Scenes From the 2nd Month
1. Oliver has started to smile and coo. It's amazing. We can hardly believe that he's learning to do things that he's supposed to be learning to do in the time that he's supposed to be learning them! Of course, he's an intelligent boy, but it's really remarkable to watch!
2. So there I was: nursing Ollie. Doug's out doing some work thing or another, so I'm home alone. The lobby door buzzes and I think, I'll ignore it. I can't really get up right now. It buzzes again a little more insistently, so I hesitantly get up - taking Ollie, still latched, with me. Most awkward position imaginable - my shirt it pulled up around my neck, the bra is halfway unhooked and my 5 week old son is hanging horizontally from my left nipple. I press the intercom and find out that it's the mailman and he's got a package for me. I press the button to open the lobby door and as soon as I do I realize, oh crap, that's not the end - I'm going to have to go downstairs to sign for the package! With Ollie still chugging away, I open the front door just a tad and, taking an embarrassing breath and hoping that my neighbors work during the day, yell down the stairs, "I just opened the door. I'm sorry, I can't come down - I'm breastfeeding!" I hear footsteps on the stairs - omigosh, he's coming up here. He's coming up here and my boob is hanging out! Before I can shut the door, put Ollie down and pull up my shirt, the mailman climbs the last stair, turns around and, looking down rather shamefully, thrusts the box at me. I, of course, start giggling uncontrollably and say something stupid like, "Ha! I'm breastfeeding - isn't this funny?" I sign for the package with my one empty hand and try to make eye-contact with the mailman so that I can see if he finds this funny at all. I always need validation - it's a rather unhelpful characteristic. No dice. That mailman is not looking up for all the world. I shut the door just as Ollie unlatches and looks up at me, satisfied.
3. While my sister and her daughter were here, I had my six week appointment with the midwife, Elizabeth. Courtney and Mallory accompanied Oliver and I to the appointment so that they could watch Ollie in the waiting room. This being the first long outing, I was nervous I wouldn't be able to handle him myself. As soon as the ladies in the office saw Oliver, they had to hold him. Kris, our favorite nurse, took him and introduced him around. She put him to sleep and neglected all her duties while I was in my open-back patient gown flitting from the cot to the hallway to check on him. It was a great appointment, but he was a hungry munchkin after I got dressed. Kris told me that I could use the doctor's office to feed him, so I tried to give him just a little nip - you know, enough to get him home. A half hour...2 sudsy diapers...a screaming baby...lost cellphone...3 apologies...a full waiting room of pissed off pregnant ladies...and one wayward ponytail later, Court, Mally, Oliver and I were back on the street.
4. At seven weeks, Ollie had his six week growth spurt. Holy crap. It was almost a full week of crankiness, but thankfully, only one night (from 6 - 11:30pm) of nonstop (and I mean consistent) nursing. Start on the left...go for 15 minutes...go to the right...think he's done...he starts crying...go back to the left...15 minutes...back to the right...and on and on. Actually, I take that back, it wasn't completely nonstop, because from 10 - 10:15 Doug took him into the nursery while I passed out on the couch cradling my tender breasts. But he did seem bigger the next morning, I will give evolution that.
5. Yesterday morning, I was breastfeeding and writing my dad an email on the blackberry. Regretfully, I wasn't paying too much attention to Ollie. I look down and there's Oliver: asleep. My nipple is stuck in his ear and he's giggling and making nursing faces.
6. Doug says the 3 most memorable ways that he's been woken up are the following:
a). Me, in an urgent whisper: "Doug. Doug! Take the baby, I have to poop!"
b). Me, kneeing the bed so hard that I move the bedsprings but acting like it was an accident.
c). Me, sitting up straight rocking the sheets: "There's no baby here is there. There's no baby here."
7. Tonight, I was nursing (common theme I realize) and listening to "I Dreamed A Dream" on the Bose. I'm looking down at my perfect son (perfect because as of that moment he had decided to stop screaming and thrashing around on my chest) and heard the line, "I dreamed that God would be forgiving." It occurred to me that maybe God had completely and utterly forgiven all my offenses by giving me this beautiful boy. I've heard people say that they know God's love when they look into the face of their child. That's a bit...well, I can't measure that as much. But that's what I see when I look at Oliver. God's forgiveness. Right now, the slate has been wiped clean. And I'm grateful.
2. So there I was: nursing Ollie. Doug's out doing some work thing or another, so I'm home alone. The lobby door buzzes and I think, I'll ignore it. I can't really get up right now. It buzzes again a little more insistently, so I hesitantly get up - taking Ollie, still latched, with me. Most awkward position imaginable - my shirt it pulled up around my neck, the bra is halfway unhooked and my 5 week old son is hanging horizontally from my left nipple. I press the intercom and find out that it's the mailman and he's got a package for me. I press the button to open the lobby door and as soon as I do I realize, oh crap, that's not the end - I'm going to have to go downstairs to sign for the package! With Ollie still chugging away, I open the front door just a tad and, taking an embarrassing breath and hoping that my neighbors work during the day, yell down the stairs, "I just opened the door. I'm sorry, I can't come down - I'm breastfeeding!" I hear footsteps on the stairs - omigosh, he's coming up here. He's coming up here and my boob is hanging out! Before I can shut the door, put Ollie down and pull up my shirt, the mailman climbs the last stair, turns around and, looking down rather shamefully, thrusts the box at me. I, of course, start giggling uncontrollably and say something stupid like, "Ha! I'm breastfeeding - isn't this funny?" I sign for the package with my one empty hand and try to make eye-contact with the mailman so that I can see if he finds this funny at all. I always need validation - it's a rather unhelpful characteristic. No dice. That mailman is not looking up for all the world. I shut the door just as Ollie unlatches and looks up at me, satisfied.
3. While my sister and her daughter were here, I had my six week appointment with the midwife, Elizabeth. Courtney and Mallory accompanied Oliver and I to the appointment so that they could watch Ollie in the waiting room. This being the first long outing, I was nervous I wouldn't be able to handle him myself. As soon as the ladies in the office saw Oliver, they had to hold him. Kris, our favorite nurse, took him and introduced him around. She put him to sleep and neglected all her duties while I was in my open-back patient gown flitting from the cot to the hallway to check on him. It was a great appointment, but he was a hungry munchkin after I got dressed. Kris told me that I could use the doctor's office to feed him, so I tried to give him just a little nip - you know, enough to get him home. A half hour...2 sudsy diapers...a screaming baby...lost cellphone...3 apologies...a full waiting room of pissed off pregnant ladies...and one wayward ponytail later, Court, Mally, Oliver and I were back on the street.
4. At seven weeks, Ollie had his six week growth spurt. Holy crap. It was almost a full week of crankiness, but thankfully, only one night (from 6 - 11:30pm) of nonstop (and I mean consistent) nursing. Start on the left...go for 15 minutes...go to the right...think he's done...he starts crying...go back to the left...15 minutes...back to the right...and on and on. Actually, I take that back, it wasn't completely nonstop, because from 10 - 10:15 Doug took him into the nursery while I passed out on the couch cradling my tender breasts. But he did seem bigger the next morning, I will give evolution that.
5. Yesterday morning, I was breastfeeding and writing my dad an email on the blackberry. Regretfully, I wasn't paying too much attention to Ollie. I look down and there's Oliver: asleep. My nipple is stuck in his ear and he's giggling and making nursing faces.
6. Doug says the 3 most memorable ways that he's been woken up are the following:
a). Me, in an urgent whisper: "Doug. Doug! Take the baby, I have to poop!"
b). Me, kneeing the bed so hard that I move the bedsprings but acting like it was an accident.
c). Me, sitting up straight rocking the sheets: "There's no baby here is there. There's no baby here."
7. Tonight, I was nursing (common theme I realize) and listening to "I Dreamed A Dream" on the Bose. I'm looking down at my perfect son (perfect because as of that moment he had decided to stop screaming and thrashing around on my chest) and heard the line, "I dreamed that God would be forgiving." It occurred to me that maybe God had completely and utterly forgiven all my offenses by giving me this beautiful boy. I've heard people say that they know God's love when they look into the face of their child. That's a bit...well, I can't measure that as much. But that's what I see when I look at Oliver. God's forgiveness. Right now, the slate has been wiped clean. And I'm grateful.
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