Two Weeks Old for Mack

Mack is a little over two weeks old now. He's filling out, nursing more easily (Shana's no longer in pain at least). The family has moved past its initial adrenaline rush in having a second baby, and settled into a bleary-eyed zombie state of sleeplessness, short-temperedness and self-preservation. The way I feel these days, it's like studying all night for an exam, taking the test, piling into a crowded car and hitting an amusement park. And THEN finding yourself running from the law for a crime you didn't commit. The intensity doesn't stop and you're expected to make good decisions on no rest.

It's kind of like what Avon Barksdale tells D'Angelo in The Wire, Season 1, describing the fate of his older brother, who lies in a vegetative state in a dingy government-run hospital after being shot in the head but not killed. He knows you can't plan for everything.

"The thing is, you only got to fuck up once. Be a little slow, be a little late, just once. And how you ain't never gonna be slow, never be late? You can't plan for no shit like this, man. It's life."

OK so maybe its not exactly like what Avon's talking about. But we try to make the right decisions with our newborn and family, and try to never be a little slow, be a little late. Mostly we muddle through and press on. Nate has been no trouble with Mack, kissing him on the head, being gentle, even wanting to be helpful. But Nate is a toddler and at 2 1/2, we can't expect him do be so well-behaved and selfless. He has his owns needs and we are walking this tightrope between giving him what he wants -- so as not to feel excluded in light of Mack -- and catering to his every need and spoiling him rotten. Also, I'm finding it difficult understanding from where Nate's naughtiness might stem. Like, is Nate throwing a fit because he's reacting to Mack and the attention Mack's getting, or, is Nate a normal toddler who's just going through some normal toddlerness? Who the hell knows.

Back at the apartment, Mack's challenge seems different than what Nate threw at us early on (do we even remember accurately??). Mack can't be put down -- he wails uncontrollably if you try to put him on his back, in the bassinet, or in the swing. So he's on Shana's body all day, and on my body much of the evening, then Shana's body during the late hours. He is also nursing more than Nate did in the beginning, which further tethers him to an exhausted and fried Shana.

Last night was particularly brutal. We started out the night at Mole, a dreary Mexican restaurant close by. Nate was restless, then over-tired, then hysterical. Mack likewise could not be comforted and started to lose it. We bolted early and returned to the apartment all miserable and pissy. Nate refused a bath (I wanted to force him, Shana didn't, causing a mini-battle between the parents), and Mack bawled and bawled without relent (I wanted to try to comfort him leaving Shana to deal with a cranky Nate, while Shana wanted to try feeding him, causing further frustrations between the parents). At one point, both boys were screaming. There was nothing to do but feel terrible about one's situation.

Shana eventually put Nate to bed and I brought Mack into bed at 8:00PM. From there it only got worse. Mack couldn't be put down and thus slept uncomfortably on my chest for a few hours. Shana tried to sleep. The hours drifted by like a hallucination. Mack fussed tirelessly. We fed him formula. We changed his poops, which caused him intense grief and shrieking. Shana took him at 1:00AM or so, Mack sleeping on her chest. As the night wore on, Shana and Mack became moist from Shana's sweat, a reaction to the hormones leaving her body. Mack spit up frequently. Crying erupted, making sleep impossible for Shana and me.

"I can't... I can't..." whispered Shana at 5:00AM, handing Mack to me. She'd been up all night pretty much, in a cycle of crying, feeding, spit up, pooping, gas, etc. I put him on my chest. He had a moist swaddle blanket limply around his legs. I removed his wet top. He bawled and screamed. I fed him formula. He slept but not peacefully. I tried to burp him in the laziest and lamest manner possible, basically patting his back while not even picking up, like one might pet a dog. Mack burst out in screaming hysterics. "You gotta put him closer to your chest," muttered Shana. Self-hatred and exhaustion seeped out of my pores. Ashamed, I sat up in bed thereby foreclosing any possibility (delusion?) of sleep for myself. Mack calmed and then spit up warm goop on my shoulder.

It was 7:00AM and Nate could be heard in the distance. Shana got him and made coffee, a necessity against being a little slow, a little late. A new day was beginning.