After a great first visit from Grandma Emmie, I walked my new little boy down the hall to his room and changed his diaper. It wasn't supposed to be so soon that I was using all of those little items that I'd placed on the changing table just one week prior. The gown I put on him now hadn't even been washed yet this time last week. But here we were, safe and healthy and home!
Then The Beloved watched as I tucked our Little Butter Bean into his cradle by our bed. And we settled ourselves in for a nap while waiting for The Littles. And My Love tucked me into our bed once again.
It's corny that he does this, but it's also sweet. I love it. It's become a small part of our daily rituals and it is rituals after all that get us from one point to the next one when our lives are suddenly turned topsy turvy. I lay there drifting off to sleep, looking at tiny William in his little cradle, thinking how I'd just barely gotten a grip on the idea that we were expecting another baby, and now suddenly here he was! Safe and sound in his bed.
Then the doorbell rang! I thought I'd been asleep for five minutes but it had really been well over an hour! The Beloved sprang up and dressed quickly while I got William out of his cradle. I could hear The Littles asking about the baby as I made my way down the hall to the living room. When did this hall get so danged long?! The Littles stood by my rocking chair peering anxiously as I unwrapped Jack for them to see. Their little faces were lit up with wonder and curiosity. Finally My Girlie says, "Mom? Is he really okay? You know...is he healthy?" Yes I tell her or we would not have been allowed to bring him home. "So does he...does he have that thing...Down syndrome?" Yes I say, but he's still good. He's healthy and good. I asked if she wanted to hold him. "NO!" emphatically. Then a few beats later, "Okay. I want to. Hold him I mean."
And she did. And she handed him back before a full minute had passed. I'd barely had time to snap a picture.
Jax looks tiny in her arms. Surely that's just one of those soft fabric baby dolls? He just looks bitsy!
The Middle Little sat on the couch to hold him next. He was googly eyed over his new baby brother. He patted his head, his face, his tummy, touched his hands. Kissed his forehead. Sweet! I didn't actually get a picture of that, but you can see from this picture that The Pod Pie is over the moon that The Other Mommy is holding Jack out to meet his brother! My Little Pod has a Pea Pod baby brother!We settled with relative ease into our first night at home. I worried that William would need something but not cry for it. He cried so seldom. I still felt that his cries were weak and plaintive, not like the robust cries both of The Littles had had. He seemed to have no volume to him and he had yet to actually wail. Maybe if his needs had not been tended to immediately and he were actually allowed to build up to a full blown wail, then maybe he'd sound more robust. I didn't really think so though. Seriously, how much more uncomfortable could a baby be made than to be taken from his warm, cushy, quiet, dark and safe womb? I think the cries he made then qualify as wailing. Willie simply didn't have a robust cry.
Robust or not, William awoke every three hours. He'd let out one little sound. A few beats later, another. Nothing sustained. And when he sucked his tongue he made a few chirpy little sounds that I can only compare to a seagull squawking. A seagull trying to catch his breath. The only time Jack really put up any kind of fuss was when he spit up from his nose and felt like he was fighting for breath. Even then, his cries were short bursts of monosyllabic protests. But he did wake every three hours to eat. That was something. We'd start with that!
Oh yeah, The Little Spud also cried really hard for diaper changes. Again, it wasn't robust, but it may be as robust as he gets. I'd taken him to his nursery to change his diaper. He soaks his diapers. He goes from dry to absolutely drenched in an instant. Must be those dilated kidneys. He was hungry and wanting to eat, not to be terrorized by being naked and cold and getting a diaper change. He's really quite strong when he's upset and hungry. He nearly flipped over! He went almost all the way from his back onto his tummy. I think if the changing table pad had been flat rather than contoured, he would have gone right over. When he flipped back and landed on his back he really howled! And then I wiped him with the cold wipes trying to get the process finished. Boy this was going from bad to worse. Not only was he soaked, but as I lifted the new diaper to cover him, he let loose with a stream of pee and soaked his new diaper and gown. I just picked him up, soaking wet, and held him to me to comfort him. When he calmed I secured the new diaper as fast as I could and got him dressed in a clean gown. As soon as the gown was down at his ankles, he stopped howling. Poor baby. I handed him off to The Dear Daddy and went to change me!
William had quite a bit of spit up in the hopspittle. I wondered about the formula they were giving him. The same little bottles of formula they'd given me to take home. It was milk based. Both I and The Littles, while cheese heads now, were lactose intolerant as babies. They'd had soy formula when I'd stopped nursing them. Willie had some spit up, but he didn't outright vomit, and he had none of the gassy tummy aches that come along with lactose intolerance. But no matter for now, I was currently producing enough breast milk to feed him! I was unhappy that I couldn't actually nurse him, but at least I was making enough to nourish him. And this way, The Dear Daddy could feed him too!
As our first evening at home came to a close, we were all snugged into our beds and Jack was bundled up in his cradle in our room. He woke every three hours to eat, burped rather loudly and got his didee changed. I was tired and in pain, but it seemed that we could do this. We could pull it off!
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