Henry came home from the hospital about a week and a half ago. He is doing really well and has no health issues, and we’ve mostly figured out breastfeeding (as I may have mentioned, the nurses at this hospital were basically FASCISTS about nursing… which is ultimately great and admirable but tough to deal with when it’s 3am and you’re in the ICU and a lady walks in and flips on the lights and trills “TIME FOR YOU TO PUMP, DEAR!”) and he’s gaining weight and crossed five pounds when we saw his pediatrician last week.
That’s all the good stuff. The tough stuff:
OH MY GOD YOU GUYS. I didn’t know having a baby was so hard. I thought I knew it was kind of hard, but- HA HA HA, I had no idea. You people who are parents are heroes. LITERAL HEROES.
YOU ALL DESERVE PURPLE HEARTS OR SOME SHIT LIKE THAT.
It is so rough, you guys. Babies, even ones that are pretty good sleepers like mine (knock wood), wake up every two hours during the night. Except it also takes about a half-hour to feed and change them and settle them again and then you need a little time to actually fall asleep again… so really you get about 70-80 minutes of sleep between feedings.
This is crazy hard.
Have you ever seen that episode of Battlestar Galactica called “33”, and it’s about how the fleet has to hyperjump every 33 minutes because that’s when the Cylons find them?
IT’S LIKE THAT.
ONLY CROSSED WITH A CIA BLACK SITE PRISON WHERE THEY TORTURE YOU TO EXTRACT INFORMATION YOU DON’T EVEN HAVE
YOU’RE JUST THIS UNFORTUNATE LUCKLESS UIGHER WHO KNOWS NOTHING ABOUT ANYTHING
AND IS TOTALLY CONFUSED AND CRYING ALL THE TIME
I was reading something in this baby book I have about post partum depression, and it made me really annoyed. Because, would you say that in general one might define “depression” as “feelings of sadness that aren’t directly tied to external circumstances”? Like, a person could have a really great life but also be extremely depressed, right?
Well, post partum depression is A BULLSHIT PHRASE. Because if a new mother is freaking out and losing it, it’s for good reasons like:
*hormones going crazy
*sleep deprivation levels set to: “GITMO”
*life as you know it carpet-bombed into oblivion, never to return
etc etc etc
So come on man, “post partum depression” is just kind of dismissive and patronizing, you should call it something like “You Have Good Cause To Feel That Way Syndrome”… this is just my opinion, but I’m pretty sure I’m right.
Henry is fine. He is napping beside me in his Snuggle Nest right now. His dad is off to do Army Things in the morning, so we banished him to the couch. Now I am torn between sleeping myself and the knowledge that Henry – who may be going through a growth spurt – will want to eat again in about 45 minutes. Is it worth the 45 minutes of sleep to suffer through the staring-into-the-abyss horror of having to wake up so soon? Or am I better off staying awake until he wants to eat and then falling asleep afterward?
I USED TO BE AN INTERESTING PERSON. I HAD A PSEUDO-CAREER. I WAS GONNA BE A CONTENDER. Now I lie awake and stare at the ceiling and plot imaginary charts where the X axis is “time to next feeding” and the Y axis is “level of despair experienced when you have to wake up for said feeding”.
(This is pretty bleak stuff.)
So, the Snuggle Nest. Let me tell you my big lame lesson about all of this pregnancy and parenthood stuff: I am trying really hard to be less judgmental. Not because I think that being less judgmental makes me more moral or whatever, but because I have come to the understanding that
I KNOW NOTHING.
When I was pregnant, I happened upon the Snuggle Nest at some point. And I laaaaaaughed and pointed and laughed some more. What a ridiculous product! What kind of sucker would buy this? Why not just stick the kid in bed with you? Why have the little baby-in-a-box setup?
Now, of course, I think that the Snuggle Nest is the greatest thing ever, responsible for me getting those 70-to-80-minute stretches of sleep. Which doesn’t sound that great but is up from 40-50-minute stretches when Henry was in his sleeper thing.
I had other awesomely ironic examples of this kind of thing, of how something I used to make fun of was now the only thing keeping me from the edge, but you know what? I can’t remember them. This is a big factor in my life right now, being unable to remember things. Like about 40% of my conversations start with me saying “So I probably already told you this – did I already tell you this?” because I’m trying to hedge my bets, and you know, I probably DID already tell them this, it’s very FOG OF WAR in my brain these days.
Here is a picture of Henry in his Snuggle Nest – or, as I like to call it, ELANA’S HUBRIS BOX. He is so comfortable and snuggly! I am jealous.