A baby is not a baby is not a baby

We went to our first ‘New Parents Group’ on Thursday. Penny, in typical fashion, slept through the whole thing (with the exception of a feeding window). I guess I had a little resistance to the whole mother’s group thing. I don’t know why. Hang on, yes I do. In my mind they were bound to be full of bogan mums with children named Rennay or Laneesha or Blayde or frankly anything that ends in a double-e. Very open-minded of me. But as with the prenatal classes, there were no such women. Everyone is lovely, the babies are adorable, and I can already see myself making potential lasting friendships here. And completely by chance, Sebastian’s mum is also in the group, so we’re already one up!

Something else I have come to realise over the past few weeks is just how different newborn babies are. I used to think they all looked the same, now it is glaringly obvious how each has their own little quirks and looks and shapes, not to mention the differences between babies of different ages – to me, a baby used to just be a baby. Now I know that a 3-week-old is worlds apart from an 8-week-old who is entirely unlike a 14-week-old. Obviously. Except it’s not, if you’ve only ever had babies on the peripheries of your life before.

No case in point has been more wonderfully telling as when Penny met her NEW SUPER BEST FRIEND on Thursday morning (me? Pushing friendships on the babe? Never). Little Grace is only 3 weeks younger than Penny, every bit as precious, and yet eye-openingly tiny… I am so used to Penny being such a lovely wee thing, it was quite startling to see her next to Grace and realise just how much she has grown in such a short space of time. I have noticed her face changing and her little legs fattening up; it is just amazing to think ‘wow, you used to be that small, have that same problem getting onto the boob, flail your arms helplessly like that’… she already has so much more purpose in her movements and has such a strong personality, like she is more than just a newborn baby now, she is her own distinct little human.

Meanwhile these photos of them meeting for the first time are hilarious.

A List of Things That Have Happened in the Last Month Which All Felt Like The Best Thing That Had Ever Happened to Me (at that point in time)

Somebody said “here’s your baby”, and I had barely enough energy to lift my head for a second and see a red squirming creature, and I knew she was okay, and that Husbandito and the doctors were going to take care of her and I could finally get some motherflipping rest after being in labour for what felt like a million years. And I overheard them asking Husbandito what her name was, and he said ‘Penny’ out loud for the first time, and that was the best thing that ever happened to me.

They wheeled a tiny person into my hospital room and I held onto her and we both went to sleep. That was the best thing that ever happened to me.

I finally got to have a shower after lying in bed in my own filth for three days, and then that afternoon somebody came and took my catheter out, and that was the best thing that ever happened to me.

On the sixth day and after jumping through thousands of proverbial hoops, we put our baby girl in the car seat and carried her out through the doors of the hospital. We put her in the car and drove her home. I hadn’t been outside for a week and somehow the world looked very different. That was the best thing that ever happened to me.

Husbandito brought me peanut butter on toast the morning after our first night at home. I hadn’t had much sleep and I was so grateful I almost cried, and that was seriously the best thing that ever happened to me.

Husbandito and I held hands as we walked and pushed our baby girl in a stroller through the streets of Summer Hill and got take away Indian food. That was the best thing that ever happened to me.

I got cold in the night. Husbandito spooned me and I wasn’t a blimp and it felt lovely and that was the best thing that ever happened to me.

Any time I was able to luxuriate in a shower over the next four weeks was the best thing that ever happened to me. Except for the one time that I had a bath. Then that was the best thing.

Penny was drunk on boob juice and laying back in my hands with her arms flopped in what looked like a good position to play air guitar. So obligingly, we made her play air guitar. It was really funny. And then she spewed so hard that it came out her nose. We deserved that. It was the best thing that ever happened to me.

Penny sneezed four times in a row making the most adorable string of ‘achoos’. After the last one she gave an exasperated little sigh of relief. We laughed. I’m pretty sure it was the best thing that ever happened.

I bounced on the ball for forty-five minutes straight at some insane hour of the morning and I thought my back and shoulders were going to explode. Then the babe fell asleep and stayed asleep when I put her in the bassinet and I got to lie down. It was the best thing that ever happened to me.

After a long and tiring morning of crying and fretting (her, not me), the sun came through the lounge room window in the afternoon and the babe and I lay in the lovely warm shaft of light and fell asleep together. It was the best thing that ever happened to me.

Every time Penny rouses she makes a series of elaborate noises and sometimes we unwrap her and then just watch as she grunts and stretches and wakes up. It is always the best thing that ever happened.

Husbandito was changing the babe’s nappy when she did an almighty shart and he was so startled that he leapt backwards. That was the best thing that ever happened.

I put Penny in the baby bjorn for the first time and she didn’t even complain. Then we went all the way to the supermarket and back and she fell asleep. It was the best thing that ever happened. That was about two hours ago.

I’m sure there were many more things but I am starting to get very sleepy myself so my brain isn’t firing on all neurons. The gist of the story is, even when I’m so tired that I want to cry, or frustrated, or sore, everything is pretty great, really.

Penny – Week 4

Check me out at four weeks old, y’all.

This week Dad took to me the ABC, where he works, so he could show me off to all of his colleagues. Well, apparently this happened – I wouldn’t know as I slept through the whole thing, but they tell me that I was appropriately cooed over and I also got lots of amazing presents! I always fall asleep when I’m put in the stroller/car seat (after I have wailed about it for a little while).

Daddy went back to work this week, leaving me alone in the house with the one that makes the milk. I’ve been sleeping really well in the night, waking up every three hours or so for a feed and then getting back to sleep in about an hour, but when I heard that Dad was bailing on us I thought I better change my game plan. I think the most effective tactic was when I spent two whole nights making barnyard animal noises while I was sleeping. Mum took me into the lounge room in the bassinet and we slept there instead. She had no idea that someone so small and in such a deep sleep could be so loud. Ha. Silly Mummy.

Wave of babes

Seven weeks, eight births. A tiny army is born. Olive, Sebastian, Penny, Obi, Milly, Aiden, Luna, and finally, Grace: a baby girl for Nellie (miss three-weeks-behind). I must admit it is very overwhelming to know that one of my best friends in the whole world has just had her first child – something that in the beginnings of our pregnancies I kind of inadvertently relied upon to distract myself from the fear of the little life of our own that I was growing, but in the last two months or so, as I not only accepted but embraced our Ponyo, I consequently became more distanced from them. They are also a family who doesn’t do social media, as well as living in a city three or so hours away, so it is kind of easy to lose track of each other a little bit if you let it. They are the type of friends that feel exactly the same whether the last time you saw them was two days, two months or two years ago, but it would be lovely if we could all be physically nearer to each other.

So, are Husbandito and I a tiny bit amused because they had a girl after everyone on the planet told them they were having a boy? Shamefully, and yet humorously, yes. I am compiling a list of Grace songs for them. This one gives my bottom lip the wobbles…

“Time flies by in seconds, you’re not a baby, Gracie, you’re my friend. You’ll be a lady soon but until then, you’ve got to do what I say.”

I can’t wait to meet her. Penny and Grace, it has a lovely ring to it…

I can’t imagine how I would have dealt with this birth tsunami a year ago. Now we are floating right in the middle of it, in fact running gleefully on top of the waves much like Ponyo in the film.

Sometimes Husbandito and I stand over her bassinet and stare down at her for long stretches of time. He marvels over how cute she is and how he finally understands when people say they want to “eat up” something that adorable (he always thought it was a weird expression; now he finds himself involuntarily wanting to stuff bits of her into his mouth). I try not to think too hard about the whole thing. It has been so easy to integrate her into our lives, as if she has somehow always been here, and yet if I spend too long thinking about it I find everything kind of disintegrating with the weight of meaning, responsibility, and love. Big love. Like holy shit, you guys, there is a tiny helpless person in our house. And Husbandito and I made her. I am starting to think I may never, ever, get over the marvel and wonder of that.