small things

Last week Elliot had his 1 month check-up.

[Pause to realize that he's ONE MONTH OLD. Commence tears.]

I knew he probably wouldn't have a great weigh-in. It's been a fussy first month. He's not been an over-achiever when it comes to nursing habits-- he gets more frustrated about putting any effort in than he does about being hungry. He's not gotten beyond that scrawny newborn look.

But I won't lie: my heart sank as I watched the nurse shift the infant scale down... down... down.

Nobody said it. Probably nobody even thought it.

But I thought it: bad job, Brietta. Bad, bad job.

The doctor was altogether laid back, but when your newborn loses a pound his first month instead of gaining anything, she's not exactly jumping up and down for joy either.

"Increase your fat and calorie intake, make sure you're getting enough fluids, bring him back on Monday, and we'll go from there. It may be that he needs a supplement of some kind if he's still losing."

The next five days looked like this: nurse the baby, drink water, eat food, change the baby, nurse the baby, drink water, eat food. Oh, and did I mention that I held him for great lengths of time while he slept, too? Well, I did. Because he only sleeps for about 20 minutes on his own and if he gets too tired, that really messes with his efforts when it comes to nursing.

Fast forward to Monday and a weight gain of five ounces! The doctor's happy, I'm relieved. Like, so relieved.

Oh good, now we can get back to normal life, I think to myself.

One day later, I'd already taken on more than Elliot could handle. He ended up spending large portions of the day crying while I did things far less important than holding him. Every time he fell asleep, I'd lay him down and by late afternoon, he had barely slept since waking that morning. He was getting more and more fried and, of course, so was I.

9pm rolled around and Daniel came home to find me in tears, holding a baby who was also in tears.

"I'm so bad at this! I'm so, so, so bad at this! I push the limit and I push the baby and now he's starving but he won't eat and if he doesn't eat he won't gain weight and if he doesn't gain weight he won't develop properly and I am ruining him and I am ruining everything!"

Have I mentioned that I have the best husband? Well, I do.

He took the baby and said, "Hey, you're allowed at least one breakdown post-delivery. I'm here now so you can go for it."

And although it was many, many hours between feedings yesterday afternoon and the wee hours of the morning, Daniel got Elliot to sleep and I fell asleep after a good cry of my own and when the sun shone again, my small little boy was nursing contentedly and cooing happily and really smiling at me-- like over and over again smiling in response to my own smiles.

Today is a new day.

A day to laugh at myself, be thankful that this is a small thing in the big picture, hold the baby lots, and remind myself that the important thing is to find exactly the thing this moment calls for and do that thing.

Oh, it's also a day for having a couple college guys over who kept offering to spend some time in this, their senior week, helping Daniel around the house. They put in fence post holes and played with the kids and shared a meal with us and it was all really, really nice.
 

Daniel and Jake use the power auger to dig fence post holes
 

Ben pushes Aubrey on the swing
 

Elie pitches to Jackson
 

Elliot takes one on-his-own 20-minute nap today so I can make sour cherry cobbler with whipped cream. Yum.