March 22, 2006
Looking Back at Peter's Sixth Week
It's our sixth week together, and we've got something of a daily rhythm. It's not a precise schedule, but I'll take it.
Morning
Tom wakes me with a good-bye kiss. Before heading to work, he stands over the cradle, watching Peter say good morning with his smiles, gooh's and gah's. Unable to resist this cheerful wake-up call, I pull the baby in bed with me to nurse. Sunrise has never been so divine.
Afterward we head to the nursery (i.e., laundry closet turned Bunnykins) where I change Peter on the dryer. As a baby-clothes aficionado, choosing his outfit is one of my favorite events of the day.
Now to the living room couch, where I place Peter in the corner, and we smile. We smile and we goo and we gah and we smile some more. I walk back and forth between Peter and the kitchen and bring back my cheese toast and apple, then smile and goo and gah some more while I eat. All this activity wears the little man out, and into the bouncy seat he goes for a catnap while I shower.
The rest of the morning varies. Either he naps in the car as I run errands around town, or he naps in his stroller as I run errands in the nearby village on foot.
Afternoon
Mommy time! Unlike the short, scattered naps of the morning, with much nursing in between, Peter takes a solid 3-4 hour nap in the afternoon. This is when I get things done, from house chores to personal pleasures like reading.
It's also when I watch Days of our Lives. I swore that when I was a stay-at-home mom I woudn't watch it more than once a week, yet another principle I've thrown out the window. I'm one step away from sweatsuits and bon bons. To make myself feel less guilty, I'll often do something productive like ironing while I watch.
By the end of Peter's nap, I am re-invigorated and miss my little boy. I rush eagerly to nurse him when he wakes.
Evening-- the Witching Hour
Good thing Peter's nap renews me so much, or I don't know how I'd get through the next few hours.
After his first feeding, Peter is pleasant. We play the smiling game. Soon, though, begin bursts of fussiness. "I don't just want to be held, Mama," he says with his choppy squeals. "I want to be walked around or rocked or have you hold the pacifier in my mouth." This is when it would be nice if he'd let me wear him in the sling, something I try every day in hopes that he'll decide he likes it. (Update: I later learned our pouch was way too small for him and me both.)
At least Peter can be consoled. He responds to soothing methods for as long as we continue them. In fact, he'll even smile between bouts of fussing. Every now and then, he is willing to sit in the bouncy seat for thirty minutes listening to lullabies.
When Tom walks in the door, he eagerly takes the baby, much to my relief. While daddy and baby play, I prepare supper, glad for some time to myself. We're still enjoying meals from friends, so really all I have to do is pop something in the oven.
Supper can be exasperating, since Peter's not wild about his bouncy seat. Tom and I take turns replacing his pacifier, sometimes several times in one minute. It can take a long time to eat this way.
Then Tom and I take turns soothing the baby as we watch television or read. A couple hours more of alternating between frustration, laughter, and relief according to Peter's fussing, smiles, and catnaps.
Night
Now that Peter goes to sleep within half an hour of being laid down, I don't dread the night.
His cradle is pulled up to my side of the bed. He doesn't actually sleep in it, though. He sleeps in his car seat which is inside of the cradle. He's decided nothing beats a car seat for sleeping, which works out well for us both since that puts us on the same level. I can pick him up for feedings without having to lean down or get out of bed.
With him so easily brought into bed for feedings, nursing him in the middle of the night isn't so bad. He wakes up twice, and I breasfeed him lying down. Both of us doze through it. I put him back in the cradle/carseat, and he's usually back to sleep in minutes, if not instantly. The whole thing is so uneventful that I'm refreshed in the morning and don't have to nap when he does.
When the sun comes up, we do it all over again.
Showing posts with label babymoon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label babymoon. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Babymoon (Wk 5: NEWBORN DAZE)
March 22, 2006
Looking Back at Peter's Fifth Week
Tom's touch on my thigh awakens me. He stands dressed for work beside our bed. The cradle is pulled up next to me, and Tom nods his head at it for me to see Peter grinning and cooing at him. It wasn't his first grin, but it was the first in his new routine of greeting us each day with smiles.
That first tender morning, one of those moments that I will return to in my mind until the day I die, I looked at the pacifier on my bedside table and remembered when a thermometer had been there instead. Our efforts to conceive had been fulfilled, and the honeymoon had finally begun.
Mother & Child
After a month of surviving motherhood, at last I began to enjoy it.
Until that point, my love for Peter produced only stress as I tried fretfully to meet his needs for food and sleep. There was little time for introspection. With the necessities in better order, though, I could spend vast amounts of time dwelling on the dimple in his chin.
Finally his constant activity was a source of joy rather than consternation. I listened intently to his goo's and ga's. I watched with pride at his wiggling, his slicing the air with his arms and forever kicking those long skinny legs. And that smile-- oh, that smile!
I say that as if there were only one smile, but Peter has many. Anytime he smiles, it's an energetic affair. He opens his mouth long, then spreads it wide, then opens and closes his lips, all the while undulating his head like Stevie Wonder.
And those sounds he makes while nursing! He grunts and growls and punches a tiny fist in my breast, then his eyes roll back as he settles in to nurse contentedly.
It is all I had hoped.
Father & Child
Greater than I had hoped has been watching Tom in his new role. Throughout the pregnancy, we'd both been a little nervous and excited about what was to come. He was nervous, I was excited. When Peter was born, we traded. A few days after Peter's birth, Tom cozied up next to me in the narrow hospital bed and said, "Isn't this the best that life has ever been?"
As I struggled in pain that week, zapped by the c-section, he relished caring for the baby. He was an expert swaddler after one lesson, burped Peter like a pro, and became the family photographer.
Seeing him take Peter's pictures to work, cheerfully learn how to fasten a cloth diaper, and pridefully push the stroller around the neighborhood has been almost as great a joy as becoming a mother.
That's not all. He's a better husband. Well, maybe that's not the best way to put it, but I'm getting to see new sides to him. I mean, not only was he willing to go to the nurses' station and ask for extra disposable panties after my c-section, but he was the one to dry me off and dress me after my first shower, when I could still hardly move.
He was my encourager when I felt inadequate as a mother, my comfort through Peter's sleeping issues. It's been a long time since I let anyone take care of me. It feels good.
Looking Back at Peter's Fifth Week
Tom's touch on my thigh awakens me. He stands dressed for work beside our bed. The cradle is pulled up next to me, and Tom nods his head at it for me to see Peter grinning and cooing at him. It wasn't his first grin, but it was the first in his new routine of greeting us each day with smiles.
That first tender morning, one of those moments that I will return to in my mind until the day I die, I looked at the pacifier on my bedside table and remembered when a thermometer had been there instead. Our efforts to conceive had been fulfilled, and the honeymoon had finally begun.
Mother & Child
After a month of surviving motherhood, at last I began to enjoy it.
Until that point, my love for Peter produced only stress as I tried fretfully to meet his needs for food and sleep. There was little time for introspection. With the necessities in better order, though, I could spend vast amounts of time dwelling on the dimple in his chin.
Finally his constant activity was a source of joy rather than consternation. I listened intently to his goo's and ga's. I watched with pride at his wiggling, his slicing the air with his arms and forever kicking those long skinny legs. And that smile-- oh, that smile!
I say that as if there were only one smile, but Peter has many. Anytime he smiles, it's an energetic affair. He opens his mouth long, then spreads it wide, then opens and closes his lips, all the while undulating his head like Stevie Wonder.
And those sounds he makes while nursing! He grunts and growls and punches a tiny fist in my breast, then his eyes roll back as he settles in to nurse contentedly.
It is all I had hoped.
Father & Child
Greater than I had hoped has been watching Tom in his new role. Throughout the pregnancy, we'd both been a little nervous and excited about what was to come. He was nervous, I was excited. When Peter was born, we traded. A few days after Peter's birth, Tom cozied up next to me in the narrow hospital bed and said, "Isn't this the best that life has ever been?"
As I struggled in pain that week, zapped by the c-section, he relished caring for the baby. He was an expert swaddler after one lesson, burped Peter like a pro, and became the family photographer.
Seeing him take Peter's pictures to work, cheerfully learn how to fasten a cloth diaper, and pridefully push the stroller around the neighborhood has been almost as great a joy as becoming a mother.
That's not all. He's a better husband. Well, maybe that's not the best way to put it, but I'm getting to see new sides to him. I mean, not only was he willing to go to the nurses' station and ask for extra disposable panties after my c-section, but he was the one to dry me off and dress me after my first shower, when I could still hardly move.
He was my encourager when I felt inadequate as a mother, my comfort through Peter's sleeping issues. It's been a long time since I let anyone take care of me. It feels good.
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