Ladies and gents, the date of my last post was the day my water broke (11:30 am) and I went into labor…producing a beautiful baby boy at 8:50 pm. My baby is here and yep, he’s a He. My husband and I haven’t slept officially since December 15 (when my placenta tore and I was in the hospital) but it’s definitely been worth it. What’s happened since Jan 5 you ask? Well, let me tell you. Not much. He eats, poos, pees, sleeps. His newest trick of the trade is switching night for day…so I’m on 2 solid hours of sleep and approximately 3 broken hours. But he’s beautiful and so so cute. More to come….
That’s right. I’m worrying. I worry that my husband won’t get out of bed to go to work and get there on time-I worry that food won’t be good enough-I worry that the house won’t be clean enough…and that’s just a start. I mean, that’s not to say I didn’t worry before I got pregnant, just that, well, the intensity of the worry has amplified at least 20 fold. On top of everything is the underlying worry about how much more I’ll worry when baby’s out of the womb.
Which brings me to the point of today’s blog:
Today is Saturday. Ask me if I work on Saturdays?
You: Do you work on Saturdays?
Me: Heck no!
[and if you were here, you’d look around, furrow your brow and this would come out:]
You: Why’d you get up at 6?
Me: IIIIIIIIIIIII DDDDDDDDDDDDOOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNNN’TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT KKKKNNNNNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
[me ripping my hair from my head like a crazy woman]
Well, for one, my husband had to be up to drive his butt out to Home Depot to pick up insulation which he’s installing with his sister’s boyfriend…so I had to make sure he actually got out of bed for that one…and there’s laundry to do….and my stomach’s growling (all baby wants me to do is eat) and yeah…thus. I’m up.
Make the worry stop until it has to be there!!! Please!
On a brighter note: our baby room’s been painted and we got a crib and a baby changing station…Woopwoop!!!! We’re putting it all together after the insulation goes in. My mum was horrified at the colour we chose: ebony. In other words: black. She basically told me baby would be scarred by seeing all those black bars everywhere…um, thanks for the support and let’s add to neurotic-worry-before-you-have-to words of wisdom mum.
I think baby’s made of tougher stuff.
“…run out of gas in your car…in your driveway?”
Um. Well. Let me tell you about baby brain…and driving through Liberty Tunnels through rush hour and I’ll tell you how compelled I was to get gas after watching buttface after buttface do what I should have been smart enough to do…cut in in the last second and make some poor passive schmuck make room for my aggressive bum.
AAA to the rescue.
Painting baby room this weekend…theme? A wonderful “Under the sea”….