A Little over two years ago, my [Hazing Type Initiation] foray into First Time Motherhood was, er, [like a 7 month-long Hell Week] trying to say the least. It was a steep-ass learning curve with an infant who [was like a Monster From Somewhere Evil] most likely had colic AND untreated reflux and who was [constantly level 10 wailing] uncomfortable and fussy. Ahem.
To be totally serious for one split second, it was Traumatizing. For reals. If I might review for a moment, there wasn't a new experience that didn't make TLNG scream uncontrollably and inconsolably. The car seat, the swing, any trip in a moving vehicle, the crib, the co-sleeper, the sling, the bed, the bathtub, a family party, people touching her, people LOOKING at her (so not kidding, my sister used to look at her on a 45 degree angle, for fuck's sake,) the doctor, the grocery store, the library, EVERYTHING, EVERYWHERE. It left me feeling helpless and depressed, because SERIOUSLY, having an inconsolable infant is incredibly difficult--if you've ever been there, you KNOW what I'm saying. That shit is HARD, yo.
Part of my ambivalence about having another was the 'What If That Shit Happens Again?' type thought process, which came along with an Unbidden Mental Image of me flinging myself off The Ben Franklin Bridge, leaving two kids and a clueless spouse behind. Not nice. The other alternative, which was almost as unpleasant, believe it or not, was that the second baby would be EASY (because no WAY could I get TWO like the first). In that scenario, I felt possibly-slash-retroactively bad for TLNG, knowing that everyone would be remembering her hell-days (long, LONG gone now) and comparing her to a potentially *nicer* sibling. Strange, I know, but true.
As it turns out, The Boy is who he is. And who he is does seem Easier. He eats [the geysers that are mah boobies] without difficulty. He sleeps in 3-4 hour chunks. He cries when he's hungry or when he's not eating or sleeping. When you pick him up, he does this weird thing...he like, stops crying. He sleeps in the car seat in his crib. And in the car. And in the sling, when I'm out and about. He had his first family party last night and he..er...SLEPT THROUGH IT. It is utterly foreign to me.
And I am completely suspect.
I am waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for the screamies to start. I keep thinking that he's so new still and this maaaaay just be the very early newborn phase. That soon, we'll have to deal with the inconsolable craziness.
And then there's this: Whenever he cries for more than 15.4 seconds, I start to have a flashback, no shit. I get INSTANTLY frustrated and depressed and it's BIZARRE. I know that some of it is hormones and reliving the only other experience of Mothering an Infant that I have.
We ARE comparing, though, and remembering. Last night, on our way home from the Family Dinner, The Man and I had a moment of, 'Holy Shit, do you remember what this trip sounded like two years ago? WHAAAAAAA!! WHAAHAAAAAAHAAAAAAA!!' For whatever reason, it does make me feel kind of bad but it's hard not to do. And I'm sure as The Boy gets a little older and [grows out of the Eating Machine phase] starts to grow a personality, it will be easier to appreciate him for who he is.
Besides, when I look at my girl now, I realize how fast those Crazy Infant Days go. And let's be honest, that's more than FINE with me.
I DO prefer a baby with a little more time under his or her belt.
