Wednesday, May 20, 2015

Two Weeks of Charlie

+ A more appropriate title for this post would be "We have no idea what we are doing." I have no idea how to mother, and Charlie seems to not know how to baby. She makes these 'dying baby seal' sounds, as Nik affectionately refers to them, and I think they roughly translate to, "What is going on?!" We are both making it up as we go. 

+ The first night home from the hospital, running on a total of five hours of sleep over a period of 72 hours (some of those hours including pushing a baby out of me) I nearly lost it. Lying in bed, half zombie, the thought crossed my mind, 'Everyone I know who has a child has done this?!' I couldn't believe that I knew so many people who made the decision to do what I was doing. I made a mental list of girls I wanted to call the next morning to ask how they did it. The following morning, with a few groggy hours of sleep acquired, having a newborn didn't seem so impossible. 

+ Charlie lost a lot of weight initially. Almost a pound. All the nurses did a great job of stressing me out by saying, "It's not that big of a deal, but statistically she's not where we'd want her to be." Very reassuring. Considering it was my newly appointed job to keep her alive, I panicked, and transformed into a complete hormonally-imbalanced, sleep-deprived stressball. Did I have enough milk? Was she even eating?! IF I DON'T STOP STRESSING WILL I COMPLETELY LOSE MY SUPPLY OF MILK?! It was a vicious anxiety cycle. We had to do a weight check two days after the hospital, and she had lost more weight. It was devastating. That weekend, I was a feeding machine. I fed her whenever she cried, didn't let her fall asleep until she had 15 minutes of active feeding, and prayed constantly that I could get her weight up. She was spending six hours a day actively feeding. At her weight check she went from 7 lbs 14 oz to 8 lbs 6 oz in three days. Looking back, it was just because my milk hadn't come in. Following the appointment, her pediatrician called to inform me she gained three times the amount of expected weight, and I no longer needed to wake her up for night feedings, and congratulated me on my "ample milk supply". I'm not exaggerating when I say it was one of my proudest accomplishments to date. 

+ After two weeks together, we are finally figuring each other out. I know how she likes to be held, can kind of distinguish between different cries, and she seems to know the exact amount of crying and sleep deprivation I can tolerate before I'd lose it. We spend all of our time together, and I'm banking on all the time I'm putting in now will be rewarded by being her favorite later. 

+ I had every intention of using our real camera when she was born, but instead have a Camera Roll full of pictures sent to family. 

Ugh, the chub. It's too much for me to bear. 

"DAD!" (dying baby seal grunts)

We can't figure out if she likes being swaddled or sleeping with her arms up. Depends on the mood. She keeps us guessing.
Her profile. That double chin. It's too much for me. 

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