Ugh, the monotony of it all. Wake-up, feed, try to keep awake, listen to a bit of crying, put to bed (where she must be swaddled within an inch of her life). Rinse and repeat.

Hour, by hour I feel like it’s my whole life now.

No lunch with friends, no spontaneous trips to the store. Just the above.

Well, mixed with a few school activities.

Add in the sleep deprivation and you realize why postpartum depression is just an uphill battle.

I tried to fight it with chocolate cookies with peanut butter chips, that were delicious, but too much so. Trying to eat consciously, which is hard with above said issues.

I am getting a spectacular amount done at home {I am not even being sarcastic here –I really am doing an amazing amount — because I’m home all day, every day}. Especially considering before I had her how little I was doing. Of course, no one notices, and regardless of how hard I clean or garden stuff still messes it up, and I have to re-do.

I have girls night on Saturday. I would probably be suicidal without that to look forward to. Just waiting for someone to get sick to ruin that….

Anyway, the days go by. Trying to savor it, and not scream.

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Well, the time has come. It’s time for the help to be done.

Drew’s back to work.

Mom’s going home today.

I’m on my own. After the 3 day weekend.

And yes, I did make P that hat. And yes, she hates it.

Mom being here has been great. The kids have eased into life with a new sister with her. Can’t thank her enough. Well, I can. I gave her grandchildren. And, you’re welcome.

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We’re (translated, me) are really trying to get P on a schedule. However, sometimes she is really, really sleepy (shown here) and sometimes she’s fully awake (which you could see in the office right now if you were here. It’s frustrating. Drew took the boys camping this weekend and I had the full night shift. Of course, she slept less than usual but I don’t know why I would expect anything less. Good times.

Spencer has had a fair amount of quality time with us lately — and I was able to get the hemorrhoid pillow shot of my little angel (his arms are his wings… fyi). He has had a great time with Drew being home and my mom is coming today. It’s practically as exciting as the circus around here for him. In reality, he’s doing pretty darn great with the baby. I’ve been careful to essentially try and keep his little schedule intact, we’re still doing lessons and I’m trying to give him some activities to do when I’m busy doing something else. I’ve also tried to play a few games with him in my spare time. Yesterday he sat next to P for 1/2 an hour playing grab my finger. It was pretty cute.

People have been really sweet to us. My work sent this cute bouquet over, it’s nice to have flowers on the table — it makes it look like you have it more together than perhaps you actually do. One of the band moms made the kids these ADORABLE cupcakes — and since they’ve been camping they’re just sitting there in front of me. They are lucky I shot them rather than ate them. I did, however, have chocolate cake for breakfast. Yum, yum.

Oh, and last night I returned the “pumpkin”. My friend also made me dinner and we played Rockband. And P, who never spits up did a nice number on Becky’s outfit. Sorry Becky (or am I?). I’m really glad I went because it would’ve been a long afternoon/night with just me and P. Speaking of which, she is still awake and it’s time for our next feeding. So until next time adieu.

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But I’ve had to make a decision. Since the hospital I’ve gotten hardly any milk and by day 2 Miss P was done latching on. I kept pumping like a good girl, and I’ve kept it up at home, although I will admit to forgetting a few times. What’s a mother of 3 to do?

Well, it’s been dwindling. I think I reached my peak on Sunday with about 1/2 ounce total between the two sides (did I mention she latched on at the Newborn Club — I was pretty excited about that, but she didn’t gain any weight after feeding for about 8 minutes) I was pretty dang proud, and it even looked milky…

But now it’s like 5-10 cc’s and that’s mostly in the mornings with it diminishing all day. And, yet I keep doing it. I also HATE doing it — it’s 10 minutes I could be doing something else… not to mention it’s not particularly pleasant.

Although, Spencer is obsessed with it. I always see his little head pop in the door when it’s going on. Yesterday he said, “Mom, I think Becky wants her pumpkin back.”
“her pumpkin?”
“yeah, that thing.” (pointing to the breast pump) “I bet she wants it back, you should call her.”

So, I’m gonna give her pumpkin back. This morning as I was pouring my 5 cc’s of mother’s love into the bottle I finally decided what I was doing was insane. But part of me feels like I’m making the decision to give her less. No, I won’t dress you today — I’m just too tired of the pumpkin. Of course, there are plenty of times we GIVE them less, we just don’t make the decision to do it. I will ignore your crying to get a blog entry finished, I will allow you to run around our house with chocolate cake smeared on your face because I am too tired to drag you in the bathroom and really wash it off…

Anyway, it’s just hard to make the decision that you can’t do it all. And this is something I obviously can’t do. I did, however, make her 12 burp cloths and bibs, and I worked out during pregnancy so I’m sure it all evens out. Right?

RIGHT? On a brighter note I hate sleeping in a bra. It drives me crazy. I will not miss it tonight.

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I’m talking the deep breathing kind of you feel like the world is tightening around you kind of anxiety.

It’s only on the days I nap.

I even slept fairly well last night, but honestly — what new mom doesn’t want a nap every now and then…

Anyone else?

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Guess who’s a week old today. Well, this evening to be more precise… on Monday night we had a little birthday party for her (hard to say if we had the party just entirely for us to buy a Costco cake… but you can judge that for yourselves). We all made a wish for her and then blew-out her candle. We all then wrote down our wishes for her on a little scrapbook page. It was pretty sweet. I’ve done a photo shoot almost every day with the little darling. Sure makes me love my camera again.

What’s a day like around here? Well, she eats every 2.5 to 3 hours — we wake her up almost every time to eat during the day. Last night she did 4 hour stints at night, but prior to this it’s been 3. She’s still pretty dang awake at night. Last night she was awake for at least an hour after her 2:30 feeding, but she only cried a few times. She’s eating somewhere between 2 and 3 ounces at each feeding… life’s starting to get some semblance of routine. I have some pretty snazzy routines that I take her through to try and keep her awake during the day. I find old high school cheerleading cheers are quite amusing — the kids love it when I do it with her. All in an effort for better sleep at night. Anyone on here remember the old THS “Raise your hands, stomp your feet” cheer? Huge hit around here.

Drew even went to school for a bit today and I have on regular pants. Check us out. I gave myself a week to eat totally whatever I wanted, but that is over now. I still have 1/2 of that cake staring at me… but it’s eating consciously. Oh, and no more heavy pain pills for me. I hope my pelvis doesn’t get too outraged.

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Anyway, Spencer is really quite interested in the process of pumping — and sadly, unlike the act of actual breastfeeding it is difficult to cover-up pumping. Even if you use a blanket, there’s still the sounds and the chance of said blanket falling… either way he knows what’s going on. In the hospital he was especially intrigued:
“Mom, is that your heart beating?”
“No, it’s like when they hook the suctions on the cows and they give them milk.”
“That’s MILK in there?”
“Yup”
“Mom, I think I can see your heart beating” — I think he just couldn’t figure out why it was making my chest do that.
What do you say to your 5 year old about breastfeeding?

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They sent the social worker to talk to me in the hospital, because I had checked the box for having had postpartum depression with C. It was a really good talk. I mostly asked her how you know it’s turning from the baby blues into something you should be more concerned about. She said when it follows you. You can’t shake it, ever. She said if things can’t make you laugh if you can’t see the bright side of things.

Last night P drank 3.5 ounces (and no, her name’s not piggie, although perhaps it should be) and when I sat her up to burp she had a GIANT one. For the first time I laughed, in like 3 days — like a real laugh, not everyone else is laughing so I’ll smile.

And the sun came out. At least for a bit. Oh, and I showered, and changed my clothes. Horray for the little things.

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Baby cried much of the night, no apparent reasons. The nurses said to be careful with how much she was eating, because they thought she was eating too much in the hospital. I think we’ll still be careful during the day — but at night she can eat to her little heart’s content — at least tonight. Each day I come-up with a new theory. Tomorrow, perhaps it will be that I was impregnated by aliens who are coming to suck my mind which is now made of mush and will be able to be gulped down like a Jamba Juice at this point.

Kids are driving me insane. Too loud, too much noise between crying and kids throwing blocks at each other. Normal kid stuff, just me too ugly to tolerate it.

Still haven’t showered.

Still haven’t bathed the baby.

Pure, unadulterated bliss…

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