I have lots to tell you but not much time before this guy--
--will want to eat again. Charlie was the poster child for the three-hour, twenty minutes on a side schedule. Wesley takes a more free-form approach. Sometimes he goes three hours, sometimes five, sometimes 0.5. And I'm not talking about some kind of nursing on demand overreaction when I whip out the goods at every whimper. I'm talking about some serious rooting, complete with nearly successful attempts to latch on through my shirt. No vague hand mouthing or smacking sounds here. It's really amazing how such a small, helpless baby can root so forcefully. He could go to the rooting Olympics. And then he nurses for periods ranging from two minutes to an hour and a half. I'm sure this will settle down eventually. It has to right?
He is also quite cute. And if the only complaint I have is that he is such an enthusiastic nurser, then that is not a complaint at all.
I am feeling better every day. The boobalas are quite engorged, which angers Wesley very much. I dragged my feet on buying new parts for my breast pump, so now I am trying to learn to milk myself like a cow to relieve some of the pressure. Sunday I was pretty sore owing to the fact that my first exercise of any kind in more than two years was childbirth, which as it turns out, is quite strenuous. The worst is over now, though and all that is left is a small hematoma (as described by my doctor), which is Latin for "holy s#$@ pass the frozen peas". A Vicoden/Motrin cocktail and an assortment of creams and sprays have been keeping the pain at bay nicely, when I stay on top of things. Tomorrow I may be able to sit in one of the kitchen chairs (probably not).
Charlie is a wonderful big brother... I am so proud of him. I will tell you all about it in another post, but I just don't have time to do it justice right now. He can also point out Earth and Mars in his planet book. He is so freaking cool.