The First Two Weeks went by fairly quickly - too quickly, in fact, for me. Adrian was on leave to help out at home, and things were pretty smooth sailing as we all adjusted to having a newborn at home. David was feeding well, gaining weight and filling out. His jaundice was clearing up by the 10th day, but then again, the serum bilirubin levels were never really high to begin with.
I soon got the hang of changing his diaper - although I must say, it's really a lot more stressful than changing Cherise's diaper! I mean, hey, there's a time limit here! Don't take too long, quick wipe wipe not so clean never mind tick tock tick tock close up diaper before he p.. oops too late. The day before Adrian was due back at work, David blessed us with what Adrian and I will always remember as the "poo incident". A poo like no other. I was changing his diaper alone (thought I was pretty zai by then), preparing to head out to the airport to see my sister off. I lifted his bum to wipe when suddenly, without any warning whatsoever, whoosh! out flew (and I mean flew) a stream of projectile poop! I think it must have been the angle (you know, physics, 45 degrees and the projectile attains greatest horizontal distance yadda yadda) at which I was lifting his bum, but he should have won, or at least been in the running for, the prize for the furthest flying poop. It flew over a metre. Hit the two trolley organisers in which we keep Cherise's and David's clothes. Yes, hit them both. Hit the clothes in the trolleys. Hit the wall behind the two trolleys. Would probably have gone further if not for the wall. Needless to say, we were late going to the airport. The amount of cleanup to be done was mind-blowing. Part of his flying poop hit my hand. I can still remember - it felt warm. Eww.
Humorous incidents aside, I spent the first two weeks in a funny kind of emotional roller coaster. Happy to have Adrian at home, enjoying getting acquainted with David, and yet, weepy and consumed with guilt when it came to Cherise. I fretted that I wasn't spending enough time with her. She was the perfect big sister - not an ounce of jealousy. Loved kissing him and kept asking me to carry him. But I fretted - "I think she misses me, she must be missing me." "I miss her so much!" "She's looking at me - I think she misses me! I think she feels jealous but she's too good to ask!" I felt guilty - guilty that I had to spend all this time with the newborn, and not with Cherise. And I was sad that I couldn't do lots of things which I used to do with her - like feed her, bathe her, put her to bed... Things which Adrian now got to do. She grew closer to her daddy, it was "Daddy baobao" now, not "Mommy baobao" anymore. And each night as I cuddled her while she slept I cried at the loss I felt. And Adrian would roll his eyes at me.
The Next Two Weeks was just plain exhaustion. Whatever guilt I felt went out the window. No time for guilt. No energy for guilt. No energy for feeling anything. My days flew by in a flurry of pee, poop and milk. Adrian was back at work, and we (the rest of us) spent our day times camped out at my mom's place, which is, thankfully, just the next block.
David is one gassy baby. A gassy baby with a sluggish digestive system. Unlike his sister who would religiously poop after every feed, David grunts and groans his discomfort until the huge (stored) poop comes out. Usually this grunting and groaning goes on for hours. More specifically, between the hours of 5 and 8. AM. It's like, he needs to poop to get comfortable, but he can't because he's too sleepy. Terrible. And his grunting is so loud it wakes everyone up. Even my helper says she can hear him from the kitchen. So we've been starting earlier and earlier in the mornings because Cherise gets woken up by noisy David. One day she even got up at 630am. My day starts when he starts his "music". I carry him out of the room so that Cherise doesn't wake up, and I walk around and basically do all sorts of things to get him comfortable but really, nothing works till he poops the big one.
So I've been really sleep-deprived. We all have been. But we made it. And things are settling down somewhat.
At my mom's place, even though I'm busy with David most of the time, I get short breaks when my mom takes over, and I get to sit and play with Cherise for a while. Sometimes, I feed her lunch. Sometimes, I join her during her morning bath and splash her with water as she tries to splash me back. I don't get to cuddle her to sleep, but I get to cuddle her when she wakes up from her afternoon nap. Adrian comes to pick us up when he gets home in the evenings, and it's a happy reunion. We have dinner, then we have Family Bath Time. We all take our baths from 8 to 9pm. No, not all together, but well, we bathe David first, then I shower, then Cherise and lastly Adrian. Then supper for the little girl and it's off to bed. Adrian and I will argue over who gets to put Cherise to bed. Usually I win. So I cuddle her and sing songs and pray our prayers - all those things we used to do together, while Adrian gets to carry David around (bonding with his son, I call it), and it's nice and sweet as we girls drop off to dreamland together.
And then we wake up the next day (don't forget the night-time nursings and diaper changes!) and do it all again.