Where the hell is that g-d birth story?!
I know, I know, the posting has fallen a bit. (A bit?!) As I mentioned, it takes me roughly five days to get one of these things done now. My life is all about trying to keep a very, verrry fussy baby from going ballistic until his next feeding - and that's about it. This child fights sleep like nothing I've ever seen. From 3 in the morning until Matt gets home and takes Fightin' Irish off my hands, all I do all day, every day is rock and bounce and sing and swaddle and and try to shove him into the sling (you sure you don't want in? You sure?!) and beg and plead... and spend many hours feeling ridiculously sorry for myself. It's lonely, this stuff. I'm not sure what I thought it'd be like, but being trapped in the house for 20 days (again, who's counting) wasn't quite what I pictured. ("Welcome to motherhood, sweetheart.") That said, my little redhead is delicious and I wouldn't trade him for anything in the world...
Except maybe at 3 am.
We've already had a bit of drama Chez Bebe. On Saturday night we had our first Emergency Room visit. On Saturday night my newborn screamed and writhed for almost FIFTEEN HOURS STRAIGHT. Before you think we're terrible parents, we went absolutely apeshit trying to figure out what was wrong. We called his pediatrician three times with no response. Finally the on-call doctor called us back and told us to get our asses to the hospital. Let me tell you, a New York City emergency room on a Saturday night is straight out of Scorsese. Gunshot victims, homeless people wandering around, screaming at the air ("They want to send me for a psych evaluation! I been drinking for four weeks straight! I don't even know how I got here!"). Elderly patients were piled next to each other like corpses, the halls lined with people on stretchers, moaning... Yeah, exactly the place you want to bring your newborn. Luckily they took pity on us and bumped us to the front of the list. Our doctor was great and straight out of Central Casting for Hot Young Doc (pulled back dreds, tasteful tats). He was incredibly gentle with Will and tested everything, including his eyes. I almost stopped him (why would his eyes cause him to curl into a ball and writhe?) which is why it's best I didn't consider med school; turns out that my little man managed to scratch both his corneas with his little baby nails. According to the baby ophthalmologist it's one of the most painful things you can do (you cornea has more nerve endings than any other place on your body) but after a few doses of antibiotic ointment and loads of Infants Tylenol, he's doing fine. It wasn't fun but hey, at least I got out of the house.
Oops - the creature is stirring. Time for boob. More when I can!