the first week

Zander is two weeks old today. We have had him home for a week and one day. It hasn't been completely easy, mostly because I don't even remember what sleep was like anymore. It's just a vague, meaningless memory now.

From the second he was born, Zander was the most mellow baby one could imagine. An entire train could pass right next to his head and the boy wouldn't even look around at it. He just slept all day long, he wouldn't even wake up to eat if we didn't make him.

Unfortunately though, this created a big problem. Our baby didn't cry for food, which meant he was not going to wake us up when he was hungry. So, because we are self loathing people, we decided to sleep in six hour shifts. Which in baby world, is really a three hour shift with waking moments and grunts of " I'm trying to sleep you asshole!" in between.

It was worth it though for those moments when he was peaceful. I loved it when he started to be more alert, waking for longer periods and cuddling with his mommy. His little head was blonde, but I secretly believed he looked just like me. Everyone I knew said he looked like Jay, but my denial was deep enough to cover those opinions happily.

I wasn't able to breastfeed. My breasts had grown the size of large melons for no reason whatsoever when he was in NICU, then shrunk back down to a size I was sure couldn't be mine. Didn't I have large breasts, I kept thinking to myself, or was I simply delusional? I believe now that pregnancy had altered my image of what my body used to look like. I was confusing my real body with carmen electra's. Damn.

Anyways, the milk production ran out. I was still making it, but it was more of a snack than a feast at this point. I was disappointed, as I had always said I would breastfeed Zander. He didn't seem to mind though and he rather enjoyed his formula. He was still a bit of a boob man though, as we realized when he tried to suck on daddy's nipples.

My body was going back to normal now, though it still wasn't what I had in mind. My old stomach was gone, replaced with one of equal size. The only difference was that this belly was made of fat, whereas my previous belly had been made almost entirely of muscle. The stretch marks went up to my belly button, all of them angled in a direction that made it appear as though I had been raped by wolverine.

Everytime I looked at them though, I just laughed. They were horrible, yes, but they were there because of my Zander. Who hopefully would make me very rich one day when he becomes president of the united states. Right, kid?