The First Nights

Two under two with too much to do...

So this new addition to the family is actually going over much better than expecting. His older brother can't stop giving him kisses, pointing to him and saying "baby, BABY!" and doing other heart shatteringly adorable things to indicate how much he loves "baby."

The new addition on the other hand, is adjusting really well. The swing is a life saver, and believe it or not, it IS POSSIBLE to successfully breastfeed and use pacifiers at the same time. It really is. I promise. Don't let people demonize pacifiers, especially when you are running on two hour or less intervals of sleep.

The hospital stay was great too, but I missed my own bed so much, it was torturous. And the thing that sucks the most, is that when I got home and finally got into my own bed, it was so uncomfortable because of my incision that I ended up on the couch in the living room! So, so much for that.

They also have stopped taking your baby to the nursery when you request it. They don't take them there at all. So, your first night on the job is actually the first night in the hospital after you have had the baby. Sure, nurses come and go, but no break time! I got lucky so far with a baby that sleeps more than a Snorlax and nurses like a champ.

But this post is mostly about daddies. And no, not men who make babies, but daddies. The ones who step up and earn the title "dad".

My last postpartum period included extreme exhaustion, engorged breasts beyond comprehension, and several episodes of mastitis. Not to mention the grueling postpartum depression/anxiety that I went through, that took months to get passed.

This time, nursing is going well, healing is going well, and postpartum depression is a slight echo compared to the orchestra that it was last time. But my husband is a daddy. A great daddy. He has used this time to really bond with our oldest, while letting me rest with the new baby. He has been cooking and cleaning and entertaining and just being an all around fantastic guy. He always has been great, but it's time like this that separate the men from the boys, and he really got it. He is already enduring crying jags from me about absolutely nothing, and practically carried me to and from the bathroom in our hospital room after the repeat C-section. He has been putting our oldest to bed and waking up with him in the mornings, because I can't lift him for four weeks. He took him out for an hour or so today, so me and the newbie could catch some Z's in peace and quiet.

I love this guy more than anyone else in the world, and nothing can change that. He is accepting me in the postpartum, saggy belly, taped up incision and all. He also held my hand through the repeat C-section I ended up having and reminded me that even though I could not get my VBAC, he still supports me and knows that my birth experiences don't define me, as they often do in the "mommy world." He rocks and prays with our oldest before bed, and is the reason that he knows how to say "amen" now. People have told me that I have gotten myself a "good one" and that could not be more true.

So this might have been sappy and all, but I mean every word. As hormonal as I am now, crying as I type this, my heart is exploding with the happiness of how much I have been blessed with, C-section scars and all.