I'm the last in my immediate family to have kids. Most of my extended family (cousins and whatnot) either have kids or siblings who have kids. Babies and spending time with babies is nothing new to any of us. Most of the friends I grew up with have kids and actually started having them years ago. So, I'm somewhat of a latecomer to this mom party. When I write about my epiphanies and the minutia of each new experience I know that they're reading this and either nodding sagely or laughing at me outright.
That being said, I'm still doing all this for the first time on my own and whenever I go through something as a first-time mom I want to write about it. Yes, because I love writing, but also because I don't want to forget how this felt.
So laugh at me if you want, but today I had a shower with no one here but Essie and me and I was stressed. I put her snoozing little self in the bassinet in the bedroom (on her back to comply with the Back To Sleep guidelines) and closed the door on her as she began to mildly grunt, then tried to have the fastest shower I could without compromising hygiene and social acceptability. I didn't skip any steps, but I did try to complete them all with efficiency.
While I soaped and lathered and rinsed (no repeating) and conditioned and scrubbed I imagined that I could hear her screaming over the sound of the running shower. I thought about how I've maybe only ever seen one actual tear from this kid since the day she was born since so far she's not much of a crier and I've been able to head off any major upset by meeting her very simple needs. I dreaded turning off the water to hear her wails and having to rush into the bedroom to find her covered in tears and the drool and snot of despair and abandonment.
When I was finally able to turn off the water I stood still and held my breath, listening. And I heard nothing. This wasn't entirely comforting as I immediately feared that she'd died from crying too hard, so I (very) hastily toweled off and rushed to the bedroom.
Where I found her angelically sleeping, looking as serene and untroubled as any perfect baby in any random advertisement featuring perfect baby products for perfect babies has ever looked. She continued to sleep as I got dressed, and is sleeping now on the sofa near me as I type. I have to rouse her to get her fed before we leave for her first pediatrician's appointment in about forty five minutes and I hate to do it, she's so content and comfy. If I don't, though, by one o'clock she'll be an angry, grunting, squawking noisebox that could very well produce a multitude of actual tears for me to wipe away.
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Huh. As it turns out she's not making tears because her tear ducts aren't fully developed yet. Even if she'd been full-term she'd probably cry mostly tearless for a month.
That being said, she still doesn't cry, really. Just grunts louder when she's more angry.
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