Mr. Guy Smiley,
Hallelujah!!! You have started SLEEPING and it makes me want to hit the caps lock and sing your praises. Thank you, sweet boy, for finally deciding that nighttime is the best time to sleep. I don’t even care if you ever nap predictably during the day because you sleep at night. (Remind me I said that.) Your else close around 8.30 pm, you sleep until about 11.30 pm, you wake to eat, and then you’re lights out until 7.30 the next morning. THANK YOU. I can tie my shoes again without becoming confused. I remembered how to use the coffee maker. I don’t cry while brushing my teeth. HallelujahHallelujahHallelujah!!!
And not only are you sleeping, but you’re such a happy guy when you wake up. Instant smiles, instant cooing, kicking your legs and flapping your arms like the happiest chicken there ever was. You remind me so much of your sister with your morning joyousness, but you bring your own smiley guy flair to things.
We spent a lot of time together, you and I. Big sister Birdy flies off to school every morning and Dad zips off to work, leaving you and I to try and make sense of the loads of emails, loads of laundry, and loads of diapers. (That last one? Ew. Love you, but ew.) You and I have done at least a dozen conference calls together, two or three video calls (those are tricky), and you’ve come to your first conference with me. (Note: Thanks, Tandem, for not thinking I was weird for bringing my mom and son to a conference with me, and to TCOYD for making my infant feel like part of the party.) Working alongside you is a little complicated and sometimes distracted, but I’m inspired to keep pushing my boundaries because I want you to know that your mom is fueled by many interests and passions. Just as I want you to be interested in so many different things.
For now, you’re most interested in talking. And this little lion blanket thing that you have set your sights on gumming to death. You also want to go for walks around the neighborhood in your stroller as often as we can, and you love, love being worn in the baby bjorn thing. Just recently, we flipped you around in that baby carrier so that you face out and are able to see the world (instead of staring at my collarbone). You love EVERYTHING. I love that about you.
You also love eating, and I’m still working to feed you. You had a little trouble gaining weight at the outset (a combination of reflux plus falling asleep while eating), and even though I preferred to feed you myself, I had to start pumping breastmilk and using a bottle to ensure that you were getting a set number of ounces per feeding. That’s kind of the system we’re still rocking at the moment – I feed you two or three times a day myself and the rest of your meals are via bottle. My days are marked by three hour windows where I either check my blood sugar and then feed you or check and then pump. This means I am constantly pumping (insulin pump plus breast pump equals oh so many pumps) and constantly concerned about the stash of milk in our fridge. I have ambitions of keeping you on breastmilk for several more months and I hope I can keep up the supply. So far, I meet your needs. (And even though I’m not one for supplements, etc. I am drinking a cup of this tea every day. It might be helping. It’s not hurting, at least. And I’m developing a taste for black licorice as a weird side effect.)
Postpartum body blargh is in full effect, as you’re a little over three months old and I have not been on the ball in terms of self-care. I am working to focus more on my diet in a consistently healthy way (eff off, pie … no wait, come back!!) and I’ve just recommitted to my exercise routine. I have (blond) ambitions of burning any and all shapewear crap by next June. Or, at the very least, feeling more like myself by then.
(Why am I writing about breastfeeding and postpartum body images in these letters to you? Well, part of the reason why people read this blog is because I chronicle diabetes stuff, and it all plays in. You’ll understand more when you’re older and you tune into the fact that I’ve spent a lot of time writing on the Internet. I know, it’s weird. Especially since we now have MentalNet, where you simply blink your eyes and your thoughts auto-publish to the cloud. Man, picturing the future of the Internet is terrifying.)
We have plans to introduce you to some of our dearest-but-most-far-flung friends this month and you’re spending plenty of time with your aunts and your grandmas. Oh, and you’ll spend your first Christmas on the outside, with your sister very much looking forward to sharing the excitement of Christmas morning with you. You’re very, very loved, kiddo. You’re a little over three months old but you’ve owned real estate in my heart for ages.
(And thank you for falling asleep at night and sleeping for several hours. Seriously. All of me thanks you. 🙂 )