Well, he hasn't knocked over any liquor stores yet…

by Jen on June 11, 2008

in The Boys in the Wood

It seems the universal question asked about a new baby is, “Is he a good baby?” It’s mostly asked by women from generations older than mine, so I don’t really have any frame of reference for what they mean. Good? He’s not yet two weeks old. He doesn’t do anything other than eat or sleep. He doesn’t mouth off, sneak out past curfew or break the speed limit when he drives. But pegging him as categorically good? I’m reserving judgment for now.

It took me a while to realize that what people were really asking was “Does he sleep?” To this I want to answer, “Duh… No. He’s an eight- (now nine-) pound breastfed baby… the best I get is three, maybe four hours at a stretch if I’m very lucky.” Instead, though, I answer yes, he does sleep fairly well for us, and leave it at that. But, a good baby? It’s not like he wakes me up out of spite.

The Duck, as he’s been christened by his older brother*, is by all accounts easier than his brother was at this age. No matter how it’s calculated, at two weeks actual age or two weeks adjusted age, the Monkeyboy was… different. I know that goes without saying, but I don’t want to attach any negative connotations to that difference. With the Monkey, we’d never had a child before and so we didn’t know any different, but those first few months with M were, in retrospect, a challenge: A NICU stay which entailed driving back and forth to the hospital daily (more than an hour from our house), a biliblanket for a week at home after discharge, daily hospital visits to have heel sticks to check bilirubin levels, frequent pediatrician visits, various breastfeeding challenges, monthly RSV shots… the list goes on. However, to me, that was motherhood.

This time, however, we roomed in. I was able to breastfeed almost immediately after birth. The baby and I were discharged together (imagine!) two days after birth. Our home was prepared to receive a baby and we’ve settled in comfortably. Other than the usual new-baby stuff — I had totally forgotten that a breastfed baby poops about once an hour — it’s been an emotionally relaxed, if physically tiring, few weeks. We’ve been peacefully busy.

I know I promised a birth story, and it is coming.

*The Hubster asked Monkeyboy, “If you’re a monkey, what animal is your brother?” The Monkey continually pronounces his brother to be a duck. So there you go.

{ 1 comment… read it below or add one }

1 Valerie June 14, 2008 at 2:26 pm

I love the nickname. Glad you are all settling into a routine. I too have realized that this baby is far different from my other. Not hard exactly just different.

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