I finished up the third round of antibiotics on Tuesday morning. Last time, it took about 48 hours for the infection to come back, so I'm somewhat hesitant to declare that they've worked just yet. I'm still having some pelvic pain (it never entirely cleared up this time, even with the abx) but no fever or malaise at this point, so who knows.
I feel like my uterus is still a ticking time bomb, but that's probably to be expected after the events of the last four months -- I definitely have some work to do to sort out the psychological ramifications of it all. I'm still feeling pretty traumatized by the whole thing, and every little twinge and ache seems like a harbinger of doom. I am also very conscious that, even if the infection is healed, I'm still very physically debilitated from everything. My mom and I strolled the kids around the neighborhood on Tuesday, 30 minutes of leisurely walking, and that was the limit of my endurance. Still, it's progress, and I hope I can keep advancing now.
Andrew is a good baby overall -- he wakes me up at night about every three hours, which is as much as you can expect from a month-old baby. He seems to be a little needier than I remember the girls being at this age; they were content to sit in their bouncy seats between feedings, but Andrew mostly wants to be held or at least talked to. He doesn't really nap right now with any consistency, just dozes off whenever he's comfortable and wakes up and complains whenever I decide he's asleep and put him in his crib. He's reasonably fond of his paci, but cannot reliably keep it in his mouth, and I'm half-hoping he decides to switch to a thumb soon. He is also growing like a weed, and I'd be shocked if he's not ten pounds by now, the little piglet.
My nanny is still taking care of the girls right now, but G has been working some late nights recently, so I've been flying solo with all three of them in the afternoons and evenings for the last couple days. This was, quite frankly, a terrifying prospect. The reality hasn't been so bad, but I wouldn't exactly call it easy either. Since Andrew isn't keen on being put down, I'm less able to wrangle the little girls when needed, and they need more wrangling than normal lately. They usually play pretty independently, but this is complicated by the fact that they LOOOOVE the baby. They want to hold the baby all the time, and fight constantly about who gets to hold him. They're very good with him by two-year-old standards, which means that they only pinch his nose or poke his face about every five minutes, but they will. not. leave him alone, at all. If I can get him asleep in his bouncy seat, they immediately begin being "helpy" by covering him up with his blanket (face included), giving him his paci (whether he wants it or not), and patting him and saying "sssh baby no cry" (especially when he is sound asleep).
Honestly, they are fantastically good with him for their age, although it's a lot of work to manage at the moment. I'm looking forward to when he is a little sturdier and they are a tiny bit older. Two or three months makes such a difference in their maturity level, and it's obvious that he will adore his sisters when he's ready to be played with. When they're not messing with him, he seems to find them entertaining -- he'll be content in his bouncy seat or on his quilt if they're around, which is not the case if he thinks he's being ignored. A lot of people told me I was crazy for having Andrew with the girls still so little, but my MIL told me that there are definitely advantages to having children close in age, too. I think I'll see it soon, and that right now is the hardest time.