A New Normal

We brought Baby Ella home yesterday and are adjusting to a new normal. Baby Ella, being the thoughtful newborn she is, came bearing gifts: a new wooden Tonka fire engine for Jay as an “I’m so happy to be your little sister” present. Jay hasn’t stopped playing with it, and now calls it the “Baby Ella truck”. Then he helped us take off her hospital bracelet, after which he exclaimed (and I am not making this up, though I did coach him a bit), “Welcome to the family Baby Ella! Woohoo!” The “Woohoo!” was his own addition. So cute, I could have DIED.

This morning he greeted her with a gentle head stroke and, “Good morning, Baby Ella”. He understands that Mama needs to nurse her, and there are times when I can’t sit down and play with him right away. He likes to drag the step stool over to her co-sleeper and stand on it so he can watch her sleep. Sometimes he’ll hold her foot while he does it.

Then. This afternoon.

Fatigue hit me like a truck, and suddenly, I needed to sleep, do not pass go, do not collect $200. I told Jay I needed to lay down with Ella, and he could play out in the living room quietly with Daddy or he could lay down with me and take a nap. It turns out that neither of these choices particularly appealed to him. So he climbed into bed with me and proceeded to jump up and down. After warning, ordering and finally begging and pleading, to just be quiet already, Chris decided to take Jay with him to run some errands so we could sleep. Which, of course, set off a melt down.

“Noooooooo! Jay want stay here wif Mommy! No go wif Daddy! Stay here! Nooooooooooo!!!”

It was in the middle of this meltdown that the phone rang and my aunt on the other line asked how I was doing. Ha.

Hormones. Fatigue. Screaming toddler. Angelic newborn who just wants to cuddle and nurse, please, and guests coming to see said angelic newborn this afternoon erstwhile condo is a disaster and also, my bum hurts so much I wince at the THOUGHT of sitting down. Screaming toddler clutching at me for dear life because he does not want to go to the grocery store, because, probably, that IS WHERE HELL IS. I do not know. Toddlers live in a different reality.

So I met the words, “how are you doing, Honey?” with tearful gulps and tried not to collapse into a puddle of pathetic. I am not sure I made any sense and probably said something like, “I am fine, but I am so tired, but I am fine and… who are you again? Can you put mushrooms on that? How long will it take to get here?”

I hung up the phone, collapsed onto the bed and woke up with drool on my face. Dried, though, so I must’ve been out for a good long while. Feeling a little better and more stable now. (Aunt Fran, I promise if you call back not to cry or ask for special dipping sauce on the side).