From the Mind of a First Time Mom

I'm typing this next to a baby monitor, listening to the sound of rain being transmitted with just a touch of static.  And I'm resisting the urge to sneak downstairs.  Our little girl is getting good at sleeping through the night, so we're trying her out in her crib.  I've never felt so far away from her since she was born.  This includes the times when she's stayed with her grandparents.

I just snuck a peek at her, she's sleeping peacefully, probably loving the fact that she's no longer as cramped as she is in the moses basket or her bassinet.  Me?  I probably won't sleep through the night, convinced that every little sigh and sound is her realizing that she's in a room all by herself.

Maybe I'll sleep on the floor...just for this one night...

Last night, my husband was wanting to be...affectionate.  I was not.  This was something I had read about on new mother forums and the more realistic parenting books and swore this would not happen to me.  I love my husband; he's intelligent and attractive, a geek, as well as an enabler to my geekness, and he can dance (East Coast Swing, Lindy and Blues). I love being the focus of his attention.  I love when he wraps his arms around me and kisses my neck while I'm trying to cook.  But last night?  Not so much.  And (I utterly hate to say this) this wasn't the first time since the baby's arrival that this has happened.

This had been my day:

After a semi-bad night with Kara, my husband wakes me up to let me know I need to take him to work (he had left his car at work the day before because we were celebrating his birthday).  The rest of the day revolved around walking and bouncing Kara, becoming a human burp cloth, feeding her, soothing her, becoming a human burp cloth (again), changing my shirt and repeating the cycle.  Four of my shirts resembled a Jackson Pollock painting.  Then I had to cook dinner.

So, by the time 10:00 PM rolled around, all I wanted to do was crawl into bed and announced as such to my husband.

"When would be good to turn you on?"

Huh?  That phrase seemed so forgein to me at that moment, I actually had to have him clarify.  Then I thought back to while I was cooking, he had been his usual affectionate self.  I had to ask a stupid question (even worse that having to ask him to clarify), "Were you trying to turn me on tonight?"  Ackwardville, population: me.  "I'm sorry, but I just want to sleep.  I've been thrown up on more times that I was able to count and even the thought of bodily fluids is so unappealing."

Fortunately, my husband is wonderful and understanding and agreed that maybe we need to go the completely unromantic route and schedule turn on time.

We already knew our baby was pacified by music.  She quiets down when we sing to her, especially when it's "Baby Mine" from me or "Pants on the Ground" from my husband. Then, one day, in a fit of soothing desperation while I was out, my husband tried something...unconventional, then decided to share the results when I returned.

"Hey babe, watch this."  My husband calls, starting up our Xbox.

"Yep, I've seen that before.  We've had Rock Band for a while now."

"No, seriously, watch this." He counters, motioning to our baby Kara with the wireless guitar control.  She's laying quietly in her swing, gazing up at him with the quiet serenity only a newborn can achieve.  A song loads up, it's the Who.  "Oh, crap, not the Who."

You see, the Who on Rock Band is our musical nemisis.  We fail out quiet often.  Sure enough, the crowd meter starts going down rapidly.  Kara's face starts to crumple, the cheeks start wobbling, and a cautionary "Meh" is vocalized.

"I swear, she was smiling and laughing earlier!" He defended.  "She was enjoying it when I was doing okay."

So, apparently, her mood matches the audience.  I want video of this.

We knew she liked video games in general.  She would fall asleep many times to the sounds of Dragon Age, Mass Effect 2, and I made a game with zombies in it (I swear that's the title of the game, and the theme song).  Some of her first smiles happened while watching my husband and a friend play Castle Crashers.

Is it odd that I'm proud of this fact?  I'm already hoping that she ends up with just the right amount of geek-streak running through her, and this seems like we're already headed in the right direction.

It's 3:00 AM and I'm sitting in a chair, making sure I drink water to stay hydrated, and watching Dr. Who.  I've slept maybe 3 hours in the past 2 days and someone just threw up all over my shirt.  This is not the first time this has happened, either.  When this happened 10 years ago, when I was 21, I could have expected it.  Instead, I'm 31 years old and married, with a not quite two month old daughter.  I haven't slept through the night since her arrival, and surprisingly, I seem to be adjusting better than I expected.  It's as if my body said, "Oh, we're doing the no sleep thing again?"

Of course this time around, my husband's friends keep wondering why he appears to be online at 4:00 am every morning. (Netflix streaming on the Xbox is the best invention ever.  I've become a serious addict of Dr. Who (David Tennant all the way) and Torchwood, thanks to the sleepless nights.

The worst part?  My husband has the magical ability to sleep through a baby crying.  Handy for him, especially since he's got to go to work each morning to support my new Netflix habit.  The best part?  He wakes up instantly when I say "Babe, this is a two person diaper."  Oh man, our baby's two person diapers really can be their own post.  I never knew I'd be so involved in bodily functions of another person.

Things are getting easier with each new week, but I still yearn for the days when I can get a good six or more hours of sleep at a time.