One day at a time

It's been a pretty crazy few days.

Most of you who read this know by now that our lovingly-named "Buster" arrived just a few hours after my last blog post. Who knew that he was just waiting for me to update my blog before deciding to make his appearance? (That whole experience makes for quite a story, which I promise to share - sans gory details - in the next few weeks.)

Buster's real name is Jackson Robert Davis and he entered the world at 7:38 p.m. on December 9 at an impressive 8 pounds, 9 ounces. ("I never in a million years thought you were having a baby that big," my OB said when it was over.) We're all perfectly healthy and learning a lot about each other. I have realized, however, that I should have pulled at least one all-nighter in college because nothing ever prepared me for the lack of sleep we got for the first two nights.

At any rate, life has changed in our house and all for the better, but some of those changes are surprising even to me. Here's one example: those of you who know me know I'm a huge fan of lists. I have a list for everything: bills to pay, things to do, items to pack (or unpack, as the case may be), Christmas presents to wrap, etc. The first few days we were home from the hospital, I had no list. Nothing. All I wanted to do - and all I did - was hold Jackson and sleep. Selfish, I know, but I think he's really cute and we were lucky enough to have about a zillion friends and family bringing us more food than we could ever eat.

Since then, I've made lists but they're not exactly ambitious. And I'm ok if they don't get done. Yesterday, my list consisted of taking Jackson to the doctor, sending three emails and vacuuming. (ie: The "vacuum" box never got checked last night so our friends who came over with dinner in exchange for some baby-ogling likely saw a few tufts of dog hair accumulating in the corners. The old me would have freaked out. The new me said, eehhh...oh well.) Today, I hope to fill out some paperwork for our HR department at work, update my blog [check], and make dinner. Hardly impressive by "old me" standards.

Along with this ambivalence toward completing my lists has come a total change in perspective. Instead of getting ahead of myself and thinking "big picture" and "long term," I have forced myself to focus in the moment, not only because I want to soak in as much of this as possible but also because it makes things seem so much less overwhelming.

Sometimes in the middle of the night your mind starts playing tricks on you because it's so quiet and you're suffering from a lack of sleep, and it's easy to let the questions come. I've worried about everything from whether Jackson has a fever to wishing he wouldn't grow up so fast (pretty sure that was on Day 3...). So my new mantra, and all that I've been telling myself over and over, is that we are taking this "One day at a time."

We are going to make it through this one really horrible 3 a.m. diaper-changing experience where Jackson is peeing all over himself and screaming and I am fumbling around trying to figure out what to dress him in next. We are going to make it through the logistical hurdles of figuring out who is taking Lucy out for exercise or finishing our Christmas shopping or filling out our life insurance paperwork. And we are going to make a special note to soak up the amazing experiences, like one peaceful moment yesterday morning after we got home from the pediatrician where I just said "forget the vacuuming" and a sleepy Jackson and I laid down for an hour and took a nap - or the millisecond when I came out of the bathroom after brushing my teeth to find Chad holding Jackson, both sound asleep from total exhaustion, with the exact. same. expression on their faces. Those are the best moments, and I think I'd miss them if I was too busy focusing on what I needed to do tomorrow or after my maternity leave or five years from now.

I really do love this new outlook. I think it's been the first time in my life that I can remember that I'm not planning something down the road. This might mean that I may not get through my lists - appreciate the special state of disarray of my house if you come to visit, or at least don't look too closely in the corners - but it's amazingly refreshing to be able to focus on something so in-the-moment that you realize pretty much everything else can wait. Especially vacuuming.