On Tuesday Baby K and I were discharged from the hospital and went home to my parents', where we will hole up for the period of our confinement. Away from the safety of the hospital and its nurses for the first time, I was a little insecure at first, but the afternoon turned out to be quite routine, and I managed to handle my first diaper change, first change of clothes and first tuck-in-of-baby quite uneventfully. Soon I felt pretty settled and confident. Even the graveyard shift seemed no different from my three nights at the hospital. One feed around midnight, and then another feed in the middle of the night. Granted, it was a little early, and she pooped in the middle of her feed, but it was still manageable.
But that changed around 5am.
Baby K started making a fuss again, and I got out of bed to nurse her. During the earlier feed, I had learnt that she liked to drop off to sleep without filling her tummy properly, so this time I wised up and offered the other breast even though she had unlatched voluntarily and seemed to be sleeping contentedly. But again, she went to potty during her feed, so I had to change her diaper again. (Again?! Diapers don't come cheap, Baby K!)
After that I thought she would settle down and be lulled into sleep, but her eyes remained bright, open, and looking up at me. Me, with my drooping eyelids and semi-hallucinatory mind. I tried burping her, but no luck. I also tried putting her down in her crib, but still, those bright eyes continued to stare up at me. Entertain me, Mummy, she seemed to say. Never mind that it was nearly 7am, and the sky had started to turn light.
Finally, running out of ideas, I decided to nurse her again.
And lo and behold, it actually worked. It took nary five minutes and she was out cold. It was just like magic. I could finally crawl back into bed...
When the door opened, and my mum popped her head in.
"Do you want breakfast?"
Oh hell, why not.
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