|
page 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 
Life with JJ -- the first months (cont'd)
Tuesday, August 2nd
Twice now JJ has rolled his eyes when I've been talking sweet to him, it's really disconcerting. "Oi you," I feel like saying, "you're supposed to like babytalk." He just sighs one of his little sighs and goes back to sleep.
"Newborn babies," claims the parenting magazine my mom picked up, "can be awake up to 20 minutes at a time." 20 minutes? I'm glad if he sleeps 20 minutes at a time. They must be feeding their babies morphine or something.
And God am I sick of changing nappies. I can not believe how many diapers that boy goes through, it's like a never-ending process.
Such a sweet child -- I could just watch his expressions for hours, as I try to guess what he's thinking. He's got the reproachful look down pat; a sort of meaningful glare, making you feel guilty as hell even if all you are doing is burping him.
He fusses a bit, making the little gurgly noises that sound like he's trying desperately not to cry out loud, and I lie here hoping he doesn't wake all the way up. It gets louder, and I start to suspect that he's spitting up that big feed of his all over his clean clothes and new sheets.
All I want to do is sleep.
Wednesday
A weepy afternoon -- mom is out, and Connor and I are trying out life on our own. I held him earlier and just started crying at all the things he should have: a dad, plenty of people doting on him, a big house, life not paid for on benefits, a mom with plenty of time and no money troubles...
I figure he didn't do a very good job at picking out a mommy. Don't they give them a checklist or something?! Poor little sod. He's half-awake now, making frumpy noises to himself after having been fed and changed. The nappy rash seems to be clearing up -- thank God! I don't think I could take another night of waking up every 1 1/2 hours to change his nappy.
I need a hug. I need someone to hold me and tell me Connor is going to end up alright.
I've been trying to read, but he keeps crying, so now we're lied upstairs on the bed in an attempt to keep the world a bearable place. He's still not happy, only the dummy keeps him semi-quiet, and he keeps spitting that out. He stops sucking for a moment, and watches the pen move across the page. Maybe he'll be a writer.
I should bathe him now, it's been an hour since his last feed, but he's cranky, and more importantly I just changed his diaper. I know I shouldn't make hygiene decisions on the basis of saving a diaper, but they are bloody expensive, and I just went through two by over-applying the zinc cream for his nappy rash and taking all the stick out of the sticky tape in the process.
He screams, and attempts to get the dummy back into his own mouth, and I think how clever he is. Mind you, it'd be a whole lot cleverer if he'd stop spitting it out -- but considering he's not yet two weeks old, I think he's pretty with it.
Sunday
Mom just left. Feel really scared and alone. The baby has sticky eye and a poorly tummy from my antibiotics (I have a womb infection. yuck.). I'm trying to think of cheerful things so that I don't focus on how quiet the house suddenly is...
JJ makes lots of gurgly grunts and unhappy noises these days, instead of just having the on/off button for straight crying or silence. It's neat, because it's a new development, but it's also a bit of a bind: before I knew if he was crying, he needed me, and if he wasn't, he didn't. Now we have this sort of "yellow alert" status, where I sit and stare at him -- not wanting to start anything in case he deteriorates into a crying fit, but not wanting to rush over, in case he's just sort of testing out his vocal cords, and by running to him and quieting him I'm actually slowing down his development.
I went to the pictures with Ian on Friday night, while my mom babysat, it was a really good time. I forced myself into support pantyhose, stilettos and a little black dress, and felt almost attractive for the first time in ages.
At the theatre this guy looked at me, and I immediately felt guilty, I simply assumed he was glaring at me for smoking. Then I realized that there was no longer a huge stomach advertising the fact that I should be being healthy, and it suddenly dawned on me that he was looking at me! I tripped and fell at that moment. Oh well.
Connor is quiet, I sit in my robe and drink hot chocolate whilst watching television. I'm trying not to think, as I'll just get depressed. He's a lovely baby, but I read my book and watch the kids outside, and listen to Antje's 5-year-old scream in the background when I call her, and I just think "I don't want a child." I mean, this little wriggly bundle is going to be needing me for the next 18 years.
One day at a time. That's all I keep thinking...just make it through today.
And today he's still lovely and nice to have around -- despite his gunky eye that makes him look like Pop-eye.
|
