At the end of May I flew home to Texas from DC for a two week vacation (ha!)/little bro’s HS graduation/baby showoff/house hunting trip. I boarded a plane with a baby one day shy of 4 weeks old and prayed he would sleep through the whole 6 hour journey so I wouldn’t be “that mom” on the plane with “that baby” that everyone wanted to punt. It was incredibly exhausting and draining, though not because Kendall was fussy. He actually did sleep through the majority of the trip, snug as a bug in my Moby Wrap, keeping a close eye on his precious food source with his head resting between my boobs. The problem was that I had only been without a fever from the second case of mastitis in a week for about 24 hours, was running on only 4 hours of sleep since Kendall was still very much a nocturnal creature before leaving, and was breaking out in itchy hives everywhere from a reaction to the antibiotics I was taking for the mastitis. I was worn out from all the misery from the preceding weeks (post delivery week 1 - stitches, crushed tailbone, no sleep - week 2 - stitches, crushed tailbone, no sleep, contact dermatitis - week 3 - stitches, crushed tailbone, no sleep, contact dermatitis, mastitis - week 4- no sleep, insane, hormonal bitch, mastitis, reaction to the meds to help with mastitis) and was overwhelmed by what was ahead of me (travel with newborn by myself halfway across the country, introduce newborn to hundreds of people who will want to touch/kiss/infect him, face my very small hometown crowd at one of the year’s biggest community events at 4 weeks post partum knowing that every girl who hated me in HS will be judging how I look and loving it, drive across the state of TX - a very big state - to Dallas to look for and select a house to buy in 48 hours).

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Just got back from Kendall’s 2 month appointment (went in at 7 weeks since we are moving next week) and holy shit it was so horrible. Not really so much for him as it was for me, I think. Poor little guy had to get 3 shots. I didn’t think I’d get that upset. I mean, they are just shots. It’s not like he was actually SHOT in the leg three times. That’s seriously how I felt as I held his arms down…like the nurse was aiming a pistol at him. I started tearing up before Kendall even knew what was coming, which made it even worse. He’s hit the stage where he is cooing and smiling a lot. He was just laying there, grinning ear to ear and making adorable baby noises when - BAM! - he felt the first enormous needle (those needles are HUGE, especially when they are headed toward a baby leg, chunky as it may be). He opened his mouth to scream and couldn’t even make any noise at first. I was audibly crying at this point. When the noise finally did escape from his beet red face it was the most blood curdling, “Oh my fucking god I’m dying, you’re killing me, this is the end, somebody save me!!!!” cry I have ever heard in my life. I felt like such a traitor. I’m supposed to protect him. I’m supposed to make him feel better, and all I could do was reach down with my tear soaked face between shots and kiss him. I couldn’t even bring myself to say anything to him until after the last shot and then all I could say was, “I’m soooo sorry.” Ugh. I’m crying again just thinking about it. If I can’t make it through this, how on earth will I survive the inevitable trips to the emergency room for broken bones and other boyhood joys?

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Just wanted to take a minute to show you all how much Kendall really has grown, and of course to show off my handsome little man. That’s what moms are supposed to do anyway, right? Here are some recent pictures of him taken on Father’s Day.

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I know I’ve spent more than my fair share on here complaining in some way or another, and I’m really not writing this to sugar coat things.  The fact remains that the last 6 weeks have been TOUGH in a lot of ways, but as I started packing tonight for our big move to Dallas next week I couldn’t help but get a little sad.  My baby is six weeks old.  He will never be younger than this again.  He will never be smaller than this again.  He’s growing so much already. As much as I am hating breastfeeding right now, I have to admit it’s doing it’s job since my chunky monkey is closing in on a whopping 13 lbs already.  He’s already outgrowing some of his 0-3 month clothes, and the newborn sizes are definitely a thing of the past.  I’ve already started filling a Rubermaid bin with the clothes he’s outgrown, many of which he only got to wear one or two times (do NOT go crazy on the clothes before the baby comes…. one BIG way to waste your $$) and I won’t be unpacking them when we arrive at the new house, at least not until the next kid (and I really have NO idea when that will be).  So I write this to remind myself and anyone else out there in the bowels of newborn hell to stop and TRY to enjoy it, even if it’s only for the brief moments throughout the day that he is not crying and not demolishing my breasts.  Looking back, it scares to think how quickly the last six weeks have gone (although they seem like a lifetime too in some ways).  Although I’m exhausted 90% of the time and frustrated 50% of the time, I don’t want to wish away these precious days.  I surely will never get them back.

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It seems simple enough. Woman has boobs. Woman has baby. Woman’s boobs fill with milk for baby. Baby sucks milk out of boobs. Thousands of other mammals all over the earth manage to do it and make it look effortless. You’ve never seen a mother dog complain, have you? And those puppy teeth are like razors! But no, we humans have developed an entire industry around breastfeeding. Check out any baby store and you will find a vast array of nipple creams, soothing breast pads, pumps, special foot stools just for breastfeeding and special pillows. There are even people who get paid to watch you breastfeed your kid then cop a feel while they correct your latch, your hold, and teach you how to massage your breast. Hell, it doesn’t even stop there. There are groups of women who meet regularly to talk about one thing and one thing only - breastfeeding. You want to know why? Is it another example of out of control consumerism and the pregnant/new mom’s ability to spend excessive amounts of money on anything touted as a “must have” for their new baby? No. I’m here to tell you it’s because breastfeeding sucks. There…I said it. It sucks. It hurts like hell. It truly does take a village to convince you to keep doing it. If it wasn’t for all the support (a.k.a. experienced women commending me and promising me that it seriously DOES get better) and the helpful products, like nipple creams and soothing gel breastpads, I would have quit this shit a loooooong time ago.

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I had to laugh a few minutes ago when I checked out my Sitemeter.  It shows me all the links that people click on that lead them here.  Most of the time it’s posts on TheNest.com or Google readers, but every now and then it will turn up a little gem like this.  See, it also shows me the specific Google searches that lead to people finding my blog via search engine.  Sometimes it’s searches for something actually rabies related, sometimes it’s for searches about cervical mucus and ovulation and crap, but this is the search that linked me up tonight -

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I am a gift giver.  I live to find the perfect gift, wrap it up in the most adorable/creative wrapping, and pair it with the perfect card that I found after flipping through nearly every single one at Hallmark. It used to almost be a hobby for me.  If we were celebrating my husband’s first Father’s Day without all this hassle of being new parents (I know…but stay with me here…), I would have undoubtedly spent more than 5 minutes picking out his card.  I wouldn’t have just grabbed the first semi-funny one in the Shoebox section.  And I certainly would have wrapped his power tool set in something appropriate, perhaps some brown paper with a satin blue ribbon tied around it.  I may have even had Hailey help me draw tools all over it with crayon.  Instead, since I am so ridiculously tired and used every ounce of energy I have for the week schlepping Hailey and Kendall into Home Depot yesterday amidst the other frantic last minute shoppers and in the middle of a torrential downpour, this is how I presented my husband’s first Father’s Day gift -

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Just stopping in really quick to let you all know that I could possibly be the world’s/stupidest mother.  I haven’t updated in a while and won’t be able to again for another week or so because I have flown to Texas with my 1 month old son to attend my little brother’s graduation….oh, and to buy a house in 48 hours.  Yeah… I just got back from my two day whirlwind trip to Dallas where I toted my screaming baby around in a rental car to the soundtrack of white noise (aka - static on the radio) and looked at God knows how many houses while my sister and real estate agent took turns driving him around the block in an effort to keep him happy.  Anyway, I think we’ve found a house and I’ll be back with lots of crazy stories next week.1 month 3 days 

The fun just. doesn’t. stop.  I have MASTITIS!!  Because obviously I haven’t had a challenging enough postpartum recovery process.   I now have a lump the size of a golf ball under my left breast that is hot to the touch, incredibly painful, and it’s causing me to run a temp of 102 and making me so achy and weak I can barely pick Kendall up to feed him.  I have spent the last 48 hours in bed, only waking to feed Kendall.  Thank God Scott was able to call in sick to work the last couple nights.  It was so bad a couple nights ago that we used this opportunity to finally introduce Kendall to the bottle.  I have to say I really enjoyed the freedom of being able to get a little extra sleep while Scott had the chance to feed him.  And I won’t even let myself feel the tiniest bit of guilt over that.

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Stop crying…just stop…stop… please…. PLEASE STOP… just 30 minutes…. I just want a shower…. please…. stop…. STOP!!!!   Have you officially lost your mind when you are negotiating out loud with a 2 week old?  I have lost it.  I am insane.  I have done this to myself.  What do you want?!

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