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Life with JJ -- the first months (cont'd)

Friday, Sept 16th

Connor off shopping with Kay (she needed the pram to carry her potatoes back home in), and the house is strangely empty. I worked at the Centre Monday through Wednesday. I started out taking Connor with me but by Tuesday afternoon Connor was desperately unhappy: overtired, feeding badly and over-frequently (my milk was low -- stress?), and seemingly insecure. I was a bundle of nerves with him at the office; trying to keep him quiet and get things done quickly was doing my head in. Luckily Kay was able to watch him for me on Wednesday; we were both a lot happier.

Tired. Wiped out, to be honest, although I couldn't fall back asleep after feeding Connor at 5:30 this morning. He got his shots yesterday -- when they inserted the needle he gasped and then held his breath, with a very brave look on his face. I wanted to cry, such a little man, I was ever so proud of him.

Monday

What a busy weekend. I rearranged the living room after my landlord's parents (lovely couple and ever-so Scottish) brought over a bureau and various other bits of old furniture. Connor now is the proud owner of a one pound coin, for some reason. It must be some odd Scottish tradition: they gave me this coin, said it was lucky, and to give it to him.

I spent it on milk. I wonder if there is a Scottish hell for doing that.

Then I pulled myself together and cleared out the flower bed (despite a 24-hour break due to the appearance of a huge spider which Connor absolutely refused to do anything about -- so much for the benefits of having a man around the house), and planted some herbs and flowers.

Connor seemed to discover his hands last night, was waving them all around his face. Mind you, he's ignoring them again today, so maybe it was just a fluke. Still, he's getting more interesting every day.

Saturday, September 24th

So ill, I must be dying. I've been vomiting since 2:00 this morning, got no sleep at all, have horrible diarrhoea, and feel like a truck ran over me. Connor quiet, thank God, although I know it won't last. I want to call someone and ask for help, but who? Oh god I feel bad, I was even throwing up water.

Connor is asleep in his corner, and I don't know whether to leave him down here, or wake him up and take him upstairs with me.

But if I don't get some sleep I'm not going to make it.

...evening You really notice you're in a foreign country when you are sick. This morning, all I wanted was a swig of Pepto-Bismal, which no one has ever heard of. Heathens. No wonder they lost their empire.

Connor stunningly cute today, kicking about and holding those gurgly conversations he seems to have become so fond of. When we make eye-contact he smiles at me, but basically seems content to amuse himself. Thank God, as I don't think I would have survived if he'd been cranky and crying.

Kay came over in the afternoon, and offered to get a prescription filled for me, but the doctors were just going to give me an anti-diarrhoea medicine, and they said that it would probably make Connor ill. I just could not deal with him ill as well, I'm barely making it through as it is. "How do you cope?" asks a friend. But you do. You have to.

Sunday

My mouth feels and tastes awful, I think my tongue died and started decomposing in the night. Still, I feel better, even if I am sneezing and sniffling (that's all I need, to go straight from food poisoning to the flu).

Connor's developed a tendency to cry up at the light bulb, as if beseeching it to help him.

When I first was reading baby books, whilst still pregnant, I couldn't believe there were mothers who would deliberately overfeed their babies. Apparently it's quite a problem, women putting extra powdered milk into the bottle, making for extra calories per feed. "Who wants a fat baby?" I thought.

But now, 9 weeks down the road, I look at his chubby cheeks and I'm so proud, like I'm purposely producing cream instead of milk or something. At baby massage, I compare him to the other babies, and even though they look sweet, dainty and petite, deep down I'm thinking "Yeah, but doesn't s/he look a bit wimpy?"