Two months plus one day
I should have written this on their two month birthday (actually, I should have written a post on their one month birthday too -- oh, well), but real life intervenes. On days when D is gone all day at work, I am pretty much running the entire time to keep up with the young 'uns. I'm starting to call them the Tag Team since it seems like when one isn't crying, the other one is, and vice versa. (Though this is not, strictly speaking, true. For instance, both of them are asleep at the moment -- glory hallelujah! -- which is why I can take a couple of minutes to pound this out. Though I'd like to point out that I am actually holding one of them as I type.)
I was thinking about how they have changed since they were born. For one thing, they are considerably larger. I haven't weighed them in a while (we will have them weighed at their two-month checkup next week) but I am guessing Gus is around 10 lbs and Sam is around 8 lbs. I was clipping Gus's little claws yesterday (as sharp as they are, I am calling them claws!) and I noticed how much larger his hands were than when he was born. I am really astounded at their rate of growth when I take the time to think about it.
Their little faces have changed quite a bit as well. Low be it spoken, Sam really looked rather monkey-like to me when he was born. Now his little face has elongated and his eyes seem to have much more expression than they did at first. He gives me these melting doe-eyed looks now that just kill me. Gus also looks different -- he looked so lost and kind of woebegone for the first few days, but now he tends to wear a more mischievous look. I think that look is created by the very wide-eyed and almost astonished expression he has so much of the time. My neighbor calls him "Bright Eyes" and I think that is a pretty good nickname for him!
The main difference, though, is in their behavior. Obviously, they were totally dependent on us at first, as they still are, and they would snuggle in to our warmth, and cry until they were picked up, if they were hungry or wet or cold. But now they seem to actually notice D and I, and crave attention from us. This is very flattering sometimes -- "Look, he actually knows who I am!" but also results in even less free time than before, if you can imagine that. I pick up one crying member of the Tag Team and soothe him, then look up to see the other one's eyes following me accusingly around the room. "Hey," I can hear the left-out baby thinking, "what's so darned special about him?" Followed, usually, by crying. Put down the baby I'm carrying and pick up the accusing one. Lather, rinse, repeat.
There have been big changes in me as well over the last couple of months. For one, I weigh about 50 lbs less now than my pregnancy high of 203 lbs. (Thank God!) My C section is largely healed, though pain from it still prompts me to take Vicodin -- though much less of it now, usually 1 to 2 tablets in 24 hrs. I look fairly normal these days except for a pronounced pooch at my waistline that makes me look about 5 months pregnant. I've been told that's partly fat but largely stretched-out muscles, that will take some time and remedial exercise to become un-stretched out.
But the biggest change in me is in my emotions. I really was not prepared for the force of the emotions I would feel about these babies. Everything is bigger than life. . . if D does the least little thing that I consider possibly harmful to the babies (such as not carrying them precisely the right way in their sling), I freak. I try hard not to, but I do. I feel shaken and tossed by these emotions sometimes, as if I were in a storm. (I know that's such a cliche', but really and truly, I feel that way.) The least threat to my babies brings on a flood of tears, or forces me to bite my tongue to keep from threatening someone (usually my husband) with swift and lethal retribution if they don't fix things right this instant. I went to Target one day about a month ago -- my first trip to the store by myself after the surgery -- and rushed home in a tizzy to see the babies. The instant I saw them again, I burst into tears. I knew they were safe at home, I knew I would see them again, I knew it all. . . but still.
Did I mention I'm a crazy lady these days?
I was thinking about how they have changed since they were born. For one thing, they are considerably larger. I haven't weighed them in a while (we will have them weighed at their two-month checkup next week) but I am guessing Gus is around 10 lbs and Sam is around 8 lbs. I was clipping Gus's little claws yesterday (as sharp as they are, I am calling them claws!) and I noticed how much larger his hands were than when he was born. I am really astounded at their rate of growth when I take the time to think about it.
Their little faces have changed quite a bit as well. Low be it spoken, Sam really looked rather monkey-like to me when he was born. Now his little face has elongated and his eyes seem to have much more expression than they did at first. He gives me these melting doe-eyed looks now that just kill me. Gus also looks different -- he looked so lost and kind of woebegone for the first few days, but now he tends to wear a more mischievous look. I think that look is created by the very wide-eyed and almost astonished expression he has so much of the time. My neighbor calls him "Bright Eyes" and I think that is a pretty good nickname for him!
The main difference, though, is in their behavior. Obviously, they were totally dependent on us at first, as they still are, and they would snuggle in to our warmth, and cry until they were picked up, if they were hungry or wet or cold. But now they seem to actually notice D and I, and crave attention from us. This is very flattering sometimes -- "Look, he actually knows who I am!" but also results in even less free time than before, if you can imagine that. I pick up one crying member of the Tag Team and soothe him, then look up to see the other one's eyes following me accusingly around the room. "Hey," I can hear the left-out baby thinking, "what's so darned special about him?" Followed, usually, by crying. Put down the baby I'm carrying and pick up the accusing one. Lather, rinse, repeat.
There have been big changes in me as well over the last couple of months. For one, I weigh about 50 lbs less now than my pregnancy high of 203 lbs. (Thank God!) My C section is largely healed, though pain from it still prompts me to take Vicodin -- though much less of it now, usually 1 to 2 tablets in 24 hrs. I look fairly normal these days except for a pronounced pooch at my waistline that makes me look about 5 months pregnant. I've been told that's partly fat but largely stretched-out muscles, that will take some time and remedial exercise to become un-stretched out.
But the biggest change in me is in my emotions. I really was not prepared for the force of the emotions I would feel about these babies. Everything is bigger than life. . . if D does the least little thing that I consider possibly harmful to the babies (such as not carrying them precisely the right way in their sling), I freak. I try hard not to, but I do. I feel shaken and tossed by these emotions sometimes, as if I were in a storm. (I know that's such a cliche', but really and truly, I feel that way.) The least threat to my babies brings on a flood of tears, or forces me to bite my tongue to keep from threatening someone (usually my husband) with swift and lethal retribution if they don't fix things right this instant. I went to Target one day about a month ago -- my first trip to the store by myself after the surgery -- and rushed home in a tizzy to see the babies. The instant I saw them again, I burst into tears. I knew they were safe at home, I knew I would see them again, I knew it all. . . but still.
Did I mention I'm a crazy lady these days?
posted by Hetty Fauxvert at 12:37 PM
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