Mommy Vignettes--will be adding more!

1.The plan was natural—all natural. No need for a doctor, or interventions, or “drugs”.
2 AM and it begins.
5:45 AM at the birthing center—full of hope, determination and nervous energy. Everything looks good.
12 hours later…things just aren’t working. Time for a transfer…is hope lost? 6AM—tears flow from two different faces. A decision is made. One that will change everything, but circumstances necessitate. A husband supports his laboring wife through it all.
6:41 AM the cries of a newborn fill the surgery room. Tears flow again, but of joy this time.
When will this end?

2.A dark hospital room, lit only by faint fluorescent seeping through the crack under the bathroom door. A new mother lies in bed, a light sleep allowing her minimal rest for the task awaiting her. A newborn boy snuggled, wrapped under the sheet, nuzzles the neck of his mother, immediately understanding and accepting of her protective touch.
When will this end?

3.Emergency status--that was the diagnosis. Already a pound lost and less than a week old. Refusal to nurse. Crying, crying, crying. The tears stream down three different faces. A new father feeds by syringe. The babe has to have formula, a less than ideal start to this new life.
When will this end?

Nursing:
12 AM
2 AM
4 AM
6 AM
8 AM
and on…
and on…
and on…
When will this end?

4.Sitting all alone. Her husband sleeps a restless slumber, she groggily feeds their child. Resentment builds against the sleeping world. Hoping for some return to normalcy. Feeling alone and smothered.
When will this end?

5.Crying. Diaper change. Crying. Feeding. Crying. What does he need?? Feeling helpless to make it better. Ignorance is an unpleasant taste in her mouth. A trial by fire.
When will this end?

6.Snuggling in the crook of her neck, arms limp at his sides. Breathing in the scent of his mother as he giggles quietly in his sleep, dreaming of who knows what. Breath so sweet, she smiles, in love.
When will this end?

7.A routine: bath, lotion, stories, nursing…he falls asleep on her shoulder. Yay! The mother feels victorious as she sneaks out of the room, prepared to conquer many a line from her “To-Do” list. The feeling of triumph is quickly replaced by despair as cries pierce the air minutes later. The soothing: pat-pat-pat, rock-rock-rock, bounce-bounce-bounce, shh-shh-shh begins…and continues on…
and on…
and on…
and on…
When will this end?

HELP!! i am a milk machine! (or maybe just a cow...)

got milk? i do. and the Baby Jax prefers it to anything else. and while that IS a good thing, i feel like i am one big set of milk-producing boobies, ready to be chomped upon.

who calms the crying baby? the milk machine.
who gets up at all hours of the night? the milk machine.
who is at his beck and call? the milk machine.
who has an overactive let down? the milk machine.
you want to gulp down your food cause ya got somewhere to go, somethin to do, people to see? come to the milk machine.

poor baby Jax who regularly gets sprayed in the face, gulps down his food so fast and loudly, i swear the kid's done in 5-10 minutes... and has the air bubbles to prove it.

i worry:
how can i feed this little piglet enough AND pump so that there's a supply for a night out, or when i go back to work?
how can anyone calm him down when he's upset---they're not the milk machine.

in some ways that makes me really happy...and in other ways, i think it really sucks ass.

but what the babe wants, the babe gets...and i wonder, when do i get mine? what would i want anyway? hmmmmm...i'll get back to you on that one.