The post in which I air my dirty laundry

I'm a little lost. And a few things need to happen before I can find myself again.

I need to move out of this goddamn neighborhood.

I need to be closer to my friends and the people who matter to me. Because having only one person at your side day in and day out breeds resentment. I can feel it brewing underneath the surface. It comes out subtly, in conversation and actions. No one should have to be my everything.

The incident, it wasn't anything much. At the very least didn't warrant my strong reaction. But I can feel what's going on under the surface.

He did something without telling me. Because I was asleep. When I asked why he didn't wake me up, he said it was because he thought I'd stop him.

And the honest truth is, I don't know if I would have or not. I don't know if I've gone so far away from my self, the person I want to be and thought I was, that I now openly prevent others from doing the things they want to do. Have I really become that controlling?

More importantly, he sees me as that controlling. And therein lies the underlying issue.

So, moving. Because I need it to be easier to see my friends and family. I need perspective.

Also, finding a job. Becoming more financially independent. God, I need my independence back.

Life with Z

Tried a few times but I can't seem to bang out a whole blog post because I keep on going back to where I left off, talking about the delivery and everything that followed, but then the blog gets too long and I lose interest or have to interrupt myself to go tend to Z. There are quite a few entries in draft form, and they're going to stay that way because I don't edit.

So, I'm writing in bullet points. And this will probably not be in chronological order. But at least if I have to stop before I'm finished I can just finish off my bullet point and post.

Here goes:

• Z is 6 weeks old today. He's starting to cluster-feed in the evenings, and is getting fussy around this time as well. Clusterfeeding as in he constantly wants to be on the boob, and can't wait the customary 2-3 hours he normally does. At the moment he's on my chest, resting, not quite asleep, and will probably want to nurse again in another 15 minutes. I used to worry about this behavior, before I researched, before I found out that it's so common that it actually has a name. It happens in the evenings, before he goes to sleep for 5-6 hours straight. What's great is that he started sleeping for these long stretches at 4 weeks, without any training from us. We are the luckiest parents in the world.
• He's an angel. And I'm not saying that because I'm his mother. I was prepared for the worst. I was prepared for constant crying, sleepless nights, and other terrible situations that new parents go through. What I go from the first second of his life outside the womb was a calm, Zen-like baby. When they took him up to the nursery he was the only child in there who was not screaming his head off. He was also bigger than most of the babies, but that's another bullet point. In the beginning all he did was sleep, eat and poop. He only cried (and cried is a strong word, whimper/whine are probably better descriptions) when he needed to be nursed. (He also latched onto my nipple right away, and has also not had any problems being fed expressed breast milk from any bottle.)
• One of the ironic things is that I'm not a Zen mother. I constantly worried over him in the beginning. I didn't sleep the entire two days I spent in the hospital because I was way too nervous. I analyzed every detail. Everything seemed too perfect. I was constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop. I also experienced the "baby blues" during the first two weeks, which did not make things any easier. I was constantly crying about nothing. I expected the mood swings, but I also worried that it would last longer and turn into post-partum depression. Luckily, my hormones normalized after two weeks and I started feeling like myself again. I also lost 30 pounds, and was back to my pre-pregnancy weight after two weeks. Yes, I'm a lucky, lucky gal.