28 days later…

What’s up, internet? My baby friend is a month old! Eight balls for everyone! (No really, who’s buying?)

So yeah, I no longer sleep, I wear nothing but sweat pants and I haven’t touched a comb or a hair dryer in more than a month. Ah, motherhood.

We’re starting to get used to the idea that we have this tiny baby and that by some catastrophic failure of the system, we were allowed to bring her home with us and care for her. We are falling into a routine, getting A LITTLE more sleep and starting to actually feel like competent parents. She’s really bulking up and starting to act more like a human, so I’m less scared I’ll somehow inadvertently kill her. (Although I have had to reconcile my fear of the soft spot with this bizarre urge to jam my finger in it and push…I’m KIDDING.)

No, but yeah: all those wretched clichés people say about babies? All true. She’s amazing, funny, beautiful and I love her so much it hurts. I’ve become such a sap.

Stolen hospital blanket. (Tip to pregnant bitches: steal everything from the hospital that's not bolted down.)

I’ve also done the unthinkable and turned into a smug bitch. I can’t stop myself from visiting all the pregnancy blogs I read and sharing the vast knowledge I’ve acquired during my four weeks of motherhood. I’m aware of this as it’s happening, but like a bad dream, I am helpless to make it stop.

I could go on and on, but I’ll spare you. But not really. Here are some more highlights…

Milk: is flowing like wine. But now I completely understand why so many people give up on breastfeeding within the first few weeks. It kind of sucks. In the hospital when I first started feeding her, she latched on right away and we thought everything was fine, but she lost too much weight (10% of her body weight) and they almost kept us an extra day. (Apparently you have to make sure they’re actually SWALLOWING the milk and not just happily gnawing away at your boob while they starve to death. Crazy, right?) Luckily, her weight shot up that following week, but it was really frustrating and nerve-wracking for a while. (She also tore my nipples to shreds.) But now, I am a milk fucking MASHEEN and have pumped enough to have an impressive arsenal in the fridge and freezer. (Which means I can have a beer now and then! Which I may or may not be having right now.)

Here’s a look at a typical feeding schedule:

AM and PM are irrelevant to my life now.

You’d think I could remember the last time I fed her without having to write it down. Yeah, wrong. Which brings us to…

Sleep: is happening more often. She currently goes 3-4 hours between feedings, which allows me to get some sleep at night. Doesn’t sound like a lot, but it’s made a HUGE difference in my mental state.

I saw every hour on the clock for the first few weeks. I was starting to hallucinate, seeing shadows and junk darting around in my peripheral vision. It was like being on meth, but without the perks. I’d wake up and think the baby was in bed with me. This also happened to my husband a few times: we’d be in this delirious, semi-conscious state, stroking a blanket or cradling a pillow. It would have been funny had it not been so pathetic.

The actual baby: is so, so good. Aside from a nasty case of cradle cap whole body and a blocked tear duct, she is healthy, good-looking and well on her way to fame, adoration and popularity among the huddled masses of less attractive babies.

Things could change, but as of now, we are amazed by how easy and predictable she’s been. She hardly ever cries. She does get fussy and gassy, but she hasn’t had any of those psychotic screaming episodes you often hear about, and for that I am thankful as fuck. At worst, she’ll just go “eh! eh! eh!” for a couple hours and then zonk out. I can totally handle that.

We had planned for her to sleep in our room (the smug, all-knowing Academy of Pediatrics recommend babies room in with you for the first three months), but she hated the Pack N Play and she fussed and whined every time we put her in there. Which is a shame because my parents even bought us this nifty tent to keep the cats out of it:

Cruel and unusual.

So for a while, I slept in the glider in her room while she slept in the crib. (Tip to pregnant bitches: Don’t go cheap on the chair. Even if you have to get your crib out of a Dumpster, buy an obscenely expensive, cushiony, fluffy chair and a matching ottoman. Trust me, it’s worth it.) Now I sleep in my bed and she sleeps in hers and we keep the baby monitor on full blast so I can hear every little gurgle and murmur. I still wish she were in the room with us, but this seems to be working, so I’m not going to try to mess it up. When it’s 3 a.m. and you’re desperate, you’re more willing to break the “rules.” I’d hang her upside down by her toes if she liked it enough to go to sleep.


Beer: is slowing making it’s way back into my life. The last beer I had before I got knocked up was Pepe Nero, March 20, 2011. 284 days later on December 29 (don’t do the math), I broke my streak with a Three Floyd’s Pride and Joy, and was ridiculously close to being drunk when I finished it.


AND AND AND the other night, one of my SUPER AWESOME FRIENDS came over with a Sun King Johan the Barleywine and shared it with me (so I only got half drunk). Also I have four Dogfish Heads in my fridge that I’m saving for a special occasion…or what I like to call “Tuesday.”

So, life is pretty much back to normal.

Are you still reading this? Wow. Thanks to those four or five or you who stuck it out! I wish I had a reward for you. All I have is a promise that I’m not going to do these long, drawn out baby updates more than once a month (or even that because let’s face it, I’ve never been able to follow through with any other commitments I’ve made on this blog). And I also promise to keep blogging about beer and (some day) running, sharing witty observations and clever anecdotes and writing mean things about people who I think are stupid, because that’s really the lifeblood of this site. Thanks for reading, you guys. We just might live the good life yet.


39 thoughts on “28 days later…

  1. So yeah, I no longer sleep, I wear nothing but sweat pants and I haven’t touched a comb or a hair dryer in more than a month.

    I don’t sleep, mostly wear sweat pants and don’t own a hair dryer, so it’s not limited to people who procreate.

    Also, the fact that babies have a self destruct button creeps me the fuck out. Like, how do you NOT press it? It seems so cool!!!! If you break it can’t you just return it from where you got it from? Or is there a no return policy on babies?

  2. I love this! You are the most real mom out in the blogosphere (although I admit I don’t really read the mommy blogs…). Some of my friends (ok, A LOT OF THEM) are either preggo or just had babies. I am sending them here. Congrats again, she’s adorable 🙂

  3. I never knew how horrendous the whole breast-feeding thing was until very recently when like every single person I know who had a baby told me that it sucks. Or rather, the baby won’t suck. And nipples and cracked should never be in the same sentence. Oh did you see that? It was just my urge to have a baby, flew right out the window…

    Just kidding. But I’ll only have them if they’re totes adorbs like that little snuggle muffin!!!

    • She’s also had some trouble working her mouth around the piercings…KIDDING. Nah, but yeah: Totes thought I was going to need prosthetic nips for a while there. Yeeowcha.

  4. BABY!

    I remember when I worked on a farm and my boss had a baby at the height of the growing season. She was the definition of no-frills, but insisted on dragging this massive, cushy nursing chair into the middle of the barn for nursing and now I understand why! It was so hilariously out-of-place amid the farm detritus.

  5. What a cute, cute babykins! I’m a seasoned expert with an 11 month old…breastfeeding (kind of) gets better and the baby just gets cuter and more fun!
    I’ll be glad to read about when you start running again. I just started again and have developed “exercise induced” asthma. Definitely not “gotpregnantgainedfiftypoundshaventruninoverayear” induced asthma.

    • Oh, don’t tell me things like that! I’m still operating under the delusion that I’ll be back to my former running self in just a matter of weeks. I can’t wait until she can go running with me. =)

      • No, not really 🙂 I’m just out of shape! Especially with the 20+ pound kid and jogging stroller up hills! I thought the hardest part (quite a few months ago when I started a half assed attempt to run again) was the pulling on my C-Section scar tissue. It was all healed, but the leg movement stretched things out. Owwww. Oh, the things you get to look forward to! The baby and running are worth it.

  6. She’s so cute! And I love that polka dot swaddling blanket. I think I added something similar to a registry recently. And then added the matching one in blue, because apparently we will be dressing them so even we won’t mix them up without taking diapers off.

    I plan on pumping for various reasons including 1) teh hubz can “join in” on all the fun 2) tandem feeding sounds like a circus act 3) there will need to be beer for me to survive this thing. I’ve already read up on a few alcohol and breast feeding articles I can find. Even having *just* one will be glorious. Oh how times have changed.

    • Aw! I bet you’ll be able to tell them apart better than you think! And yeah: pumping is a glorious thing. I also heard there are even test strips you can buy to make sure there’s no alcohol in your milk. My husband totally rolled his eyes when I told him about those, but I think they could come in handy, save you from having to needlessly dump good milk.

  7. The picture of you holding her, and she has her little arm around your arm, makes my uterus ache.

    The mention and visual of cracked nipples fixes that right quick.

    • I LOVE YOU. “Like you’ve been snorting 8-balls” is a wonderful compliment. Right up there with, “might you be anorexic?” =)

      But all the fat’s residing in my gut, which is conveniently hidden by the baby and the large bulky sweatshirt. But I’ll be skanking it up again in no time.

  8. She is so darling!!!

    Personal grooming is overrated anyway. But if it gives you hope: our little dude is 12 weeks old and I shower every day now. Sometimes I even use soap, and comb my hair afterwards. My husband is a lucky man!

    Mmmm beer.

  9. I just found your blog today, and already I am madly in love with you. I would propose marriage, but it seems that you are already married (as am I), and since you just got a baby-friend of your own, I guess I can’t even lure you to my lair with the promise of a baby in 12ish weeks. (Also, you live in Indiana, which I believe is either a subcontinent in Asia or in the midwest, and either way, that’s really far away.)

    ANYWAY[s] – congratulations on having a baby and getting through an entire month with her still intact. My biggest fears currently alternate between childbirth and accidentally feeding my newborn to a cat in a sleep-deprived moment of psychosis.

    So – glad I found your blog. You are awesome. If you are ever in Portland, you might not want to leave because we have all the best beer ever, as well as awesome places to run.

    (I blame my rambly comment on pregnancy brain, and because we’re strangers, I’m hoping you’ll believe that.)

    • Heeeey! Thanks for stopping by! And just between us, your email address is hysterical. Good luck on your last 12 weeks, they’re the FUNNEST. Not really.

      If the show Portlandia is at all accurate, I think I know a lot about where you live. But seriously: I have heard great things about the beer. I have some family up in the NW so I could potentially visit some day. Since we’re already so tight, I’m assuming I can stay at your place?

      • Obviously, now that we’re bffs, you would HAVE to stay with me. There are so many beers we could drink! We’d just leave the babies locked in the nursery (for safety!) and hit all of our 1 million breweries!

        Portlandia is 100% accurate. I actually have a free-range cow named Colin in my freezer. (He isn’t free-range anymore, but it’s okay because he’s dead now.)

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  11. I kind of can’t wait until you attempt running again and we get to hear about your bouncy uterus. Squee!! I’m glad you’re sleeping and drinking again. Add pooping in there, and you’re basically a new born, too!

    • Wow, that’s a good point! BRB POOPING.

      And you will hear ALL about my attempts at running again. Mostly because all I do otherwise is eat, sleep and poop and blogging about that is getting really old.

  12. “(Tip to pregnant bitches: steal everything from the hospital that’s not bolted down.)”

    YES. One of my friends told me to bring an empty backpack or suitcase with us to collect all the goods before we left. The hospital is charging us for them so I was bringing them home. So we have a house full of the stolen hospital blankets.

    I’ve been reading your blog for a long time but I’m suck a slacker at commenting. Just wanted to say – Love, love your blog and your sense of humor! Thanks so much for your great perspective on life 🙂

  13. Pingback: two month old, free to good home |

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