Certainly world's above the first month with Ella, mostly because I'm a second time Mom. When my newborn sneezes, I search for a piece of blanket fuzz or a hidden booger in his nostrils before I assume he has pneumonia. When he cries for no good reason, I throw him over a shoulder and go about my business. When his sister is screaming bloody murder for attention while he screams bloody murder for food, I watch "30 Rock" and tune one or both of the screams out. He gets his dinner, she forgets while she was crying, I laugh at Liz Lemon and hope that someday Tina Fey realizes that needs to cast me in her next Netflix series. Tina, when you find my blog, call me. I'll work for a hotel room with blackout curtains and a full night's sleep. It'd be fine if you threw in a dinner that I didn't cook... preferably not McDonald's, not because they don't use real beef or chicken or whatever the latest drama is... just because I feel like the food is utterly disgusting and gagworthy. I share the same sentiment about Burger King and Wendy's (with the exception a spicy chicken sandwich... sometimes the line at chick-fil-a is just too much.) Okay? Terms met? Call me.
By the way, if you haven't watched "The Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt," stop reading this blog and go binge watch it the way I did in three days. The best. The very, very best. I'll never say Pinot Noir the same way ever again. MOVING ON.
Our first month was simultaneously everything I expected and nothing I expected. My daughter was a total nightmare for the first two weeks, and I really thought I was going to contact some sort of child psychiatrist because I had clearly scarred her for life and she was permanently damaged. The kicker? The problem wasn't Adam. Homegirl has been in love and obsessed with him since the very first day. Kissing him, patting (read: hitting) him, sitting with (read: on) him, watching his every move, crying when he cried, laughing at his yawns... the whole kit-n-caboodle (aw, nostalgia.) Her problem was with me. I guess Adam was the root of our issues, but I was the blunt of her frustrations. I don't know if she felt like I abandoned her during my hospital stay, or if my Mama Bear instincts to protect his soft spot made her feel like I didn't love her the same way... I don't know. She wouldn't have a single thing to do with me for the first two weeks at home. She cried for me in the hospital, sat with me while Cody held Adam on the other side of the room, I mean, she made me feel like a Queen. But when I got home, the walls caved in on our bond, and things got complicated. Wouldn't let me hold her, play with her, ignored me when I talked to her, it was all a very big drama. At first, I tried to overcompensate for her rejection, and forced my love... which resulted in an explosive fit and running to her Daddy. After a few days, I gave up and figured she would come around when life started calming down a bit. I spent the first week cuddling Adam, napping with Adam, and all of the various newborn things that bonds a Mama to her baby. When Cody went back to work the next week, it was a hysterically awkward morning that I'll never forget. It was like a flashback to junior high, when you were paired with "that guy" that nobody wants to be paired with. Usually because they do things differently than everybody else, like eat Spaghettios or Spam out of the cans at lunch when everybody else brings a "Make Your Own Pizza" lunchable. Or the kid that says "I would vote for John Kerry because that's who my parents are voting for!" during Social Studies when the rest of the republican offspring proudly said "Bush because he's from Midland!" If you're wondering, both of those examples stemmed from the same kid, and he had the same birthday as me, and it was the worst day of my life when we had to stand at the front of class together. I know it's mean. I just really want to convey that Ella and shared these same feelings as we stared at each other that fateful Sunday morning. I text Cody and said "It's totally fine if you want to get chicken pox and come home." Fit after fit, tantrum after tantrum, doing the opposite of what I said just to spite me, throwing bowls of food into the floor... it was a whole thing. And I cried the whole day. I couldn't do it. Two under two was not meant for me. Two children in general wasn't in my wheelhouse. As soon as Cody got home for the evening, I went upstairs and fell into bed and dreaded the rest of this phase. The next day was just as bad, along with most of that week. But eventually Ella realized that I wasn't going anywhere, Cody was going to be gone during the day, and she could live with me or be miserable. I started seeing little peeks of my baby again, and these days things are mostly back to normal. She has permanently morphed into a Daddy's girl... and while at first it hurt my feelings, these days I kick my feet up and grin while I overhear "What do you want from me?!" followed by a frustrated shriek. I remember when it was me trying to figure out what she could POSSIBLY want now, and it's been a great break for me when he gets home. There are still bad days... sometimes terrible days... but for the most part, the Gaines are morphing into a sweet little family of four. We're finding out what works and what doesn't work for us, and it's usually the exact opposite of what our "peer families" are doing... but we have wonderful, non-judgmental friends that rejoice in our victories and say "Do what you gotta do."
To say that Adam is thriving is an understatement. He wore newborn diapers for exactly one week before transition into a size one, and today I put a size two on him. Two weeks ago, he weighed 9.8 pounds, and these days I can't support him while he nurses for very long. I have to have a pillow under my arms, otherwise they tremble. Does that make me totally out of shape? Definitely. But it also makes me exhilarated because I know my baby is healthy and thriving. Ella was not a chunky baby. I look back at pictures and say "Look how fat you were!" only because she's even skinnier now, but comparing her one month picture to Adam's was like comparing a mouse and a lion. Looking back at her growth charts, I see what the 16th percentile really looks like compared to the 80th percentile Adam is in. I've always wanted a baby with tons of fat rolls, so my fingers are crossed that I've finally got one. He's so healthy. Obviously healthy. And that's been the absolute best thing that could have happened for various reasons. Namely because one of his newborn screens came back abnormal, and while every test so far has confirmed that it was a false positive, we've agreed to make a trip to Ft. Worth to nip all of this in the bud for good. A quick blood test will confirm whether or not Adam is a carrier for this particular condition, and another test (done at the same time) will confirm the condition if the gene is present. From what I understand, the whole thing could have been a false positive, Adam could be a carrier but not have the condition, or something has been off in all of the bloodwork and he has it. Vague, right? Sorry. At this point, we are SO OVER IT ALL, man, and we're so OVER IT that we're going all the way to Ft. Worth so that doctors will just buzz off about it. I would like to clarify that I was a total wreck for the first two weeks at the very thought of it all, but in the midst of it, felt peace. My husband reminded me that Adam isn't ours, and the Lord is running the show, even when we don't see the end result. My Mom reminded me that Adam is fearfully and wonderfully made, and we know that full well. Adam's pediatrician was quick to remind me that he is thriving, and sick babies don't thrive. As a mother, of course I'm anxious about the upcoming trip and what the results may entail... but as a Christ follower, I know what I believe about the Lord, and I believe He is sovereign, and that He is who He says He is. In the words of our wonderful friend Tricia, "If He promises never to leave me or forsake me, then what could come into my life, GOOD OR BAD, that has not first passed through the hand of God?" And in the words of our Pastor from his latest series, "Circumstances are such inadequate measures of God's faithfulness." So, that's really all I'm going to say about it. The condition has no name to me anymore, which is part of the reason I'm not going into excessive detail about it. If it's something we have to deal with, I'm not going to become a spokeswoman or start a blog to offer support to others dealing with it. It'll mean a diet change for our entire family, a few supplements for Adam, and grace to absorb the change for me. And life will go on, sisters, because that's just the circle of life. And it moves us all. Through despair and hope. Through faith and Love. Till we find our place on the path unwinding. In the circle of life. Also, once again, we've never walked alone before now, and the Lord hasn't abandoned ship just because we had two babies in two years and feel like we're going to lose our minds.
Basically, this entire month has been full of doctors telling us what our baby should be doing, and our baby doing the exact opposite of those things. He's basically just been the description of a newborn, and we've been so thankful. But to repeat, we are over it. I'll be so relieved when this appointment is over next month and we don't have to deal with "false positives" or "errors in lab work" ever again. His second newborn screen came back completely normal, and while Cody and I felt like that should have been the end of it, we're willing to do whatever it takes to put it all behind us and have two healthy babies. So I'm sure there's going to be a few "I can't believe you didn't tell me!" reactions, it's just not something we felt like needed to be shared. But I plan to update the blog with the results next month, so I felt like a brief overview was necessary. And the more I type the more I feel I need to explain, and that's the opposite of what I planned to do here... so I'm just going to stop. Imagine me saluting awkwardly and running out of the room.
Other than that, it was a month of dealing with twenty month old that cannot possibly fathom the idea of picking up her toys, a hormonal mother throwing every toy she tripped on into the trash angrily, and a tiny baby sucking every calorie she consumed away. I'm so exhausted, but in the best way. Adam has his days and nights mixed up, and they rarely sleep at the same time during the day, but these days are short. Soon I'll be able to throw them both in the backyard and say "Okay see you at lunch buh-byyyyyye!" And they'll have each other, and we'll be so thankful for the serendipitous occasion that this whole "two under two" drama has placed into our laps. We're not there yet, and I think it's totally okay that we're not there yet. I think maybe that anybody that reproduces more than once feels the same way, whether their babies are nineteen months or five years apart. There's a transition required, and it's not always a quick transition. C'iest La Vie.
Daddy decided Adam needed a Buck for his "socktopus" pictures. Clearly my speech about not shoving redneck traditions on him was a waste of time and effort. But it's okay. It's the only boy we'll ever have, so it's crucial that he learns how to shoot a gun. Anyway! Here's his one month picture!
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