We celebrate burps. And poop. Color, consistency, how many times it occurs each day, we celebrate it all. Only for Olive, of course. (Michael might celebrate his own poop, too, who knows.)
I feel neurotic. My mind is on a constant, repeating loop of, "Oh my God, is she breathing? Is that sound normal? Why is she making that noise? Why haven't I heard her make a noise in a while? Are her mouth and nose clear of blankets/other blockages? She is eating enough? Is her formula good enough? Is her gassiness normal?"...and the list goes on and on.
I don't need to set an alarm anymore. I literally wake up every 3-4 hours on my own to feed her, despite how tired I am. Programmed Mom.0.
I'm scared to take her out in public anywhere. Aside from germs, what if she has a meltdown? What if there's no changing table nearby? What if I cannot figure out how to get her damn car seat out of the actual car (a real possibility.)?
I cried when she cried (lip was quivering, it was so sad). Twice. Ok, three times.
She barfed on me twice and I didn't freak out, surprisingly. Maybe it really is different 'when it's your kid.'
Still too scared to cut those razor nails. I am fearful of hacking off the tips of those little angel fingers.
I never thought we'd be the "type" to have the baby sleep in our room, but having her here, we all are most comfortable this way. Thanks,
Rock 'n Play Sleeper!
People need to wash their hands more. Or use anti-bac hand gel before man-handling my little nugget. Please and thank you.
People need to STOP asking me about our sleep: how much we're
not getting/is there a schedule yet/is Olive sleeping through the night (laugh warranted if you actually ask me this)/any other deviation from this questioning. For the record, please just assume that we aren't getting any, but we'll pull through. Promise. I know you're just concerned, but the mention of sleep actually stresses me out more.
I hate that I use baby talk. Yuck. I lose control of what comes out of my mouth when I see my beautiful daughter.
I have never kissed or hugged anyone on the planet more in my life.
My husband is the very best person in the entire world. He has stepped up to assume the Daddy role way more than I ever imagined. He took care of Olive in the hospital while I was recovering. He gets up with her at night for alternate feedings, changes her, takes her downstairs to watch A&E or the Discovery Channel while I take a nap now and then, runs errands, cleans, makes bottles, helps with laundry, and maintains a positive, loving attitude more so than I've ever seen in him before. He is a wonderful husband, my very best friend, and an amazing father to Olive. They are wrapped around each others' fingers already and it makes my heart smile.
I have never been happier in my life. There is no greater gift.
