Baby Blog: One Month

Dear Babycakes,

So this is where I will be documenting each month of your life for at least the first year, hopefully. When you get old enough to read these you are going to realize by the date stamps that these first three months were written after you already turned four months old. This is due to the fact that having you threw life off kilter for the first few months and Mommy needed some time to adjust and figure things out. Do I wish I had written these when things were fresh in my mind so you would have a more accurate account of what happened when you were first born? Yes. I also wish I had filled out your baby book in a timely matter, but that didn't happen either. So you will just have to accept the fact that your Mommy is a very well-intended person, she means well and wants the best for you but can't always follow through as she would like. I hope as your life progresses I'll get better at all of this but I'm only human, so I'm bound to make mistakes here and there from time to time. Also, I procrastinate. A lot. Something else I'll have to work on or I'll set such a bad example for you that together we'll be making paper mache volcanoes the night before they are due for your fifth grade science project.

On second thought, Daddy is going to be in charge of all things constructed so hit him up for that one.

Anyway, your first month of life was a bit of a whirlwind. After spending a week in the NICU (see previous birth posts if you dare to read all the gory details of your birth), Daddy and I took you home to see if we could keep you alive on our own. That week in the hospital, while terrifying and agonizing to be away from you, also helped us out a bit. We got some one on one attention when it came to tutorials in how to best change you, bathe you and feed you. And it was reassuring to have hospital staff on hand to help us out when we needed it. Now you were home and we were responsible for your well being, a daunting task, especially when we had a hard time figuring out what you wanted. You cried A LOT and wanted to eat ALL THE TIME. Mommy's troubles with breastfeeding lead to some frustrating times so there were tears on both sides. Those first four weeks are a blur of waking and feeding and dozing and feeding and maybe a shower here if I had the energy to stand up for the amount of time it took to wash myself. Luckily we had a lot of help for the first month.

Your dad was a huge help, doing all the running around (and there was a lot of running to do trying to get all the insurance nonsense figured out) and chores. Also, all your grandparents were there to lend a hand. Daddy's mom and my parents cooked and cleaned and ran to the store more times than I could count. They were also great tag teamers to hand you off to so I could get some rest. Since you had to eat every hour to hour and a half we kept you in a bassinet next to our bed so I could easily slip out to feed you and change you through the night. Once morning hit and everyone else got up I would catch a few winks while Grammy and Grampy attempted to rock you and get you to sleep in between feedings. I say attempted because you didn't sleep much that first month. And even though I knew someone else had you in their very capable hands, my internal Mommy-alarm would wake me up every time I even sensed you may be crying. So not a lot of sleep to be had.

We became obsessed with your diapers, looking for regular poop and pee. We would cheer when you pooped because that was a sign you were getting enough to eat and no more trips to the hospital would be necessary. When it became apparent you would continue to poop several times a day, the cheers became less and less frequent as the changing of the diapers became more and more unbearable. Whoever said breastfed babies' poop doesn't smell never met your dirty diapers. Daddy still threatens to buy a gas mask.

You had certain hours of the night that we dubbed your "Witching Hours," the time when nothing we did helped soothed you. From the hours of nine to midnight you would cry and cry and cry. Rocking didn't help, feeding you didn't help, you hated binkies and ninja-ed out of the swaddles. You wanted to be miserable and to make everyone else miserable with you. And often you succeeded. We would make a joke of it saying we knew we couldn't do anything between that time because you wouldn't let us. I'm almost positive you had a bit of colic although I could never get the doctor to say that directly.

At your first doctor's appointment we were happy to discover you had gained back all the weight you had lost from before you went into the hospital as well as a few more ounces to make you one plump and healthy baby. By the end of the first month you weighed nine pounds and five ounces and were twenty and three quarters inches long. Well on your way to pudgy baby country. For each doctor's appointment I would bring along my notebook of questions to ask your doctor, which she patiently answered instead of rolling her eyes at how stupid I must sound as a first time parent. Some of the things that concerned us was how you would go stiff as a board whenever you were upset or uncomfortable, like when you had a burp stuck. It made it impossible to bend you to burp and seemed a futile response to what was necessary to help relieve your discomfort. You had one eye that gooped up a lot and oozed which we were told was a blocked tear duct (that question also lead me to discover babies your age don't produce tears when they cry. Something I never knew.) Your hands were always cold no matter how bundled I made you and you managed to kick socks off seconds after they were put on, every single time. There were a lot of questions but we were reassured everything concerning you was normal. Your coloring from the jaundice had returned to normal and you were eating well when I could get you to latch. You survived your first bath and had five people around you 24/7 whose sole purpose was to make you as happy as possible. And we did for the most part I think.

Mostly, we marveled that Daddy and I made you. You were ours. And we loved you so much. Even when you kept us up all night and pooped through three outfits in ten minutes (Seriously, how does something so small produce so much ick?) and refused to sleep at all. You were precious and adorable and all ours.

And we couldn't be happier.

Love, Mommy