Living the 6-Week Old, Fussy Baby Dream

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After a month of neglecting my little corner of the cyber world, HELLO! I’m alive! And these photos are proof that after just over one month of life with an exhausting but lovable newborn I do still know how to work a shower and apply a bit of mascara. #nailingit

Our chunky baby bear (who was pretty sleepy when we took these photos) sure has kept us busy every hour on the hour, and whenever she sleeps longer than an hour we give each other silent and celebratory high fives. 5 hours of total sleep scattered throughout the day is the new 8 hours of sleep straight through the night, dontchaknow. Just like three-day-old hair crispy with dry shampoo is the new “clean hair” look.

Choosing to breastfeed for as long as I possibly can sure has added to my new parent fatigue. I’m so thankful that me and Olivia have a good thing going when it comes to latching and supply, but alert the presses, folks: breastfeeding makes each day one hell of a marathon. And one I certainly didn’t train for. Most of the time she’s hungry. Other times, she just wants to hang out, which means that me, Olivia, and The Girls do a lot of “hanging out” (literally and figuratively) all day long. Unless we’re near the kitchen sink. Apparently (according to Olivia) there’s nothing better than the rushing sound of running sink water when you’re a six-week old fussy pants. And I’m not talking the “fake” sound of running water someone recorded on YouTube. Because we’ve tried that, and she’s onto us. By the sound of her cries during the video, I’m convinced that she deeply resents us for even trying to save money on the water bill. No, she needs the real deal, folks, and if we pair that sink water sound with the comfort of nursing, then wah-lah! Olivia’s magical recipe for nap time success. And mom’s recipe for trying to stay sane during this 6-8 week stage of infant fussiness.

Of course, after this sweet girl is fed and full and sleepy, she’ll pucker her lips, stretch out her arms, and nuzzle her pudgy cheeks against my chest so she can fall asleep to my heartbeat. And all those exhausting hours and sore nursing sessions and minutes of really (REALLY) Β angry cries strangely disappear, if only for a second, because damn it I can’t help but melt over her tiny eyelashes and little hands and her desire to be close to me at all times. I’ve never felt so frustrated and so in love at the same time. And we’re only six weeks in to this whole “motherhood” adventure. I mean, GEESH. Somebody pour me a drink. And it better be coffee.


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