The first eight weeks... or is it twelve?

I used to tell friends who became new mommies that the first month of a new baby was NOT the hardest... the second and third months were the hardest because 1) you no longer had sleep reserves on which to rely; and 2) you were coming down from your high.

My newest little one is seven weeks old and this advice has never been more true, especially now that it is compounded by having an energetic toddler as well. There have been mornings, like this one, where the little TanTan (pronounced with a short 'a') wakes up at 3 or 4am, refusing to sleep any longer in his bed. He then kvetches and cries on and off for the next 2-3 hours until the toddler wakes up, who has decided recently that the best time to wake up for the day is 5:30am (2 hours earlier than usual).

As expected, last month wasn't easy but month #2 hit me pretty hard. In fact, this morning I physically couldn't get out of bed until 11am. And that's saying a lot, considering I have a mild sleep disorder and have gotten accustomed to excessive daytime sleepiness.

Every morning since baby turned three weeks old (when he got on more of a schedule), all I do is grab him, bring him to bed, and nurse him from side to side for a few hours. But TanTan is growing, growing, growing so much that all he's done, for seven weeks, is eat immense amounts, sleep all day, poop, and spit up (thank you, dairy intolerance and acid reflux). He's not nearly as awake as ElyZ was when he was younger; then again, ElyZ only started really growing at 4.5 months. So TanTan literally sucks all the energy out of me on a nightly basis.

What I've been trying to remember, so far unsuccessfully (see my previous blog 'Memories'), is whether it was the second or the third month which was the most difficult. My only consolation is that the second month is almost over, so either it'll now improve or I'm halfway through the worst of it ... sigh.

My saving grace is my husband, who helps take care of the toddler in the morning before he drops him off at Gan and "speaks" for the baby, saying funny things. The light of my life is my crazy, early-rising toddler, ElyZ. He waves and says goodbye on the rough mornings; he comes home from Gan with a huge smile on his angelic face and his blonde hair is getting long and adorably out of control.

And it's not like there's much of a choice in this matter, so I'll just suck it up for another month and start recovering then.

At least he's super cute.


Update: At about 10 weeks, he started being more... reasonable. Granted, his sleep schedule disintegrated (darned three-month regression), but he became more loveable.

Memories... or lack of them.

Almost six weeks ago I gave birth to my second child. He was 3.000 kilo and born at 38+6 (weeks plus days). He's a sweetheart and my first born is handling it pretty much like a champ (I owe that to his personality and to the great advice I got from family and friends who have already been through this). In fact, he's probably handling it better than my husband and I are.

Somehow, in the last two years, I forgot what it was like raising and taking care of a newborn. I forgot so much that, while eight and nine months pregnant, I gave inaccurate information to a friend of mine who is a FTM ("first time mom"). I didn't mean to; I truly didn't remember having this much trouble, not just with the tiny human but with my husband as well.

In reality, my husband has done very little wrong. He tries to help when he can, washes tons of dishes, and cleans up sometimes when I'm couch-bound with baby (more on that later). But when you're sleep deprived, you are tired, have way less patience, your muscles hurt, and you're emotional. Many times I have snapped at my husband when he didn't deserve it. And he snaps at me and gets impatient with me... I'll even admit what most parents won't - having brief, horrible thoughts when you're at the end of your mental and emotional rope. I recently read an article on how sleep deprivation is used in torture... we're talking about the same thing that moms go through voluntarily.

Clearly our brains are wired to forget much that occurs during birth and after so we actually go through this process again. Here's a brief list of the things I have forgotten...

1. What it's like to be clean for more than five minutes (body & clothes);
1. Corollary: How much laundry this creates in a minuscule amount of time.
2. How much/often baby will want and need to nurse;
3. Babies know when you need to go to the bathroom or when you want to shower and will do everything in their power to prevent that (I suspect it is because they like the way you smell and don't want that to change);
4. How much time you'll sit around your house with your boob hanging out;
5. How much it hurts when you first start breastfeeding but how much better it feels when both you and baby get the hang of latching (victory!);
6. How much your bottom will really start to hurt after sitting for hours on end since baby is sleeping on you (and occasionally nursing);
7. How much you need an extra pair of hands, or a house cleaner, or a friend to help hold the baby;
8. How frustrating and annoying this baby can be;
9. How long it takes for baby to go through his developmental leaps;
10. How putting on eyeliner feels like an enormous accomplishment;
11. What it's like to not get a full night's sleep in weeks and months;
1. Corollary: How easy it is to snap at your partner simply due to sleep deprivation when you normally wouldn't do that.
12. How your ability to adjust to temperatures is way off;
13. How you find your husband holding baby in the oddest position simply because that's the only position in which baby won't cry;
14. How you have to explain to others that no, you really don't like being couch-bound, sitting on your bum for six hours a day just so baby sleeps (it HURTS) because you don't feel like you're accomplishing anything, especially because the apartment really needs a thorough cleaning and organizing (and how, at the same time in your head, you're thinking that you really are accomplishing quite a bit... you're helping provide a tiny, helpless human comfort, security, and love, and dammit, that's more important than almost anything, except maybe the garbage needing to go out).
15. How freaking adorable and sweet your baby can be and how he smiles at just the right moment to ease your stress and make you remember why you did this again.

I'm sure there's more, but hey, I've forgotten.

Why am I talking about all this? Not just to vent... 

When you have a baby, you don't hear about all of the above. You may hear that it's not supposed hurt when you nurse; it means you're doing it wrong (screw you)..... or you only see the cute photos on social media so it must be a piece of cake... or hell, other moms may tell you (deliberately or accidentally) that it's not so bad or they had a perfect child. Don't get too upset with those mommies; give them the benefit of the doubt. It may simply be a faulty memory like mine (it's nature's way of perpetuating the generations).

Don't feel like you're alone. Don't feel like you're a horrible mother/parent for having awful thoughts because you've been hearing crying all day, not slept more than 1-3 hours at a time, been pooped on, peed on, vomited on, had to change your outfit and baby's outfit at least four times - ALL OF THE ABOVE - in the past three hours. Don't feel like you're doing something wrong because all these other mommies make it look so easy or because baby is still crying. Don't feel that baby hates you or is trying to manipulate you or mess with you or ruin your life. 

You are not alone. Baby is just being a baby. The only consistent thing about the little buggers is their inconsistency. Remember, your baby didn't ask to be here... you wanted the little one here.

So take a deep breath, mama. Put munchkin down if need be ((in a safe place) and take another deep breath. Call a friend. Maybe have a sip of wine. Remember and know that mothers have all gone through this for centuries, all around the world, and we are all here together, believing in you. 

Take a pic when they smile and post that shot somewhere in your line of sight. At some point, the little one will give you another smile, one that makes all the torture worthwhile. And as time passes, they'll get older, more adorable and entertaining, more challenging, and you'll wistfully look back at those days when they weren't so much trouble, when they were just little bundles of joy... and want another one.