I have no Internet access at home. This is causing me a bit of anxiety. I’m not quite to panic levels, yet, but I haven’t logged onto my email either. It’s time for a laptop, an iPad, or a smart phone for me. It’s just time.
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The good news is that I haven’t much news. Michael is doing great — eating and sleeping well. Like most newborns, he lost a bunch of weight, and my pediatricians are keeping an eye on that. We go back today. As of last Friday, he had lost about 8 percent of his birth weight. But by Saturday, my milk had come in, and he had already gained an ounce back.
If I had a guess, I would say he’s gained a few more over the past few days. His belly’s all rounded out.
He nurses like Kate did: slowly. He’ll probably get more efficient as he gets bigger, but for now, he probably sleeps at the breast more than he actually eats.
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As a side note: Perc.o.cet is the perfect pain relief drug. I sincerely wish I had left the hospital with a prescription for some. I was offered one, but I declined it. Because I was feeling pretty good.
I was feeling pretty good because of the Perc.o.cet. By the time I got home, I felt like a truck had run over me. Several times.
If I should ever need that level of pain relief again, I know what I’m asking my doctors for.
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Otherwise, life is a series of adjustments. The girls aren’t sure what to do around Michael since they can’t run, jump, or talk loudly when he is downstairs with us. Flora likes to look at him and hold him; Kate wants to poke him sometimes.
The girls’ first reactions to their brother: Flora, upon meeting him Thursday evening: “He’s so little! He’s so cute.” She holds him very well, with support from the boppy.
Kate, upon being asked at daycare about her little brother: “He’s okay. But I’m not allowed to hit him, pinch him, or step on his fingers.”
I’m not really sure where she got those restrictions. I mean, they are all true; she’s not allowed to do those things. But I never spelled it out for her like that. I suspect an older sibling at school or daycare clued her in.
Kate is not quite as fond of Michael as Flora is. She doesn’t like when he cries, and when he’s awake and not nursing, he’s crying. He especially hates having his diaper changed, which he needs approximately 87 times a day.
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Speaking of diaper changes: Boy parts! It’s a bit of an adjustment. Yesterday he peed through five outfits, diaper notwithstanding. When I mentioned it to Dr. Bro’s wife, she said, “Oh, yeah. Boys do that. Two of mine did.” (She’s the mom of four boys.) He hasn’t peed on me yet, but he’s got years and years to accomplish that.
Red Pen Mama 