Our First Week With Tate!

After arriving home from the hospital it seemed like we all spent the first day or two in baby mode: eating, sleeping and pooping. In the hospital Tate had been very low-maintenance, sleeping most of the day on Friday, and nursing every 3-4 hours on Saturday and Sunday. On Monday, however, Tate was nursing every 1-2 hours and giving mommy a headache. But within a couple of days Jim and I got a routine down. I figured out how to use the breastpump without feeling like I was ripping off my nipples, Jim learned how to change a diaper, we discovered that Tate loves the bathtub (thank goodness) and developed a rough routine to allow both of us to get a decent night's sleep. Jim feeds Tate around midnight, I get up with him at 4-5ish and then Jim feeds him at 8:30-9.

As for breastfeeding, I'm definitely one of the lucky ones. During my pregnancy I heard all kinds of stories about bad latching, nipple blisters, inadequate milk supply, gassiness and colic, etc. and was mentally prepared for the possibility that breastfeeding may not even work for us. However, Tate didn't have a problem latching and has been nursing beautifully since day one. And I have to say, I absolutely love breastfeeding. It's an intense time of bonding between Tate and I, and I enjoy every moment of it. I even enjoy the 4am feeding because Tate and I creep out of the room (trying our best not to wake daddy) and go hang in the nursery for an hour. The entire house is quiet and Tate nurses while I read or sing to him, then I change his diaper and rock him to sleep, grab myself a banana, and crawl back into bed (again trying not to wake Jim.) 

I know this may sound crazy (especially to other moms), but it all seems so easy. Motherhood feels to me like an old favourite pair of shoes that you slip into comfortably, ones that fit you like nothing else. I absolutely adore every part of motherhood so far, and am so looking forward to everything that's in store.

For those of you who would like to be kept abreast of Tate's progress, when we left the hospital he weighed 8lbs 6oz (down from his birthweight of 8lbs 13.5oz) and at his one week checkup he was back up at 8lbs 14oz. He is nursing wonderfully, sleeping between 3-4 hours between feedings, pooping like a maniac and bringing laughter to us on a regular basis. A few things we learned about him this week are that he loves the bathtub but hates being undressed, loves being read to and will stay awake while nursing if we read or sing to him, adores the carseat and will stop mid-cry and fall asleep instantly as soon as the car starts moving, and likes to nuzzle into daddy's armpit during naptime. We've learned that Tate has a 'poop' face and a 'boob' face, and has the most adorable hiccup in the history of the world.

Here are a few highlights from our first week:

Jim and I were sitting on our bed, and Jim had just done his first poopy diaper change solo. I was nursing Tate and we had just heard his signature poop noise, accompanied by his signature poop face. A few moments later, I was switching sides, and felt something on my arm. I looked down and said "Is it just me, or is there shit on my arm...and on this blanket...and running down Tate's leg?" Sure enough, the baby's diaper wasn't snug enough and there was runny baby poop all over. That was my first experience being pooped on, and I'm sure it wasn't the last.

A couple of days ago, I was peeing and Jim called for me to come right away. I stopped mid-pee (which isn't easy when you've got stitches in your vagina and you're sitting in a sitz pan on the toilet grimacing and trying to pee as fast as possible) shoved a wad of toilet paper between my legs and rushed into the nursery. What I found in there was a frazzled Jim, and a changetable with what looked like mustard-coloured runny poop all over it. Tate had projectile-pooped while Jim was changing him. It was on the changing pad, on Tate, on Jim, and on everything south of Tate's sweet little bum. I laughed, grabbed a cloth and started cleaning up while handing Jim wipes to finish the change job. That was Jim's first experience being pooped on, and I'm sure it wasn't the last.

Another day, we were picking up some things at Walmart and I needed some nursing bras because the ones I had bought pre-labour were woefully small (the growth of my boobs since my milk has come in is astounding!) We had been in town for awhile, and Tate was sleeping a beautiful 5 hours, which was his longest sleeping streak up until that point. So we're waiting outside of the fitting rooms for an attendant, and I realize that the front of my dress is soaked. I tell Jim that I think my breasts are leaking (my milk had just started coming in the day before, so this was the first time they had leaked.) I grabbed a couple of breast pads that I had luckily stowed in the diaper bag for just these occasions, and was ushered into a changeroom by the attendant. As I stood in the changeroom trying on bras, I noticed a dripping feeling on my foot. I looked down and saw a small puddle by my foot. I looked up, wondering if the roof was dripping. Nope. My boobs were dripping onto the floor. There were little breastmilk puddles. It was then that I realized that because Tate had been sleeping so long, I was having my first experience with engorgement. My boobs had been hurting for an hour or so, and so I felt them and they were like rocks. I stood there in the changeroom, trying to get dressed and get the breastpads into my bra as fast as possible, thinking "Is this really my life? Am I dreaming? Am I really dripping breastmilk onto a Walmart changing room floor as Jim waits outside with our newborn baby?" I laughed to myself, pulled my dress on, and hoped we could get away before the attendant discovered my puddles.

So, we're a little tired, and I'm still recuperating from labour, but Tate is a fascinating, hilarious and enchanting addition to our lives. This is big love.