Six Weeks Old

Today Asher turned six weeks old. Six whole weeks! It's amazing. Not only has time absolutely flown, but, more amazingly, all of us have managed to survive six whole weeks of living together. I was just positive Asher would have kicked me out of the house by now; I'm not the easiest person to live with. Just goes to show what a good little guy he is.

I had my six week postpartum checkup this morning - note to self: no more scheduling such activities prior to 1:00 p.m. whenever possible anymore - and I am apparently healing well. We were also given the "go ahead" in the bedroom department - just in time for Valentine's Day! As much as I'm sure our mothers would just love for us to get back in the baby-making business, I have to admit that's the very last thing on my mind right now. When my doctor asked what type of birth control we intended on using, I was like, "You're kidding, right?" How on earth does a woman feel sexy when she hasn't showered in two days, her hair looks like a rat's nest, has sore leaky boobs, is still dressed in her flannel pajamas at dinnertime, and feels like she hasn't slept in two lifetimes? Okay, and say by chance she does feel in the mood, how on earth is there any time for such activities with a fussy six week-old?

Really, I still wouldn't label Asher as a fussy baby, but he's definitely much fussier than he was in the beginning. You know, back when he was a semi-conscious blob. Now that he's becoming more and more a conscious blob, he seems to get frustrated and irritated a lot at the whole world in general. I guess that's just what happens when you're alert but not able to do much physically with that energy? It is amazing, though, how quickly he's learning to do things. One day he lies on his activity mat and cries and notices nothing on it, the next day he lies there making baby noises and looks not only at the lights blinking above his head but also at the little toys dangling around him. If we place him on his tummy and allow him to get pissed off enough, he's able to roll over onto his back. He's able to track slow-moving objects with his eyes and seems to be focusing better every day. He still hasn't officially smiled on purpose yet, but we can tell he's really trying. And when he does, we know it'll be magical.

It's still hard to believe that we made this little fellow. Less than a year ago, in fact. It's even more hard to believe that he lived inside of me for nine whole months. I was telling Stephen this evening that I don't quite feel like a parent yet - however that's supposed to feel. I feel more like this demanding little alien has moved in and chosen us to care for him. It's all so incredibly surreal. I can't say we've gotten the whole parenting thing mastered yet - there are still large chunks of time that I feel like I'm in over my head, that I don't have any clue what I'm doing, that I question if everything's going to be okay. But, it's getting better. Much, much better, in fact. For instance, it's such a huge relief when Asher falls asleep. I feel lighter, like a weight of burden has been lifted off my shoulders. I can finally close my eyes and rest, or check my e-mail, or read a chapter in my book. I get a break from changing, feeding, playing and trying to soothe him. However, when he does wake up, when his little blue peepers pop open and he starts to squawk, I find myself rushing to his side, sweeping him up and smothering his sweet chubby cheeks with kisses. As dorky as it may be, during those few hours of sleep, I actually find myself missing the little Asher Bug.

Yeah, I think we'll keep him.