The newborn sleep-all-the-time phase has evaporated and left behind a less pleasant cry-all-the-time-unless-you-hold-me phase. This kid does NOT like to be a cooperative sleeper. It will take take five hours and two feedings for me to get him to sleep soundly somewhere other than my arms. But of course, the second I desperately need to feed him (rock boobs) or run an errand, he's so sound asleep that no amount of prodding or jostling will rouse him. ("rouse" - is that a word? If not, it should be).
And that nice Pack 'n Play I so painstakingly set up and cleaned as his bassinet? Used once. He does not like to sleep alone. And because he is my third and last baby, I don't have the energy or the willpower to force the issue. The little heart-stealer stows away in our bed every night. Bonus: sleep feeding. I don't even know how many times he wakes to eat anymore because I literally roll over and get him to latch in my sleep. I often wake up with a puddle of milk or spit-up (perhaps I'll never know which) seeping toward my (tiny) little sliver of the bed.
The three. They are mine. This makes me smile.
Also, I'm pretty sure he is constantly constipated. All night long he emits the most prolonged, disturbing pooping sounds I have ever heard. It's like the dude has eaten his weight in cheese and bananas. For someone who consumes and shits solely in liquid form, he is sure dramatic about his defecation. It's really hard to sleep with a 9 pound chipmunk-guinea pig hollering five inches from your ear.
Jon took his first bath! And left a present in the water.
There are many, many times that I find myself missing being in the hospital. It's really hard to go back to real life after you spend five days in a hospital bed where people bring you meals (of your choice!) at any hour of the day, change your baby's diaper, check in every three hours just to ask how you are doing, clean and groom you, deliver graham crackers and water and Vicodin to your bedside (even at 3am!), and (my personal favorite) where you don't even have to lift a finger to pee (oh catheter, how I love thee!).
But as much as I miss the special doting and attention that I received in the hospital, it is a million times better to be a normal human again, or as close to normal as you can be when you have to be on call to let another human suck your boob every couple hours. Now that I'm no longer pregnant and my incision is pretty much healed, I can do so many things that I so took for granted all my non-pregnant life. Like sleep on my tummy! The first time I slept on my tummy after Jon was born I swear I heard angels sing!
Also, I can wear ANYTHING in my closet! I'm not limited to clothes with a belly panel or stretchy waist band. I can wear any shirt I want to. It's so freeing. It also feels like I just scored a major shopping spree. I haven't worn my normal clothes in so long, I forgot that I even had them.
Oh and I can put on shoes and socks BY MYSELF! I can bend over to take off my boots! Wait. I can BEND OVER PERIOD. I still shed a tear of joy every single time I squat down to pick up a dirty diaper off the floor because: belly gone! Incision healed! I can physically move my body without discomfort or pain! I swear that for the rest of my life I will never take bending over for granted.
So basically, as the Lego Movie has taught us, everything is awesome (if you don't understand that reference, BLESS YOU, and be forever grateful). Because even when Jon is being difficult and insists on being held....hullo, baby holding is awesome. Although it does make some things more difficult such as making dinner, driving a car, eating, peeing, folding laundry, and putting on pants. But if holding a baby is the worst part of this whole new baby deal, I think I'll survive. It has helped me get a lot of reading done. In the past two weeks, I've read approximately 1,300 pages of the addictive Outlander series while Jon has slept soundly in my arms.
Finally, I would be remiss to end this post without mentioning one thing: baby heads smell AMAZING. If only I could collect them.