Day 3 With My Newborn: The Milk-Stained Chronicles

Well, here we are. Day 3 With My Newborn. I’d like to say I’m thriving, but honestly, I just found a pacifier in my coffee mug and I’m not entirely sure I didn’t sip around it. Also, please don’t judge me but I am not bothering with decaf coffee. I asked my husband for an ‘extra shot’ this am, and he didn’t get the joke. It’s full caffeine here, breastfeeding or not.

Sleep: The Mirage in the Desert

People told me that nights with a newborn are rough, but nobody told me that time would lose all meaning. Last night I blinked and it was suddenly 4 a.m., I had one slipper on, no shirt and some old raggedy sweat pants and I was swaying in the hallway humming the Golden Girls theme song for no apparent reason. The baby? Wide awake. Me? Questioning all my life choices but also crying because her little yawn was so cute I couldn’t handle it. I honestly don’t know if this is day 3 or day 103 since she was born.

Breastfeeding: A Team Sport (With No Uniform and Constant Fouls)

Feeding is going okay-ish. She latches, unlatches, re-latches, karate-chops my chest, then screams at me like I’m doing it all wrong. Which, honestly, I probably am. At one point today, she latched onto my arm and looked offended that no milk came out. Rookie mistake, kid. Rookie mistake. Wait…Is that a hickey on my arm?

I also figured out why all my nursing bras are front-access. It’s not for convenience — it’s because I don’t have the strength or coordination to pull anything over my head anymore. Also, I am always sweating now and I have no clue why. I don’t remember working out but maybe breastfeeding is my new workout?

Day 3 With My Newborn: A Master Class in Humility

She peed mid-diaper change and I thought, “Okay, cool, rookie mistake on my part.” But then she looked me in the eye and pooped mid-wipe like she was trying to win a gold medal in the baby pooping Olympics. There’s a very specific kind of panic when you realize you’re out of wipes and she’s still going. Help!

I now flinch when I hear her toot. I think they might call that a trauma response.

Visitors: Ummmm….no. Just no.

We had our first visitor today, who said things like, “Enjoy every moment!” while I had spit-up in my hair and a burp cloth tucked into my waistband like a linen sword. She meant well. But let’s be real — I’m not enjoying every moment. I am surviving every moment with the energy of a squirrel who’s had too much cold brew and not enough sleep. I have no idea whether I am coming or going. Having to be nice to visitors on this little sleep is really not a win for me. I don’t remember the last time I slept for more than 1-2 hours at a time.

Also, my grandmother came over with a cough and wanted to hold my baby. Sheer terror moment for me. I can’t tell my grammy no….what the heck? I was sweating like I just ran a marathon- I was so panicked. Thank goodness my husband saw the look on my face and rescued the baby before she picked up the plague from my grammy. Gah! Like that cough could be pertussis…could be COVID…could be MERS for all I know!

The High Point: Sniffing Her Head

There is something magical about that baby smell. I don’t know if it’s actual biology or just that I’ve lost all grip on reality, but sometimes I sniff her little head and I feel like everything might be okay. Then she spits up in my bra and it rolls down into my pants and I come crashing back to earth.

Day 3 With My Newborn: I Would Die For This Tiny Tyrant

Yes, I’m exhausted. Yes, I’ve cried twice today (once because the diaper genie broke, once because she smiled in her sleep). But this tiny human makes the chaos weirdly worth it. She has no teeth, no job, and absolutely no chill — but she’s mine. And I love her more than I love sleep. (Which is saying a LOT!) #doulanearme  #michiganfamilydoulas #newborn #postpartum #tinyhuman