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August 22nd - Jeff and I arrived home from
the hospital on Thursday to a very nice surprise -- an extremely clean
house! Dad, Mom, and Erika had taken advantage of their time alone in the house
to clean up. That was a very, very great thing to come home to, especially
since we're in the middle of remodeling the kitchen and it's been very dusty.
At home, he continued to breastfeed well, and I thought my milk might be coming
in. He'd left the hospital weighing 7 pounds, 6 ounces. We all spent time that
night gathered around Ethan on the couch, watching his expressions and laughing
hysterically. His "pooping face" is
unmistakable -- he furrows his brow, looks concerned, and purses up his little
mouth, managing somehow to sort of frown at the same time. He also does a funny
"psycho baby" expression when he's falling asleep -- his eyes open a little,
but roll up in his head. Eek!
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By Friday, I was sure my milk was in. My breasts were somewhat engorged, but
not unbearably so. After I took a "bowl" (we'd been without a working shower
for two months, so in order to get clean we sat in the upstairs tub and poured
bowls of water over ourselves), I dripped milk into the tub, which helped
relieve the engorgement enough. On Friday night, I discovered that my hormones
were still raging crazily -- the folks went out shopping and brought home
sushi, and for some reason I was overwhelmed and couldn't even emerge from the
bedroom to eat. It was very sudden -- one moment I was fine, the next I was
crying. I didn't even feel sad, exactly.
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Saturday we spent some time taking pictures in the yard before Erika
and Dad
took off. Mom stayed a few extra days, which was great, because Jeff and I were
both feeling a little under the weather. There's nothing like having your
mother make you grilled cheese sandwiches when you're feeling tired.
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August 26 - Today I got all teary looking into Ethan's eyes. He was staring at
me solemnly, and I was thinking about the fact that this was our child, our
son... and already feeling nostalgic about how fast he was going to grow. In
the afternoon we had an appointment with the lactation consultant -- not
because we were having any problems, but just because they hadn't wanted to let
us leave the hospital without some kind of appointment in the next few days to
check his weight. To everyone's astonishment, he'd already surpassed his birth
weight, and was 8 pounds, 3 ounces. No wonder my arms have been tired! The
consultant thought we were all doing great. She gave us a few tips to make
things easier -- a new burping position,
the best way to hold my nipple as he latches on. We left the appointment
feeling great about how we're doing so far.
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A few days later we drove up to Mt. Tabor and then took a short walk up with
the stroller. We hung out on a blanket and took
pictures of the baby -- one of our favorite occupations these days. It
was a short trip because we'd forgotten to bring snacks for ourselves, and I
sure do get hungry these days. We had a nice conversation about specific ways
to make each other feel loved, since now we tend to focus all our attention on
the baby. Jeff's list was fun -- he likes it when I sing to him and play the
guitar, and he'd like it if I baked for him.
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I actually don't remember what I said -- probably the usual stuff, lots of
hugging and kissing and backrubs. And I want to mention one really nice thing
Jeff did for me this week: when he got up in the morning to take care of Ethan,
as he often does, he surprised me and fed him some pumped milk from a bottle,
so I didn't even have to wake up.
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ethan
