Diary of a New Mother
A rookie mom chronicles those crazy, hazy first weeks with a newborn
Cole and I dragged ourselves out of bed at 8 A.M. to find Katie knitting and Catherine watching Barney. I told Cole he should find a new mother. I need a day off -- a day when nobody wants to suck on me, barf on me, or dribble milk down my side. I need a good night's sleep, without waking up in a hot sweat or to a poopy diaper that's blown out both sides.
Katie and I sat around in our pj's and talked. We laughed over the fact that we both suffer from some mysterious Mommy disease that makes us treat our husbands as if they didn't have the brains to care for a sack of flour, much less a baby. As Greg says, the minute I became a mother, he became mentally retarded.
Katie went home yesterday. I cried as I stood in the driveway waving good-bye. It seemed terribly lonely today, with nobody around to share in Cole's little triumphs. My second day of just me and my baby, and I'm ready to trade him in for a puppy. Well, not really, but I hit an all-time low on the emotion meter. First I woke Greg up at 5 A.M. by trying to sing the baby back to sleep. When I gave up and brought Cole into bed, Greg just got up -- no "good morning," no kiss, no nothing. That made me cry, naturally. So my dear, exhausted husband came back to bed and tried to reassure me that he really wasn't mad at me for singing; he was just tired.
The day went downhill from there, mainly because I tried to do too much. In the morning I wrapped Christmas presents, packed them in boxes, and carted them to the post office -- our first solo outing. The post office is only a seven-minute drive away, but Cole was screaming by the time we got there, so I fed him before putting him in the Snugli and hauling the boxes up to the counter. Thank God my mother is coming tomorrow.