transitions

Oh, man it’s cold down here. We never quite worked out the kinks in the heating system. It’s worst at night, when I have to dig myself out of a pile of blankets to feed a cold cranky baby, but the days are no picnic either. My dad decided to close the vent in the blue room to see if I’d get more heat in the bedroom. Now both rooms are cold. Sigh.

We went to our second-last midwife’s appointment today. I can’t believe that it’s almost over. My pregnancy seemed eternal; I raced ahead in the books just to see what the next weeks would bring me & the Sprout and fretted at the wait until s/he developed into the next stage. And now that we’re almost through our treatment, I really miss being pregnant. I looked at a test-stick in the bathroom garbage and got unbelievably nostalgic for the constant urine testing. I know that sounds incredibly stupid, but there it is. I miss my pregnancy wardrobe. I miss the anticipation & excitement of birth. I miss my huge belly. I even miss the sciatica.

The worst thing is that I’m not sure how much of this is honest nostalgia for pregnancy and how much of this is just trouble adjusting to my new role. I’d be lying if I didn’t tell you that I miss independence, or sleeping in the bed with just the Boy or hell, just sleeping for that matter. I also miss the peace of pregnancy – before I started second-guessing every little labour twinge, I was pretty calm about pregnancy because it’d been so good to me. Now that I ricochet between anxiety & serenity within the same minute, I could do with a little more self-assurance & a little less self-doubt.

I have a tendency to get depressed after major life changes (i.e. after marriage/moving out of province, after moving/teaching/ending school, and now after moving/quitting work/having the Sprout. I even got depressed every summer of my university years, come to think of it.) My problem is that I can never do things halfway. I can’t just get married; I have to get married & move 2000 kms away from everyone I know & start a new and demanding course of study. I can’t just get a job; I have to get a job far away from my home & move close to my friends and family but not close enough to see any of them without extreme effort. And I can’t just have a baby; I have to get pregnant unexpectedly after a spring that included both licit and illicit drugs & run out of money because my partner’s not working & ask my parents to take me in despite my own fierce independence & cap months of psychotic drama with the neighbours with an extended move in my last month & go back to a town where I have no social contacts (or easy access to my midwifery service). No wonder my stress tests are off the scale.

I kind of wandered from my point there. What I started out to say was that we had another weigh-in and after one week, Blake has gained a resounding 6 ounces and a bit, putting his total weight gain at just over 26 ounces. It’s been a difficult week; just getting him off the expressed supplements has meant that I’ve been feeding him almost constantly the last 2 days. Like any new mother, I’ve been fretting, wondering if his increased feedings mean that he’s not getting enough anymore. Once again, the weight gain has set me straight: 6 plus ounces is my new ticket to peace of mind.

Until, of course, the next time I find something to worry about.

Gaze upon my gigantic baby!

Hectate commented that he looks like a real baby now, not just a tiny newborn. A very silly baby, of course.

even with his huge growth spurt, he’s still trying to eat his hands

I thought I could use the trail to attract some monkeys to help me raise my monkeyboy, but no luck

Thank you for flying crying baby airlines. Buh bye.

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- Rocketbride's adventure of 1/07/2004 11:01:00 p.m.