One week in

And so Charlie has been with us for a week. As far as these things go, it’s actually been fairly uneventful. He eats, he sleeps, he poops and we laugh, because when he poops it is comically loud. Yet not loud enough to wake him from his milk-induced coma. And really, to have a baby who cries only when hungry — and who then eats the natural way without inflicting too much pain on his mother — is more than anyone could ask to have.

There are no bottles, the breast pump remains put away — the child sleeps for hours at a time and his mouth has never known a pacifier. True, I have done more laundry in the past week than most hotel housekeeping staffs do in a month, but far be it from me to complain. Life is easy when you’re not the one whose body provides the sole source of nutrition for a tiny human.

On the practical side of things, the first week home went as well as could be expected. Sometimes Charlie slept for longer stretches between feedings during the day than he did overnight. But when all the baby wants is food and it’s easy to give it to him, the house remains happy. Kristie is not back to normal, of course, but she’s remarkable in contrast to her first two postpartum experiences and what’s most important to me is seeing her contentment. She’d prepared to be struggling with the effects of a c-section, or to have a baby who cried for hours for no reason. But that’s not Charlie at all, and we couldn’t be happier.

In fact, the person possibly having the roughest go of it is Max, and it’s really not all that bad for him. Since Kristie’s mom and I have been around the house most of the time, there’s always at least one grownup who can tend to his immediate need. The largest impact seems to be on his sleep pattern. Though he’s slept through the night all but once since Charlie was born, he’s also getting up shortly after 7 a.m. each day, which is not cool for a kid who used to sleep until at least 8:30 or later. After a Saturday nap led to an incredibly late Saturday bedtime, followed by an early Sunday wakeup, he did collect 13 hours of sleep Sunday into Monday, so hopefully he’ll be corrected a bit for the week.

Jack has had a good week at school so far as we can tell. He had me print some photos for him to take to his teachers, and it’s always adorable to see how much interest he has in Charlie. A bonus of having How here to help take care of Kristie and Charlie is she was able to watch Jack bowl Saturday morning. It was really the only time all week Jack insisted How tend to his needs above all else. A few times when we’ve had company holding Charlie and talking to Kristie, Jack has managed to pull How away for some solo time. But from the moment we got Charlie home from the hospital Jack magically sensed why she was at our house and did not attempt to monopolize her. Words don’t do justice to the level of maturity that shows for him, and it was a key to our first week being so remarkable.

I would love to wax poetic about parenting a newborn the way I can about the actual labor and delivery process, but the truth is there’s not much to it other than a sense of duty. This is not to say I don’t love the new baby every bit as much as his older brothers. But it seems I am in a constant state of motion — laundry, dishes, making food for the older kids, changing diapers, baths, bed, etc. Sure, I get some work in here and there, I shoot and edit photos and keep up on Facebook and I did finally manage to get a haircut. But it was not until I sat in church Sunday, by myself, that my thoughts had a chance to fully settle and I was once again reminded of the blessings of happy, healthy children.

And while it is a joy to hold Charlie, to look in his eyes and feel his skin and begin the process of bonding, I also find myself simply waiting — waiting to see him develop a personality, to hear his coos and squeals and for when he realizes he’s in his dad’s arms. Max will be three in a few weeks, and I know pretty much every detail of his entire life. Jack of course has school and friends and a life I know about if he reveals it to me, but he’s still just six, and I feel Kristie and I still know him better than anyone else. We’ll get to this point with Charlie, probably sooner than I think. And I don’t want to give the impression of impatience. It’s really more the simple curiosity of just wondering what kind of little man he will become and realizing how much fun — how rewarding it is — to have the influence of yet another little boy on my life.

When Max was this young, he dominated our house. Poor Jack had to take a back seat because I was the only healthy adult, and I was back at work full time already. Charlie can blend into the background. He can sleep in a bouncy seat in the living room while sibling warfare plays out just a few feet away and he remains blissfully unaware. Of course, Charlie’s presence has changed everything — which cars we can take to run what errand, which laundry must be washed first, whether or not we can be regular participants in the activities we used to enjoy and so on. But I found I can still have my connections with Jack, Max and Kristie — all together and one on one — in a very similar fashion to what I’d come to know as normal.

It may not seem like much, especially to those who have not had multiple children. The best way I can put it is that life just isn’t as crazy as it could be right now and there’s a lot of love to go around. Our family, friends and church have been incredibly helpful to this point, and knowing we have their support is an incredible comfort. I only hope we have been and will be able to repay the favor.

(Current photos to follow, I promise.)