One week in and the Illiterate household is officially in “newborn” mode. We’re alternating between Hallmark card moments and a scene from ER as we deal with each new first: first big sleep, first burp, first milk poo, first throwing up of the previous one hour breast feed.
It’s a strange situation, so much the same yet so different. As a Dad, I seem to have automatically got the “bum tap” back and find myself rocking from side to side naturally whenever I hold her. I also seem to be able to expertly turn her into a human burrito with my expert wrapping technique – looks like some skills will be with me for life.
It’s also really different. We’re not stressed (yet). I think back to last time at the same stage and the illiterate household was… sad. We felt like we were constantly failing as Miss 2.5 screamed her way endlessly through the each night. Our new recruit is different. Chilled out, quiet, cries when she needs to but is generally happy to just be. There’s a part of me that’s waiting for the bomb to drop but in the mean time I’m going to make the most of it.
I’ve spent this last week having flashbacks. Where an experience reminds me of the last time around and like this post’s title suggests, I’ve been surprised at what I have forgotten and been consequently reminded of.
To start, I’d forgotten just how much I dislike a newborns cry. Now I’m not talking about the gurgling, cooing, just-woken-up-from-sleep cry but the blood curdling “hell0! best you drop everything and sort me out STAT!” type cry. Granted our new recruit does a lot less of it but when she get’s into it it’s like being trapped in a Justin Bieber concert (best analogy I could think of in current state of sleep deprivation)
I’d forgotten just how very, very little a newborn is. For those of you that haven’t kept up with the craze of guessing my new daughters birth weight and height, she came out pretty big. Although she had vital statistics that caused many a mother to cross their legs and breath out quickly, it’s all relative. It’s when you see their tiny, scrawny bodies wriggling away on a change mat, or hold their wrapped body to your chest that you remember just how little these things are.
You need to have something taken away to truly appreciate it and for me, this has to be sleep. Sure we don’t have a lot a howling tears but we do have a little girl who seems to wake up about 10pm and be happily awake until 5am. This means that I’ve been tapping away at a little bottom each night since she been home, as she stares at me with her wide, black eyes. Coffee barely works (but sponsorships from coffee machine companies are still being considered) and I’ve seriously questioning how I’m going to handle grown up work on Wednesday.
Lastly – boobs. I keep looking over to my wife and see a part of her that is far, far bigger than I am used to. Maybe is a case of scale, seeing my little newborns head pressed up against them but from where I’m standing they are huuuuge.
So for the second-time-arounders (or third, or fourth, or fifth!) what came flooding back for you? Was it more of the same or was it different? Did you use the same old tricks or did you need to figure it out all over again?