First of all, I want to apologize for my post from yesterday. I was worked up about Emory’s appointment and wrote it flippantly as we were walking out the door. I wasn’t feeling very well at the time.
The appointment went alright. The doctor weighed and measured him first. He weighs a cool 12 pounds 3 ounces and is 24 inches long. He’s pretty tall for his age, or long, or whatever term is proper. We asked our questions, which usually all end with, “Is this normal?” And then it came time for his vaccination(s). I should probably mention that Emory does not cry. It used to worry me but then I read that some babies don’t cry and that it’s perfectly normal. (My younger brother was one of those babies.) Emory gets cranky every now and again, but he never cries. In the 9 weeks he’s been with us, he has cried 3 times. That’s it. Three. So yesterday when he got his first ever shot and began screaming it was a little shocking for the both of us. Toby was holding him at the time and I thought he was going to break down as well. I did. Emory cried so hard all sound stopped, like, he actually stopped breathing. It was a terrible thing to watch. I’m just not used to seeing the little guy cry. Even after the crying stopped, his bottom lip stuck out in a sad-faced pucker. Brutal. Truly brutal. Not sure how parents do this, quite honestly.
But that’s enough about that. I hate remembering it.
He smiles at us all the time, which makes every inch of my day. He’s talking a lot now as well. One of my favorite sounds is when he gets really worked up and lets out a gleeful squeal. Those are awesome.
He sleeps from 11 PM until about 4 AM. (Unless he’s stressed out and/or gassy, then he’ll wake up earlier but that only happens every now and again at this point.) We feed him at 4 AM and OH MY GOD is he ever hungry. You’ve never seen a hungrier baby and we tease him about it. “Oh, Emory is starving to death. Emory is dying from hunger. Emory has never eaten before. Poor Emory.” And when you get that bottle within an inch of his mouth, all hell breaks lose. His arms flail. His head shakes from side to side and fast! (A technique we were told is called “The Barracuda” and have since turned into a verb. “Is he barracuda-ing?”) His eyes get really big and both of his fists go directly into the black hole he’s discovered at the bottom of his head, right between the fleshy things that those two pale monkeys are always kissing. At 4 AM, he is one hungry baby and I love it. I love to wait a second before putting that bottle in his mouth because it’s the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.
Toby feeds him at 4 AM and I usually go and pump. I get the most milk in the middle of the night. I’m not sure why. I have read that it has something to do with late night hormone levels. I still don’t get much compared to most of the women on the EP board I am a member of. Most women get anywhere from 6 to 10 ounces every time they pump. I get 3 tops and five at 4 AM. I never have any left over at the end of the day but it works. He’s getting breast milk still and I’m really pleased with his growth. I was going to stop pumping at 3 months but at this point, I think I’ll see it to 6 months of age. We’ll see.
After he eats at 4 he’ll go to sleep again until about 7:30 or 8. He’s such a good baby.
We took him on his first trip last weekend. We drove to State College, Pennsylvania to visit my parents and get some much needed fresh air. He did great. We stopped a lot to let him stretch and we hit a bunch of weekend traffic as well, so the 4 hour trip ended up being more like 6. But he did wonderfully. And me? The moment I stepped out of that car in PA I felt lighter. I felt really really good. My anxiety dropped to undetectable levels. I felt secure, safe. I know that I will miss New York someday and I know that Emory will probably give us hell for moving away from here, but I know that I need an easier lifestyle at this point in my life. It won’t come as any surprise to anyone reading this that our time left living (not working) here is limited. We’re not sure where we’re going just yet, but we are going. But we won’t rush it. This time, we’ll plan better.
What else. He’s outgrown most of the 0 – 3 months outfits and is entering the 3 – 6 month size range, which is awkward because he’s only 2 months old. The cliché is very true. They sure do grow up fast. What are we going to do with all that clothing? Someone we know needs to have a baby boy soon. (Hint. Hint.)
He eats roughly 4 ounces three times a day and then nurses the rest of the time. I’m guessing he gets anywhere from 22 to 26 ounces a day unless there’s a growth spurt, then he’ll shoot up to 30 ounces. One day, I swear he ate nonstop. I just kept feeding him and feeding him. There was a record sized dump at the end of that one. Growth spurts are brutal.
Every day being a mom gets a little bit easier. I’m starting to figure this out albeit slowly. I’m starting to get the hang of it. Of course, it helps that he now recognizes me. And waking up to that great big smile? Well, I can’t say I really knew what joy was until the day that happened.