Babies are Fickle...and Smart

One December, when I was traveling in Europe, I stayed in this truly dismal hostile in Munich. It was so cheap I couldn't believe it, but I shared bunk beds in massive co-ed dormitories. You had to pay for the showers and the water was unheated. The bathroom itself? Also unheated. It was December, snowing, and a Bavarian cold front was blowing through. I had gone into a store to buy pantyhose to wear under my jeans, it was so cold. So while I was there, it had been like a week since I showered and I just buckled one day and took the icy shower. Fast.

This morning, I showered faster than that.

This is significant because I got Miles to be asleep sans contact with human flesh, but I was worried he wouldn't stay that way and I showered uber quick in case he exploded again.

For the first two weeks, motherhood was a big haze of tiredness. And vicadin. And a rash, which I'll discuss sometime later. And steroids to treat the rash. Oh, and the whole recovering from surgery thing. Very hazy.

But then, week 3, I thought I could totally do the motherhood thing. It seemed so great. He napped in 3-hour chunks at the same time each day. Nursing was going super great. I managed to accompany Corey to the gym and Miles and I walked around the block while Corey worked out. Miles even met his rugby family! I was tired and it was demanding, but totally manageable. Much like the 18 hours of contractions I breathed through. Sucky, but really possible.

And then, BOOM! Miles decided he hated this world. He was unhappy. Even when he had a boob in his mouth, which he demanded at least every hour, sometimes more than that, he was distressed. He arched his spine. He snorted. He made his little arms super stiff. He stopped sleeping. He shit through 31 diapers in 1.5 days (I know because I had to wash them and I always count when I put them in the dryer). I don't think he slept for four days. And I wanted to die. I literally texted my aunt and asked her to come shoot me.

For the entire week 4 of Miles' life, we have been holding him. The only moments he has not been held were the car rides he took to prenatal yoga and to La Leche League, where he totally made me look like a fibber by sleeping the whole 2.5 hour meeting. I assure you, that was the only time the whole week he slept more than 20 minutes in a row. My little dude was exhausted, so tired he couldn't sleep.

Not even Dr. Karp was effective. But then, suddenly, yesterday he decided he was going to nap. Then he seemed to like that, so he did it again. In the sling and the Bjorn, mind you, but still. Sleep! At one point, I just lay down on the hardwood floor with him in the Bjorn and slept, too. For like 2 entire episodes of Family Fued.

Every time I think I have that little albatross figured out, he decides to show me I am not the boss of him. Fridays start new weeks for Miles, so this is day one of week 5. Jesus, five weeks! This week, he seems like he is going to sleep again. But what will he do instead during his awake time? What is going to happen???

While I wait to see what he will cook up, I am rejoicing in the fact that he has been in his swing asleep for 23 minutes. That's twenty-three minutes away from my chest, where my arms are not supporting his wiggling frame. I feel like dancing, and I think I might just do that while I can. Because by dancing, I mean sleep.