As of 6:26 pm this evening, I can say that I have officially survived through my first month of motherhood. Ok, perhaps “survived” is a bit of a dramatic choice of words, but hey, there are times during which I actually do feel like I’m doing just that “surviving”.
Take right now, for instance. As I write these lines, it is still December 22nd and is almost 9 o’clock. My son is in my arms, a lock of my hair tightly clenched in his little hand, and he is being irritably cranky; he has been awake for the past three hours, fighting off sleep like it was his worst enemy. This is despite having eaten (and spat up on me) and burped, being exposed to white noise in a dark environment as he gets a back rub, spending some quality time in his father’s arms as he was rocked and lullabied away… Besides getting him irritable, it also seems to have turned him into a mommy magnet; he only wants to be in my arms right now. (He actually finally fell asleep around 10).
But enough said, here are some numbers to commemorate my little one’s first month of life:
- 30: number of days since birth
- 186: number of diapers used (average of 6.2 per day)
- 320: number of baby wipes used (average of 10.6 per day)
- 4378: current approximate weight in grams (979 g gain; average of 32.6 per day)
- 21.5: current approximate length in inches (1.5 inch gain: average of 0.05 per day)
- 12: approximate number of loads of baby laundry done (average of one every 2.5 days)
- 2: number of growth spurts
- 10: average number of daily nursing sessions
- 8: number of nicknames he has
- Unmeasurable: total number of kisses he’s received