Wednesday, February 25, 2015

Here We Are Again

Have you seen that You Tube video going around Facebook about the real meaning of the Semisonic song Closing Time?

If not, here you go.

Watch This

So, now we're all on the same page.

February 3rd we decided we (I) had had enough of the whole carrying of the fourth child thing.  I mean, he was supposed to be early.  He was so low, I was really dilated, it was past the 40 week mark.  It was February.

He had been in there long enough.

It was time to go in after him.

Smoke him out.

It was closing time.

So a few short hours after Pitocin (I have no idea how to spell that drug, but you know what I mean,) started the smoking out process, and a few good pushes, we have....

Maxwell Keith

aka... Max.

8 lbs 4oz.  21 1/4 inches.  Lots of tongue sticking-out-ness.

He's pretty great.

He's also a newborn.

Remember newborns?

If not, let me fill you in.

You fill your days nursing them, changing their diapers, snuggling and smelling their sweet heads and forcing them to love you. They go wherever you go and sleep a lot (mostly while you hold them.)  They are the cutest, squishy, miraculous examples of your heart physically existing outside of your own body.

They are love.

Then at night they can turn on you.  They can be cruel.

They suddenly hate you and only sleep in 20 minute increments or while being held while you walk around.  You will think they are as asleep as a human can possible be without approaching death and then you spend 10 minutes extracting your body from theirs so they can lie down alone while you sleep and they will wake up screaming as if you threw them in their bed and blew a rape whistle in their ear.

WHY oh WHY is it like that?

We have also been thrown in to the world of reflux again.

It's not a fun place to be, so we're working on leaving it.

We have been to the chiropractor, we've taken probiotics, and we have reflux meds.

It's getting better.

I think.

Really it could turn at any moment though because that's the newborn sneaky way.

(My back up plan is to start using meth.  I think it keeps you up for a long time?  Maybe?  Or maybe I'm supposed to be doing cocaine? Regardless, there is surely some drug that can help me out and create new, bigger problems to distract me from the exhaustion and screaming.)

The truth is that I'm not such a great newborn Mom regardless of the situation.

Reflux just makes me even more insane.

I like a full night sleep.  I like time by myself.  I like order and productivity.  I like being dressed and functional.  I like typing with two hands instead of one like now because the other is holding a nursing baby. I like working.  I like seeing my friends.

I used to like my husband.

My very round-about point is that newborn life makes me feel trapped and unproductive and one-dimensional.

Yes, I realize these are the days.

Yes, I should cherish these moments rocking him and snuggling.

Yes, I will long for these days in the future when he won't even want to be near me.

Yes.  I know.

This is my fourth.  I know how this whole gig plays out after these first very difficult weeks.  I know my life will resume a new and probably better way.

It's still rough.  Still leaves me feeling drained and longing for my former sense of self, for a little more freedom.

He is still the best surprise I never knew I wanted, even if he really jacks up life for a while.

So...if you need me, I'm probably at home doing this.

Trapped, but at least trapped under this.