Okay, so maybe I'm being slightly melodramatic.
But, really. I'm not sure where the past few weeks have gone. They've all sort of blurred together in a giant mass of chaos, where Sleep and Order have been completely overthrown by a cute little tyrant called Baby.
How DOES he get away with such madness?? Oh, wait. I know. Like this:
How does one build up proper defenses to such a creature? Well, one doesn't. Somehow, through the sleepless nights and MOUNTAINS of diapers and laundry (SERIOUSLY?!), that beautiful little tyrant steals your heart away. His gummy smiles turn you into a puddle of goo, and the way he stares at you - a beautiful combination of discovery and comfort - you forget what you were doing. You forget that you were in the middle of The Great War Against Dust Bunnies and that you were losing - dreadfully - because you can't help but stare back into those eager eyes while making funny faces at each other.
But initially, it just feels like chaos.
His days are your nights; he poops his body weight multiple times a day. You're peed on, pooped on, puked on, and then he pees on the PJs you JUST washed because he peed on them 3 hours ago... When "they" say a newborn can eat every two hours, that doesn't mean in between feedings. No, it means everything happens WITHIN a two hour period. IE you feed him for 30-40 minutes, change his diaper, play with him, put him down for a 1 hour nap, and then he's hungry again.
But it was more than that. Nothing in the world could have prepared me to be so entrusted with another human life. The first week of his life, that responsibility hit me...hard. I felt completely overwhelmed (and undeserving), which, of course, displayed itself every day via an outpouring of tears... (thank you, Hormones...poor Ben...)
And then...the chaos changes.
It's a strange thing to have your life work in one fashion for so long (30 years!) and then to have it all flipped upside down and turned inside out. I've realized a lot about myself, and the biggest realization has been just how selfish I am. I've always been very protective *UNDERSTATEMENT* with my time, and now time isn't mine to protect.
But, interestingly enough, I don't mind.
It took me a good three weeks, but the chaos finally transformed into some form of predictability. And now that the dust is settling (on all the black furniture - WAR!), I'm starting to feel myself again - a different me, but me, no less. I'm recovering fast and getting some sleep, albeit incrementally (BTW sleep training is HARD, but it does wonders! I'm so thankful for the advice and encouragement from friends that were successful with it. And I'm thankful for my noise-cancelling headphones :D).
Just last week, Baby Kloss and I had our first "outing" together: Target. Of course he slept the entire time, but I count it as success and a mark that some form of normalcy shall be restored. Also, I've commenced working on book #3; my inspiration has RETURNED! And oh, it's a glorious thing...it was gone almost the entirety of pregnancy. My only problem now is that I can't type fast enough during those 30-45 minute segments of time I'm granted.
I'll never understand how such a tiny person can run away with your heart. He is absolutely perfect and healthy and beautiful, and it's astounding how much he grows and changes EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. He's almost a month old and already a pound heavier (he's got a ways to go to catch up to Daddy), and each day he's more alert, making more noises *MELTS*, and smiling more. (I've already doubled the photo count on my phone.) One of my new favorite things is to watch him with Ben. They already have a bond that's unique to them, and Ben always seems to be able to get him to relax in a way that I can't. Samson is also adjusting. The first time he heard Baby Kloss cry, Samson barked at him, and now he's bringing Baby Kloss his toys, expecting him to throw them.
And now it's time for me to go... gotta wake Baby Kloss so that we can go to Target and get sprinkles to make Christmas cookies :D
