Whatever Gets You Through The Night

10 Weeks, 5 Days

"Did you tell him I write plays?"

"Well, I don't know. I'm not sure it came up?"

"You didn't tell him your wife is a playwright?"

"I don't know, honey. Maybe? If I talk to him again I'll mention it. It didn't seem like a natural part of the conversation."

"But he told you what his wife did."

"Yes, but..."

"I'm sorry. Never mind. I just can't think of... I've not done anything but... I haven't been outside of the house in six days."

"I know, honey. I know."

"DAYS."

"I know."

Ren went through another growth spurt this week. We think. The Milk Monster suddenly needed boob every two hours to the point that it gave him terrible gas. One night we spent the entire evening trying to get him to burp. Tears, yelps. Poor little belly. We tried everything from baths to walking the stairs and eventually the three of us ended up laying in a huddle—Greg and I cheering Ren on as he gutturally and audibly pushed. Hours. It's amazing the things we take for granted as adults. Can you imagine a bunch of frat guys after a keg party trying to help each other get a good belch out? Crying, group massages, over the shoulder, bouncing carry-walks...

The first day after Ren's growing jag he slept through the night (and continues to do so, knock on wood). He woke up the next morning a new boy. I swear his hands and feet doubled in size. He is suddenly able to reach a focused arm out at books and toys, he can easily put his thumb in his mouth and grasp things, and he burps like a champ opening his mouth in preparation. He's literally growing up before our eyes.

Next week we introduce a bottle to Ren so Greg or a sitter will be able to feed him. I go back to work in a month and Ren will need sustenance from an apparatus not attached to my chest. I have such mixed feelings about it. On one hand, I'll have the freedom to be within a much wider radius from Ren and our house. Physically and mentally. On the other, we will experience a slight separation. Something we've been slowly doing since his cells started dividing inside of my body. It's a little bitter sweet and of course, a good thing. Ren will see that food can come from more than his mom and I won't have to vicariously remind myself that I write plays.