8 Weeks

It's hard to believe Gavin is 8 weeks old today. The things he can do:

• Smile (with some coaxing, but the result is truly worth the effort.)
  
• Hold his head up
• Say "Goo!"
• Scream bloody murder (he doesn't do it often, but he can bring the roof down when he gets going)
  
• Cuddle
• Compete with Dad for title of "Gassiest Scott".
• Fight sleep, but fortunately, not at night.
  
• Follow us with his eyes.
• Be incredibly cute (mother's bias notwithstanding, for two regular-looking people, Shane and I have very beautiful babies!)

He is probably close to 10 lbs, although we won't know for sure until his appointment next week. He already has more meat on his bones than Claire ever did, and I've taken to calling him my chunky monkey, although he is not really even chubby.

He loves to be held, all the time and is happiest (and sleepiest) after nursing while laying his head on my breast, or the "boob pillow".

I have a month left before going back to work and I want to relish every moment, as it will be the only time in our lives that we spend so much time together, a thought that has me tearing up as I type.

Two months ago, we were sharing our first night together in the hospital. Seems like I've had him forever and at the same time like it was just yesterday we were getting up at 4:45am to be at the hospital for the c-section by 5:30. We left Claire snuggled up in bed and drove to Seton.

Things at the hospital were very business-like and before I knew it, I was being wheeled into the operating room. Within an hour of that, we had a new son! It took a little work to get past the scarring left from previous surgeries (appendix, adhesions, Claire) but Dr. Binford had anticipated as much and had another surgeon with her for assistance. Once they started to bring Gavin into the world, there were exclamations of what a big boy he was. Not being able to see anything, I thought perhaps I was giving birth to some sort of over-sized freak. Turns out, he was just a "healthy" 8lbs 13 oz.



This time around, I was all right after the surgery since Dr. B took her time getting in. Gavin, however, had some immediate difficulties, including a low APGAR score. When they tested again, he was fine, but his respiration was not. While I was in recovery, he spent some time with his head in an 'oxyhood' to get rid of the fluid in his lungs, so once again, I was separated from my baby for several hours. With Claire it was because I needed the recovery, this time it was because of Gavin's breathing issues, which resolved themselves soon enough.



I was settled in my room for what seemed like ages before they brought him in. Each time the door opened, I asked my mom or Shane whether it was Gavin...I was disappointed several times. Shane stayed with Gavin while all this was going on, with quick visits to see me as well. FINALLY they brought Gavin in to me. "Big boy" or not, he seemed tiny to me. We had some trouble getting started with the nursing so I stripped him down (after saying something drug-induced like "He's mine, right? I can do what I want, right?") so we could have some skin-to-skin contact to get things sorted out, which seemed to do the trick. His respiration remained too rapid for the first 24-hours and they had to keep checking his glucose (protocol for "big" babies - 8 lbs 12oz they don't check glucose, 8lbs 13oz, they do. It involved piercing his tiny little heel for a blood sample every hour or so, poor thing) Gavin stayed in the room with us most of the time, and was very sweet and snuggly from the very beginning.



Having Claire and Gavin cuddled next to me for the first time was one of the proudest moments of my life - my two little munchkins!


When we were released, I was nervous, even though we had done this all before. I was sure that Gavin was secretly wanting to stay with the far more competent nurses. (Keep in mind, I was still on 2 percocet every few hours!) It occurred to me at some point (a full day or so later) that this wasn't a stranger, but the same little person that had grown inside me for months...of course he wanted to be with me - I was what he knew best...to say nothing of the fact that I continued to be his only source of nourishment! Those feelings of Gavin's disdain seem irrational in retrospect, but were very real for me. Another irrational fear was the one I had after his one week pediatrician visit where his weight hadn't come up enough. It was an overwhelming fear/feeling that something bad was going to happen to him. I couldn't even express this feeling...when I tried, I ended up crying...to Shane, at the dinner table, in the car with Sarah. Again, a feeling so real and so terrifying that I can't adequately describe it. As he has grown and thrived, that feeling has gone away, thank goodness, but the fear will always remain. Hormones, sleep deprivation, whatever it is that makes new moms crazy...come on...don't we have enough to contend with?!? Shane is fantastic through all of my craziness. Just a calm, reassuring presence reminding me that everything will be fine...that we would sort out the nursing, that his lungs would be OK, that we'll get through it all, just fine.

So here I am with a baby, not even a newborn anymore. Time flies by so fast. How can I bear to leave him with strangers in a month? I am not done hoarding him!
He is my last baby...two is the perfect number for us. So all of Gavin's "first-times" are also last times. I feel such a need to remember everything..the sensations and sounds and smells - like an obsession. I shouldn't be so obsessed and just enjoy my last month...for goodness sake, I am just going back to work, not leaving them forever (I hope!) We are luckier than most to have the things we do, and our family, so why do I feel overwhelmed with such bittersweet feelings? Shouldn't they just be sweet?