Things are rolling along here. The mastitis of the boob (or mystery lady part infection, as Mark likes to call it), is mostly done. It went away pretty much as quickly as it came. THANK GOD.
Life with a newborn often feels like a time vortex, where I have no idea how the hours pass by and how I am unable to complete simple and seemingly reasonable tasks. Today, my goal was to take a walk, to go grocery shopping, to send a fax, and to write one product review for my mama blog. I did none of those things. I should be doing other things right now, in fact, but blogging is seeming even more therapeutic in my current stage of life. I had immediate sharer's remorse after blogging about my boobs a few days ago. But after I got numerous comments (and even more private emails) of others with their own similar story, I felt so much less alone. Somehow the blogging makes the day feel a bit less mindless and menial.
Speaking of, I am ridiculously behind on emailing, returning phone calls, and have pretty much given up on trying to comment on other blogs for now. I am still reading, and I still love you all. Heather, been meaning to tell you how much I love your new layout. Corey, had lots of ideas for your pantry items. Jamie, had lots of witty comebacks for Old Navy lady. There are a million things I want to say to you blog friends out there, but usually I have one hand to scroll down and read, while the other cradles a baby. So . . . I lurk, and don't comment. I still love you.
Karis is doing well. She is an easy baby as long as she is held. But wowzers, she is pissed when I put her down for a moment to do something self-indulgent like using the bathroom. It's a wee bit tiring, and by the time Mark comes home, I am usually begging him to hold her. I try to wear her in the sling as much as I can, but I am hoping this phase passes and she will someday enjoy that cute bouncy seat I paid out the nose for and sits unused in the living room.
I've been struggling with anxiety a bit. Okay, a LOT. I know this is a part of the hormone drop/postpartum thing for me, and I am trying to keep it in check. But my baseline right now is pretty much DEFCON 5. I am a crazy mess of worry, and most of it revolves around Karis. Last week we had her second doctor's appointment, and she had not gained the expected amount of weight in the week since her birth. This is what the doctor said to me:
"I'd like you to keep an eye on her weight. Make sure she is feeding well. I expect she will catch up, so I don't want to make an appointment just to weigh her again. Just watch for signs that she is plumping up and call me next week if you think she's not gaining."
This is what I heard him say:
"Your daughter is grossly underweight and I suspect that it is due to a life-threatening illness. Keep vigilant watch on her every move and maintain a visual accounting of her weight to document the course of her disease."
Yeah. So I've spent a better portion of the week staring at her, and wondering if she looks like she's gained weight, and stressing because she looks exactly the same to me. I got so sick of myself this morning that I took India to the post office to weigh her, just to put an end to the matter. I hoisted her carseat up onto the scale, then I took her out, and calculated the difference. I think the other people waiting to weight their mail thought I was nuts, but it was worth it. I am happy to report, her weight is right where it should be. Unfortunately, my brain is still in crisis mode, and I'm sure I will be stressing about something new within a few hours.
It reminds me of my first few weeks with India, when she had a terrible case of jaundice. I was told repeatedly that jaundice was common, that it was treatable, and just a matter of time before her bilirubin levels evened out. Yet somehow I was sure she was dying, and would be one of the rare cases of children that actually dies from jaundice.
Oh, my brain is just a fun, fun party sometimes.