I have been wondering: why is it that my baby's breath isn't rotten after not brushing for a mere 24 hours like mine is? Not that I want to add teeth brushing into our routine or anything, but I'm just curious. Lack of teeth? Homogeneous diet?
Today I was changing little man's diaper and he started peeing. He seems to like to do that once the diaper comes off. I was impressed by the height of the arc so I moved my wrist, which was partially blocking the stream, to witness the truly remarkable trajectory. Then I realized he was getting pee all over the couch so I put my wrist back in the line of fire and successfully blocked the rest and saved that couch's (fabric) hide.
My body is returning to its pre-pregnancy in most respects slowly but surely. My attitude toward food resembles how it was, which is a relief. I no longer find sweets very interesting. Drinking milk (I feel like I need to say cow's milk here because there's a different kind of milk that I'm dealing heavily with these days) is less desirable. Potatoes are just decent and not the stuff of my dreams. Tortilla chips with melted cheese (a.k.a. nachos) are no longer my daily companion. I'm getting reacquainted with hunger pains, which mainly took the form of nausea in my pregnant body, and I'm getting back into drinking water because I like it and not because I am forcing myself to hydrate.
It's hard to believe it's been nearly two weeks since I birthed a human child. Life is totally different right now and I feel like I have a long way to go until I can get back to doing things like cleaning, cooking, running errands, working, etc. I keep thinking of people who do this whole having a baby thing with a young'un already in tow and wonder how that's logistically possible. I'm pretty immobilized. The baby sleeps a lot and I try to sleep sometimes when he's sleeping too. When he is awake, he spends a lot of time nursing. He proves the adage that babies tend to do not much more than sleep, eat, and poop or pee. As his mother (I'm a parent?!), I'm doing much of the same for now.
Tim wrote about his birth story, which is posted on the married blog with some pictures: http://timandarowan.blogspot.com/
I could say a lot more about his birth, but maybe the blog isn't the best venue. It's all been pretty unreal and I'm coming to terms. It's amazing, though. I like to remember the moment when he first came out and the first few hours afterward, especially in the midst of some mild baby blues. I fell in love pretty hard right then.
40 weeks and counting . . . funny, I don't feel huge. Well, not huger, anyway. I feel like my belly hasn't changed for weeks. But then I see pictures like this one or step on the scale (it's official, I have now surpassed 50 pounds), and I realize I'm being deceived.
Sometimes when I go to the doctor and step on the weighing device otherwise known as a scale, I'm kind of shocked. Really? I never imagined I would weigh this much. Not that I considered it much. I mostly ignored the existence of scales. But going to the doctor with unheard of frequency changes things, I guess. At my early prenatal visits, I was asked how much weight I'd like to gain. That was a hard question for me to answer. Do I get to determine that? The "books" say 25-35 pounds of weight gain is healthy for someone who has an average pre-pregnancy weight. So I said I'd like to stick within that range.
After some initial weight loss (go figure) I'm nearing 50 pounds according to my last scuffle with a scale. You'd think I was some sort of emaciated cadaver pre-pregnancy. (By the way, it took me too long to remember the word emaciated. I almost wrote inebriated but then I stopped myself.)
Meh, what do I care? I don't trust scales anyway.
Lately whenever I drive anywhere, I always think of a million places to go while I'm out because, let's face it, I don't get out and drive anywhere all that often and it seems efficient to consolidate tasks. When I leave the house, I usually do the first thing I left to do, and then I come home as soon as possible. Sometimes I don't even make it that far.
I'm sorry, WinCo, I miss you too.
