Eight Months

Eight Months


I can hardly believe it. Evangeline is 8 months old! How is this even possible? Where did my little baby go? She’s really trying to be mobile now, but still hasn’t quite achieved it. She’s frustrated that she can’t just get on her belly and crawl. That’s what happens when you hate being on your tummy! She’s trying, though. I’m a little scared that it’s going to happen soon…

She’s babbling and saying things like mumumum and dadada, though not with any discernible consistency. Mostly she just goes, “mumumum!” when she’s crying and will randomly, but very clearly, say, “Dada!” She’s too focused on trying to figure out how to get places to figure that stuff out, I think, heh.

She’s still wearing her 6 month clothes, but I’ve got a few 6 to 9 months in there. I think we’ll need to switch her pajamas out soon, at least a few of them, as they’re tight on the length of her legs. The 9 month ones seem huge, though. I guess we went through that when she was turning 5 months, too…


Mum was up over the 4th of July weekend. They arrived Saturday and left before noon on Monday. It was a short visit, but she got to spend time with Eva. It was difficult. Mum was being very erratic and just kind of mean, without really intending to be, due to her “issues”… but I did a great job of just dealing with it. We didn’t have fights like last time. I was just super stressed out afterwards. We spent almost an entire day at the mall on Sunday and Eva did amazing! Not one meltdown or fussy episode! I was so proud of her.

Mum got to see the daycare on Monday, too, as I called off work. I needed to just mentally rest after the visit and I’ve been feeling weird about leaving Evangeline, too. I think I’m just responding to her being extra clingy lately. She’s going through another “leap” and is really intent on trying to move around. She’s not sleeping great at night, she usually ends up in bed with me… though she’ll randomly do awesome and just sleep in her own bed, too. I can’t figure it out so I just say she’s going through something, haha. I’m sure it’ll pass.

It’s been so awful and rainy here that our photos got rescheduled three times and now they’re scheduled for August. I was really upset, as I wanted to get photos for her 1st birthday, too, if these turned out great. I guess I just have to buck up and deal if I want my outdoor photos…

Breastfeeding is still going well, Eva was going crazy with solids, but she seems to have scaled back lately and returned to being a boob fiend. Pumping at work still sucks and I can’t wait until I’m done! Four more months, but that also means my baby will be an entire year old and I don’t think I’m ready for that at all!

I keep thinking back to last year and where I was, mentally, then. It’s such a stretch. It’s so weird to see pictures of myself pregnant. All of it seems so very far away now, like it happened an eternity ago. It’s like looking at a different person and in a way, I was an entirely different person then! I’m glad I kept the pregnancy journal, though. It’s interesting to look at now…

Disappointment & Failure

I feel like a complete and utter failure. Evangeline’s original two month appointment was on Monday, but was rescheduled last minute due to her doctor being ill. I managed to get an appointment first thing on Wednesday morning. We went in with high hopes–we were excited to see how much she’s grown and to get her immunizations. We didn’t wish her the pain, but being able to have her around others and out without constant worry would be nice!

Unfortunately, things did not go as planned. I’d expected to see that Eva wasn’t quite where she needed to be with her weight; I’d known she’d lost some weight during my cold and taking sudafed. My supply had dwindled, forcing me to attach myself to the pump. I consumed water like mad, I eat oatmeal every morning now, and a wonderful coworker/friend made me lactation cookies. We’re back on track, but it was touch-and-go there for a few days.

It seems like Eva’s progress never recovered. She’s only 10 lbs or so when she should be at the very least 12 and at the very best, 14 lbs! They measure and weight first thing, and then we sit and wait for the pediatrician to come in. The husband looked them up on the charts and gave me a worried look. Her weight put her in the bottom percentile, while her height put her in the top. I felt sick.

The pediatrician was kind, but didn’t mask her concern. We’ve been given a month to try and continue on with just exclusive breastfeeding. I’m to eat full meals and make sure Eva is getting the hindmilk and not just the foremilk. I’m pumping after every feed and then offering her the hindmilk that’s expressed. It’s all very daunting and yesterday, after we arrived home, I cried. I cried over her while I was trying to get her to nurse. The husband had left to go to work. It was just such a crushing blow. I thought she’d been doing better–she was going two hour stretches between feeds! But she still wasn’t napping properly. And she hasn’t been pooping regularly–once a week on the dot. All of it should have been warning signs.

But I was too selfish to see them or listen. I was too preoccupied with having time to myself or getting things done around the house. I’d stop her nursing when she got frustrated instead of switching her to the other breast or bothering to burp her thoroughly and then returning her to the breast. It all came crashing down on me suddenly and I felt completely sick with myself.

I crawled into bed around 12:30, as Eva had drifted off due to her immunizations. She was too sleepy to nurse properly. She woke just as I pulled up the covers and began cooing. I peeked over the bed at her in her little convertible bouncer and she smiled at me. I pulled her into bed with me and nursed her there. We cycled between nursing and sleep for a good four hours. I couldn’t bring myself to leave the bed and she would wake up screaming–a side effect of the immunizations. I’m sure she had no idea why she was uncomfortable. She was spiking low-grade fevers, too. So I curled around her and kept her close to me, checking her temperature and soothing her. I’m not into medicating unless absolutely necessary.

We did eventually give her infant Tylenol more towards the evening, but only because her fever went to 100 degrees. We didn’t get out of bed until the husband came home. I was still upset, but the time sleeping and just holding her helped me try and formulate a game plan. The husband kept assuring me that it would be okay. He’s my only support with breastfeeding and I certainly appreciate it.

I’m pumping after every feed and when she naps; I’ve got milk in 1 to 2 oz increments in bottles to supplement her with if she stops nursing early. I’m feeding her until she gets angry at me for trying. She’s already bodily shoved my boob away and all but swatted away the bottle. She pooped a day early, which is a good sign. We’re making sure her belly is full and Buddha-like. It’s going to be a pain pumping so much, but whatever works. My freezer stash I started is going to build slowly, but contributing 2 oz or so a day is still better than nothing!

We’ve got a month to get her caught up. She’s already doing better today and napping unlike she ever has, which means she’s satiated. She’d wake up constantly and fuss before. Now if she wakes up at 30 mins, she drifts immediately back off. It’s also not hard to get her to fall asleep.

I hate having to use bottles, as we ran into an issue where she didn’t like the slow flow of my boobs… but whatever gets her weight up. She’s still getting 90% boob.

I bought a baby scale off Amazon. It’ll be here Saturday. I refuse to accept “failure to thrive.” When I told the husband that’s what it was called, he was shocked. Needless to say, neither one of us is on board with that being declared. I want to make it at least six months (preferably a year or never!) before introducing any sort of formula. Here’s hoping we can do it.

I hate that I let this happen. It makes me angry, but luckily, anger is usually what fuels me forward. I’m determined to make this right and keep it as such. My personal time and such things are secondary to my child’s well-being. She’ll throw fits because I’m feeding her too much before she’s ever hungry again.

Everything Changes

Everything Changes

I am completely in denial that Christmas is next week! For the first time since we’ve been together, I have no idea what to get the husband for Christmas and he’s already got my presents… sigh. I feel awful. Everything I thought to get him doesn’t release until next year… I really am at a loss. That’s just a testament to how mentally and physically consuming taking care of a newborn is. I’m hoping MIL will watch her this weekend so I can have a few hours out and about before Christmas is over. I love the hustle and bustle of the holidays… being apart from it scarcely makes it feel like Christmas at all.

I’ve been trying to relay to the husband that there’s nothing actually wrong with me and I certainly don’t have PPD. I just have “adjustment pains”. For someone like me, this sort of thing takes a long time to adjust to. It’s even worse because I’m trying not to let myself be bitter about the fact that it seems like his life hasn’t changed at all. He goes to work, he comes home, he relaxes and plays video games.; he gets to do whatever he wants! I don’t have that luxury. Even when I have a few spare moments, I have a hard time “coming down” and relaxing. I feel like there’s just not enough time and the second I settle in to enjoy something, she’ll wake and cry.

Honestly, I want to go back and slap my “past self” for being completely ignorant to how big  of a change this all was. I hated being pregnant so much that I was just sort of ready for it to be over! I remember, at the end, continually thinking “this is the last time I’ll get to do _____ alone or without a baby.” It just wasn’t sinking in. Even when they laid her on my chest, everything just seemed surreal–like I’d wake up and it would all have been a dream.

I’m not wishing time away and I don’t want my daughter gone, either. It’s just hard, to adjust, to feel like you’re the only one who is forced to change while everyone else continues on as usual. I’m intensely maternal, but I’ve never been one for babies. I like cuddling and she’s so small and cute… but the dependency, the lack of independence, the complete and utter inability to have “time to myself” or “personal space” makes everything especially daunting. It might have been different if I’d been better prepared for it…

For the husband, I wish he’d make more of an effort to “engage” me instead of just staring at his computer, playing video games that I can’t play. He doesn’t quite understand how frustrating that is for me. I’m sitting here, lacking sleep and privacy, having to hold her and calm her 24/7, barely getting a chance to eat… and he’s just chilling, doing as he pleases, not really offering to take her or help or anything substantial. Even just talking to me without his attention on his computer would be nice…

I want to enjoy this period and I’m trying, I am. It’s getting better, it will get better. It’s just tough right now as I try to reconcile the change between who I was before and who I am becoming now… sigh. I wish I were better at handling this stuff, but I guess that it’s a testament that I’m able to do all of this without any sort of assistance.


Eva has already started being more “alert” and she’s doing social smiles… mostly only for the husband, of course. It’s still cute. He caught the above while I was getting a bath. He has an app on his phone for cats with colorful fish that move around the screen. She loves it. She swats at it like a cat.


As much as the husband frustrates me sometimes, seeing him interact with Eva and get smiles or giggles from her makes my heart soar. It’s such a strange feeling. I love my daughter, more than I thought was humanly possible, which is why I’m okay with the change in the end. I know that once my muddled mind adjusts to this change, everything will be fine.

For now, I just hold on to these sweet moments and remember, that when I’m up all night with her or she’s nursing 24/7, that this too, shall pass. And someday, I’ll miss her being so tiny. But I’m also looking forward to seeing her become her own little person.

One Month!

One Month!

Evangeline was officially a month old yesterday. It’s kind of hard to believe that a month has passed by already and yet it feels like an eternity ago that I was in the hospital. Time is a funny thing.

We’re still battling with her not wanting naps at all during the day. Now we’ve got ridiculous cluster feeding to deal with. She just doesn’t want to stop and she’s getting plenty of milk–she’s gaining and growing! It’s annoying, but I keep telling myself that she’ll only be this tiny for a short while.

I really miss spending time with my husband, though. With Eva attached to me 24/7, we really don’t get any peace to ourselves. Eva and I are still out in the living room until she gets a better schedule at night. She typically does really well–she goes to bed around 9pm and doesn’t wake up until 1am or so… and then she’s down for another 2-3 hours, repeat until 10am. It’s nice, but it doesn’t really afford me any time with the husband…

I just wish that she’d let us put her down. She hates her swing, she’ll tolerate the bouncy seat for about ten minutes, and nothing else soothes her except constant eating. Sigh. I’d love to have a newborn that sleeps. I was told there would be sleep! I never get a moment to myself and it kind of sucks. I’m one of those people who has to have time to herself. Sometimes, I’m able to give her to the husband with a bottle of expressed milk and have a bath… but that only lasts about 20 minutes before she’s fussing or crying again.

Then there’s the grunting and struggling to poop at night! It never fails to wake her up. Those nights are miserable. There’s nothing for it, though. I mean, as far as I’ve been told, it’s just a natural progression thing–it will eventually get better. Sigh.


Eva’s definitely growing and getting bigger. That’s easy to see. She’s still in newborn clothes, though, and we’re finishing off the newborn diapers though she can technically wear the size ones. She’s also started cooing, giggling, and I think I caught the barest hint of a smile the other day. It’s all very endearing.

It’s still hard, though. As someone who is intensely private and values personal time… I’m struggling sometimes. Headaches are frequent, I have to keep my frustration in check when I’m battling with her to nap so I can get a few moments to myself or with my husband, and having someone hanging off me constantly is incredibly taxing. I’m maternal, don’t get me wrong, but I’m also my own person. I can’t just disappear into the role of 100% mother… I could never be a stay-at-home-mum! I’d go mad.


The husband is getting better at dealing with her, but he still doesn’t make a proactive effort to learn how to soothe her. He did find that she really enjoys this app on his phone originally intended for cats. It has little fish that swim around. That kept her entertained for about fifteen minutes last night.

I know some day I’ll look back on this time and miss it, so I’m really trying not to wish it away… but I’m tired of my dirty house and I hate not being able to really do anything. One can only watch so much television and her head is too heavy for her to nurse properly without my assistance, so video games are still out of the question…



Honestly… the first few days were easy. Eva slept a lot and nursed. She didn’t really fuss at all until we had to put her in the car seat to go to the pediatrician. They found a heart murmur and we got scheduled to go to the hospital for some tests.


From then on, it’s been rocky. She doesn’t like to sleep. She wants to stay up way longer than any newborn should, which results in her getting overtired and fussy. She will fight sleep tooth and nail. There were several difficult and lonely nights coupled with recovery pain. My daft hospital thought it fit to prescribe me oxycodone! Like hell I’m going to take that while I’m breastfeeding.

Having the husband home was a help, but not terribly. I mean, it was nice to have him here and to get me water and to try and do things for me… but my husband is notorious for not doing a damn thing unless you explicitly ask him and “nagging” at him really doesn’t do anything but put him in a mood. I wish he had done more. It’s not like I even made him stay up! He slept every single night through in the bed while I’m out in the living room with Eva.

We had an incident when the husband was home. Unfortunately, it happened on a day where I had gotten zero sleep in quite a long span of time, so I was already at my wit’s end. I was annoyed with him just lying about while the house was a wreck and the dirty clothes were piling up, so I asked him to do the laundry. He sort of got an attitude, but he went to do it. I even made him a chart and hung it up in the laundry room.

Well, he goes to do it and then I hear this loud noise and him cursing. He let the cat in there unsupervised and he brought down the entire shelf above the washer and dryer, sending things flying. There was bleach everywhere. I set Eva down and ran to see what happened, worried he’d hurt himself. I was angry when I realized what happened. As I tend to do, when something doesn’t go right, I do it myself. So I hurriedly gathered the colors and threw them into the washer, not realizing he’d been dumb enough to open the washer and send bleach spilling into it after the incident. So I got bleach on a bunch of our clothes.

I had a mini-anger meltdown after that. It’s the first time he’s seen me like that. He spent the rest of the evening trying to wash clothes in very cold water in the bathtub in an attempt to prevent the bleach from setting in. It was a disastrous day. I haven’t asked him do laundry since. Instead of apologizing or anything, he moped around instead and just said, “why wasn’t the shelf secured?”

Sigh. I try not to get too angry or annoyed with him, as I know I’m battling with hormones, sleep deprivation, and just frustration… but it’s hard. I don’t feel like he’s completely “stepping up.” As with everything else, I feel like he’s doing the minimal amount to get by and hoping no one notices. I want to play video games and relax, too, but I don’t have that option.

I hate tearing into him, though. He does do things, it isn’t all bad. It’s just easier to focus on what he’s not doing it. And it’s not for lack of me asking or telling him, either. I feel like I’ve done everything to be accommodating but I’m not getting any of it in return… which is pretty normal for all of my relationships, sigh.

Adjusting to this is rough, like adjusting to pregnancy was. I don’t miss being pregnant, not at all. I can’t really enjoy not being pregnant, though. Newborns are rough and I got one that does not like to sleep. It makes it harder. She has reflux, too, which is not fun to deal with at all. Then there’s my constant anxiety that my entire body is ruined. I still haven’t looked at my stitches or how I’m healing down there. I’m terrified. I never want to look. I don’t even want to know. I seriously burst into tears any time I think about it. I can’t even talk about my boobs or stomach. I’ve lost 30 or more pounds and my stomach is almost back to being normal, except the skin. I’m so scared all of this is permanent and it’s awful.

I know a lot of it is hormones, but it’s still hard. I just keep trying to look at the positives. I don’t have Post Partum Depression–I don’t want to hurt my baby or myself. It’s just “growing pains”, trying to adjust to this whole different life while also being forced to deal with hormones. It’s tough. And it’s lonely. Nights are the worst–I hate nights. I cried a few times when the husband would go to bed. I feel completely separated from him. I miss going to bed. I miss being around him or being close to him. That’s one of the worst parts–we’ve always been incredibly close and this new “space” between us is just really hard for me to deal with right now.

It will get better. These are just the starting months. If it didn’t get better, people wouldn’t have children.


When the husband is present and engaged with Eva, my heart swells. It’s beautiful to see. I know it’s hard sometimes to “attach” to newborns, but I’m hoping he does as she grows. He told me that he thinks she hates him, because he can’t soothe her or feed her. I have him bottle feeding her, but he complains that she doesn’t fall asleep on him like she does me. I’ve tried to tell him she honestly only likes me because I’m a source of food. Right now, that’s all I am. He has the chance to be more and is quite capable of soothing her (better than me) when he actually tries.

I’ll just be happy when I can sleep in my bed and sleep for longer stretches than thirty minutes to an hour. That will be glorious…


Until then, I just have to keep looking at her sweet little face. Soon, she’ll be big. She’s already growing. Some day, I’ll want this time back.