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Browsing Tag: new baby

Limbo

Wake, feed, sleep. Wake, feed, sleep. Wake, feed, sleep. This is what living with a breastfed newborn is like, if you’re the one in charge of the breastfeeding. Wake, feed, sleep. It reminds me exactly of what it was like to play a game of jump-rope on the playground at recess as a kid. Two friends would stand opposite each other, swinging the rope in a perfect rhythm, while I stood to the side, arms raised, hands timing the beat of the rope against the ground, taking a moment to understand the pace of the game before I jumped in, took my spot, broke through the window. That’s what this is like, these early weeks. Wake, feed, sleep.  I can hear the rhythm in my head as I stumble through the day, though that could just be the sound of my own pulse in my ears because I am so tired. Wake, feed, sleep. Everything must occur in windows. Feed the baby, jump in the shower, feed the baby, get the girls a snack, feed the baby, brush my teeth. And in between, watch to see if he wants to be awake, or wants to…

Well, That Was Unexpected

As I type this, one child of mine is napping upstairs in her room, another is playing quietly with her cars in the family room, and a third–my third!–is snuggled beside me on the couch, furiously working at his hospital-issued pacifier and staring at the shadows dancing on a throw pillow with the pointed fascination only a tired two-week-old can muster. I’ve been so anxious to write this post for days now, but now that I’m sitting down, staring at the screen, all I can do is think, three. We have three. My God, my life is full. Cian Xavier (it’s pronounced “Key-yen,” and means ancient, enduring. It’s also the name of an old Celtic hero who got all PO’d at some Irish king and impregnated his daughter in retaliation, but nevermind that, please. Actually, just forget I told you, okay?) has entered our lives as if he’d always been here, sweet and mellow and desperate to be held all the time. He’s a boy. A BOY, which means that I’ve had to figure…

Operation Procreation, Mission Three

You guys. There’s a baby in my belly. I know. I needed a moment, too. But it’s true, and my jeans will vouch for me, because they don’t button anymore. It’s there, somewhere under my belly button, swimming around, all teeny-tiny fingers and toes, making me insanely tired, improbably nauseous, and forcing me to wear pants with elastic panels that come up to my chest. All I need are suspenders and a Pabst Blue Ribbon in one hand and I look like an elderly farmer with a potbelly sitting on his front porch, watching the world roll by. Except that my front porch would be littered with kids’ toys and two (three!) young children climbing the railing. But here we are: three months, countless packs of saltines and lots of naps later, I have finally, finally crawled out from under the rock that is the first trimester to shout it from the rooftops: Operation Procreation has launched its third mission, expected to be completed around the first week of January. And boy, do I need to catch up on the laundry. We wanted another child, but no rush, no worries…