The first few weeks of Jack's life were surprisingly easy. We would sit around watching him as he was sleeping, eating, taking in the sights of his new home outside my belly. I studied him for hours at a time. His little nose, huge blue eyes, and of course, what had now become a wild mess of hair resembling a rooster. His hair stood on end and was fantastic. Of course the in-laws wanted me to cut it and would smash it down when they saw him. Which pissed me off to no end. Cut my child's hair at a week old? A month? You must be joking. I was terrified that they would cut it when I wasn't looking. My mom said his hair was just like mine...when it dried it would stand straight up...I guess he inherited my cowlicks, too.
Jack was the most chilled out baby. He hardly ever cried (I know, all parents say that). He ate like a champ. I was concerned at first about our dogs and they were great. Well, actually, one of our dogs couldn't care less - if he couldn't pet and give love (or biscuits and chews) she wanted none of it. Our Dalmatian became a mother hen and protector. She would sit at my side as I held him, curious about this little being that had taken my affections.
I felt great...I lived in my sweats - because they were the only thing that fit. My belly was still bulging a bit - a giant Jell-o Jiggler. I decided that after about 5 days doing nothing but sitting in the house that it was time to get my butt moving. I decided to walk on the treadmill. I had no idea how much the birth had taken out of me until about 1o minutes into the walk, I was exhausted. Who knew? Some people thought I was crazy - and yes, some of it was vanity, but I needed my clothes to fit. I needed to start feelng like myself again and exercising helps me de-stress and re-energize. Walking it was. I didn't want to care what I looked like, but I did. It didn't help that 2 weeks after he was born, my neice asked me why my belly was still fat. Thank you for that, sweetie.
Jack was the most chilled out baby. He hardly ever cried (I know, all parents say that). He ate like a champ. I was concerned at first about our dogs and they were great. Well, actually, one of our dogs couldn't care less - if he couldn't pet and give love (or biscuits and chews) she wanted none of it. Our Dalmatian became a mother hen and protector. She would sit at my side as I held him, curious about this little being that had taken my affections.
I felt great...I lived in my sweats - because they were the only thing that fit. My belly was still bulging a bit - a giant Jell-o Jiggler. I decided that after about 5 days doing nothing but sitting in the house that it was time to get my butt moving. I decided to walk on the treadmill. I had no idea how much the birth had taken out of me until about 1o minutes into the walk, I was exhausted. Who knew? Some people thought I was crazy - and yes, some of it was vanity, but I needed my clothes to fit. I needed to start feelng like myself again and exercising helps me de-stress and re-energize. Walking it was. I didn't want to care what I looked like, but I did. It didn't help that 2 weeks after he was born, my neice asked me why my belly was still fat. Thank you for that, sweetie.
Jack went with me everywhere. Those weeks of maternity leave, I kept Target in business. Do I need more onesies? Yes, of course - he has nothing boyish - it's all neutral! Do I need to purchase him that darling shirt in size 2T? He will most certainly need it one day. I also need to stop by the mall and pick up some new shoes - since those are the only things that fit me!
Jack fell asleep almost immediately in the car, something for which I was thankful for because if he cried and I couldn't help him, I cried. It broke my heart. He was my little pal and companion. Hubby would leave for work and Jack would settle in his little papasan chair so I could shower and get ready for the day. I carried him through the store in my priceless Baby Bjorn carrier. I wanted to be as close to him as I could. Good lord, I loved this child. I never could have known what he would mean to my life. He changed me. I couldn't be selfish - I didn't want to. As the days ticked by, anxiety about going back to work settled in. How in the world would I leave him?
Burp cloths became my other constant. The child could spit! If he ever actually kept down a full meal, I felt like I deserved some sort of medal. We tried every "remedy" we could think of before we realized that he wasn't the only child in the world with this issue. Sleeping angled up? Check. Holding upright for 30 minutes after eating? Check. Switching sides more often, extra burping. Whatever - none of it works. We learned to bring lots of bibs, extra clothes and burp cloths. He spit up on everyone, anytime. I couldn't even think of putting on anything decent until I knew he was finished. Forget the gorgeous bottles atop my dresser...the perfumes I cherished. Eau de baby barf was my new signature scent.
He was not a great sleeper. And we tried it all. I think we actually wanted him to get up so that we could hang out with him some more. The crib went untouched for at least 3 weeks - we wanted him with us. And he seemed to only want to sleep when he was nestled into our arms, curled up like a tiny little ball. We were truly wrapped around his miniature fingers.
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