Greetings to any readers of this here blog! I have come to inform you that this blog has moved to its new home: www.germama.com! Kindly update your links/bookmarks/feeds and things of that nature.

A while back I made a post about the nasty stuff you have to deal with after childbirth, and another thing came to me earlier today. I don’t know why I forgot about it at the time, but the SWEATING, oh my lord. For like a week after giving birth I would get these insane night sweats where I would wake up completely drenched, my clothes soaked, and a huge ring of perspiration seeping out from me on the bedsheet. It was like every night someone came in and threw a bucket of saltwater on me. Just lovely.

So these other things happen to you when you’re pregnant – your feet and ankles inflate and your toes turn into little vienna sausages, your hair stops shedding and grows thicker, your nipples turn brown, and you get a lovely vertical brown stripe up the middle of your belly (obviously some kind of “cut here” guide-line for those caveman c-sections). Luckily my feet deflated pretty quickly, like within a couple days after birth. But my hair has decided now is the time it wants to return to its previous thickness, and is coming out in huge clumps whenever I brush or wash it. I thought maybe Ralf replaced my shampoo with Nair for leaving an empty toilet paper roll or something. But no, it’s just freeing itself from the confines of my scalp.

I’m also finally losing my brown stripe (“linea negra” if you want to be fancy about it) which is nice. And let’s talk about this nipple thing… Ok, so you know how most normal people take photos of their pregnant bellies growing each week? Sure, we did that. But we also took boob progress photos out of some morbid need to see how my once decent (if I may say so) assets slowly inflated, turned colors, and eventually descended into the floppy disasters they are today. I sometimes look at the “before” picture and silently weep, my only consolation being that they are at least almost back to their normal color. Woo.

Now onto some good news: Yesterday we took Rory to Brown County State Park for some hiking. I’m sure she gets bored with being in the house all the time, and I was feeling cabin fever myself. Since it’s been unseasonably warm we decided to give the outdoors a try. Turns out, she loved it! We had her outward-facing in the Moby wrap while we hiked a trail, and she was looking all around and was calm and happy and didn’t fuss at all. It was glorious. Ralf carried her on the way back and she actually fell asleep in the wrap. So precious! And the best part is, all the excitement wore her out and she went down to bed with no trouble AND slept through the night! It’s too bad winter is coming because it seems like she likes being outside. I’m sure we could bundle her up for some hikes, but I’m not much of a cold fan, myself.

Enjoying the hike

It was exhausting!

I’m pretty sure I’ve got the wrong attitude about this parenting thing. I’ve always been a negative, pessimistic person and I don’t know why I thought I would feel any differently after having a baby. I’m not sure where my pessimism comes from. Perhaps from a childhood marred by parental divorce and being a hopeless nerd who was regularly teased, I learned to expect the worst from people and life. I know a lot of my stress is self-inflicted by thinking negatively and creating drama where there isn’t any, instead of making the best of a situation. This is definitely something I’d like to improve about myself, as soon as I figure out how.

Ever since Rory was born, I’ve felt like every time she cries is a crisis and I need to avoid this at all costs. Obviously, babies cry, so I realize it’s impossible to keep her from doing this all the time. But now I tend to avoid doing pretty much anything for fear that she will cry. My bathing schedule is less than stellar. My workout schedule is worse. I hardly ever leave the house because she cries in the car and I worry she’ll cry wherever we are going and annoy people. Thus, days when I shower, put on clothes other than sweats, and actually exit the house are a rare accomplishment. Most of the time I’m sitting around, putting her in the rotation of swing-playmat-bouncy seat-rocking chair trying to keep her happy, all the while plotting my midnight escape to Mexico to be the cat-sitter of a rich man named Carlos.

I’ve been reading a lot of “mommy blogs” lately (ugh!) and am secretly jealous of all the ladies who seem to have no problem going out to workout classes or shopping or other activities without it being a grand spectacle. I can’t seem to figure out how they do it. I put Rory in the car and drove to Starbucks this morning just to grab a drink at the drive-thru, and by the time we were driving home she was already fussing. Maybe it’s just that she’s still little and it will get better when she’s older. I don’t know. I’d just prefer the feeling of “what did we get ourselves into” to go away and to feel like I have a life again. Not the life I had before, just a life where I don’t feel chained to the house. Maybe I’m expecting too much, too soon. I am new at this business.

On a separate note: Rory has been extra fussy the past couple days. She’s also been drooling a lot and chewing on her fist. Can she be teething already?! I can kind of see two little spots on her bottom gum that I guess could eventually be teeth coming through. I tried to feel them with my finger but it’s just kind of slimy and she tries to suck my finger so hard that I can’t really maneuver in there. Ugh!!

I remember saying just a couple months ago how unrewarding it was to have a newborn. It’s definitely a hard and thankless job. Luckily at three months it’s gotten so much better! Rory is smiling all the time now, and it’s so damn cute that it almost makes up for the other times when she’s being a whiny little ingrate. When she’s in the right mood you can lay her down and have a whole “conversation” with her. She’s getting more and more vocal with her goos, ahhs, and sometimes excited snorts and giggles. She still has her moments, though, and will have days where she refuses to be put down so I can get the damn house clean, and some days she will only nap on me or Ralf.

She’s a lot more aware now, as well. She will look at and recognize toys, and she reaches for them and grabs at them. She hasn’t quite mastered holding onto things yet, but I can stick a rattle in her hand and she’ll hang onto it for a minute, though she doesn’t really realize what she’s doing. She’s using her hands more and more – she will now squeeze my boob like a tube of toothpaste trying to get every last drop of milk out of it. This is also exceptionally cute, except for when I’ve been a bit neglectful with her fingernails and she slashes me with her razor sharp talons. There’s nothing sexier than boobs covered in flesh wounds!

As far as things that are changing, she is finally spacing out her feedings. She had been eating every hour and a half for the past three months and I have to say, that gets REALLY tiring, not to mention I wasn’t getting anything else done because I was constantly sitting there feeding her. I haven’t mastered the art of nursing standing up with one arm and doing things with the other. I know I could use the wrap but I haven’t mastered that thing either. Anyway, now she’s eating every two and a half to three hours during the day. She’s still cluster feeding at night for about two hours before bed.

Let’s see… she’s in size 2 diapers and size 3-6 month clothes. She didn’t get a full doctor checkup, but she is up to 14 lb 1 oz (+1 lb 7 oz).

You know those people who give their babies a warm bath in the evenings to soothe and calm them and get them in the mood for bed? The smiling parents gently soap up little hands and feet while the happy baby splashes and laughs. It sounds lovely, doesn’t it? Too bad NONE OF THAT IS HAPPENING HERE!

I don’t know what the problem is, but bathing is apparently torture for Rory. It starts out innocent enough – we dip her into the tub and set her in the seat bit. I start washing her and she seems perfectly fine. Then halfway through the bath, for no discernible reason, she suddenly screams and then there is no consoling her. I have to rush through the rest of the washing and pull her out, dry her off as fast as possible, feverishly slather her with lotion so I can get her pajamas on and pick her up, all the while the screaming is making her turn a delightful shade of beet.

I can’t quite figure it out. If the water was too hot she would scream right away, right? She’s not in there long enough for the water to get too cold. I don’t get it, and the screaming is so awful that we only bathe her once or twice a week so we don’t have to deal with it. It’s not like she’s crawling around on the dirty floor or grabbing at slimy, germy objects yet, but after a while she starts to smell like a fragrant cheese from the milk she collects in her hands during feedings. Maybe she’ll grow out of it, but it’s going to be annoying once she’s crawling around to have to bathe her every day if she wails like a tortured animal.

Poop-watch ’09: 4 days without poop. Where is the poop?

I have been known to be somewhat of a medical hypochondriac. I first started thinking I had a brain tumor in high school, because obviously having a headache equals brain tumor. I used to check my eyes in the mirror to make sure my pupils were the same size, and anytime I smelled something burning I thought it was a result of the tumor. The fact that I’m still alive leads me to believe I may have been a smidge paranoid and perhaps someone had just burnt their toast.

Once I had access to the internet, I started looking up every odd pain or random symptom and freaking myself out thoroughly. I had a lot of time on my hands in college and convinced myself I had various cancers, thyroid disease, MS, and who knows what else. One again, still alive.

Now it’s even worse. Now I have a BABY and anytime she deviates from her normal behavior or makes a new sound or feels slightly warm, I convince myself there’s something wrong with her. She hasn’t pooped since Monday – her bowels must be blocked and her innards are going to explode. She’s sleeping more than usual – she must be sick. I have taken something as desirable as her actually SLEEPING and instead of enjoying some me-time I spend it worrying that something is wrong with her. Something is wrong with ME!

I try not to be this way. I’ve stopped obsessively taking her temperature. I just feel like I’m going to be the crazy lady who covers her house in protective padding and never lets her kid climb on things and other kids will make fun of her because I make her wear a helmet on the school bus and a face mask in class to avoid germs. I’m sure if she’s actually sick it will be pretty obvious. Just like if I actually had a brain tumor 12 years ago it would have shown itself by now. I realize it’s irrational but I can’t stop the crazy.

Ugh. This is why I drink at night.

Rory is two months old today. The time has alternately flown and dragged, depending on if it’s a day where she will accept being put down, or a day where she will scream if not being held in the proper way. It’s still rough on me sometimes, but I’ve been feeling better by simply accepting that my house will be clean again someday, my clothes will fit again someday, I can drink an entire bottle of wine and not inebriate an infant in the process someday. Actually, I don’t think I could ever drink an entire bottle without dying, especially now that my liver is weak after not drinking at all for almost a year. Plus, it’s likely frowned upon to raise children whilst falling-down drunk. But the point is I COULD.

As far as milestones go, she has started smiling. When she’s in the right mood you can talk to her and she’ll make these huge open-mouthed grins or these coy little smirks. She’s also started to coo this month. It’s still mostly just grunts, but occasionally she’ll look at you and smile and say “Ah gooo!” with a little spittly gurgle and it’s so damn cute it makes my eyes water. I think she’s also tried to laugh a few times, but it only manages to come out as a cough. When she gets super excited she kicks her legs like a crazy person. Her poops remain explosive and mind-boggling.

Weight: 12 lbs 11 oz (+2 lbs 10 oz)
Length: 22.75 in (+1 in)
Head: 15.5 in (+0.5 in)

I gained approximately 34 pounds during my pregnancy. I think the recommended weight gain for pregnancy is 25-35 pounds (I could look it up, but I’m on a time limit of “hurry the hell up before the baby wakes up”) so I finished just within acceptable bounds. By the third trimester I was basically inhaling all manner of foods with reckless abandon, so I’m glad I was anywhere close to within bounds. Now that I’m eight weeks postpartum, weight loss has started nagging at my brain. I lost around 22 pounds within the first week, which I will fondly remember as the easiest 22 pounds I ever lost. Sure, the majority of it was baby, placenta, blood, and water… ok probably all of it was that stuff. Since then I’ve lost around three more pounds, leaving me with nine pounds to lose to get back to pre-pregnancy weight.

I had my six week postpartum checkup a couple weeks ago, and everything seemed to check out. Besides the awkward conversation in which my mustachio-ed OB told me I may experience vaginal dryness due to breastfeeding, and we can resume intercourse with the aid of a lubricant as long as we go slow and ease into it (thanks for THAT info), it was a good appointment. That means I’m now free to exercise as desired. I’d been itching to start running again during the early weeks, even though I knew I couldn’t and was in too much pain to do it anyway. It wasn’t until this week that I even attempted exercise because I’ve been having some nagging vag issues (random throbbing pains for which the OB can’t find a reason, and a sagging urethra… SAGGING URETHRA! Can you even imagine?? I finally get the courage to take a mirror and examine the carnage that is my underbits, and I find THAT staring at me. Jeebus.)

So, despite these issues, I began working out again this week. I can only take so much, and eight weeks of sitting on the couch was starting to make me batty. So on Monday I whipped out my “The Firm” DVDs and did the ab workout and the arm workout; the abs in the hope that those muscles travel back to  their original position, and the arms because oh my lord this baby is getting heavy and I can hardly lug her around in her carseat without killing myself. Then yesterday I started the Couch to 5k program again. I used that a couple years ago when I first started running and it worked well. Luckily, I think the marathon training I did last year wore off gradually because I didn’t struggle through the first workout the way I did the first time around. Working my way up to 5k seems kind of sad after running a marathon, but I know I can work my way back up to longer distances again. I don’t know that I’ll ever attempt a marathon again, though. Maybe if I’m feeling really ambitious, but I don’t see how I could find the time with a baby to keep alive. These shorter workouts were squeezed in during a morning nap and 45 minutes in which Ralf held her while she screamed.

I suppose I’m happy that I only have nine pounds left. The only annoying thing is that I’m in between pants sizes so I have to wear loose jeans until I fit into my original jeans. Who knows if that will ever happen, though, since my hips may be permanently expanded. It’s a good excuse for a fall clothing shopping spree, at any rate.

One month. I suppose the first month is the hardest, since you’re going from a life of complete freedom to a life with a baby. It’s a really, really big adjustment to make. Having a newborn is not very rewarding. You put in a ton of work and all you get back are some grunts, crying, and poop. It’s hard to tell if the baby is happy because she can’t smile or laugh. She can’t show you appreciation for all the hard work you’re doing. It’s just completely thankless, and that makes things less than fun sometimes. This is not to say that I’m not happy. I know this stage won’t last forever, and the rewards will come. In no time at all she will be able to smile. She will be rolling and sitting and walking and talking and I’ll be wondering what happened to this time.

So Rory, in your first month you have gone from living inside me to living out in the world. I’m sure that was quite an adjustment for you! You’ve learned how to breathe, how to eat, how to look around, make noise, and poop (and man, can you poop). You can hold up your head for a little while, until it becomes too heavy and crashes down on my face. You’ve been given nicknames such as Squeasel, Bug, Bugsy, Babeis, Roris, and my personal favorite, Rorasaurus. You took some car trips to visit family and did really well away from home! You’ve met a lot of people and made them very, very happy. I know in the coming months you’ll learn to do more and more things, and I look forward to watching you grow and see you start to change!

One month appointment stats:
Weight: 10 lb 1 oz (72nd percentile) +2 lb 11 oz
Length: 21.75 in (70th percentile) +1.75 in
Head: 15 in (69th percentile) +0.5 in

My husband travels a lot for work, but he hasn’t had to travel since Rory’s been born. This morning he left on his first trip since her birth, and as soon as he drove away (at like 4 am, and yes I was awake for three fabulous hours last night) I felt my stomach flop over itself in panic. I am alone with this baby for four days! She is entirely MY responsibility. What if I accidentally put her in the oven and try to breastfeed my frozen pizza? What if she won’t stop crying? Ralf usually holds her on his chest in the evenings and she naps peacefully. What if she misses him?

Well, day one started out all right. After her three hours of unacceptable awakeness from 2-5, she slept until 8:00, ate, and then proceeded to sleep another three hours or so until I finally woke her for fear she was completely flip-flopping her days and nights and I’d never sleep again. By afternoon I was feeling brave. Well, brave and desperate. I was out of cereal, and in the mornings I have to have my cereal (for fiber purposes). I had no choice but to go to the store. I’d never taken her to the store before. Would she scream the whole time? Would old ladies get up in her face and breathe swine flu on her? Luckily no, but it still ended in disaster.

The shopping trip itself was fine, except the fact that her car seat is enormous and doesn’t fit onto the front of the cart like others do, so I had to put her in the back, leaving little room for groceries. Anyway, I thought we had gotten through our first shopping trip unscathed, until we were back at home and I went to remove her from the car seat.

Poop. Everywhere.

So much poop! It had soaked around her entire pair of pants, pooling inside the legs, little seeds of poo sticking to her skin and parts of the car seat. It was more than awful. I had to strip her down and give her an emergency bath, and soak her wee pants so they are not permanently stained the orangey color of poo sunset. It was just… so much poo. I mean, really.

The rest of the evening was less exciting. I attempted to master my Moby wrap and I’m happy to say I’ve gotten to the point where she feels secure and not like she’s about to slip out onto the floor. She actually rode around in it and slept. Now she just needs some neck control so I don’t have to hold her in when I’m leaning over.

Three more days…

Oh, and I’m trying to write a one-month update post (never mind the fact that it’s already nine days past her one month birthday) but as usual I’m behind. I want to do monthly progress updates – we’ll see if I can manage to stick to that.