Two Weeks

Today is Colin's two week birthday. And so, a status update:



Colin is doing great. He is perfect in all ways. Sure, he could sleep more and eat less, but that would just be my exhaustion talking. He's actually awake quite a lot for a newborn, which I love because it gives me a chance to look in his eyes. I find his eyes to be captivating, even when he's asking me to eat again. For the twentieth time today. His current missions in life are to eat and sleep as much as possible and to remove his right sock in the most efficient manner. He gravitates toward me, you know. Over the weekend, my dad and his sweetheart visited and when anyone else was holding Colin, he'd contort himself so that he was looking in the direction of my voice. That is incredible.



I am recovering well. My body is healing itself quickly and providing for Colin like a champ. Having been through this entire "growing another human inside me" process, I am amazed. Awed. I joke with my girlfriends that I can't believe that women have been reproducing for millions of years and we haven't come up with a better way yet. But I'm really just joking. I am humbled by the incredibly complex and delicate process that is gestating and birthing a child and I am proud to be a part of that history. In truth, I think it's pretty impressive and I'm not sure how we could improve upon it. That said, if I'm ever pregnant again: scheduled c-section. I also think that babies should come equipped with manuals, a layette, and a nanny standard issue. I mean, if you're looking to better something, why not shoot for the stars. Am I wrong?



Patrick is doing well as a dad, but I think is feeling a little left out or unnecessary. I think this is understandable. I'm breastfeeding Colin and his recent growth spurt, and subsequent increase in feedings, I have no milk left over to pump for Patrick to feed Colin. I know the spurt will level out and, thus, the feedings will regulate again. But for the moment, Patrick is left with nothing to do except change diapers and hand me the baby. No fun.



All of the fur faces have adapted well. The dogs are a little bored during the day when I can't give them much attention because Colin takes up everything I have, but I make up for it in the evening when Patrick gets home. Myra is very attached to Colin and looks at me in a panic whenever he cries. She licks his hands and feet when they're in range and is always checking on him to make sure he's doing okay. Sally is less interested in the actual baby and more obsessed with the smells that he leaves behind. She's always right on top of us when we're changing his clothes or his diaper and, once we walk away, takes great pleasure in giving whatever we've left a full sniff-down. The cats are totally oblivious/couldn't care less about the baby. They only notice that I've been consistently disturbing their sleeping spots on the bed by getting up 14 times a night. I don't think they've even noticed that we brought YET ANOTHER living thing into this house. How could you, really, unless you do a head count. I think that might be beyond them. At the very least, it's beyond their interest level.



Two weeks and everything is different. I'm not used to this new life yet, nor am I prepared to fully endorse it, but I have to admit to being completely in love with this little Turnip.