Not going to lie, motherhood still sucks some days. Abe is doing many, many cute things that help me stay motivated to keep driving when we come up on a fire station. Sleep is more common at night, though there is little of it during the day. They call it "consolidated" napping when Abe sleeps more than 20 minutes without screaming, spitting, or writing a novel about how he was "wronged" in his early life. Needless to say, he's up to chapter 5.
In other news, people are still lying to me. You'd think that with all the blogging I've done regarding the truth about being a mother here in the beginning that people would get it: I don't take well to lying. Now, I'm not claiming that the whole, "It gets better," catch-phrase that the entire world has apparently had a meeting about and decided to use on me is a lie. I'm sure it does get better. He has to move out eventually, right? What I don't understand is why people keep telling me the exact week it will get better. "The first 3 weeks are the hardest." Yeah, it didn't get a whole lot easier week 4.
Then when I continued being honest about my troubles after four weeks, I got, "He'll turn the corner at 6 weeks, you'll see!" Guess what? No corner. Why would you say that if there's even a remote possibility that my baby will not turn a corner at 6 weeks?
Then it just got funny. When 6 weeks passed, I was spoon-fed, "They start sleeping at 8 weeks." I bought that hook, line, and sinker.
Finally, it almost became comical when I was told, "You'll really see a change in personality at 10 weeks." Well, we're at 10 weeks. And if by "personality" you mean "tone of voice while crying," then yes, his "personality" has changed to a higher, screamier pitch.
I'm hopping off the Negative Nelly Horse now to tell you that "better" is relative. What I've been missing all along is that "better" cannot be a comparison to my old life. I will not sleep until 9:30 on a Saturday for a long time. I won't even sleep through the night for a long time without waking up to wonder what my baby is doing, if he's hungry, or whether or not my boobs will explode if I go back to sleep without pumping. I won't run by Target to "grab" something again for many, many years. My husband and I won't have meaningful conversations over casual dinners and a good glass of wine anytime soon. HOWEVER, I will find some new and weird little game to play with my baby that makes him laugh, and I'll play it day in and day out for a week with nearly the same satisfaction I feel when I find a sale at Old Navy on top of the 15% off coupon I have in my pocket. "Better" is now defined by only getting up twice in the middle of the night as opposed to 8 times. It's now 40 minute naps instead of 10. It's baby poop everyday instead of once a week. It's spitting up RIGHT BEFORE I change his outfit instead of right after. It's Abe's eyes tracking a toy and his hands holding onto my shirt. It's watching him think and discover. It's actually enjoying the time I spend with him and looking forward to him waking up.
So, if you were one of the people who gave me the next, "Everything will get better in 2 weeks" line, there is a special place in heaven waiting for you for giving me a reason to live for two more weeks.