Week 1

First, let's just go ahead and admit that every post from here on out is going to be about little E. It's kind of inevitable. IT'S ALL ABOUT HIM. That's the way it goes. I am nothing more than a walking pair of milk engorged boobs, armed and ready to take over the entire fucking world. Second, please note that I am currently typing this post with my left hand only... my right hand is supporting my baby's head as he half-assedly nurses. He likes to take his sweet time and pause for a quick nap between suckles. If only we all could sleep all day, party all night, eat as much as we please as often as we please and happily crap our pants without shame...

Ethan is a week old today, and he's been home for 5 days. Those first 2 days were pure hell. My milk had not come in yet and he was ready to eat like a big boy. I was worried that his circumcision was botched and we rushed his crying little butt to his pediatrician on Friday, not 24 hours after he was discharged from the hospital. His penis is fine, just a tad bruised and looks worse than it probably feels... but the doctor noted that he'd lost an entire pound since delivery. I cried because my milk was not yet in and he was not satisfied with my colostrum. It just wasn't enough. As we left the doctor's office he started to fuss, so I whipped out my boob in the car in the parking lot and WHAT DO YOU KNOW I had milk! Sweet, glorious, plentiful milk! Ethan guzzled it down like a champ, and he hasn't let go of my nipple since. He eats CONSTANLY. We're trying to get him past his birth weight by his next dr. appointment this Friday, and I'm hopeful. His little chubby cheeks are filling out and he just seems thicker, so things must be moving in the right direction.

I've had a couple of moments where I cry and think OHMYFUCKINGGAWDWHATAMIDOING or THISCRYINGWILLNEVEREVERENDFUCKFUCKFUCK but they only last a moment. The other 95% of the time is spent doting on my beautiful baby boy, crying over him as he nurses because my dear lord he is just so precious and perfect and gorgeous. And he's OURS! I must give MAD PROPS and GREAT THANKS to my mother. Without her I would not be doing nearly as well as I am. She is so supportive and her taking him for an hour or so each day gives me room to breathe. How else would I update my blog? One handed typing only gets you so far...

Now let's talk about my very least favorite thing in the whole wide world: THRID DEGREE TEAR. Yeah. Totally fabulous! As I was admiring my new son in the delivery room, crying and watching him get weighed and cleaned up, I noticed my doctor still poking around between my quivering, tired legs... then I saw some thread. Then I felt a tug. Another tug. Holy fuck, what's he doing? "Well, I cut you a little bit" he confessed. "But you tore A LOT".

::

I've been walking around like I have a piece of fire wood shoved up my ass for the last week. Today is actually the first day that sitting down hasn't caused me to wimper and grimace in pain. I checked out his stitch work and must say that he did a great job visually, but FUCK - the pain the first few days was insane. So, Ethan actually DID tear me a new one. Heh.