How to be a very sexy man in one easy step: Abruptly whip off your shirt in the middle of the night --so you can do skin-to-skin with a fussy baby.
|First photo with Wiggles the frog.|
Tad has real eyelashes now, as opposed to the faint fuzz on the edge of his eyelids that he had when he was first born.
|"Why are they making me wear this ridiculous hat?"|
Two weeks ago, Tad smiled at me for the first time. Then he did it a second time, just in case I thought the first time was a fluke.
I think he overheard me saying that babies aren't very rewarding until they get more interactive.
|They look like they're plotting mischief.|
I had a WIC appointment last Thursday (she said nonchalantly) and according to their scale weighed 184 pounds. Yes, I did get a LOT of comments about how I was only 1 pound up from my pre-pregnancy weight.
Also, my hemoglobin was 11-point-something, which caused some clucking. I had to explain to everybody that that number was AWESOME, considering it was 9-point-something right before Tad was born.
Tad has started to get ticklish--if I brush my fingers against the nape of his neck (he's got a stork bite there, incidentally), he hunches up his little shoulders. It amuses me more than it should.
|Tad's first snow.|
Non baby-related take: Scott and I ran through all the available episodes of Sherlock on Amazon the other week. After the first episode I was already acutely disappointed that there are only six so far. (Admittedly, they are all 90 minutes long, so it's like about 12 episodes of a regular show. It's still not enough.)
|The onesie was a gift from Scott's coworkers.|
At my WIC appointment the lactation consultant gave me a postpartum depression inventory that I could fill out at my leisure. I filled it out on Saturday, right after my mom visited, and still managed to score in the "depressed" category. I didn't think much of it, but then Sunday morning I sat in bed holding the baby and dreading the fact that another day was beginning and realized that I was actually really depressed.
Monday night I posted in a private Facebook moms' group asking for prayers. Liza Jane asked if I could take meds while breastfeeding. I said that I probably could but I had no idea where to go to ask for meds. She said to call my OB, and two other ladies chimed in that yes, I should call him right away.
So at 8:30 on Tuesday morning (Christmas Eve) I tried the OB's office and got the office-is-closed message. I tried again at 9:00, just in case, and only then left a message on Dr. B's on-call phone which basically amounted to, "Hey, I'm depressed and some people told me that I should call the OB about that, so I'm calling you."
He called back a few minutes later and said that yes, that's definitely something to call the OB over, and we discussed my symptoms for a while (I'm depressed and anxious but not yet a danger to myself or others) and he said that normally his first line of treatment would be making an appointment and talking to me, but since the office was closed until Friday, he would call in an antidepressant for me if I wanted one.
I did, so he called it in and I started taking it Christmas morning. It seems to be helping, though I'm not controlling my experimental variables very well. For example, it turns out that keeping a box of protein bars on my nightstand is helpful for those 3 a.m. fits of existential despair.
|One month old|
Bonus 8th take: I finished my birth story. (The link is to part 1 of 7, because I am terribly long-winded.) So far I think only my mother has read the whole thing, so you all should go appreciate my loquacity.
For more Quick Takes, visit Conversion Diary!