Be careful what you wish for!

Today marks 3 weeks - YES, 3 WEEKS - that Max has been on this planet and charming us with his baby breath, paci sucking marathons, and sweet little stare that would melt the heart of the truest Scrooge. I'd be remiss to not add that we've also endured three weeks of late-night crying fits, poopies mid-diaper-change, and an array of spit-up hanging from most things in our home. This experience has been nothing short of incredible on all fronts: our ability to "buck up" and adapt at the drop of a hat out of pure necessity, the joy and absolute wonder that has filled our hearts since his arrival, and the realization of how much unconditional support and love we have from those around us. Simply put, life's been pretty amazing.

That's not to say, however, that Mommy didn't have her moments. Ohhh, and there were moments. The most fitting summation of my freak-out phase has to be evidenced by the Google search history I recently stumbled upon, documenting my mental state from my very first week of Mommyhood. Enjoy:

"Breastfeeding help"
"Breastfeeding + help!"
"Newborns + what nobody told me"
"Dr. Brown's bottles"
"C-section recovery"
"C-section + bowel movement?"
"Percacet side effects"
"Newborns + overhwhelmed + normal"
"Caffeine and breastfeeding"
"New mommy + success stories"
"Pictures of pie"
"What newborn cries mean"
"Late night food Cave Creek + delivery"
"Facebook"
"Diaper too tight?"
"16 and pregnant"

Soon after we arrived home with Max (and shook off the shock and lingering question of "NOW WHAT??"), Josh and I quickly got our heads together and began to function like expert partners in a three-legged race. I'm talkin' team-WURK, people. Oh, there were trials and errors, and many a hand-off while we literally mime-wiped our hands clean and left for the other end of the house. But we managed to find our footing over the course of a couple weeks, and I don't feel I'm jinxing it to say that we're no longer treading water, and actually feel - -gulp- - comfortable.

The biggest adjustment, as anyone reading this would guess, was adapting to, like, NO sleep. Upwards of four times a night, I would sit in the glider, eyelids drooping, feeding the boy with one hand and frantically scrolling the track ball on my Blackberry in a desperate search of recent status updates on Facebook, 'cause that means I'm not the only one on the planet up and percolating at such an ungodly hour.

In reference to the title of this post, my wish upon a star out the nursery window to get some much needed rest was granted in the form of surgery under general anesthesia. According to my ENT, I have a hemangioma tumor in my nose (Geez, Heidi, sneak attack with the nasties, I'm not even done with my cereal!). What I first assumed was a sinus infection on the coat tails of all those nose bleeds is actually a pollup of sorts which necessitates surgery for its removal and subsequent relief from wishing the left half of my face were blown off with an uzi. Surgery is scheduled for Friday. So there you have it. Mommy wants sleep, Mommy gets it in the form of general anesthesia and pain killers. In all honesty, I am nervous to spend so much time not actively caring for Max. For three weeks, I have been by his side, or holding him, or eating his cheeks, or smelling his butt. It will be a major shift to go from that, to sleeping  for more than three hours at a time. Alright. Typing that actually got me kinda excited. Bad Mommy.

Josh and I, albeit still exhausted to a degree rivaled only by a few Vegas weekends in college, have gotten to a place where visitors are truly welcomed and we have the wherewithall to actually hold substantial conversations to catch up with our friends and families. We've taken Max out for lots of quick errands, and it's finally feeling like we are simply a cute little family of 3 inhabiting the world, doing our thang. It's a great feeling. Max has gotten to meet so much of his family and pseudo-aunts and uncles, and has met many of his new friends, like Suri, Charli, and Reznor! We are finding a place of comfort with him; I really didn't expect to experience this turning point so early on, and I feel blessed to already feel like we've "made it".

(Flash forward to next week's blog, titled "Eating My Words") 

:0)

The Love of Our Lives, Mr. Max.