Six Weeks Old!

And according to my doctor I can officially now go for a run and have some sex.

(Guess which one I'm more excited about.)

No seriously. Guess.

I'm not gonna tell you, that's personal. Sure I'll tell you about getting shots in my butt, and how the doctor who delivered my little Porks (nickname is awesome. but will be replaced so she doesn't get made fun of. is sad day when we can't call Porks, Porks anymore. is perfect little Porks.) was doing sign language in my vagene, but you do not get to hear about my running/sex life. I have some boundaries.

Hahahahaha No I don't! But I'm still not gonna say out of respect for my family.

You're welcome Porks.

Anyway, I'm not sure how the doctor decided it was ok for normal activities to resume since she didn't really examine me. And by "didn't really examine" I mean, I started to undress and the nurse was like, "Oh no don't bother. Does everything feel ok down there?"

"Uh, yes? Other than the fact that little Porker came out of it six weeks ago it's hunky dory." (I didn't really say 'hunky dory' but I wish I had.)

"Hi Mom? The forties called, they want their slang back."

Then my doctor came in, asked me a few questions, laughed a lot at the fact that I was a screamer in the delivery room, and said, "Well that's it, you look fine. Can I hold the baby?"

And I was like - I look fine? You didn't even glance at my area clothed, let alone examine it naked. What if the baby messed something up, I don't even know what, what if there's two vaginas now instead of one?!?! DON'T YOU WANT TO CHECK ME?

But no. She did not. Apparently if something was wrong I'd feel it.

Whatever.

Modern science my a$#. It's more like a guessing game, but with human lives. And their stretched out private parts.

Stretched out for a good reason!

A very good, six-week old reason.

Four generations in da house!

Our families have been visiting non-stop which has been so nice, and wonderful for us and for Adeline. She gets cuddled all the time, and I get to do things like actually brush my teeth or . . . uhm. . . that's about all I can remember to do lately. But still! Yay clean teeth! I think! I mean, I know I took my toothbrush out but I'm not sure if it's wet because I brushed or because it fell into the pot in the kitchen sink where I was soaking some old bowls full of chili.

Because the kitchen sink? It's where I make us brush our teeth now. Because let me tell you something - when that little lady falls asleep at night there's no way in the world I'm letting us ruin it with something trivial like brushing teeth in our own bathroom. Or peeing. Or changing into pajamas. I'm this close to making us sleep on the floor next to the door of our bedroom because sometimes I'm afraid the blankets will be too loud. Anything that needs to be done before bed has to be done before she falls asleep or you can just go right ahead and sleep in your jeans and boots mister I-have-the-noisiest-shoe-laces-in-the-world!

Yes. It's probably time I put her in her own room.

But I'm not ready yet!

Maybe when she's six years weeks old. Maybe.

Addie and her Auntie Becky.

Addie and her Grandma.

Addie (and me with a cape on apparently) and Tutu!

Five Weeks!

So, you know what I've learned? Babies are sneaky little suckers. Sneaky and tricky. Just when you think you've got it figured out - BAM - your bed gets pooped on twice in one night and you end up sleeping on towels because no one is in the mood to change the sheets at 3am, towels you think are clean because they're in the hamper, only to remember in the morning, the hamper is place you put the dirty towels and these towels you've been sleeping on all night are the ones that got peed on the night before.

Joy of joys!

When we first took our little monster home (I say that fondly. She's the cutest little monster ever. But if you could hear the dinosaur noises that come out of her when she's trying to find the boob, and the wild, grunting head shaking that accompanies it, you would know ' cute monster' is more than appropriate.) she was still brand new and learning how to be in the world so she would eat and sleep. And that's it. And we were both all, "Oh my gosh, having a baby is easy!" And then we probably followed it up with something as equally stupid like, "Metal jumpsuit. Lightning. Large open field. What could go wrong? Hey Cheryl! Get the camera! We're about to dodge God!"

Once she hit about 2 weeks old she was like, "Oh hey, I can be awake? Awake a lot? Interesting. Lets do this sh&t!" Enter the dark circles under my eyes that makes it look as though I am routinely beaten. By Rocky. And his Russian nemesis.

She'll go from this:

Hi! Oh my gosh I'm gorgeous and cute and I love you Mama.

To this:

I HATE BATH TIME!

To this:

I'm so sleepy and cute. I love you Mama.

To this:

I HATE THIS!

Sorry, that's the same picture, but usually when she's crying I don't have time to snap a loving shot of it. Usually I'm too busy dodging the rocketing poop that accompanies the screams, as well as trying not to get punched in the eye by her extremely strong, flailing limbs.

My point is, apparently babies do not just eat and sleep their whole lives. I should have known this, but apparently I was under the impression they went from eating and sleeping to toddler like magic. Turns out - not so much.

I mean, she's only five weeks old. She's still a teeny tiny little thing. But my god can that woman scream. And unfortunately at 3am when she's being changed and the lights are on and suddenly, out of nowhere she lets out a blood curtling yell all her father and I do is giggle. Because it's so out of the blue and it's so pissed it seems as though we missed something. And then she catches sight of the ceiling fan and all screaming comes to a dead halt.

She loooooooves the ceiling fan.

Sure I'll sit in this car seat, as long as you leave me here right under the fan.

Hey Dad, I'm a little concerned about my fan. Have you seen - oh there it is! Hi fan!

Excuse me Mr. Giraffe? You're not looking at the fan. Any reason why not? Don't be rude.

Hi fan. I love you.

So if you walk by our house at 4am, and catch one of us holding the little lady up to the ceiling like a weird version of the Lion King that is why. Because it calms her down.

It may end up as her crib mobile. I'm just saying.

4 Weeks Old!

So I have not abandoned the blog! I'm gong to keep on keeping on, I've just been distracted because my mom was here for a week and then my sister was here for a week, and oh yeah - that brand new baby is here ALWAYS!

And despite the fact I got about 45 minutes of sleep last night, I just love her to pieces.

So, a real post tomorrow. But for today, here's some pictures!

Not sure about the car seat this time.

Hey guys, have you seen the fan? It's awwwwwwwesome.

There's something hanging here you guys! It's almost as good as the fan!

Sleepy head! Refuses to burp. Burping her makes her fall asleep. Until you lay her down in bed. Then she's enraged. Naturally.

Part 3!

(favorite picture so far!)


Someone told me you need to eat more calories when you're breastfeeding than you did when you were pregnant. Due to my new-found baby brain (remember nothing, think everything is sad and/or magically wonderful, speak in sentences like, "I wish my mouth was there." "What?" "What?" "You wish your mouth was where?" "I think I mean to say I wanted that donut.") I'm not sure if that someone was a nurse who told me about the extra calories while I was in the hospital, or if I dreamed it and Julia Roberts told me whilst in the midst of eating plates of spaghetti - but I'm thrilled regardless. Because I'm hungrier than ever.

Also, my weird dreams have not gone away. Most of the time they involve me living in France with David Sedaris and his boyfriend, but sometimes they also are super realistic and I dream I was feeding the baby, and then I wake up and realize I haven't fed her yet. But I have breastfed the sheets pretty good.

Anyway, Labor and Birth Part 3! The Final Part! Because I'm fairly certain no one wanted this much detail about the whole thing!

Where was I? Oh yeah, I tried to bite my baby daddy - which was the only time during the whole ordeal he dared to let out a little laugh and an, "Ohhh kay. Let's not do that." Later he told me it was kind of hard not to laugh at the fact that I was SCREAMING my A off every three minutes. Not because it was funny to see me in pain, but because it was a totally crazy experience. And because I was making the most noise I've ever made in my entire life. People talk about birthing soundtracks - and I had one made. But trust me, you would not be able to hear Nicki Minaj over me no matter how loud you turned that sh%t up.

So, I had gone from 3 to 7 cm dilated and the room got super busy. Which was nice because once I knew other people were getting ready it helped me get through the contractions without pushing because I knew it was going to happen eventually. The other thing that helped me get through them was my boyfriend. Not only did he never let go of my hand (not that I would let him, I had a death grip on that sucker), but every time I started a contraction he would get right up in my face and match my screaming with his equally as loud encouragement and calming words, which was probably an awesome sight. The two of us, nose to nose, supportively yelling at each other - me never opening my eyes, grunting and yelling like a combo of a tiger and a woman being stabbed, and him calmly repeating, constantly repeating, thank God repeating, "You're doing great, just get through this one. You're doing really great loves. I love you. You can do this." It might not sound that romantic to you, but as I'm typing this I have tears streaming down my face, because I could not have done it without hearing all of that every three minutes. He was safe, confident, and strong enough to shove some of that into me through yelling right back at me, and because of that I can honestly say we did it together.

I mean, I pushed that little sucker out, but it was nice he was there to watch.

Ok, so after the nurse and doctor realized things were happening quickly she checked me again and I was at a 9 and something. So she said she would let me go three more contractions and then I could push. And I was like, "DEAL!" Of course the doctor was like my mom trying to get me to eat rice when I was little saying, "Only three bites, then you get dessert" when really she meant finish all the rice then you get dessert. So after she said three more, the doctor quietly slipped out of the room to - I don't know, fix her hair? Who knows where she was going, but she left, and then about fifteen contractions later she came back and I was still 9 and something, but she was going to let me push anyway. Because she loves me.

So I started to push, which I kid you not, was the best part. I always thought the pushing would be where all the pain and whatnot would kick in because, you know, there's a human coming out of your VADGE. But it didn't really hurt, it felt right. Like what I was supposed to be doing all along. Suddenly I wasn't screaming anymore, things were gonna happen! But unfortunately that last bit of cervix kept pushing my little lady's head back in, so the doctor decided to do something fun.

"Ok, I'm just going to manually hold your cervix back. This might hurt," she said. You know what else might hurt? Falling off a moving roller coaster. You don't need to tell me that, I'm Fully Aware.

Oh, and I forgot to mention that nobody told me the doctor's hands were going to be all up in my business the whole time. And I mean all up in there. At one point she could have been playing solitaire in my vagina and it wouldn't have shocked me.

I also thought pushing was a constant thing that didn't stop until the baby was out, but that's not how it went. I pushed through a contraction and then stopped to catch my breath and then relax until another contraction hit. Sometimes the time in between would be so short I wouldn't really have time to breathe and other times I'd get so calm I'd start to think, "Oh my gosh what if I don't have another contraction? This is how I'm going to have to live. With a baby half pushed out. That's going to be pretty uncomfortable for a while." (Logic did not enter very much during pushing.) But then I'd have one and things would resume as crazily normal as they had been.

When I say pushing didn't hurt I don't mean it was easy and fun. It took a heck of a lot of work and concentration and I was trying as hard as I could to make it all go smoothly, but I could not tell what was happening. Everyone kept telling me I was doing a good job, and at one point my boyfriend said, "You're doing great loves. Every time you push you make a lot of progress." To which I replied:

"LIAR!"

Because now was not the time to be messing with me. But the doctor quickly jumped in to defend him and said, "No, no. He's right. You're making a lot of progress." But still I didn't believe her. And then after the next push everyone was talking suddenly, and gasping, and I was like, "Oh great, my vagina fell off." Because I had no idea what they were all so excited about. And then the doctor said, "Amy. Look down. Look down."

So, I looked down and OH. MY. GOD. it was her head. Her tiny, precious, dark-hair covered little head. It was the most surreal thing that has ever happened to me. I mean, I knew a baby was coming out of there, but there it was. A real baby. My real baby. My little girl. I could only see the back of her head, but it was the most gorgeous back of a head I had ever seen. And all I could do was say, "Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god!" Over and over. And I looked up at my boyfriend smiling and beaming and lit up and couldn't stop saying "Oh my god!"

"Amy!"

"Yeah?"

"It's just her head that's out, you still have to keep pushing!" the doctor yelled.

Oh whoops. Apparently I got so excited to see her I forgot her body was still up in me. Details. So I gave one last, totally pain-free push and she came right out and immediately up onto my chest where I could NOT stop smiling at her. In an instant I went from total focus, pain, concentration - the most focus and pain I've ever experienced in my entire life - to a second later feeling none of that. None of it. No lingering anything.

Suddenly it was just pure happy joy.

That sounds cheesy I'm sure, but it's true. I was in love with everybody, I didn't stop smiling or laughing for about 48 hours after she was born, I wanted to immediately braid a friendship bracelet for the nurse who had helped us and tell her she was my new best friend, I wanted to get up and hug the doctor and tell her she was my new best friend, I wanted to have my boyfriend crawl in the blood-soaked delivery bed with me and tell him he was my true best friend, forever and ever and ever.

And then a bunch of other stuff happened. Placentas and stitches and umbilical cord cutting, but I was holding the little lady the whole time so I did not care at all! You could have sawed off my leg and re-attached it and I probably wouldn't have cared. Because I had this now:

And this:

And this:

And this:

And this: