine, perhaps showering every day instead of whenever the smell becomes noticeable.
Two weeks. It's made all the difference.