Tuesday, April 17, 2007

Nathanael is 24 weeks old today. 24 weeks ago right now I was probably still chillin' in the recovery room, still numb/high from my spinal. I saw Nat only very briefly in the operating room. The doctors allowed Will to carry him over to me so that I could kiss his perfect face. I remember he was crying when Will brought him over, and, in my anesthetized state, whispered, "Hi Nathanael. I'm your mama." And he stopped crying. And it was true love from there. Then they whisked him away to do the new baby stuff, and I saw him about an hour later in recovery after I was finished getting my guts put back in place. I attempted to nurse him and succeeded on the first try, but they took him away again pretty quickly so that I could get my rest. I remember not being too happy with the nurses at the hospital - they kept taking him away from me, advised against rooming in so that I could rest, and, when he was badly jaundiced and had lost a pound in the hospital, told me that he needed formula and said, "See, this is what happens when you exclusively breastfeed." And cue the guilt that only mothers can feel. I have no idea why I'm even posting any of this. As you can tell, I'm still a little bitter about it.
We are 99% packed for this bitch of a move. We'll finish tonight, and then tomorrow night, our last night in Brooklyn, we'll likely hit one of our favorite eateries for one last meal here. And then begins the next chapter of our lives. We will be on our way to *gasp* settling down. Even though we're renting for a year, we're moving to the town we will call home.
Oh - and because this move isn't stressful enough, or because God is feeling punchy from packing, too, I am sick. Why I'm still getting ear infections at age 30 (29) is beyond me. Being sick and dealing with an overtired teething 24-week-old baby is not my idea of fun. My doctor has me on Cipro, so I'm expecting a raging yeast infection to crop up any day now. Throw in my period, which, incidentally, has gotten longer and bloodier since giving birth (can you honestly say you gave birth if you had a c-section?), and you have the kind of fun that's comparable to a carnival in hell co-hosted by Al Sharpton and Oprah.
This is so not where I wanted to go with this. But my mind just went blank as I sit here and watch my neutered cat hump his spayed sister. It's like a car accident - you know you should just continue on your way but you can't...help....looking.
Nathanael is close to sitting up on his own. He still ends up folding himself in half like a creepy contortionist, but he can hold his body upright for a minute or so at a time. He's teething and it's quite obviously causing him a great deal of discomfort - he stopped wolfing down solid food, he's rash-y, he's SO whiny, and he's lost interest in being social. So of course I think he's autistic, but our pediatrician is assuring us that these are classic signs of teething. I don't believe her. I don't even think she's a real doctor.
Nathanael is awake. I better turn Halloween 4 off before he gets ideas planted in his head.

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