Her appointment went very well. I forget all the percentiles, but they were something like 95% and 100%.
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Disclaimer: While I am a FTM I have had a lot of experience with infants which instills confidence in both DH and myself, blessing us with a peaceful air in which to persist and stay calm. While this maynot be everyone's experience, this is our story and our experiences as FTP for week one...
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There are days and moments when I look into the face of this precious little angel that is called "my daughter" and wonder how it could be so easy to take her home and keep her. Who are we, the "parents", that we should be allowed to take this little girl home, call her our own and raise her? No tests to pass? No fees to pay? No contracts to sign? It amazes me that just anyone can do this. If you make and have your own baby you get to keep it - no questions asked. It still amazes me that she's ours. Her care, her life and her well being all falling to us, the "parents."
When she was first born I felt a immediate need to protect her. They were washing her off for me and I felt they were being too rough. I had them stop and just give her to me. I didn't want her experiencing unpleasant things for me. However, I was fine with them poking and cleaning her when necessary. DH stood by her side the entire time, calming her. He had a much more difficult time hearing her cry as he's not used to being around babies. It was moving to see her recognize DH's voice and be calmed by it. The nurses would whisk her away and she'd cry (they were very abrupt with her) then DH would follow behind and start singing or talking to her and she'd turn towards him and listen silently. While there was a instant bond to want to protect her, knowing that I knew her best, there was a distance when I looked at her. She didn't look like me, the ultra sounds or what I'd expected. DH said she looked like her grandpa . . . that can't be good. And grandma said she looked like her daddy . . . again another male??? She was pale and had a cone head (even though one nurse kept calling her the perfect shaped head baby). I knew that changes fast and I waited. Now I look at her and see the most beautiful little face. I love her smile and wonder what she's thinking. I know I know . . . at this age smiles are suppose to be for gas, right. My baby doesn't smile when she has gas though - it's not fun. Her smile, for whatever reason she smiles, just melts me. I feel happy that she has a reason to smile. I feel somewhere in the midst of all that was difficult or that is unpleasant she found something to hold onto and smile about.
I feel proud. I feel SO proud. I feel proud that I had an amazing baby that seems so perfect. I feel proud that she spit right out, that she came right on time (two days early to be timely), that her weight and length are right on the 50% mark, that she's patient (say the nurses), that she's a happy baby and that even though nursing isn't always easy she's doing it her way when she wants and how much she wants and never lost weight but is gaining perfectly. Maybe my perceptions are a little skewed . . . but it's only because I'm so proud and in love with her. Can she do anything wrong?
DH has been home taking care of us this whole time. I'm not exaggerating when I say she hasn't been set down or left in her carseat. DH read about attachment parenting, how important touch and wearing your baby are and how you can't spoil them when their this young. So he's wearing her and taking complete care of her. It's been one week today and all I've done is feed her and change 1 diaper (that was only because I didn't want to wake DH up to do it when I was already up). I feel proud again of the bond taking place between DH and baby, knowing that this is what will bond them together for a lifetime. So much so that I worry if she'll be happy with just me when he returns to work. Sometimes I think she'd trade me in for him. Sometimes I feel a little jealous. We inwardly battle between who gets to hold her . . . though, knowing full well that I get her every day when he goes back to work, I let him have her as much as he wants . . .which really is ALL THE TIME.
Sometimes I get the feeling that she's judging me. When she doesn't want to latch on and just hovers over my nipple, never landing, I tell her, "You're gonna give mommy a complex" and hope that my milk doesn't stink or taste THAT bad. It's hard not knowing what they're thinking or wanting all of the time. I find myself wanting to kiss her more than what I think she'd like. I just can't get enough of those soft cheeks and that silky smooth hair. I look forward to the day when she'll smile or give mommy kisses back. I look forward to the day when I can be reassured that I AM more than a boob and that she does love ME. For now I'm left wondering and hoping that we can make it through next week when daddy goes back to work. I hope we can handle things on our own. If not, there's always Nana. =)
Aww . . . as I write this now she's exploding out her cute little bottom . . . flooring my husband. I just sit here and laugh as he holds her away from his body and takes her upstairs to be changed. I love this . . . the good and the bad. What a blessing to be a part of this thing they call family. Speaking of which I'm already anxiously awaiting Christmas, as it will be our first one as a "family" with our own little one. I can't wait to give to her (though I'm not a spoiler and she won't understand anyways). It just seems like such a warm time to be holding our own little miracle and to be able to be together. I can imagine the soft Christmas music now, with the fire going and the tree lit up . . .maybe some hot chocolate and cookies. I can't wait!
Speaking of family . . . now that we offically have our own Wolf(e) Cub we've decided to start refering to our house as "The Den".
DH just came back to report her cord is hanging on by a single string. Even THAT she does perfectly. She should lose it today marking a perfect one week. =) I can't wait!!! Real baths here we come!!! I'm so proud of our little one.
Overall, these days and moments string together and I think, "This is it. This is our life. Every moment will fade into a mere memory. Each event, each blow-out diaper, every struggle to latch on and all the successful moments of feeding . . .they all weave together to make our story. This is our story."
-Jodel
