I had a dream last night that I met a plastic surgeon. He offered me one free cosmetic surgery. I asked if he could restore my coochie to its pre-pregnancy glory.
He laughed in my face and exclaimed, “No one can fix that mess!”
Geez. And here I thought I wasn’t having any self-esteem issues with my post-pregnancy body.
Today you turn two months old and, just like last month, I’m stuck between amazement at how time has flown by and disbelief that it’s only been that long. This morning as we laid in bed together, I rested my hand on my stomach and remembered being pregnant, feeling you kicking and pushing — but I couldn’t think of what it was that I did all day without you around. Then I tried to remember life before the pregnancy, and it came to me in bits and pieces: a vacation to Florida, a trip to Connecticut, taking pictures with Daddy in Montreal, or bringing home the puppies. These memories seemed more like remnants of a dream than anything that ever happened to me, as if I only drew breath when you did.
Despite our love for you, there’s no denying that this month has been difficult. You’ve grown more aware and responsive, but at the same time, you’re very demanding. I’m surprised there’s not a path worn in our flooring from how many hours Daddy and I have spent carrying you back and forth around the apartment, shushing you, trying to make you happy. There was one night where you cried for four hours straight — and of course this was quite late, when Daddy had to work the next day. But you know what? As soon as he came out to help us, you fell asleep in his arms.
This month, you two have become something like best friends. We joke that you’re Queen Maia, he’s Prince Daddy, and I’m Mommy the Milkmaid. There have literally been times when you two are together, I’ve walked over to say hello, you’ve taken one look at me, and started to wail. Fortunately, I have a sense of humour about this, or else you might just hurt my feelings. Although that said, he did scare you the other day. He was raising you up in the air, over his head, and you loved this, so he thought that maybe you’d like to be lowered as well; he pretended to drop you from his waist to his knees and you screamed, this frightened, high-pitched, endless wail. You were terrified. We felt horrible, and Daddy cuddled you close until you calmed down.
If there’s only one memory I could hold on to from this month, it would be seeing you smile for the first time. It was 5am and you decided that was a perfectly good time to wake up for awhile, so we went out into the living room together. I laid you down on the couch and played with you — and then, you beamed. Your mouth opened wide, the corners of it curled up, your dimple appeared, and your eyes wrinkled up with joy. Maia, you could wake me up every hour of the night, as long as you smile at me. I went and woke your Daddy up to let him know, but it took another week before you started smiling at him. Now, every morning, you are in a happy mood and you smile at us while “talking”. It makes starting the day so much easier!
For the last few days, you’ve been trying to laugh. This is hilarious, since it means you draw a big breath and then you squeal or yell, very loudly, while smiling. I know that within the next week or two you’ll start giving us those giggles that you so desperately are trying to find, and of course I’m more than willing to help you, and I’ve probably tickled you more in these few days than I have in the rest of your life.
You’re also “standing” a lot. Sometimes when we’re holding you, you stretch out your legs (we refer to this as “Legs of Steel”) and push off us. We’ll swing you backwards and pull you back up, but that’s not always enough, and you want to be held straight up so you can put all your weight on your feet. Then you straighten your back, hold your head up, and talk to us. You’re only eight weeks old, Maia! Stop trying to grow up so fast.
Every day with you is different from the one before. Sometimes you’ll nap all day, sometimes you’ll be awake for ten hours in a row. Sometimes you are incredibly happy, sometimes you cry no matter what we do. Sometimes you’re interested in us, sometimes you want to look at toys instead. We can’t predict you, and as frustrating as it can be to have to think outside of the box, I love that you expand our horizons. People say they start to think differently when they have a child, and I understand that now. It’s not just that I have to think about how to take care of someone else, or how the world will impact you, but I have to find new ways of looking at situations. I have to try and think like a baby, and that’s difficult with twenty-six years of life experience. But it’s amazing.
We are so in love with you, baby girl. Even when you wear us out.
Have you seen one of these? Our hostess at Friday night’s Easter dinner was showing hers off, and it took all of my willpower not to crack up…
I’ve written about my father before, but here we go again.
A few days after Maia’s birth, a bouquet of flowers arrived at the door. Chris accepted them and read the card — we had no idea who they could be from, since we had seen everyone already, and so I thought maybe they were from him and he was trying to play dumb like “Oh, no, I dunno who sent those.”
His face went blank, and he handed the card to my mother. I was practically bouncing out of my seat: “Who’s it from?” Her lips pursed. She glanced at Chris, then at me, then back at Chris… and handed me the card:
“Congratulations on the delivery of your new baby girl. We’re very proud of you, your Dad loves and misses you very much. Love, Dad & Stepmom”
What the fuck?
I don’t know how to respond. My initial thought was just to send him a thank you card with a picture of Maia. And since then I’ve gone back and forth on whether I should even do that. There are a lot of reasons why I don’t want him in my life, not the least of which is that I don’t want him to feel he has any right to contact my siblings, but then I think… this is my baby’s grandpa. And I remember that he has had two kids with his new wife — they’re my blood, regardless of how I feel about her. Shouldn’t I know them?
I don’t feel like I can ever forgive him. So is it even worth my time to try? Sigh. Two months later and I’m still confused.
Girl Talk Thursday is Mommy Melee‘s weekly event, and I really love the thought, so here it comes: my thoughts on the topic of “Your Favourite Sexy Movie”!
I don’t have one. I watch like… “Finding Nemo” and “The Princess Bride”, when I watch movies; I’m not really big on sitting around for hours in front of a movie. I’ll watch TV because I can get up during commercials and do other things, and I’ll go to the movie theatre because it’s an experience, but watching a movie at home that I’ve already seen before usually just doesn’t sound appealing.
But I’m posting this in case anyone else wants to participate in this week’s theme!
The other day, I grabbed the breast pump my MIL bought me and decided to disassemble and wash it. I pulled out the directions as to how to clean it, and broke it down into pieces — or at least, I tried to. The handle part is attached to some blue cup thingie, and to get the blue cup thingie detached, you have to turn it counter-clockwise and match up the dot on the blue cup with the centre of the handle.
So I’m trying to do this. And I can’t get the damned thing to turn far enough to get the dot anywhere near the handle, nevermind the centre of the handle. I started cursing at it (Maia was asleep!) and finally just threw it aside to let Chris handle later, before my brain exploded.
When Chris got home, he read the instructions and tried to follow them. He couldn’t get the blue cup thingie to come off, either.
So he paused. He looked at it. He looked at me. He looked at it again. And then he turned it once more, smoothly, and the blue cap came off. “Oh,” he said.
“How did you do that?” I asked.
“I turned it counter-clockwise.”
We had both been turning it clockwise.
We’re fucking GENIUSES in this house.
Maia’s 61cm (24 inches!) “long”…. but you could say she’s 2 ft tall in this vid:
I’m bummed that today’s midwife appointment was the last. I’ve really, really enjoyed working with them and it feels so weird that these women who have been such an integral part of the most amazing thing in my life are now “gone”. Georgia said we should stop by anytime we’re in the area, and although we’re pretty much never out that way, we very well might make a trip to their office some time on a boring day anyhow!
Maia’s up to 12lb 5oz and 61cm long. This puts her around the 80th percentile for weight, and 95th for length. She’s gained 24oz in the past 25 days. This means that she is growing like a weed… or a sunflower. Yeah, I think I like sunflower better.
She was fussy when Georgia first took her and laid her down to weigh and measure her, but that was expected. She calmed down as the examination continued, but by the time the baby had been checked out and I was getting examined (fucking pap smear, cold metal speculum, ughhh), Maia was happily cooing and talking to all of us. She’s so damned adorable.
Georgia asked when we’re going to be back for our second baby… haha. God help us all, I hope it’s not for a few years yet. I think Chris and I are both comfortable with the thought of having another baby arrive when Maia’s around three years old or so at the earliest.
At the end of the appointment we took a picture of Maia with Georgia. One day we can show it to her and say “this is the woman who helped us out all through the pregnancy and heard your heartbeat with us for the first time. You used to kick her microphone and once you even had hiccups while we were listening that made me laugh so hard she had to move the mic away.”
Sigh. I miss our midwives already.
I love the mornings right now. Maia is a talkative little monster during them, and I can usually get her to smile at me a few times while we play around with one another. “Playing” at this point is really not much more than me waving a rattle or toy in front of her and watching her follow it with her eyes, or me tickling the breath out of her and smothering her with kisses, but I still love it. She makes the funniest faces and talks back at me, making these sort of uncontrolled shouts or coos. It’s adorable.
I can’t get that scary moment on Friday night when she stopped breathing out of my head, though. And yesterday, she vomited twice, once seeming to choke on it. I took a little online Infant Reflux Screening Quiz, and if I’m being honest with myself I answered yes to several of the questions — more than I expected to. I tend to be the kind of person who ignores/downplays symptoms of illness. We see the midwife for our last appointment tomorrow, and our family doctor on Tuesday, so I’ll be able to get two opinions and possibly a prescription if needed. I hate the thought of this being an issue with Maia, I’d rather say it’s colic or gas or something, and I really hate the idea of giving her some sort of prescription medicine, but if she’s genuinely got reflux, then it needs to be treated, and I’m on board with that. I just don’t want to be one of those moms who relies on modern medicine for any little thing that seems to go wrong with her child, but I also don’t want to deny symptoms that include my daughter NOT BREATHING.
Also, can I just say… I am totally geeking out about existere’s twins. I can’t wait for the results of her scan to find out their genders. It’s kind of silly, it’s like I am thinking of these kids as Maia’s e-cousins!