Timing is everything!

Survived a trip to the mall with the baby!  It was a miracle. I was so relieved. After a few nightmarish shopping excursions where she screamed bloody murder the entire time, I was understandably nervous about the prospect of going through the mall with her. I couldn't avoid it forever. I needed to return something and I also wanted to pick up "What to Expect - The First Year" at Chapters. (I had read "What to Expect When You're Expecting" while I was pregnant and although a lot of it stressed me out, it was good to have a guide that was so thorough it covered everything that could possibly happen at each stage so that I was prepared. I figured I might as well have something to guide me through babydom. Babies don't come with a manual but they really should!) Michelle was starting to fuss as I put her in the car but she fell asleep during the ride and when I put the seat into the stroller and started to move, she was good to go. Thankfully she stayed asleep the entire time. I was crossing my fingers as I headed through the mall repeating a mantra in my head "Please be good. Please stay asleep!" Of course, on this occasion the timing had been just right. She had been fed so she wasn't hungry and just as I had put her in her carseat about to leave the house I could hear gurgling down below so I took her out and changed her. It had been a really big orange poop. It was a nuisance having to take her out of the seat and start from scratch again but it was a huge blessing that the big poo happened while we were still home. I'd seen how she reacted to pooing when we were out and it got really ugly. She screamed until she was purple and the poo seemed to implode under the carseat harness. So if I can time my outings for after the baby is fed, warm and dry and clean, she can sleep happily while we're out. Unfortunately it's not always so easy to time things. I never know exactly when she's going to poo. Every day is a little different. You can never be sure. Sometimes it sounds like she's going but it's just gas. I am noticing patterns though. She does tend to have her biggest poops early in the day. But she feeds and poos almost non-stop all day long except for a few minutes here and there when she sleeps. My friend convinced me to start using the diaper cake (it was so pretty I was trying to save it but she said I better use the newborn diapers while they still fit. They are pretty snug now. She's basically a size 1 diaper already. She's in 0-3 month clothes and even fits some 3 month old ones) and I've gone through the first two layers in under a week!

I have taken her out for walks in the stroller a few times now. She seems to like it. It's good for me to get out too. Being cooped up all the time can make you a little stir crazy. It feels good to get some exercise and fresh air. When I check on her in the little window built into the stroller she's usually wide awake. She seems fascinated by the experience. I'm not sure whether it's the bumpiness or the play of light and shadow that she likes the most. They have baby swings but they almost need to invent a baby bumpy ride that simulates a stroller, or a car. I've heard they like the dryer too. Apparently she loves the sound of the vacuum cleaner as well. I had her in my left arm while I vacuumed with the right today and she fell asleep. Housework is a real workout now that I have her! She often doesn't nap long enough for me to do things without her. So I just have to try to "octopus" it and do everything with her in my arms. At least when she's able to hold her head up I can start putting her in the "Snugli" carrier and carry her like a kangaroo while I hop around to do everything.

I've started reading "What to Expect" and I was happy to learn that the reason babies sleep better on formula (while I was supplementing her with formula in those early days, as instructed by the breastfeeding clinic Michelle did seem to sleep a bit more. Sometimes for three or four hours at a time) is that they can't digest cow's milk that easily so it stays in their system longer and makes them feel full. Breastmilk is so easy to digest that it goes right through them so they are hungry more often (which explains the frequent feedings and the endless stream of pooed diapers -- about 5 a day. Not to mention the peed ones too.) I like to have a book where I can find the facts instead of relying on confusing and contradictory advice from well-meaning friends and family. For a while there I was starting to get discouraged. It felt like everyone was a critic and telling me what I was doing wrong. "My baby didn't poo that much...Maybe you're overfeeding her." "Maybe she's lactose intolerant." "Maybe she's malnourished because you're not eating enough protein. You should be frying steaks." "My baby slept all the time as a newborn." It was getting to the point where I didn't want to talk to anyone because they were making me feel worse! I was already feeling pretty vulnerable from over-exhaustion. I know that they were only trying to help but it felt like they were finding fault which wasn't what I needed when I was already feeling depleted and discouraged and trying to do all the right things. I was starting to get defensive. I eat plenty of fruits and vegetables, drink a lot of milk and have some meat but the baby limits what and how much I can eat. She doesn't always give me time to cook anything. I have to grab things that I can gobble in a couple of minutes. I'm on my own. I don't have a partner that can cook or watch the baby while I cook. Sometimes I'm starving, I think Michelle is finally asleep so I run to nuke a frozen dinner and she starts to scream before I even get to take the first bite. So I try to cradle her in one arm and eat with the other. But if she continues to cry, I end up leaving my meal to change/feed her. Breastfeeding takes so much out of me physically and it's not always easy to feed myself so I wind up weak and exhausted. But I don't need people telling me that I'm a bad mother for not eating when I'm trying to be a good mother by putting the baby's needs before my own. When she screamed in the grocery store one time as I threw things in the cart I was saying "Mama needs to eat too baby or Mama will die!" I didn't even care about the people around me staring. Welcome to my Breakdown people! I hope I never have a shopping trip like that again. It almost seems like any time I try to get food for myself (either buying it, cooking it or eating it) my baby will start to cry as though she just can't let me eat! She's the best diet on Earth! Sucks 500 calories or more out of me and doesn't even let me take that much in!

Mom is a worrier and always has something negative to say about something. I don't even watch the news because it just brings me down but I always get to hear about things from Mom. (Though I often wonder if she's getting the story right!) My mother can't resist calling to tell me the latest thing she heard/read on the news. She called frantically that the "Bumbo" chairs had been recalled. They've been around forever. I'm sure they're fine. I guess some people were putting them on tables or something. That's just silly. I would wait until she's old enough first of all. I would certainly keep an eye on the baby if she was in the chair and I wouldn't put it up on anything. Mom also called one day to say that "Eggs are as bad for you as cigarettes." Apparently some report she'd heard on TV. That's ridiculous. I thought that eggs were a healthy source of protein. I know they have cholesterol but come on. One day something is good for you and the next day it's bad. Mom shouldn't be allowed to watch the news. It's all doom and gloom and fear mongering. The worst thing possible for a chronic worrier like my Mom. I try to limit my worries. These days I just don't have time anyway. My biggest concern is the baby crying. Everything else in the world will have to wait!

People like to tell you how things should be. People without kids will tell you what they think or heard from other people or read. People with kids will tell you what their kids were like or what they did in their day (which may have been several decades ago and may have been dead wrong -- for instance they used to say not to feed more often than every four hours and put your baby to sleep on her stomach. That's the opposite of what they say now.) Even people who have had babies recently may not necessarily understand what you're going through. The problem is that each baby is different. Just as no two labours are alike (I heard so many vastly different stories and my own wound up being nothing like any of them. You really don't know what your own experience will be until you have it.) no two babies are alike. Some people have babies that never cry and sleep through the night right from the beginning. Others have fussy babies that cry a lot and rarely sleep. I had some people tell me I have to feed every few hours and that I should wake the baby to feed if she doesn't get up on her own. Others told me never wake a sleeping baby. It's hard to know what to believe. I just let Michelle call the shots. I figure she knows better than anyone when she's hungry. When she cries, I do the checks. If her diaper is dirty (and 9 times out of 10, it is!) I change her. Then if she still cries, I assume she's hungry and try feeding her. She usually nurses voraciously so she was obviously hungry. When all her other needs have been met, if she still cries I assume she's tired and needs to nap so I entertain her by carrying her, singing to her, rocking her, putting her in her swing, going for a walk or a drive, or sometimes just letting her lay on my chest for two hours (she was quite content while I watched my show, even though my chest was hurting I didn't want to disturb her. Sometimes she cries as soon as I put her down so I just let her lean on me as long as she's happy.) She is demanding. Sometimes it's exhausting meeting her demands, but I do it. It makes me happy when I'm able to stop her tears. What gets frustrating is when she'll cry after all of my efforts and I don't know what's wrong. I'll ask her "What's wrong?!" (As if she's suddenly going to be able to speak and tell me!) When all else fails, I've found that making a strange noise, especially a loud shushing sound seems to quiet her. It probably just distracts her so she forgets that she was crying. I've tried playing with her, introducing toys to her but it's probably too soon. I'm not even sure how much they can see at this point.

My Mom and sister came over for a visit and Michelle was thankfully pretty good, though she is high maintenance. When she's not being fed and changed she likes to be constantly entertained. You can't dare to put her down for a moment or she'll cry. It was a treat to have my Mom hold her and walk around with her for a bit to give me a break while I grabbed a bite to eat. Mom said that the baby looks like me and seems to have my temperament (God help me!) I was a real handfull and now I suppose I'm getting my payback for what I put my mother through. Sorry Mom. I had no idea! Thank you for everything that you endured to have me and raise me. I may not have fully appreciated it until now. You always said "You'll never understand until you have kids of your own!" I never expected to have my own children. Now here I am with a baby (biggest surprise of my life!) and I finally understand what it's like -- how much love, how much stress, how much sacrifice and work children really are.

I was hoping she'd take after me and not her father (who as most of you know has been M.I.A. since February. Good riddance.) Then again he was even more high maintenance than I was. M was as needy as a baby, never gave me a moment's peace or privacy, not even to go to the bathroom (don't ask!), was a voracious eater, would barely let me eat anything (sometimes literally took the food out of my hand)...Oh dear, come to think of it maybe she did get a couple of things from Dad. Sometimes she seems to be giving the finger too (see photo!) It was something my ex did often, especially for pictures. Yeah, he was a charmer! I'm sure it's just coincidence with Michelle though. My Mom said Michelle's hair seems to be a little more blonde than strawberry now. I was born platinum blonde and turned auburn later. Could she be doing the reverse? I guess we'll have to wait and see. Her eyes are denim blue at this point but I've heard that they can change as well. Of course both M and I had blue eyes so there's a good chance they'll stay.

Mom carried the baby around, singing to her, bouncing her, keeping her amused until her arms were aching. She said I was the same way as a baby. I wanted constant attention. I wouldn't let her put me down all day long. I also screamed all night and wouldn't sleep. At least thank Heaven, Michelle doesn't do that. She's actually started sleeping pretty well at night at least (a few hours anyway). Knock on wood.

I couldn't resist trying her little shades on her. I'd gotten them several months ago and thought they were adorable. They seemed so small but look big on her. She looks like she could be a baby Elton John! We didn't really get to hit the beach this year but there's always next year. Maybe by then I'll be bikini ready though even if I manage to lose my mommy tummy I don't know if the stretch marks will fade. I'm hoping. I'm still using the stretch mark cream that I got months ago. It doesn't seem to do much aside from smell like cookies. There's cocoa in it or something. Can they invent something that makes stretch marks vanish? Please? Although my appearance is not as important to me these days I look back at photos of me from last summer and want to cry. I worked so hard to get to my goal weight/shape having no idea that I was going to fall in love and shockingly wind up pregnant in the Fall. Still, Michelle is worth the stretch marks (and the stress and sleeplessness). I just hope she appreciates it. Someday if she's giving me a hard time (in her teens for example) I may break out some of those old bikini photos and then show her my stretched out belly. The Mom guilt! My mother certainly used it on me. I guess I'll probably resort to it someday with my daughter.

Time isn't always on my side these days. It seems it rarely is. The baby will fall asleep and I'll rush to get something done only to have her wake at the worst possible moment. One day I had just finished bathing her because she'd had a really messy poo. I had her upstairs, in her towel, about to put on her lotion when she pooed on the towel! I wasn't about to bathe her all over again. Luckily it didn't go too far. A couple of times she's peed while I'm changing her and wet the clean outfit and blanket I had just put on her. At least being a girl she doesn't spray up when she pees (I've heard some nightmare stories about changing baby boys!) Or she'll wake up and start screaming in a crowded grocery store. Or she'll poo through her cutest little dresses. But sometimes I get lucky, the stars align, baby is good, all goes well and it's such a treat. I wish every day could be like that. Baby Michelle would sleep soundly and I'd get everything done. She'd wake up refreshed and happy and never cry. But she's a baby. She's like the weather. Unpredictable. Uncontrollable. You never know what you're going to get. (Though while I'm on the subject I am so grateful for the beautiful weather we've had in August. I was worried it would be too humid when I got back home with no A/C but it's been perfect.)

For a recovering control freak like me it can be hard to surrender control to a small human. You can't reason with her. She wants what she wants when she wants it and you better figure it out because she doesn't speak English yet! Stupidly I always ask her anyway "What is it love? What's wrong? Are you hungry? Do you need to be changed? What is it?" I thought she would have different cries for different things but so far it's the same plaintive "Waaaaa" whether she's hungry, or dirty, or tired, or just needs to be cuddled. So you try each one and figure it out by the process of elimination. It does feel good when you get it right and she stops crying. It's beyond frustrating when you get it wrong and you can't figure out what she's on about. "But you're clean, you're full, you have no complaint! Everything is good! I don't get it!" Those are the "I'm just bored, entertain me" cries. That's when the vacuum cleaner, the stroller, the car, white noise, motion etc come in handy.

One night she kept falling asleep while nursing but each time I tried to put her down she'd wake up minutes later and scream. My favourite show was coming on and I didn't want to miss it. She fell asleep on my chest and seemed quite content. I let her sleep there. It was easier than disturbing her and having her scream. So I let her stay that way through the entire show. My chest was aching and my arm was numb by the end of it but at least she stayed quiet and content.

It must be scary for a baby. They were safe in their little watery world and then suddenly they're yanked out into this strange place (yanked out with a plunger and tongs as well as doctor's hands in my case. It was a rough labour for both of us!) They don't know where they are or what's going on. They don't know if their needs will be met. When they awaken alone, it must be frightening. They were attached to you for so long, they need to feel that connection. Lying on my chest she hears my heartbeat. She knows I'm her Mama and that she's safe. If she's alone to sleep then she doesn't know where I am. I hope that she will realize I always come back to her, that she can feel secure no matter what. I will always be there to meet her needs. I'm never far away. I know that my sister's kids are still so connected to her and don't like to be apart from her (even at 2 years and 10 years.) You see the panic in his face when my nephew realizes Mama isn't there, even for a few moments. It's overwhelming, but at the same time it's an incredible feeling to know that you're so loved, so needed. You are your child's world.

I am Michelle's world. And I will try to make it as happy as I can. I just hope she cuts me a little slack because I am new to this and I am on my own trying to do everything. There's no one else to put out the garbage, do the shopping and everything else. She has definitely challenged me in a way that no one and nothing ever has. Maybe it was what I needed to make me stronger. We've both been through a lot in the first few weeks. We've survived and we're doing pretty well. Maybe the hardest part is behind us and it'll be easier from here on out. Sure. As a stranger told me in line at the drug store (during another one of Michelle's screaming fits) "Yes this is the hardest stage. At least until she hits her teens..." But that's way way off...

The Mad Dash

I used to be a bit of a procrastinator. There isn't time now. I have a very small window of opportunity between feedings, changings and other assorted screamings. Anything that needs to be done has to be done NOW and quickly. I used to leave dishes to sit in the sink. Now they're loaded in the dishwasher immediately. I'm doing laundry every day now. Sometimes I have the luxury of running around to get things done while Michelle is asleep. Other days I have to do things while carrying her which is much more of a challenge. Sometimes I wish I could grow extra arms. Trying to eat cereal without dropping milk on her head. Answering the phone, doing housework. The hardest was loading the washing machine. Hard to reach in with her in my other arm. So you hope she falls asleep for a few moments and then you put her down and make a mad dash to get everything done.

Certain things I dreaded like putting the garbage out, I now realize can be done in under 5 minutes. You just run around as quickly as you can and get it over with. The baby has forced me to be fast and efficient because otherwise nothing would get done. And there's no one else to do it so I don't have a choice!

I never know when she nods off whether I'll have 10 minutes, or if I'm really lucky, an hour or more to get things accomplished. So I basically have to get everything done in 10 minutes or less, just in case. I've become quite adept at dashing through most things. It's a whole new sort of multi-tasking. Sometimes I get lucky and she gives me a reprieve. One night I actually got to take a BUBBLE BATH!!! This is like winning the lottery. I always loved bubble baths by candlelight. They were one of the few things that relaxed me while I was pregnant. When the baby was asleep I thought, I could eat something (I've lost 35 lbs already, without exercise other than a couple of walks because breastfeeding burns 500 calories and I'm lucky if I have time to consume 1000 calories a day) because I am pretty hungry, I could grab some sleep because I'm beyond exhausted, but what my soul really yearned for was a bubble bath. After delivering a more than 9 lb baby, obviously my body has been through a lot. I have been pretty sore "down there" after the episiotomy. I thought the bath would be soothing (it was HEAVEN) for body and soul. I knew that if worse came to worst, I'd just step in and baby would scream and that would be the end of it, in which case I'd just drain the water and walk away. But I said a little prayer for peace and she complied. I got to lay in the soothing bubbles for almost half an hour! It was a luxury I thought I'd never experience again.

And I needed soothing after my ordeal the day before...

The day started out well. I took Michelle to the doctor. She did start to fuss in the office but I managed to pacify her with a bottle of my pumped breast milk (I really don't feel comfortable breastfeeding in public so I have a bottle ready when I know I'll be out.) When the doctor checked her out she said Michelle is very healthy and she weighs 9 lbs 12 ounces now! It feels so good to know that she's eating well (as if the constant diaper changes weren't evidence enough!) and that I'm producing enough milk. I actually leak sometimes now and my breasts become engorged. Sometimes I pump the milk for extra relief but I've been told that that's like putting out a fire with gasoline because it's supply and demand, so the more I pump, the more my body will produce. In any event, after my first stressful week wondering if my milk would ever come in, I'm just happy that my cups runneth over!

The day took a dark turn when my Mom (who I'd been visiting after the doctor) suggested we run up to the store so she could buy a lottery ticket. I needed garbage bags anyway (and it was garbage night that night) so I thought what the heck. Baby seemed to be safely napping in the carseat. Of course you never know how long she'll stay asleep and when she may wake up screaming. I'd already experienced her screaming tantrums in a grocery store before and I sure didn't want another ugly episode. So Mom runs into the store and leaves me to haul the carseat into a cart myself. Fine. She's just trying to be quick. I go in and am pleased they actually sell blue bags there. I grab a couple more things quickly. Baby is still quiet. So far so good. Five minutes later, I'm ready to motor. I line up at the cash. That's when it all falls apart. Baby Michelle likes being on the move. As long as she's in a moving car, cart or stroller, she's soothed, entertained, lulled to sleep. When the motion stops, she goes ballistic. So as I'm trying to pay, she begins screaming like a banshee. "Dear God," I think, "not again." The line-up scream. I was sure the entire store, including my mother, would hear her. It's hard to miss a newborn having a meltdown. I couldn't get out of the store fast enough. I get to the car. Mom isn't there but is no doubt on her way. She was just buying a lottery ticket after all and she knows I have the baby (Mom was notorious for leaving you waiting when you would take her shopping, but surely she wouldn't do that now that I have a baby.) I start the car, hoping Mom will be here any second. She wasn't. The baby is still howling like a demon. I decide to circle the parking lot. Maybe if the car is in motion, she'll calm down. I kept passing the grocery store hoping Mom would be out any second. She wasn't. People exited. None of them her. I finally parked in front of the doors and started honking. I was about to run into the store screaming her name and thought better of it. How could she be so inconsiderate?! The baby was beside herself (almost purple now from screaming.) I was getting more stressed and more livid by the second. I circled around the parking lot again and almost got into an accident with some idiot pulling out too quickly and not looking. This was ridiculous.

You know how there are football minutes and dog years? I think there should be "baby screaming minutes." A minute with a screaming baby feels like 10 minutes. Ten minutes with a screaming baby feels like an hour. An hour with a screaming baby feels like a year. Enough was enough. I had endured at least 15 minutes of this Hell (it felt like 2 hours) and I was ready to kill someone. Namely my mother!

I pulled up in front of the store again and tried to look through the glass to see if I could see her cashing out at least. What on earth was she doing? I wanted to just leave her there. A delivery person with a pallet gave me a look. I pulled ahead to get out of his way. Then I saw an employee bringing a bunch of carts into the store. I asked him if he would please have someone page my mother. I gave him her name and said tell her to come out right now or I'm leaving, I have a newborn baby screaming and I can't wait for her anymore. He nodded but apparently completely ignored my request, went into the store and did nothing. I finally saw my mother at a cash register. I was FURIOUS. So when she got to the car, I was screaming. She screamed that she had been looking for me (Why wouldn't you go to the car?! As if I want to hang around inside a store with a screaming baby!!!) The parcels in her arms proved she'd gotten more than a lottery ticket. We yelled at each other for a bit. The baby finally stopped screaming (I guess she figured she couldn't compete with us) and fell asleep. After fighting with my mother I dropped her off and said I'm never taking her anywhere again.

She left a message on my machine that she was sorry for the misunderstanding. She had been looking for me in the store. Next time, run to the car!!!

Baby can scream. She screams when she's hungry (which is almost constantly for my voracious little vampire). She screams when she's dirty (eating constantly means she poos constantly too). She screams when she's tired. Which is most of the time because she doesn't get much sleep. It's tough. My Mom always told me that I screamed the whole first year. That I wouldn't sleep, wouldn't let her put me down all day long. I was moody, demanding and high maintenance. So I guess this is karma that I wind up with a little girl just as difficult as I was. My mother said that the trade-off was that I was brilliant. I was very advanced for my age. Walking, talking and potty-trained all well under a year. She said I was a "firecracker" because I was born on "firecracker day" (aka Victoria Day) and because of my red hair. Redheads can be moody. I'm the first to admit it. Now I have a little one on my hands. She's a real Drama Queen!

People ask me what's a good day/time to do things and I don't know how to answer. I don't know with the baby. I can't plan my day out and know how it will go. She calls the shots. She might sleep for a few minutes or (by some miracle occasionally) a few hours. But you race to do whatever you can as fast as you can while you can. And you hope that she doesn't scream. Especially when you're out in public. But so far she has made a scene almost every time we've gone out.

I went to the grocery store today because I was nearly out of milk. She screamed the entire time I was in the store. I had never moved so fast. I threw things in the cart. I threw them on the belt at the cash register. I was stressed beyond belief. Then there was the time she screamed at the drive thru so that they couldn't even hear me. She was screaming so much I thought I'd better check on her so I parked and went to the backseat to see if she'd had an exploding poo or something. Next thing I knew there was a hornet in the car. Great. So now I have a screaming baby and a hornet to deal with. Luckily he moved along when I opened the window. I guess he couldn't stand the screaming either.

It's hard to do anything now. Sometimes I get lucky and get an hour to myself. Other times baby won't even give me five minutes.

My friend came to visit (and brought pizza and lava cakes God bless her soul! Visitors Welcome! Please bring food! Mama is starving!) last night. I had to feed Michelle almost the whole time. And then there were the diaper changes. Then there were just the screams of overtiredness. My friend got to see the kind of stress I deal with on a daily basis. She suggested I try bottle feeding so I'm not so depleted breastfeeding all day, try a soother to quiet the baby. I am committed to breastfeeding and I don't believe in soothers (to me it's just sticking a plug in the baby's mouth and it may confuse her, interfere with her feeding.) She was thinking of my best interests. But I can only think of the baby's. Even if she's killing me. Sometimes I think I'll lose my mind.

The baby is all that matters. Some people say "Just let her cry." I can't. They say I'm spoiling her. I don't care. She is innocent, helpless. She needs me. I can't let her think that the world is a cruel place and her needs won't be met. I have to comfort her, reassure her, make her happy. Even if it destroys me in the process. That's my job as a Mom. To put her first.

I really had no clue what it was going to be like. My life has changed beyond recognition. I used to need 10 hours' sleep to function as a human. I never get anywhere close to that now. I'm lucky if I get 3. I remember before I had the baby that I told someone I would just sleep when the baby slept. It seemed to make sense at the time. I actually did grab a cat nap for a bit with her once but usually when the baby sleeps is when I have to do everything else. Laundry, cleaning, dishes, grabbing a bite, running to the bathroom, or when I'm really lucky, doing a bit of writing. I knew that the baby would consume most of my time but I didn't fully understand how completely she would take over my life. I thought that it was so difficult being pregnant. Now I see how easy I actually had it. I think about the days when I was able to go back to bed and sleep until the afternoon. Now I'm lucky if I get 3 hours' sleep in a day. Sometimes you don't know how you survive. But you do. You have a really bad day and then the next day is pretty good.

Sometimes I do feel depleted. The baby takes so much out of me emotionally and physically. On the positive side, breastfeeding and carrying around a nearly 10 lb baby has proven to be a good workout. I've lost over 35 lbs already. Just another 25 to go. My doctor cautioned me to be careful though. If I don't eat enough I may become very weak. I have had a couple of near fainting spells from lack of food and sleep. The baby literally is sucking the life out of me! She feeds on me all day and then doesn't let me eat or go to the store to buy food! 

There are good days. One day I went for a walk with Michelle in the stroller. It was a beautiful day, not too warm and with a slight breeze. She didn't start to fuss until I got home. It felt good to get out. Sometimes you can feel isolated when you're locked away feeding and changing and caring for a baby. Some days I wasn't able to get out of my pj's. A friend popped by unexpectedly and I answered the door with a zombie face and a milk-stained nightgown. Some days I just don't care. Vanity has gone out the window. There just isn't time. Sometimes I think maybe things are getting easier. Maybe baby is settling into more of a routine. Then I'll have another stressful nightmare day and I think I'm having a nervous breakdown (how can you tell if you are? Just out of curiosity...)

And just when I think I'm losing my mind and I can't take this anymore, the baby will be calm and angelic for a few moments. She'll look up at me with these curious big blue eyes and I love her so much that I know I can go through anything for her. She drives me crazy but I adore her. I look into her eyes and I melt. She smiles and it is the highlight of my life. Several times she has looked right into my eyes and smiled when I said "I love you!" or "Where's your smile?" Or she makes this little cooing noise. Just the thought of her being able to talk, to say "Mama" one day makes me tear up. It is worth it. If this is what I have to go through then so be it. Yes some days I feel like I'm going to crack when she's screaming and I feel like I'm going to collapse. I start to cry from a mixture of exhaustion, frustration and hormones. But somehow I survive it. I have to. And at least I'm always able to comfort her, eventually. Once I figure out what is wrong I can fix it. She's hungry and I feed her. She's wet/dirty and I change her. She's bored/tired and I entertain her/lull her to sleep by rocking, walking, dancing, singing, making strange noises, taking her for a drive, doing whatever I need to do!

When she is at peace, the world is a beautiful place. I watch her sleep and she is my little angel. I'm so grateful for those heavenly moments. They make up for the moments of sheer hell! I just wish she could be happy all the time. I can't bear to hear her cry.

Some people don't have it so hard. I met someone with such a quiet baby, she never seems to cry. She slept through the night right from the beginning. Other people tried to tell me newborns were so easy. They sleep most of the time. I guess it's luck of the draw. Just as no two pregnancies or labour stories are the same, no two babies are the same. No one can tell you what experience you're going to have.

She is an individual. There has never been another baby like her. I am blessed to have her. Even when it's not easy. Even when it's the hardest job in the world.

Writing about it helps somehow. Writing has always been a form of therapy for me. A way of sorting out my life, my feelings. I didn't know how I'd keep up with this blog. It's different now. I just type my thoughts when I have a moment, save it as a draft and post it when it's done. I don't have time to painstakingly proofread and edit anymore. I can't afford to be picky. I won't be able to write as often or as much as I did before but I can still share my thoughts and experiences. And I need to. Writing, like the bubble bath, is something I need, for me, to nurture my soul.

I'm a Mommy now and 99% of my time and energy goes to the baby, but I still need something for me so that I don't go crazy. I can't lose myself completely. I need these few moments for myself. It's hard when you're on your own and there's no one to watch the baby for a minute while you run to the bathroom or grab a shower but you just get creative. You learn to hold it until you have a moment. You learn to be grateful for the few seconds you can steal for yourself.

And I am grateful for my time with the baby. Even when it's rough. I wouldn't trade it for the world. This is love. Messy, complicated, joyous, painful. As Shakespeare said "The course of true love never did run smooth." She is my true love.

Sh!t happens!

Literally...

My sister and I went to an art show by the lake -- Art in the Park. It was nice to get out and was my first outing with the baby in her stroller. It seemed to be going well. She was sleeping contentedly. People made a fuss of her. I enjoyed looking around at the different artists' booths. I found an adorable little baby mermaid plaque that's just perfect for the ocean themed nursery. I was thinking, "This is great! I can still get out and do things with the baby!"

But then things got ugly...Michelle started to cry. We went back to the car and she was still crying, but she sounded more desperate. Then it became screaming. She screamed the entire car ride home. Was she hungry? Did she need changing? A car ride seems that much longer with a screaming baby, let me tell you. To make matters worse, everyone on the road seemed to be conspiring against me. Cars cut me off so that I'd just miss the light (I needed to make a right and could have if the idiot hadn't passed me and was now stopped there on red, not turning.) I seemed to hit every red light. The baby was howling, inconsolable. I'd never heard her cry like this. She was REALLY upset. I wasn't exactly amused myself.

"Hang on baby!" I tried to console her, "I'm going as fast as I can!"

I get her home and go to take her out of the carseat and I couldn't believe my eyes. What in the Hell...?

She was absolutely COVERED in orange diarrhea. I don't know how it got out of the diaper. Apparently the diaper wasn't very tight on the left side. Apparently her poop was volcanic, erupting out of the diaper onto her frilly little pink dress (first time wearing it. Now it was stained orange), her belly, the blanket, the carseat, everything. I couldn't believe it. Of all the times to have this happen. It had been such a cute little dress. And poor baby. No wonder she was screaming. I would be too. Covered in feces. Nasty.

So I bathed her, put the dress in the sink to soak, washed out the carseat and was utterly exhausted and discouraged. I had been feeling good. Feeling like things were getting easier. I was encouraged that I was still able to do fun things with the baby. Now this unexpected nightmare knocked the wind out of my sails. At least I managed to get the stains out of the dress with stain remover. (It said it worked for red wine. Apparently it works for orange poo too.)

Someone told me it would get easier after three weeks. Then it would get easier after three months. The first week with a newborn is the hardest. Then again I was also told that newborns are "easy." "They sleep 16 hours a day." Yeah, right. I'm lucky if she falls asleep for fifteen consecutive minutes before she poos or is hungry again.

Some days I'm feeling rested and positive and happy that I feel like I can handle anything. Other days I feel exhausted and drained and it feels like I can't keep up with diapers and feedings. Some days I feel like I'm a hair's breadth away from a full-scale nervous breakdown. Except I don't have time to have a breakdown. And how would I breastfeed from the insane asylum?

So baby and me survived the exploding poo eventually, though we were both traumatized. Once she was fresh, clean, warm and dry, she started to settle down. After her feeding she was sleepy and happy.

Sh%* happens. You just deal with it. It's unexpected. It's not pleasant but it's not the end of the world. Though it can feel like it at the time. I'm so much more fragile on no sleep. It makes every problem seem magnified a thousand times. I know that hormones can wreak havoc as well. I'm guessing that while breastfeeding the body is overloaded with hormones (as much as when you're pregnant, if not more) so that likely makes me feel more emotional as well. Then there's the fact that I'm sore from the stitches, am bleeding lochia constantly (like a never-ending period since delivery). Not to mention that my life has changed utterly and completely in ways I couldn't have fathomed. There's a lot going on. Yes a baby is a miracle. Yes I love her more than my own life. But becoming a Mom is still a lot to take on and quite honestly I had no idea how hard it would be. I thought I knew, but until I was in it, I really hadn't a clue.

My friend called one day while I was changing the baby. We could barely hear each other above Michelle screaming. "I'll have to call you back," I said, "My life is poo and milk now. Just poo and milk."

The baby's poo has metamorphosed quite a bit in the first couple of weeks. It started out looking like pudding. A sticky black/forest green tar-like substance -- meconium -- unearthly poop left over from being in the womb. That lasted a few days. Then it became kind of a mustardy colour, complete with mustard seeds. The latest incarnation is this watery orange stuff. I guess that's what my breast milk does to her. I was concerned that it's always diarrhea but considering she's on an all-liquid diet I guess that's just how it is. She won't have a solid poo until she's eating solid food. Something to look forward to I guess. I hear that eventually there will only be two diapers to change a day. Right now it's about 6. One positive thing about so much poop is that at least I know she's eating. But it is overwhelming to have to change her so often. Especially when it goes through more than a diaper. Right through her clothes and blanket. I'm doing a load of laundry every day now for the baby. I've already thrown one sleeper and blanket out (I really loved the pink dress so it was worth saving but I'm not going to that much trouble for a plain old sleeper or blanket.)

The worst is when I'm out or heading out because it's an ordeal to get her in the car seat to start with and then when you have to change her and get her out and start from scratch again, you just know you're going to be really late for your appointment! Timing is everything. I'll be just heading out the door and hear the gurgling sounds of a poo brewing and have to take her out and go through it all over again. That's still better than having it happen while we're out and hearing her scream.

One day I tried to go to the grocery store quickly. She'd had a good feeding, seemed mellow. I figured it would be a good time. She'd sleep in the car and hopefully be peaceful in the store. Yeah. Not so much. I was just grabbing some fruits and vegetables (I have no time to cook anyway so I might as well just eat healthy fresh things I can gobble quickly without preparation) and some milk. By the time I went for the milk, she was screaming bloody murder. I went to what I thought was the shortest line to cash out but of course there is always a problem to hold things up. Especially when your baby is howling like she's possessed. An elderly couple needed a price check on their milk or something. It felt like it was taking an eternity. The baby was getting more distressed. I couldn't console her. I figured she probably needed changing  but there wasn't much I could do in line at the grocery store. Everyone was staring. Finally it was my turn. By the time everything was bagged she had stopped crying. She must have sensed we were going home. When I got home it was even worse than I thought. Another explosion. Poor little girl. She was covered.

My Mom thinks that the baby takes after me. Mom told me I was very easy to toilet train. I couldn't stand to be uncomfortable for a moment. It seems my little girl is the same. I don't blame her. It's just overwhelming. Between the cries of hunger and the cries of discomfort, she does a lot of crying. Though people told me you'd be able to tell the difference in the type of cries, to me they are the same -- a desperate cry of helplessness. It is the only way they can communicate. "Something isn't right! Help me!" So I just check each time and rule things out by process of elimination. If her diaper is dirty, I change her. If it's not, I know she's hungry (she does give other cues as well like making sucking movements with her mouth and moving her head around like she's looking for a nipple.) When both those are taken care of if she's still crying then she's just overtired and upset and just needs to be amused/consoled long enough to fall asleep. Someone suggested I let her cry. I can't do that. I am here to meet her needs. I can't let her suffer. Besides I've heard that at this early stage it's crucial to make them feel safe and secure so that they will have a solid foundation for later. I don't want her to feel like I don't care, to feel helpless and that her needs won't be met. I try to meet her demands as promptly as I can. I'm only happy when baby is happy.

Thankfully there are some good days, good moments. Outings where she is content and poo/scream-free. We went for a walk in the woods and she really seemed to enjoy it. Even when the path got bumpy. I looked in on her and she was wide-eyed in wonder at the sights and sounds. She must have wondered about the flicker of light as the sun moved through the canopy of trees. It felt good to get some exercise too, though I was absolutely exhausted by the end of it.

The doctor said that walking is about the only exercise that's safe at this stage. I'll have to wait another month or two to do anything more strenuous. I am encouraged that I've already lost 30 lbs. Of course 10 lbs of that was the baby and the fact that I'm burning at least 500 calories breastfeeding and probably only eating about 1000 calories (because there's no time to eat/cook) probably helps. I have to be careful not to get dehydrated though. With all the blood I'm still losing and the milk I'm giving the baby, sometimes I feel weak and faint. Carrying her around and trying to do things with one arm is quite a workout too. So far the hardest thing was doing laundry -- reaching into the drum to pull out my sheets with my right hand while she's cradled in my left arm was almost an acrobatic trick.

I've heard stories from other new Moms who felt as overwhelmed as I do and I know that even on my worst days I can get through it. I'm not alone. So many women have faced the same challenges, felt the same frustrations. And everyone says it will get easier. I got through the first couple of weeks. Hopefully baby and me will settle into a routine and it won't be so stressful. It makes a big difference when I actually get some sleep. My friend told me that sleep deprivation has actually been used as an instrument of torture. You feel so fragile when you don't get any rest. Add to that the fact that you've lived through the greatest physical ordeal of your life, you're dealing with stitches, discomfort and blood loss, dealing with hormones, physically and emotionally giving everything you have for the baby -- it's no wonder you wind up feeling overwhelmed and depleted. 

You just have to be grateful for the happy moments. They make everything else worth it.  

Breast Intentions: Navigating the Milky Way

Breastfeeding, I had decided very early in my pregnancy, was the only way to go. It is extremely healthy for the baby. Your own milk is perfectly balanced, filled with nutrients and antibodies they simply can't replicate in a formula. I've even heard that it can cure cancer! On top of that, it's free, always the perfect temperature and it's a wonderful bonding experience for you and your baby. What I hadn't anticipated was just how difficult it was going to be.

Many women had warned me that I might not be able to breastfeed. They told me their own stories about not having enough milk etc. I wasn't going to go into it with a defeatist attitude. I was going to give it my best no matter what. My sister had breastfed her children and never had a problem. I knew that my breasts had been preparing very early on. Almost my first symptom of pregnancy was that my breasts grew and felt tender.

I had read that the milk doesn't always come in right away but that your breasts produce a pre-milk substance called colostrum which is loaded with nutrients. I heard that a newborn baby's stomach is so small that they don't need a whole lot to eat and that the colostrum is enough. Some overzealous nurses try to get you to feed the baby formula but this sabotages the mother who wants to breastfeed because milk production is supply and demand. The more that is demanded, the more your body will supply. If baby isn't suckling, you won't make milk at all. This could be what happened with the women who were told they weren't producing milk.

So while I was in the hospital and a nurse brought a bottle of formula for me to give the baby, I didn't use it. I kept it, just in case, but I didn't plan to give it to my baby if I could avoid it. I saw this as a form of sabotage. I was determined to breastfeed.

The baby seemed to get a good latch right away. She was a natural! I couldn't believe the suction she had. The nurse called her a Dyson vacuum! None of the breastfeeding positions they showed me were comfortable. I didn't like the football position or cross cradle hold. There didn't seem to be a comfortable way to hold the baby to feed but I tried to follow instructions, cradling the baby's head with one hand, holding her body in with that arm and squeezing my breast with the other hand. I couldn't believe how much it hurt! I would have thought an innocent little baby would be gentle. She was a ravenous animal! My nipples were red, purple, black, scabbed and scarred. "She's giving you hickies!" one nurse said "That's why you have to make sure she's latched on properly, onto the breast, not just the nipple." I couldn't believe a newborn could be that strong or have that much power in her jaws. It felt like she had teeth and was going to chew my nipples off! By the looks of them, she nearly did!

I kept nursing her even though it was hurting and even though I wasn't sure if she was actually getting anything. One of the nurses squeezed my nipple to show me that I do have colostrum and that I can use it to coat and soothe my sore nipples. I wasn't able to express any myself.

My doctor had suggested I visit the Breastfeeding Clinic for tips. Every new Mom struggles with it. Apparently 90% of women find breastfeeding difficult in the beginning. Many are so discouraged that they give up. I was not giving up. I set up an appointment to see them the day after I got home from the hospital.

I had been anxious to leave the hospital because I didn't get a wink of sleep there (between the duelling screaming babies and the father in the next bed snoring all night). What I didn't know is that I wouldn't get much sleep when I got home either.

I was staying with my sister in my nephew's old room. She was kind enough to let me stay with her before my delivery and for a while after so I wouldn't be alone. Thank God she was there to turn to or I may have lost my mind. The first day was a nightmare. The baby didn't sleep more than a few minutes the entire day. She just fed and cried and pooed and cried and fed and cried and pooed. I was completely drained. I would stagger downstairs and my sister would have a meal ready for me. Starving and dehydrated, I would eat and drink quickly, scarfing it down like a starving animal then go back upstairs to my baby vampire, sucking me dry. (Her father had joked about being a vampire. Maybe she is a little like him. Cute and tears me to shreds, yeah there are similarities...)

I had no idea how hard it would be. My nipples looked like a war zone. She actually drew blood. They were so sore I would wince in agony the entire time she was suckling but I didn't stop. I didn't give up. I wasn't even sure if she was getting anything but I kept trying. I spent the entire day in pain, on no sleep, feeding my little shark baby.

The next day I had my appointment at the breastfeeding clinic. I didn't know how hard it is to make an appointment with a newborn. I had her all ready, buckled into the carseat when I heard a gurgling sound, she began to cry and I knew that she had pooed. So I had to unbuckle, undress and change her and start all over again.

"Wow! You made it in good time!" they said when I came in five minutes late.

I was pretty frazzled. One of the women took me off into a curtained corner to talk. She was going to weigh the baby before and after feeding. After weighing Michelle, she told me that the baby had lost too much weight. Babies are allowed to lose up to 10% of their birth weight but more than that is a red flag. Apparently my baby had lost more than 10%. I argued that she was a big baby to start with. It's not like she was a 6 pound baby and went down to 5. She was an over 9 pound baby who went down to 8, still a very healthy weight. She didn't even fit any of the newborn clothes. I had to put her in 0-3 month outfits (thank goodness I thought to pack some just in case). They said that the baby was dehydrated. They wanted to give her formula. I was reluctant. I told them my fears -- that giving formula was admitting defeat, that I wouldn't be able to produce milk if she was dependent on formula, that I knew other people who were discouraged from breastfeeding and I didn't want it to happen to me. But I finally caved. I couldn't let my baby starve.

I cried. I felt like a failure, a bad Mom. I was trying to do the right thing. I spent an entire day feeding my baby, physically and emotionally spent, my nipples ripped apart, and then they tell me that it's not enough, that she's starving, that I can't feed her. I was devestated. My milk hadn't even come in yet. It was just colostrum. It was supposed to be enough. I'd read that it was enough for the first few days until the milk comes in. The woman tried to console me. She said that I had done the right thing by feeding so much, that doing so would stimulate my breasts to produce more milk so that when my milk did come in it would be strong. She said not to get discouraged, that 75% of women need to supplement with formula in the beginning, that I'm not a failure. She also suggested I get a breast pump. They just happened to sell one there, hospital-grade for $400. $400?! "Are you on crack?!" I almost asked. I explained that being a single Mom on a tight budget that that's not a possibility. She suggested renting one. Ummm. Certain things I'd rather not share with strangers. A machine that extracts bodily fluids would have to be at the top of the list! I was getting angry. I could overhear other clients in other corners talking with the women. It was starting to feel like a cult. It reminded me of a time I went to a scrapbooking party and they try to bully you into ordering their expensive equipment. "But I can get scrapbooks and paper and stickers at the dollar store that don't cost $1000!"

When she saw my nipples the woman at the clinic shook her head and said "You poor thing." She tried to show me how to get a good latch. After having the formula, just as I had feared, my baby rejected me. When I tried to bring her to my breast, she pushed me away. I was heartbroken. Now that the evil boob Nazis ("No boob for you!" -- if you're not a Seinfeld fan just ignore this, it won't make sense unless you've seen the soup Nazi episode) had given my baby formula, she wouldn't settle for me and my empty boobs. How can they call themselves a breastfeeding clinic when they deliberately sabotage you so that you can't breastfeed?! I was bitter. I was devestated.

They had paged a doctor to check out the baby and make sure she was OK. The doctor was taking his sweet time. They needed my curtained corner for another client so I was shuffled off to the waiting room with hard plastic seats. There were two waiting rooms. "Which one would you prefer?" a woman asked. "One where no one is, but I guess that's not an option." I was in tears and a mess and wanted to be alone. The guy in the room took his cue and left. I sat on a hard plastic chair for 2 hours (with a sore butt and stitches from an episiotomy I might add!) waiting for the doctor to come. I hadn't had breakfast. I wasn't expecting the appointment to take this long. I was getting more frustrated by the minute. I finally threatened to leave so they paged the doctor again and he finally showed up. He had a student with him who was reading questions off a clip board. Some of them she was asking me twice which was getting on my nerves. She kept going on about jaundice (quite a few people had mentioned jaundice. They were obsessed with it.) Everyone commented how pink Michelle was, that at least she wasn't jaundiced. OK. Why keep going on about it? The doctor said that she did seem very healthy. She was just a bit dehydrated but if I supplemented with formula until my milk came in she should be OK. I fell apart in front of the doctor. I told him I was hanging by a thread. Felt like I was going to have a breakdown. I had no idea it was going to be this hard. Who knew labour was the easy part?!

The doctor told me that everything I was going through, everything I was feeling, was normal. This is what new mothers trying to breastfeed grapple with. And it's not easy. He showed me some things to do to comfort the baby when she was crying. He lifted her up and down, in my opinion rather aggressively -- like a ride at Wonderland! -- and made a shushing noise. He explained that newborns like this kind of noise and movement because it mimicks the sounds and sensations of being in the womb. He swaddled her in the blankets, tight as a mummy and said that restricting their arms and legs is comforting to them because they were so enclosed in the womb that it makes them feel safe. He said that it would get better, easier.

The woman from the clinic gave me a feeding plan and a box of sample formula bottles. She said she knew that I was angry with her but that she was just trying to help. I told her I was just angry with the situation and frustrated. I never wanted to go back to the clinic again as long as I lived but I agreed to return the next day. She tried again to sell me their super fancy breast pump. I said I'd think about it.

I talked to my sister about it. She'd never used formula or a breast pump. I called my Mom. She had to use a breast pump in the beginning with one of my brothers. She said not to invest a lot of money in something I'd probably only need at the start and for emergencies. She was pretty sure I could get one at Walmart a lot cheaper. I decided to check it out. Good old Walmart. I got an electric breast pump regularly $60, on sale for $50. I was afraid to use it. What if it didn't work? What if I didn't have any milk?

I read the instructions. It mentioned that a hot shower may stimulate milk production. It said to relax and think of your baby. I finally got up the nerve to give it a go. It felt a little strange putting the rubber cone around my breast and turning the vacuum on. It made a little buzzing noise. It didn't hurt really, not the way the baby chewing on me did at least, it was just a bit uncomfortable. At first I was worried nothing was happening. I couldn't see any milk. But then, miraculously, I saw the container start to fill up with a strange yellow liquid. I managed to pump 50 ml from my breasts. I told my sister about it being yellow. She said that breast milk isn't pure white and plus this could be my transitional milk from colostrum to regular milk. I was just happy that I actually was producing milk. The baby lapped up every drop of my milk from the bottle. I was supplementing with the formula as per the feeding plan. She was still feeding from me, not rejecting me anymore.

I finally found a breastfeeding position that was comfortable -- lying down, like a mother cat with her kitten. It was so comfortable that both baby and me fell asleep contentedly. It was the most restful few hours of my life.

When I went back to the clinic, they were impressed. Baby had gained a lot of weight. They joked about her eating a sub in the middle of the night. I had a different woman dealing with me this time thankfully and she was much more helpful, encouraging. She also introduced me to possibly the greatest invention a new Mom could ever find -- a nipple shield! A little rubber nipple with holes that fits over your own nipple, so baby can suck on that and save your real nipples from the pain. It was amazing! I had become a human bottle! Now it would be easy to transition her between my breast and a bottle filled with pumped milk and a bottle of formula (just for emergencies.)

I was so relieved. My milk had come in strong now. I was even leaking through my clothes. My cups were overflowing. My already large breasts had become enormous. Baby was feeding well, was actually sleeping sometimes and with my handy nipple shield, my nipples were healing again. Baby was happy. I was happy.

When I went to the doctor she said that Michelle was doing very well. She had already regained her birth weight a week later (usually it takes 10-14 days). She was pink and healthy and strong and feeding well. Everything looked great. I returned to the clinic quite pleased to show them how well baby was doing (and that I didn't need to buy their $400 pump to make it happen.) Now she was only getting my milk and was still doing very well. They weighed her before and after feeding and said that she was getting at least 25 ml from each breast at a feeding.

It's still not easy. I have good days and bad. Some days it seems she just feeds for a minute and falls asleep, then wakes up still hungry and cries and this goes on all day. It's a challenge. When I'd give her a bottle (of formula or pumped breast milk) it struck me how much easier it was. She can drink so fast from a bottle and I know how much she's getting. So she's full and content and then can sleep. When it's at my breast, it's more time-consuming, she gets lazy or tired and falls asleep and I don't know how much she's gotten and she doesn't sleep as well or as long. So what do you do? Do you do the right thing or the easy thing? I know that breastfeeding is the right thing to do, but it's so time-consuming, so draining, so difficult. I can see why women get frustrated, disheartened and give up. But I am not giving up. I've heard that it will get easier. At least I have my nipple guard (I even got an extra one as a backup because if I lost this thing I'd go insane!) and I know that I can always pump milk as well (which is handy to have when you need to go out and need to be able to feed her quickly.) I even got some storage bags so I can keep my milk in the fridge.

It's kind of surreal. Sometimes I feel like a walking dairy farm or feeding machine. It seems to be all I do now. I feed the baby, every couple of hours, sometimes every hour. I feed her, I change her, I wait for her to fall asleep for a few moments so I can run around and do the laundry and everything else I have to do. I'm exhausted, drained. It feels like I'm giving her everything and there's nothing left for me. Of course there are advantages to breastfeeding for Mom too. It helps to shrink your uterus back to its normal size sooner. It helps you to lose weight (it burns 500-700 calories a day!) I've already lost 30 lbs and that's without exercise. Hopefully the next 30 comes off that easily. I will start to exercise when the doctor says it's safe. Hopefully I'm able to find the time. I don't mind the new boobs. I'd like to keep them and lose the tummy. I guess I'll have to see how it goes.

It is hard to find time to write. I started this blog about my baby journey and don't want to stop now, but I really had no idea how much work a newborn is. I couldn't have imagined what I was getting into. My time is not my own anymore. I live for her, to cater to her every need and sacrifice my own needs. Sometimes it's a challenge just to steal a few seconds to run to the bathroom or grab a bite to eat so I don't pass out from dehydration. Somehow, miraculously I manage to find a few minutes here and there to type a few thoughts and eventually post my blog when it seems done. I apologize if I let more typos slip through. I don't have as much time to proofread and edit! I need to write. It's important to me, to share my thoughts and experiences as I go through this journey. This is sustenance for my soul.

There are times when I'm so utterly depleted I don't know how I'll go on. It feels like I'm falling apart and there's nothing left. Times when she screams because she's hungry or needs to be changed (again) or is just tired (that makes two of us, baby!) She's a little drama queen already. My Mom jokes that it's because she's a redhead, that she will be as moody and demanding as I was. My Mom says that the trade-off was that I was brilliant. She says I was extremely easy to potty train because I couldn't bear to be uncomfortable for one instant. My baby appears to be the same. The instant her diaper is soiled, she lets you know. This is part of the reason that girls are easier to potty train than boys generally. Boys don't always mind being dirty. Girls like to be clean. I wanted a girl. They are definitely higher maintenance!

Then there are magical moments, when I look at her wide blue eyes and she is so beautiful and so sweet. Her tiny hands, her little round cheeks, her pink lips. I love her so much that I would go through anything for her. I will go without sleep or food. I will give up my whole life to care for her. I will even let her bite my nipples off if I have to. I just didn't know how hard it would be. It's not what I expected, but then nothing has been. You just don't know until you're in it what it's really like. It's a rollercoaster that soars higher and dips lower than any ride I've ever been on.

She smiles and suddenly all is right in the world. It's worth whatever I have to go through. They say that babies aren't even supposed to smile yet but she does. And I know it's not "just gas" like they try to say. She smiles when I say I love you or tickle her cheek. Sometimes she even smiles and laughs in her sleep. She is my little angel, even though she can be a screaming demon sometimes! I want to do all the right things for her. Even when it's not easy. Being a Mom really is the hardest job in the world and the most rewarding. I had heard people say that so many times before but I never really appreciated what it meant until now.