A. Exhausted from driving six hours, getting passed around like a hot potato, sharing a full size bed with Mom & Dad, being in houses that are much warmer than ours, and driving an additional six hours in three short days.
B. Battling her first bout of sinus/allergy problems. Cody started fighting his the day before we left Wheeler, mine started acting up the day we got home, and I found myself bed ridden and convinced the end was near for three days. This also explains my lack of patience and high sensitivity levels. I always get that way before I get sick. Poor girl probably cried even harder because of how cranky I was. Fortunately, Ella waited until I was on the mend before she started her sniffling and sneezing, so maybe she's like me and has two days of cranky, then gets sick.
C. In a growth spurt. Her feeding and sleeping habits have changed drastically over the last week, but they appear to be returning to a regular schedule. My "Nursers" are thankful.
D. Just being a Baby.
I have a feeling that the answer is actually E. All of the Above, but that answer always stressed me out on state tests and college exams. I always felt like they were intentionally making me feel the need to hyperventilate, so I didn't want to add it to my list of options.
Regardless of the reason, we're beginning to see more of our sweet baby and less of the stranger that was in our home. And while it was nearly the end of my sanity, I'm thankful for the experience. I got a little glimpse into the world of the newborn that we could have had, and I was just so thankful that we didn't. It made me so thankful for our laid back, sweet baby. I was so thankful for my Aunt Sarah's advice of repeating "Things will be different in two weeks" to myself over and over, because it truly helped me absorb. I also found myself saying (screaming in my head) "Lord, Help me adjust!" as we battled it out every day. And I did. I learned new ways to calm her down. I prayed for that baby more in 6 days than I ever have. It was a pleading prayer, and it was probably more for me than her, but there were lots of chats with Jesus. I knew it wasn't her fault. She was trying to tell me something the only way she knows how, and even though it was frustrating, I couldn't be upset with her for it. I will say in the bluntest of terms that sometimes they're just going to cry. There were times that it didn't matter if I was holding her, feeding her, cuddling her, or pacing the floors while she hung out in her swing... the kid just cried. That's where the phrase "Work it out with Jesus, Ella!" became the most popular sentence in our home. Those were the times that I had done everything I could to help her. She was fed, changed, warm, given medicine for a tummy ache, in the presence of a humidifier to help with her nose, and still felt the need to scream just to scream are the times that she sat in her swing while I got myself together. It was hard, but I knew I had done everything I could do for her. And most of the time, if she sat in the swing long enough without me caving, she'd cry herself to sleep.
Kaylea! How could you just let that baby cry? You could've held her to comfort her! She can't help it!
Shut up. Just... Shut. Up.
We started to see little peeks of Ella again after a week of cranky, and then it was time for her shots. "Surely it can't be that bad," I thought to myself as I carried her into the doctor's office. Well, let me just say that it's pretty bad. The first two shots were a breeze. She kind of stuck her lip out, but kept to herself. Then I caught a glimpse of the needle for the next shot, and it broke my heart. And it broke Ella's too. Oh, that baby screamed. Then she let out a new level of hysterical for the next shot. I tried and tried to console her. It took me fifteen minutes to calm her down. As a new Mom, I felt helpless. She needed the shots. This was beneficial for her in the long run. But in that moment, I wished we were hippy parents who opted out of vaccines. I wished that vaccines didn't exist, because knowing that she'll have to go through this every two months for the first year of her life just tore me to pieces. We made it home and she actually seemed pretty content for a couple of hours. And then we entered into the witching hour. I realize now that the Lord must have been preparing my heart for an entire week prior to the shots. I have never felt more distraught, clueless, or helpless as a mother. Never. My husband had to stay at work a little late that night, and there could not have been a worse night for him to do so. After forty minutes of constant screaming, my daughter had worked me into a frenzy so extreme that I called Cody in hysterics begging him to find somebody else to do his job for him. There was no consoling her. If I calmed her enough to breathe normally, she ended up screaming again if I sat down or adjusted positions. She was burning up with a fever, and it was miserable holding her. If I laid her down, she kicked her legs, and apparently they were sore, so we started all over again. If I tried to give her tylenol, she spit it out because she didn't like the texture. I tried to trick her during one dose and waited for her to yawn before I shot it into the back of her throat. She gagged and ended up slurping it into the back of her nasal cavities, which brought on a coughing/screaming/gag filled rage. I was seriously so upset that I couldn't form sentences. Fortunately, my mother chose that exact moment to call, she heard about 4 seconds of my child's screaming before she announced she would be right over. Bless my mother. She held the baby while I cooked dinner, and then took a shift of comforting my inconsolable child. The magic trick to calming her was putting her in a bathtub. The more submerged she was, the happier she got, so I ended up sitting in the bathtub holding her while I was completely clothed. She was pretty cranky for three days following the shot, but I guess I can understand why. The best summation for 3 of 4 weeks of Month 3 was that I felt defeated almost everyday. I was lucky if dinner was on the table by 9 o'clock at night. I swore that I was going to run out of milk to feed her because she was nursing excessively. By midnight of each day, my selfish nature began to rear its ugly head, and all I wanted to do was switch to formula so that Cody could take a shift so that I could lay in the bed and not cater to her every need. I am aware of how ugly that makes me sound, but I want you to know that it's okay to feel that way. I really struggle with "Ella's Mother" being my identity. She is one of the greatest priorities in my life. But she doesn't come before my marriage, and she doesn't come before who I am in my Jesus. My inadequacies as a mother don't equate to me being a failure in everything else. It's a hard, hard thing to remember, but it helps keep me sane.
That being said, the last week has been a breeze. I had my first "oops" moment as a mom, when I discovered my poor child was covered in a heat rash because I was dressing her too warm at night. She hates blankets, so I was trying to compensate her tiny exposed appendages. I had a small panic attack when I saw the rash, but after consulting moms that I trust the most, we worked it all out. I was super unprepared for how unhelpful pediatrician's offices can be. On one hand, I'm sure they get too many calls saying "Something is wrong!" but I would've appreciated them at least looking at the rash before they said "Oh, put hydrocortisone on it and then call us tomorrow with an update." Uhm, thank you for the most OBVIOUS treatment in the world. Whatever. Ella made it through, is rash free, and spends most of her days in a diaper. There's nothing in this world that compares to baby fat rolls. It makes me want to eat her alive. She's gaining weight so fast, so I get to see the fruits of my nursing labors a little more every day. People are finally starting to say "Look how big she is!" instead of "She's so tiny to be that age!" High Five, baby feeders! Was that inappropriate? I don't care. Breasts sounds even weirder.
She is getting so, so fun! We're beginning to see little glimpses of the personality that is hiding behind those sweet grins. Is it too soon to say she's sarcastic? I feel like she's sarcastic. Bless the child. She has a smirk that makes you feel like a doofus for speaking to her like she's an infant. It's almost sympathetic. Like "Oh, you poor thing. Here's a hint of a smile so that you'll stop talking to me." I'm afraid she's going to be quite the firecracker, but she also finds the subtlest ways to melt us. We've anxiously awaited the day that she laughed out loud, and I spent hours every day trying to coax it out of her. Finally, one week ago today, my tiny turtle laughed out loud at her Daddy at the most random moment. I'm mildly ashamed to admit that I cried. Not because I was happy, but because it hurt my feelings. I held that baby through the worst three weeks of motherhood, I fed her in the middle of the night, I spent hours of my day talking to her in random voices and singing random songs... and she laughed at him. Part of me smiled because it only made her Daddy fall even harder for her, but most of me felt the need to crawl into a cave and die. I cried for two hours. I see now that it was mostly exhaustion and embarrassment (You know, those times when you feel stupid for crying so it just makes you cry harder), but at the time... she just broke my heart in two. And she didn't laugh at me the next day. Or the day after. She laughed at me for the first time on Sunday night. Just a light hearted chuckle, but it was the greatest of victories for this Mama. This morning, on the day of her 3 month birthday, we got our first round of belly laughs. It was indubitably the sweetest thing she's ever done. Fortunately, I already had the camera on, so I caught them. I'll cherish them always. I hope that she always captures my heart with her giggles. I hope that it always gives me butterflies to know that I made her laugh.
As always, we're learning about things that we need to get through the days, so of course I wish to share them so that maybe somebody else can benefit from them.
1. Our Baby carrier.
I've often heard it said that breastfed babies attach to their mother quicker than formula babies, but I never considered just how much that would hinder the day to day chores. I finally strapped her into the carrier and cleaned the living room for the first time in 3 weeks. We move at a slow pace, and it takes me back to pregnancy back aches after about fifteen minutes, but a little cleaning is better than no cleaning.
2. Our Play Gym.
We use this for Tummy Time and for developing our motor skills. She's started grabbing the toys while she plays, screaming at the top of her lungs, rolling towards them, and attempting to lift her head to get closer (I assume.) She spends at least 2 hours under this thing throughout the course of the day, and I love love love it.
3. Our "Friend."
She hates pacifiers. Spits them out if we give them to her, cries if we force it in her mouth, generally holds grudges if we try. Not this guy. I don't know if it's because she can cuddle up with it or what, but this thing was my sanity during the dog days of Month Three.
4. Our Mobile
I don't know what it is about the mobile, but the kid is in love. She lays in her crib and watches the mobile for long periods of time. I put my make up on, fix my hair, and get dressed every day while she lays in her crib and watches it spin around. It's a life saver.
I guess that's mostly all. I could talk about motherhood from sunrise to sunset. I adore my child, I adore being at home with her (even on the bad days), and I can't possibly imagine living a single day without her in it. Even when I leave her with my mom so that I can get a break, I find myself anxious to get back to her. I'm sure that'll change as she starts talking excessively, but for the moment, I miss her every moment I'm not with her. I am so thankful for my husband, for the days that he hugs me until he feels me relax, for letting me stay home and raise our daughter, and for generally choosing to love me in spite of my meltdowns. We're both learning. We have good days and bad days as new parents, but we choose to remain a team... and I'll never take that for granted.
OH YES, I should probably mention we are moving, and we NEED to sell our house! Please stand in agreement with us that the house sells FAST, the process is a smooth one, and that the Lord sends the perfect family to live in this house that holds so many sweet memories for us. If you know anyone in the market for a new home in our area, please send them our way. We are anxious to get out of this house and into our new one!
Here's my sweet baby with her socktapus, and we'll see ya next month!
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