Two Months with Danger
It's crazy to think that it has been two months since this wonderful day:
Our little nugget isn't that little anymore! He is growing from an infant to a little boy right before my eyes.
Everything is exactly as I had pictured it, and nothing like I pictured it. Danger is a wonderful boy, and we are so blessed by him everyday. He's big (90th percentile for length), healthy, and only cries when something is bothering him. He was the most handsome, beautiful newborn I had ever seen, and he continues to amaze me with how perfect he is. Yes, I know I'm biased, but that fact doesn't make him any less wonderful to me.
I supposed what surprises me the most is how stressed and calm I can be at the same time. It makes no sense, and yet I have achieved expert levels of both in the past three months. The last month of pregnancy was definitely my least favorite month. I was constantly uncomfortable, I never slept, I had a lot to finish at work before maternity leave, and I was starving all the time- not to mention Danger loved to river dance on my bladder! Somehow, though, I so calmly worked through my entire to-do list... so much so that I ran out of things to do! For the last week I went between being bored enough to watch hours of television and making day-to-day plans with my mom and/or my husband. I couldn't have been anymore antsy/uncomfortable/anxious, and yet I couldn't have been more at peace about having a baby. I'll go into more detail in a string of pregnancy posts, but it can be summed up that I was incredibly stressed and incredibly calm at the same time.
Labor was labor. Exactly what I expected, easier than expected, and harder than expected. I internalize pain, and barely make any noise. Usually this confuses my husband, who will find me crouched over silently, not knowing if I stubbed a toe or cut a finger off. I just can't make noise when I'm in pain. Now picture me in labor. (I take that back- DON'T picture me in labor. Just picture me as an "8" on the pain scale.) With every contraction I would close my eyes, though the nurse told me to keep them open, hold my breath, though the nurse told me to breath, and make barely any noise. I almost got sent home because they didn't think I was in labor. I declined- I knew the baby was coming.
They gave me the smallest dose of pitocin they could- my pain immediately jumped up to 10 (or 100, or whatever the highest pain possible is) and the contractions were seconds apart. They immediately stopped the pitocin. They made the mistake of trying this again a little bit later. Lo and behold I really was in labor, and didn't really need the pitocin. After that second dose I started pushing without telling the nurse. Oops! Out comes Danger! (It didn't actually happen that fast- the doctor did get there for the last two pushes... though she almost missed it.)
Apparently my noiseless, drugless, don't-know-the-gender labor was the talk of the ward. Nurses kept popping in my room, and when Danger was finally snuggled on my chest and I opened my eyes, there were at least six pairs of scrubs in the room. Mind you, I did not have my glasses on, so I had no idea who all those people were. Coincidentally, not having my glasses on made for a funny mom-doesn't-know-the-gender-and-nobody-will-tell-her story. I had to ask my husband at least three times before I knew I had a little boy! He was actually a big boy, and the nurses were antsy to weigh him. I made them wait. They wanted to know his name! I made them wait. I made everybody wait! I'm sure our parents loved that. But I had my sweet boy, and my wonderful husband, and we had two hours alone as a family. A perfect little family.
Breastfeeding was hard. I'm not even going to go into it- that's for another post... but I knew I wanted to stick with it, and so I did. It's not that hard anymore!
In the first two months Danger has learned to cry, smile, and hold my finger. He looks around all the time and prefers to always hold his head up. He smiles in the morning for Daddy and calms down in the evenings for Mama. He still stretches for a long time after a nap, and is relearning how to stay asleep. He has survived his first move, his first (and tenth) projectile vomit, his first party, and a parade of people holding him and occasionally poking him.
These two months have been wonderfully crazy, and there's always poop on something, but I love it. I love being a Mama and I love Danger.
In fact, I'm going to go snuggle him now before he turns into a teenager.
Our little nugget isn't that little anymore! He is growing from an infant to a little boy right before my eyes.
Everything is exactly as I had pictured it, and nothing like I pictured it. Danger is a wonderful boy, and we are so blessed by him everyday. He's big (90th percentile for length), healthy, and only cries when something is bothering him. He was the most handsome, beautiful newborn I had ever seen, and he continues to amaze me with how perfect he is. Yes, I know I'm biased, but that fact doesn't make him any less wonderful to me.
I supposed what surprises me the most is how stressed and calm I can be at the same time. It makes no sense, and yet I have achieved expert levels of both in the past three months. The last month of pregnancy was definitely my least favorite month. I was constantly uncomfortable, I never slept, I had a lot to finish at work before maternity leave, and I was starving all the time- not to mention Danger loved to river dance on my bladder! Somehow, though, I so calmly worked through my entire to-do list... so much so that I ran out of things to do! For the last week I went between being bored enough to watch hours of television and making day-to-day plans with my mom and/or my husband. I couldn't have been anymore antsy/uncomfortable/anxious, and yet I couldn't have been more at peace about having a baby. I'll go into more detail in a string of pregnancy posts, but it can be summed up that I was incredibly stressed and incredibly calm at the same time.
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| Coming home from the hospital |
Labor was labor. Exactly what I expected, easier than expected, and harder than expected. I internalize pain, and barely make any noise. Usually this confuses my husband, who will find me crouched over silently, not knowing if I stubbed a toe or cut a finger off. I just can't make noise when I'm in pain. Now picture me in labor. (I take that back- DON'T picture me in labor. Just picture me as an "8" on the pain scale.) With every contraction I would close my eyes, though the nurse told me to keep them open, hold my breath, though the nurse told me to breath, and make barely any noise. I almost got sent home because they didn't think I was in labor. I declined- I knew the baby was coming.
They gave me the smallest dose of pitocin they could- my pain immediately jumped up to 10 (or 100, or whatever the highest pain possible is) and the contractions were seconds apart. They immediately stopped the pitocin. They made the mistake of trying this again a little bit later. Lo and behold I really was in labor, and didn't really need the pitocin. After that second dose I started pushing without telling the nurse. Oops! Out comes Danger! (It didn't actually happen that fast- the doctor did get there for the last two pushes... though she almost missed it.)
Apparently my noiseless, drugless, don't-know-the-gender labor was the talk of the ward. Nurses kept popping in my room, and when Danger was finally snuggled on my chest and I opened my eyes, there were at least six pairs of scrubs in the room. Mind you, I did not have my glasses on, so I had no idea who all those people were. Coincidentally, not having my glasses on made for a funny mom-doesn't-know-the-gender-and-nobody-will-tell-her story. I had to ask my husband at least three times before I knew I had a little boy! He was actually a big boy, and the nurses were antsy to weigh him. I made them wait. They wanted to know his name! I made them wait. I made everybody wait! I'm sure our parents loved that. But I had my sweet boy, and my wonderful husband, and we had two hours alone as a family. A perfect little family.
Breastfeeding was hard. I'm not even going to go into it- that's for another post... but I knew I wanted to stick with it, and so I did. It's not that hard anymore!
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| One month old |
These two months have been wonderfully crazy, and there's always poop on something, but I love it. I love being a Mama and I love Danger.
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| 2 months old |
In fact, I'm going to go snuggle him now before he turns into a teenager.
So sweet!
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