Davey and I would like to have another baby someday soon. We don't want Madd to grow up as an only child, and we'd like for Madd and his sibling to be somewhat close in age so they can share friends, go to school together, etc. At least that's what we envision. However, the reality of it may be a little different.
If Davey had his way, we'd just skip over the first 12 months of a new baby's life and pick up when they "can start to do cool stuff". Yes, it's hard to have a newborn, but honestly, looking back on it, that time passed so quickly. But, I do see his point...
Maddy was a rough newborn. Colic, acid reflux, wouldn't sleep for more than 2 hours at a time for the first 6 weeks, refused to sleep in his crib, and on and on and on. The sleep depravation was EXTREME.
I knew it would be rough because of course, I had been warned. But people tend to sugar coat it a little with all the, "Oh you'll just be so in love" and "There's nothing more precious than a new baby". Well those punks left out the part about the bleeding nipples from breastfeeding, the fact that it takes 45 minutes just to get your baby to eat only to have him projectile barf all your hard pumped breastmilk all over himself, the changing diapers at least 15 times a day, 5 of those times at night when you can barely even stand up much less button and unbutton the TEN THOUSAND DAMN BUTTONS that are on a newborn sleeper. Who knows how may times poor Maddy had to go back to sleep with his little chicken legs hanging out of his outfit.
I had a C-section which just makes those first 6 weeks that much harder. I couldn't get out of bed without help, so anytime Maddox cried, Davey would have to get up, go get him, and bring him to me. I would then feed him until he fell back to sleep, and then Davey had to come get him and put him back in his bassinet. So needless to say, it wasn't just me who was sleep deprived. I didn't want to disturb Davey every 2 hours because he had to work, but I had no choice.
One night I woke him up to go downstairs and warm up a bottle of breastmilk. I mean, I had to give my boobs a break a few times a day. So, I'm holding a screaming baby and I notice that Davey's been gone for a while. Finally he tromps back up the steps and comes in the bedroom eating a granola bar.
Me: What the hell are you doing? Where's the bottle?
Davey: Oh yeah. I knew I was in the kitchen for something but I couldn't remember what it was. So I just started eating.
I knew Davey had hit rock bottom when I woke him up one night about a week later to tell him to go get Maddox for me. He looked at me and said, "Who's that"? Um, yeah, nevermind. I'll peel myself out of bed and take this one.
Hmmmm, are we really ready for all that again?