Colin is six weeks old today. I made it.
While I was pregnant, I was told by several experienced parents that the first six weeks of an infant’s life are the hardest on the parents, what with all the sleep deprivation, the hormone roller coaster, and mysterious crying fits, not to mention all the uncertainties that come with the territory of a new baby. Since the first few days at home with him, I’ve had that arbitrary milestone in the back of my mind during the horrible low points when he just wouldn’t stop crying—or I wouldn’t stop crying—as the time when it would get better.
And I think I can pinpoint the exact moment it seemed like I was actually getting comfortable in my new role as a parent. I had already strapped Colin in his car seat, which with all the buckles and straps is not an easy feat, when I remembered I needed to get a package ready to drop off at the post office. About that time, Colin started to fuss, which quickly turned into a cry. Since it would not have been practical to unstrap him to hold in one arm while trying to wrangle packing tape with another, I hurried to get the task done so I could tend to his needs. But then something incredible happened.
He stopped crying. Without my intervention.
Before that moment, every time I heard so much as a whine, I was checking his diaper, seeing if he wanted to nurse, making sure he was not too hot or cold, moving him to a different location in case he was bored with his surroundings, or waving a toy in front of his face. It was utterly exhausting.
I was amazed not only that he apparently really can soothe or distract himself, but that he himself had to teach me that he was capable of it. Since that moment, I check on him whenever he starts to fuss in earnest in case it’s because he’s slid too far down in his still too-big swing or his bib has flipped up in his face and he can’t figure out how to get it down. But I don’t jump up at every baby noise or the start of every crying fit, and many times can finish what I’m doing and go on to the next because he really is OK without me for a bit.
This means freedom. That’s what it feels like even though in reality it is just a little slice of freedom. It’s the freedom to do small projects around the house like set up the bike trainer, figure out how to set up and get Netflix on our new Blu-ray player, and upload the latest batch of adorable baby photos to my Flickr account.
Along with this newfound freedom, I love the fact that I am starting to see glimmers of discovery in Colin. He’s just starting to notice the small animals dangling above his head when he’s on his play mat and recognize me by sight and not just by smell or voice. But my favorite discovery as of late is that he’s starting to pay attention to music and even attempts to “sing” (meaning he’s more vocal whenever music is playing). I can even settle him down sometimes just by hitting the Music icon on my iPhone and clicking “Shuffle” because he needs to quiet down to hear the song.
Along those lines, my new favorite activity is cooking in the kitchen because he’s entertained for more than an hour with my iPhone playing music on the blanket he’s lying on within view of me singing into a wooden spoon and dancing to the beat. Well, he’s either entertained or paying extra attention to my ridiculous attempt at trying to dance so he can accurately recall it later to a therapist when he’s listing ways that I embarrassed him during his childhood.
Now that I’ve reached this six-week milestone, I feel like I’m finally not waiting for it to get better.
It already is.
Monday, January 14, 2013
Maternity Leave, Week 4
“I’m going to need more things to do,” I said to my mom about two months ago as I was preparing for my maternity leave.
With my looming 12 weeks off of work – including a six-week hiatus from my freelance work – I had visions of daily blogging, weekly maternity leave newsletter updates, opportunities to enjoy my hobbies, and time for projects I’ve been wanting to do forever… all while the baby is sleeping of course because all babies really do is sleep (and eat and poop of course).
How freaking stupid and naïve.
Colin is one month old today. If I can take a shower that lasts an entire five minutes or go to the bathroom by myself without hearing him cry or needing to do something for him, I consider it a good and productive day.
Now don’t get me wrong – I love my son more than anything in this world and absolutely love being a mom. And I knew having a baby would drastically change my life. I just had no idea that parenting an infant would completely consume me. How can someone so tiny demand so much?
There will be days Brent comes home from work at 6:30 p.m. and ask me what I did that day. Most days, I’m completely exhausted by that time and feel like I’ve been going nonstop, yet can’t think of a single thing to tell him. Sure I fed the baby and soothed the baby and changed the baby around the clock but as far as doing something? Not so much. My mom says that what I’ve done on these days is be a mom, so therefore I have done the most important job. I try to remember that on the days I don’t brush my hair or even change out of my pajamas. Which is often.
When I do actually do something, it’s after I make sure Colin is fed and happy before handing him off to Brent. Unfortunately, it’s not so I can take a bubble bath. It’s so I can have two hands to toss a load of laundry into the washing machine, pay some bills, and get the garbage gathered for pickup. These things gotta get done sometime!
And to make Colin happy, someone usually has to not only hold him so his head can rest atop a shoulder, but also pat him on the back with the other hand, leaving no free hand to make lunch, turn the pages of a book or magazine, or even peck on a keyboard. Since there’s only so much you can do with a baby sprawled out on top of you, I’m usually found in front of the TV or snoozing right along with him – neither of which makes me feel very productive.
When the weather allows, I make up errands to do. Yes, going to the post office to mail bills instead of dropping them in a nearby mailbox counts as an errand. So does picking up a gallon of milk at the grocery store. I stretch these outings out instead of clustering them together so I can breathe some fresh air as often as possible outside of the house. And these errands are actually enjoyable because Colin does like riding in the car, and usually falls asleep in the car seat. But if he wakes up while I’m pushing him and his car seat in the grocery cart? Let’s just say I’ve learned how to push a cart with my torso and steer it with my elbows and feet while holding my kid and patting his back to stave off a crying fit and the subsequent embarrassment from getting annoyed looks from other shoppers for being “that person” with the bawling kid.
Speaking of my feet – I never knew how underused they were before having a kid. I used to use them pretty much exclusively for getting from Point A to Point B. Now I use them to pick up blankets or burp cloths, to open the door to let the dog out, and to rock his cradle.
Though I underestimated the amount of myself I’d have to give this kid, I also underestimated the amount of joy he’d give me in return. He’s all smiles after breakfast, no matter what time we eat. He smells like a baby even if I don’t rub him head to toe with baby lotion. He makes the most adorable squeaking noises and facial expressions in his sleep. He kicks his legs vigorously like he’s swimming when he’s sitting up in his bathtub. Ceiling fans and laundry being folded are fascinating. So am I, apparently, even when I’m not making funny faces at him because I’ll catch those big baby blues of his staring right at me while I’m doing even the most mundane tasks. He’s completely content while nursing and protests loudly whenever I put him down, which means he’s happiest when he’s with me and we’re cuddling.
So while I definitely don’t need more to do because taking care of this kid is more than enough, I don’t want to do anything else.
Love you, Colin.
Love,
Mom
With my looming 12 weeks off of work – including a six-week hiatus from my freelance work – I had visions of daily blogging, weekly maternity leave newsletter updates, opportunities to enjoy my hobbies, and time for projects I’ve been wanting to do forever… all while the baby is sleeping of course because all babies really do is sleep (and eat and poop of course).
How freaking stupid and naïve.
Colin is one month old today. If I can take a shower that lasts an entire five minutes or go to the bathroom by myself without hearing him cry or needing to do something for him, I consider it a good and productive day.
Now don’t get me wrong – I love my son more than anything in this world and absolutely love being a mom. And I knew having a baby would drastically change my life. I just had no idea that parenting an infant would completely consume me. How can someone so tiny demand so much?
There will be days Brent comes home from work at 6:30 p.m. and ask me what I did that day. Most days, I’m completely exhausted by that time and feel like I’ve been going nonstop, yet can’t think of a single thing to tell him. Sure I fed the baby and soothed the baby and changed the baby around the clock but as far as doing something? Not so much. My mom says that what I’ve done on these days is be a mom, so therefore I have done the most important job. I try to remember that on the days I don’t brush my hair or even change out of my pajamas. Which is often.
When I do actually do something, it’s after I make sure Colin is fed and happy before handing him off to Brent. Unfortunately, it’s not so I can take a bubble bath. It’s so I can have two hands to toss a load of laundry into the washing machine, pay some bills, and get the garbage gathered for pickup. These things gotta get done sometime!
And to make Colin happy, someone usually has to not only hold him so his head can rest atop a shoulder, but also pat him on the back with the other hand, leaving no free hand to make lunch, turn the pages of a book or magazine, or even peck on a keyboard. Since there’s only so much you can do with a baby sprawled out on top of you, I’m usually found in front of the TV or snoozing right along with him – neither of which makes me feel very productive.
When the weather allows, I make up errands to do. Yes, going to the post office to mail bills instead of dropping them in a nearby mailbox counts as an errand. So does picking up a gallon of milk at the grocery store. I stretch these outings out instead of clustering them together so I can breathe some fresh air as often as possible outside of the house. And these errands are actually enjoyable because Colin does like riding in the car, and usually falls asleep in the car seat. But if he wakes up while I’m pushing him and his car seat in the grocery cart? Let’s just say I’ve learned how to push a cart with my torso and steer it with my elbows and feet while holding my kid and patting his back to stave off a crying fit and the subsequent embarrassment from getting annoyed looks from other shoppers for being “that person” with the bawling kid.
Speaking of my feet – I never knew how underused they were before having a kid. I used to use them pretty much exclusively for getting from Point A to Point B. Now I use them to pick up blankets or burp cloths, to open the door to let the dog out, and to rock his cradle.
Though I underestimated the amount of myself I’d have to give this kid, I also underestimated the amount of joy he’d give me in return. He’s all smiles after breakfast, no matter what time we eat. He smells like a baby even if I don’t rub him head to toe with baby lotion. He makes the most adorable squeaking noises and facial expressions in his sleep. He kicks his legs vigorously like he’s swimming when he’s sitting up in his bathtub. Ceiling fans and laundry being folded are fascinating. So am I, apparently, even when I’m not making funny faces at him because I’ll catch those big baby blues of his staring right at me while I’m doing even the most mundane tasks. He’s completely content while nursing and protests loudly whenever I put him down, which means he’s happiest when he’s with me and we’re cuddling.
So while I definitely don’t need more to do because taking care of this kid is more than enough, I don’t want to do anything else.
Love you, Colin.
Love,
Mom
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