Yesterday we celebrated one month of life with the little man.
I confess, but I am completely confused on how this past month seems to have just flown by whereas during my pregnancy with him a single week seemed to last forever. Odd.
I can happily report that at one month, our boy regularly sleeps through the night. And has been since about two weeks. But to quell any baby jealousy, I can also report that he continues to be something of a fussypants.
My daughter was a gem of a child. If she was not sleeping, she would often just be happily silent or cooing away. Not so with Declan. He exists in only three states most of the time: eating, sleeping, fussing. It's a damned good thing that he's so cute else I'd be totally miserable.
At one month old, though, he has begun to show signs that he will, eventually, be a personable little guy. He has finally begun to add a fourth state of being--studying. For fractions of time he will start to quietly stare off into space. I am hoping that this newish behavior will start to replace fussing. I could really do without all the fussing.
During this month, I have also learned that it is nigh impossible to be a glamorous retro mom and be an attached mom at the same time. Gone are the days of a wet set hairdo. Last week I could no longer suffer through my uncurled Middy cut and sought help from the good people at Aveda. My hair is much more easy-care. It is also quite maternal, but in a good way. I hope.
Also, I have learned that breastfeeding and wearing cute vintage dresses are mutually exclusive actions. Save for one dress, all of my darling vintage day dresses would prove impossible to breastfeed while wearing. So in addition to new hair, I have had to invest in a few new articles of clothing--none of which look at all vintage. Alas. But back to the little boy...
Tomorrow afternoon is the baby's one month pediatrician visit. We are all hoping for good news because our little man proven that he has not read any books on normal infant development. Born at 8 pounds, 9 ounces, he managed to shrink down to 7 and half pounds in a couple of days. That rapid weight loss set us on a course of doctor visits, lactation consultations, et cetera in the hopes of fattening him back up.
Thankfully, Declan's pediatrician could find no other problems with him (heart sound, lungs strong, and so forth), and was therefore not terribly concerned so long as we continued on our course to pack some weight onto the little guy. Subsequent visits to the doctors and midwives showed only a tiny bit of gain (if at all) despite our efforts to supplement his nearly constant feeding.
After weeks of stressing out about my milk supply, formula ingredients, spit-up amounts, my diet, and numerous other factors, I decided last Friday to just devote an entire day to breastfeeding and only breastfeeding. The result? Declan almost never spit up at all that day whereas he typically "blurps" up a fair amount after feeding. I've since continued on the boob without supplement treatment and still no copious spit-up.
When I look at my scrawny little baby, I know that tomorrow's doctor visit is not likely to confirm a huge gain. My hope is that it does not show another loss. All told, Declan appears to be a healthy, albeit often grumpy and skinny, newborn.
Speaking of grumpy, Declan calls and I must be off.
Friday, May 27, 2011
This is me:
Note the retro dress and hair. Yes, I tend, stylistically, toward the past. Note, if you can, the stove behind me. Rumor has it that is an exact duplicate of the stove that graced Lucy and Desi's kitchen.
(While you're gawking, go ahead and note the beer. I do love a good brew.)
This was my family, back in 2010:
That's myself, my daughter, and my husband.
THIS, is our newest addition:
Meet my son, Declan. Don't you just love that Children of the Corn stare?
He is, as of today, exactly four weeks old. In that time, he has turned our lives upside down--but largely for the better, of course. However, constantly nursing a newborn has put a serious damper and in my formerly more dapper style. It's nigh impossible to wet set one's hair while simultaneously breastfeeding.
That's where this journal comes in--to chronicling my adventures in trying to reconcile my Art Deco life and my roles and wife and mother of two. Welcome, this should get interesting...