All About My Daughter

Josie is 7 weeks old.

She’s about 10 lbs. now and at least 22 inches long. She’s already out of her 0-3 mo. clothes.

She seems to be retaining her blue eyes, which we have been seeing for longer and longer “play times.” If she’s in her bouncy chair or on her play gym, she focuses and bats at and pulls on the hanging toys.

When she stretches, which is often, she purses her lips and makes a sound I call her El Camino because it reminds me of tires on an old car screeching around a corner.

Josie cannot eat while working on a poop. She employs a kissy face that alerts us to this situation. She prefers to do her pooping on the changing table or when K is holding her in a sitting position facing out. Post-bath (in the towel) is another great time for a big poop.

Josie rocks the mullet: business in the front, party in the back.

She looks like my dad, whom she’s named after. My mom claims she looks the most like him of all their 15 grandkids.

Her eyelashes are very light; they’re long but curl up beautifully at the tips.

She’s starting to suck her thumb more — especially when my mom helps her find it.

She vocalizes occasionally, which makes me crazy with love.

With Mama at her first outing to the tea shop.

Of course there’s much more I could write, but my time is very limited. I’ll give a brief synopsis of what the past 7 weeks have looked like around here:

When the doctor discharged me from the hospital and said I should “take it easy” for the next 6 weeks, I did not understand what that meant. I knew I had lost a lot of blood and had a stitched-up undercarriage, but I assumed that after a couple weeks I should be taking short walks, bouncing my baby to put her to sleep, vacuuming, etc. If that’s all I’m doing, that, to me, is taking it easy. Well, apparently I wasn’t supposed to do anything at all for those 6 weeks but lie down and feed the baby. It’s no wonder that the healing process was frustrating me… I’d walk to the grocery store, slowly, and walk back only to feel terrible pressure and rawness down there for the rest of the day. I’d have to then sit for hours at a time while breastfeeding (or learning to breastfeed). In case it’s not obvious, I’ll tell you that sitting on a 3rd degree episiotomy and significant vaginal tearing from forceps is highly uncomfortable. At my 6-week postpartum check up, the midwife, who was at my birth and saw what all went down, said my healing will take more like 3 months than 6 weeks, and that I should only now start taking 1-block walks. I sure wish I had that info when I was sent home from the hospital!

With the help of K’s mom, our doula, a lactation specialist, and my mom (whose life we’ve taken over for 4 weeks!), K and I have been able to eek out a couple of hours of sleep between feedings throughout the night and into the late morning. Since I have not been able to sit on the bouncy ball to put the baby to sleep, K has has had to do all of the putting down. I just crawl off my donut and back into bed after each nursing session. So, we pass Josie off on my mom in the morning, giving me another hour of sleep and K another 2 to 3. A given day has my mom going shopping and cooking, K doing laundry, both doing dishes, and me nursing and doing sitz baths. We’ve been managing pretty well like this (save for my occasional postpartum breakdowns — I’ve had a hard time feeling like a prima donna and a sloth.).

But my mom must finally go home next week. What will we do? Survive? Become self-sufficient? Will it be possible if I’m still feeling less than capable? Tune-in for the next post, whenever that may be…


2 Responses to “All About My Daughter”

  1. 1 February 9, 2012 at 11:40 pm

    You guys can and will do it, and I’m sorry to hear about all of that pain. Rest as much as you can my friend. Get through these first 6 months and it will get easier, I promise. Much love, Angela

  2. 2 Nuclear Mama February 9, 2012 at 11:52 pm

    Looking at that photo, you’d never guess what goes on during the “witching hour” (or hours, 6 pm to midnight for Ms. Vitamin J)… the screaming to get on the breast, then off the breast, then burped, then back on the breast, then changed, then played with but not touched, then jostled to sleep, then up 2 minutes later because she sensed a sigh of relief somewhere in the room. As I’ve said, cuteness is the best survival skill.

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