This morning, my confidence as a new mother was at an all time high. We had a follow up appointment with our new lactation consultant and personal savior Barbara at 9 am. Bug weighed in at 10 pounds, 1 oz, an awe inspiring gain of 9 ounces in the last 6 days. A-MAY-ZING!
She was a little breastfeeding champion. There was no fussing or fighting to get her latched and her latch on both sides was absolutely perfect. My supply is up, and I have actually been able to pump a few extra ounces a day to save for when I go back to work. We did so well that we have officially been taken off of the naughty list which has kept us heading to the doctors office or a lactation appointment at least once a week for the past 5 weeks.
But tonight, I feel like I have no idea what the hell I'm doing.
Bug has been fussing like nobody's business, and it appears that there is nothing I can do to calm her down. She has been sleeping for no more than 45 minutes at a time since 2:00 this afternoon. Then she wakes up screaming and rooting. I have been providing the Boobie Buffet, she eats, fusses, spits up, fusses, and falls asleep for a little while and then wakes up screaming and rooting. She has even had spurts of rooting only moments after spitting up.
I've seen this before.
2 weeks after Bug was born I left her with DH so that I could take a friend to dinner for her 30th birthday (because I was too tired and nothing appropriate fit so I opted out of an appearance at her party that weekend). I was gone for 2 and a half hours because I spoiled myself with a solo trip to Target after dinner.
When I got home, DH informed me that Bug had screamed the entire time I was gone and he'd like to schedule a vasectomy for the following day. Thinking he was just being an impatient prick, I told him he needed to put on his big boy pants and put a little more effort into his new role as daddy.
Then she did the same thing every night for the next week and I got to do a lot of apologizing.
Apparently, this was growth spurt number one.
I've been mentally and physically preparing for the 6-week growth spurt since then. But I assumed we'd have another week. I think I'm wrong again, a trend I am noticing is common in early motherhood.
I now find myself lusting after that bottle of wine that I have had in my fridge since September, left over from our fancy-shmancy wedding, but feel too guilty to pop open and enjoy.
I am also feeling an overwhelming need to buy this onesie.
In conclusion, growth spurts suck and Mommy needs a drink.
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