So I was going to post this last Monday (like over a week ago), and am now just getting around to finishing the post. As as aside, I find that I have no problem starting things, like blog posts or a load of laundry, I just have a difficult time finishing things. Especially when the baby's demanding my attention, then I tend to forget about everything else. So here goes the post from last week, with some changes to account for the delay in posting.
A week ago from last Thursday, I got to meet the newest member in my husband's family. Which means my little guy is no longer the youngest grandchild on his dad's family. I knew he wouldn't be for long, but still. There's something about him being only three months old and already having a younger cousin that makes him seem
old. I mean he's only three months, and he's still pretty young, but still he seems older somehow.
At least he's still the youngest grandchild on his mom's family.
Saturday started fun. One of my friend's from college who just got married in October had her first baby on July 14. So I finally got to meet him. It would've been more fun to visit him in the hospital, but it was easier to go up on the weekend, given my husband's work schedule.
While visiting her, I realized that there's a lot of difference in my perspective as a mom in just three months. My baby was born at 5 pounds, 13 ounces. And he seemed tiny when he was born. Now he's around 12 pounds. But these last three months, he's just always weighed what he weighs, so even though I know he's getting bigger, he doesn't seem like it. As I mentioned
before, he seems to be exactly the same as he was the day before and the day before that. Even though the numbers tell me he's getting bigger and I'm lifting more than I was, you don't really realize how much bigger he is until you lift a baby that about half his weight.
My friend's baby weighs about 6 pounds, 11 ounces (at least when I was holding him). Just looking at him, he seemed pretty small. But that's to be expected. He wasn't even a week old. But when I went to hold him, it seemed like there was nothing to him. He just seemed so tiny. The weirdest thing about it was that he was born bigger than my baby, and I just couldn't imagine my baby being smaller than him. I mean, I knew that's how it was because my baby was born at 5 pounds, 13 ounces. But there's something about holding a baby smaller than him and considering how big my baby is now, it just seems like it was impossible that there was a time where he was smaller.
At least I'm out of the needing to feed my baby every three hours and needing to wake him up even though he's sleeping so peacefully and I'm so tired just because he needs to eat and gain weight. And I don't envy any new parent for that experience. But somehow, now that I'm past that phase, it seems like it didn't even happen. Probably by the time I have another kid, I'll have completely forgotten all about what that felt like.
After visiting my friend, her husband and her baby, we went to a mini going away party for another friend of ours who's going to Japan. Though now he should be there. But it was pretty fun getting to talk to him again, since I hadn't seen him since Christmas time.
It was sometime during that going away party that the "fun" of the weekend started. Back in February, I ended up getting gallstones and they chose that weekend to "attack" me. So we went to the emergency room that night because I couldn't stand the pain any longer. Okay, it didn't hurt as bad as when I was delivering my baby (because I did that sans painkiller), but it still hurt. And worse, I had no idea why it was hurting. After spending the night at the emergency room, they wheeled me upstairs where the surgeon pretty much said, "You can have surgery now, or you can have surgery later." And since I was already there, I went with the surgery now option.
But apparently getting my gall bladder removed wasn't enough, since there was a bit of scare last week about needing to go in for another procedure. So I got an MRI. And I don't know what it is, but the writer in me was like, "I gotta use this in a book somehow. I don't know what I'll do with it, but it would work really well in a sci fi." The MRI came back clear. It's been over a week post-surgery and everything's all better (well, except for the incisions, which are still healing). What's best is that the pain's gone and it'll never be back. At least not because of gall stones.
The only annoying thing is that I was given a weight limit of 15 pounds for two weeks and all of last week, I couldn't even pick the little guy up. I was pretty glad to have my father-in-law around to help me while my husband was at work. But I am definitely much happier now that I can pick the little guy up again. And when you go for a week not being able to pick up your baby, so you're just limited to holding him, you actually realize how much weight he really does gain once you are able to pick him up again.
But still, when you're picking him up on a daily basis, he weighs the same as he did the day before and the day before that.
