And just like that the newborn stage is over.
We have surpassed the magic 12 week mark. Things are more stable, but I wouldn’t call them easy. I’m coming to terms with the fact that this will never be easy. I do feel less like I’m drowning….and more like I’m treading water.
Camden is heavy. I have no idea how much he weighs, but I’m guessing at least 15 pounds. I say it all the time, but it’s really unbelievable how fast he is growing. It’s noticeable from week to week….and it blows my mind. I never really understood why moms cried packing away clothes or looking at old pictures, but I am not ashamed to say I have now joined the club. We now have three boxes in the basement full of his newborn clothes. For me, when I think about how much he has grown and I look at photos from when he was so small, I feel a lot of guilt. All of this has been harder than I ever thought it would be, and I spend a lot of time wallowing in that difficulty. Acknowledging that he is getting bigger every day is a reminder that these moments are passing me by and I need to learn to cherish them. It’s a lesson I’ll be learning over and over again I’m sure.
He has rolled over a few times, but not with consistency. He likes to look at himself in the mirror. He doesn’t smile often, but when you do get a grin and a happy coo out of him, it is the best. He babbles and shrieks and makes all kinds of sounds…including fussing. Often. Heh. The two activities I can always count on to calm him down are walks and baths…so we do those daily.
We transitioned him out of our room and into his crib in his room about three weeks ago . Lord have mercy. It’s been a nightmare. It’s getting better….I think. Sleep in general is just a constant, never-ending struggle. We didn’t really have a time or set date in mind for the crib transition…..we just decided to give it a shot, and once we did we figured it was better to stick with it. We packed away the bassinet in the basement, and again I cried.
I wished for this. For him to be a little older. For things to be a little easier. And now I see newborns and my heart aches, and I miss it. The way he curled up on my chest. And I start to think about having another one (in a decade). Because I am a fickle woman with the world’s shortest memory.
He screams in the car, and I can’t figure out why. I try to get out with him and do things, but it’s very difficult and often not worth the stress. I really hope this changes. I miss being active, going places and interacting with other humans. There are all kind of activities in KC to do with babies, and every week I plan to try some of them out, but most of the time it ends up being miserable.
I miss running. A lot. I miss writing. I have a never-ending to do list. My house is a mess. I am not keeping up with the news and have completely tuned out to 90% of political shenanigans. I miss my friends. I miss my husband. I used to get shit done. Now I’m lucky if I get my damn groceries ordered. Yeah, for delivery. Like that is what my productivity has become. Some days all I accomplish is keeping my kid alive.
I was not prepared for such a difficult child. But that is what I got. And I’m trying to find ways to cope. I feel very isolated in that. Very much alone. And pretty guilty for putting it out there on the Internet. But that is my reality.
It’s a good thing he’s so cute.