First, here's a photo from our first walk today. We went out with the dog (who is deeply afraid of the new addition) for a spin around the neighborhood. I was completely pooped by the time we returned. I have no appetite due to exhaustion and nerves, but clearly I need to eat more.
So.ren decided to scream from about 7pm to 6am last night. I am not kidding. My husband eventually sent me to bed at about 3 or 4, then I relieved him at 6. At 8, we called the pediatrician. She saw us at 8:45 (god bless her) and didn't think there was anything wrong with him, per se. She did encourage me to just nurse him regularly and try to get off the formula supplementation and constant pumping. She was mellow; I liked her. She doesn't think pacifiers are terrible, and she said it was okay to give a bottle of pumped milk before two weeks if I needed a break. Which I anticipate needing. Soon.
My mom arrives on Monday for two weeks. I am not sure what I am going to do once she leaves and my husband returns to work. I need to form a support network around here.
Finally, today I knocked over a bottle of hard-earned pumped milk. I had to wipe it up and move on without thinking about it. It reminded me of when I was a young professional who worked often in spreadsheets (a terrible homegrown system at the firm I worked for) that would crash for no reason. I remember numerous occasions of the spreadsheet crashing at, like, 3am, after you'd been pulling all-nighters already, and the only way to deal with it was to start over, since the homegrown spreadsheet program was so bad that nothing could be recovered by the help desk.