scrawls.

scrawls

still cheaper than therapy*

23.10.07

three weeks

and you're stretching out more: when you came out, you were all froggedy, with your legs always tucked up and your arms doing this tight little chicken-wing thing to your chest. Sleeves are getting easier to put on, now, due to your stopping the i'm-so-small routine. It makes you look extra much longer, too, how long your legs are, where before we had to pull them out to get a measurement. You look huge! And you are growing out of the swaddle-thing. It doesn't fit around you hardly; the velcro almost doesn't catch. But this means that it's tighter around you, so it's harder for you to escape from. hee.

i'm nearly done healing. Or i think i'm done healing, but the doctors say it takes six weeks, so i think i will be slow and careful until then. The stitches have fallen out (i looked) and (TMI) i have a giant fucking scar, now, including little side scars for each of the stitches, and it was mediolateral (?) so i'm completely not symmetric. It took the side with the snip on it much longer to stop being swollen than the snip-less side. but now i can sit and stand and walk around and lie down and be okay. In the hospital you could tell who'd had an episiotomy and who hadn't by the way they winced when they sat. Also in the hospital, i learned that people make exactly the same sounds when in labor as they do when having sex. Seriously. The woman next to me kept screaming (in Spanish? Italian? something) oh god, oh god ...

Mom - that's nagymama to you - was in hungary for four days, and is back now, and says you've changed. You've almost started smiling, i think - you do it in your sleep, certainly, and you do it when you're awake too but i'm not sure if you mean it or not. Or maybe you just stare at me all day so whether or not you're smiling, i'm not so exciting, where you only get to stare at M when he gets home from work and wants to hold you for hours on end (which is really, really cute) and he's more special than me, which is fine, but he says you've smiled at him. And i think you smiled at me yesterday, but it might have been you being farty. Either way you are the most beautiful creature i have ever seen.

I think i have eluded postpartum depression. For now. At least. Possibly also elided it, or are the two mutually exclusive? And of course, today, when we have to go and get your social security card and passport and american birth-abroad certificate, it's pouring rain and nasty, and i have the mom-is-visiting-for-so-long it's-driving-me-fucking-insane crazies, i don't have the PPD. (She keeps buying food. And putting it in the fridge and in the cabinet. While she was gone we tried to eat it all, unsuccessfully, and now she is BACK and she brought bread and something in a chicken-labeled package with her already. Also i had a pen and a pair of scissors, and she moved them.) but i feel like a toon in a horror film: the PPD is hiding, sneaking around, lying in wait. Behind doors, under the bed, light glinting on its slimy graspy fingers. And i know, in an old building, a leaky faucet and a creaky floor are meaningless, but it is still real and scary even if there will be no two-dimensional hairy thing coming out from the television to mess with my head.

You like napping in the Ergo. With the newborn insert. Which works pretty damn well, and is fairly comfy for both M and i, and apparently perfectly comfy for you, too. we've been wearing it lots, me around town, and M at home - he likes playing warcraft with you in it. so you're in it now that we're just home from the embassy. Consulate. Anyway. Sleeping. You have the baby acne and the milk spots, and the little angelic look. and your mouth is a little lopsided at times - you suck on one side of your lower lip, but not the other. It's cute. And when i adjust you in the ergo you open one eye, slitted, like a lizard, just to see.

Your hair hasn't fallen out yet, which makes me wonder if it will. I think it would have started by now if it was going to. I have almost decided that your eyes are the color of old copper pennies - not really brown, and not necessarily green, but sometimes both at the same time.

And today we nursed in the American consulate. Screw the coverup blankets. Screw 'em. We can nurse anywhere.

Labels: baby, mamadom, milestones

scrawled @ 09:46