Oh this feeding thing is hard. It's never-ending! I just have to remind myself that it's for the benefit of my new favorite person, and that once he's regained his birth weight and then some, it will get a lot easier and less frequent. But until then, I'm stuck feeding every 3 hours, 24 hours a day. I'm not complaining, really (maybe just a little). This is my job and I'm happy to do it.
My, I've spent a lot of time in this bedroom. Both during my pregnancy and now, this room has become my domain. This bed, the TV, the windows and sunlight pouring in. It's a good thing my personality is that of someone who likes to spend time alone. Whenever I feel stressed, I just pick up my little angel and hold him and smell the top of his head. It's a beautiful reminder that this new job of mine is totally worth it. It just takes some adjusting.
He just did the funniest thing: Sometimes when I put him down he's fine for a few minutes. Then, I'll see a freak-out coming on so I scoop him up and give him hugs and kisses. He tends to wring his hands and punch the air when he's agitated. Just now as I was calming him down, he folded his hands together, fingers locked as if doing the game "Here's the church, here's the steeple..." What coordination!
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