When I asked Steven if becoming a mother had changed me as a person and he said yes, I waited for him to compliment me on how I'd matured or how I spent hours a day cleaning the house--how I hadn't played a computer game in 2 months in favor of doing multiple loads of laundry, scrubbing the kitchen floor on my hands and knees, and sanitizing breast pumps and pacifiers. I recalled how motherhood has turned me into a detective--google searches turning up everything from what that red mark is on her eyelid (it's a stork bite, and it will go away) to what helps a bad diaper rash (coconut oil did the trick). Steven's primary impression of how motherhood has changed me, however, was neatly summed up into three words: "You're more paranoid."
He's right, of course. Motherhood is scouting out all the dangers in this inhospitable world, and I guess many first time mothers might take that a little too far. It doesn't help that every baby item comes with multiple warnings about how, if used improperly, this item can cause injury. Car seats, man. Car seats are stressful. Not to mention my intense distrust of the cats ever since our sweet, older cat, Bella, tried to nip Q's face while she was crying on our laps. I now always have an awareness of where the cats are and relegate them to the downstairs if I want to put Q on the couch for a minute or in her swing on the floor. I can already sense that not being an overprotective mother is going to be a challenge for me--the only time I don't stress about Q's safety is when I'm asleep (which is currently only happening in about 2-3 hour blocks).
Anyway, today was my 6 week postpartum checkup with my obstetrician (though Q is actually 7 weeks old). At our appointment, we discussed whether any bad decisions were made regarding Q's delivery and subsequent hospital stay, and what our plan of action would be for future children (which, I assured her, were in the distant future). She conceded that an argument could be made for having waited another week to induce, but, as she reminded me, Q was already a 10 pound baby. There wasn't much that could have been done differently. As for child #2, I learned that one is not supposed to be induced after a c-section because of the increased chance of uterine rupture. So, being a diabetic and thus optimally giving birth at 38 or 39 weeks to decrease the risk of the placenta degrading, this means that either my body needs to go into early labor by itself (and early enough that the baby will not be another 10 pounder), or we do a planned c-section. I asked my OB if I could just opt for a planned c-section right out, and she said yes. The chances of us ending up in a c-section regardless would be quite high. So, I guess that took a little bit off my mind. One day, hopefully, Q will be a big sister. One day faaaar away.
We had a little milestone today. I told myself that I wouldn't be one of those parents who was super enthralled with every little physical milestone that every single baby before her has reached--but I am. And today, when the two of us woke up from our nap, I poked my head over the side of the bassinet and started talking and cooing to her. At which point Q turned her head to find my voice and, once she had locked her eyes on me, smiled. It was the first time that I felt like she was smiling at ME, and not just some gas or funny thought she was having (what would constitute a funny baby thought?).
Well, I'd better sign off for now. I added dairy back into my diet today, and I have a very fussy baby on my hands. It will be a lot easier to handle now that I know what it's from and how I can prevent it! Just have to get through tonight...
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