As I'm sitting here, listening to the monotony of a Continuing Education course on urinary tract infections, I can't help but want to blog.
Well that's great, Lauren. What do you want to blog about?
Great question.
So much has happened since I last posted, I don't even know where to begin.
Having a toddler is the hardest thing yet, I think. It's nice that we are somewhat better able to communicate with one another, but the kid has SO MUCH energy.
Like, who ARE you?
He goes and goes until he just can't anymore, and I'm over here all, "Can we nap yet?"
I'm shaking my head right now.
He is also learning a little bit more about his anatomy, which is...interesting. I have added a bullet point to my parenting pamphlet that basically says, "Do what you want, it's yours, but don't let anyone else."
I'm hoping he takes that idea through college.
I can't even think about college.
I can't think about preschool.
I am the worst Mrs. Clause EVER. I thought since Baby C was only a year old, I could just throw his gifts in his room and let them be. I mean he never goes in there anyway.
Except now.
He goes in there now.
He loves to play in his room.
He loves to play with his Christmas gifts that are in his room.
Josh finally wrapped them because I'm incapable of wrapping presents, and they are now under the tree. Connor went from trying to ride his gift to trying to unwrap it so he can ride it.
What is wrong with us?
We're so bad at this.
I really hope I don't burn the cookies again this year.
Weaning:
It's not going to happen, ever. I have tried giving him whole milk and he doesn't like it. He likes everything else in the world, but he doesn't like whole milk. He only wants to nurse when he's tired, which isn't often and isn't so bad except for when I want to turn over in the bed. I read this article about weaning a teenager (it was showing how ridiculous the notion is), and I had a mini panic attack. If there is a child who is going to breastfeed in college, it's Connor.
Oh no, there's that college thought again.
I just want to keep him out of jail and off of drugs.
I will not judge him if he chooses not to go to college.
....or if he chooses to major in Philosophy.
Walking:
Why walk when you can crawl really fast?
I don't know, Connor. I just don't know.
He likes to hang on to things and walk, but he doesn't want to walk on his own unless he has a reward in the form of food.
Maybe he does need to be in preschool. Is he spending too much time with Apollo? He is eating dog food...
I'm not too worried about the walking thing. I really think that he will just wake up one day and do it. That's what he did with sitting up, crawling and pulling up.
Talking:
I'm pretty sure he says "damn." I'm pretty sure I'm a horrible parent because of it. I keep hoping he's saying "down" or "dog" or anything with a "da-" sound. He can say "gone" when he drops things, which is adorable, and I think he says "stop" because he hears it so often. But of course my favorite
word is "Mamamamama."
So after all of these brilliant observations, I lie in bed with him at the end of the day and he snuggles up next to me, and I realize how much he's actually grown. Then I hold him a little tighter, kiss him a little longer and thank God for giving me a thriving, absolutely perfect baby boy.
Showing posts with label #Breastfeeding #Breastfeeders. Show all posts
Showing posts with label #Breastfeeding #Breastfeeders. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 9, 2014
Friday, November 14, 2014
12 things I've learned over the last year
What a year it has been. This time last year, I was at ECM getting prepped for Connor's big day. Over the last 12 months, I've gotten to know this little person. Here's what I've gathered so far:
1) He is stubborn. He's so determined, he knows what he wants and never stops until he gets it. I hope he carries this throughout his life and uses this drive to achieve all his dreams.
2) He loves commercials, especially the lawyer ones. I have to take credit for this because of all the hours he listened to lectures in my tummy. I don't know if he will become an advertising executive or a lawyer, but I'm behind him 100 percent.
3) Colic is not cool. The first three months of life were difficult for everyone. He was trying to figure out why he wasn't in his warm, snuggly home anymore and why his stomach hurt so bad. I was trying to figure out how to live on no sleep and just what I got myself into.
4) He does things only when he's good and ready. Connor has no problem being a little behind in the physical department. I was worried to death when he didn't sit up, crawl or pull up in accordance with what everything online said. Then he would just wake up one morning and decide he was going to do it, and he did. I hope he continues to take his time with things and only act when he's sure he's ready. This will help him a lot in life.
5) #TeamNoSleep. This has been and always will be us. Connor is not a sleeper, especially by himself. He slept beside my bed for three months before he started sleeping IN my bed. He is so cuddly and I love it, but as soon as I put him in his bed, it's over. He can stay awake for hours with no problem.
6) Breastfeeding is hard, but worth it. When I first started breastfeeding, I cried a lot. I was worried about milk supply and his latch. But I kept at it and I'm so happy I did. A year later and I know I can comfort him whenever needed. When he's sick, I know I can keep him hydrated. There was a time when I wanted my milk to dry up, but now I think I'll cry when it finally does. Breastfeeding has made us closer and that's something I needed.
7) I've never been more scared about anything in my life. I have this constant fear because I know how big and cruel the world is. I'm terrified for Connor to go out in it. He's so happy and innocent, I don't ever want to see that go away. But it will. Life will deal him rough hands at times, but I hope he keeps the light in his eyes and pushes forward. There's always an opening at the end of the tunnel.
8) Baby food stains. I was really surprised about this because normal people food usually doesn't stain clothes like baby food does. But then I remembered that babies aren't normal people. Babies are these little creatures who make noise and steal your sleep. They also steal your attention and your heart. I have made best friends with stain remover over the last few months.
9) Friends come and friends go. Connor has helped me figure out who my real friends are, and I'm so thankful for that. The ones who have stuck with me, answered my calls, listened to me cry and helped me through this last year are few, but they are so cherished. I hope Connor will learn that it's better to have a few great people in your life than a ton of mediocre. I hope he applies that to life in general.
10) Everyone has an opinion, but in the end you have to do what works for you. Throughout this last year, I've had a lot of helpful and not so helpful advice given to me about being a parent. In the end, we are all different and things work differently for each one of us. Do what works for you, don't worry about everyone else.
11) True love endures. Josh Tobin has been my rock. He has been my teammate, my punching bag, my resting place and the one person I can fully rely on. A child puts a strain on marriage and adjusting is hard. I'm so thankful to have someone who loves me and stands with me no matter how hard things get.
12) I would do every bit of this all over again. The sleepless nights, the many tears shed and the pounds that won't go away are all more than worth it. This child has challenged me to be my best. He has pushed me to my breaking point and then pulled me back in with a kiss. I know I can make it through even the worst things because he needs me. There's nothing I would change about the last year and as I hold my baby, I am so overwhelmed with love and joy.
Happy Birthday to Baby Connor Tobin. I love you more than life itself. Grow strong, my love.
1) He is stubborn. He's so determined, he knows what he wants and never stops until he gets it. I hope he carries this throughout his life and uses this drive to achieve all his dreams.
2) He loves commercials, especially the lawyer ones. I have to take credit for this because of all the hours he listened to lectures in my tummy. I don't know if he will become an advertising executive or a lawyer, but I'm behind him 100 percent.
3) Colic is not cool. The first three months of life were difficult for everyone. He was trying to figure out why he wasn't in his warm, snuggly home anymore and why his stomach hurt so bad. I was trying to figure out how to live on no sleep and just what I got myself into.
4) He does things only when he's good and ready. Connor has no problem being a little behind in the physical department. I was worried to death when he didn't sit up, crawl or pull up in accordance with what everything online said. Then he would just wake up one morning and decide he was going to do it, and he did. I hope he continues to take his time with things and only act when he's sure he's ready. This will help him a lot in life.
5) #TeamNoSleep. This has been and always will be us. Connor is not a sleeper, especially by himself. He slept beside my bed for three months before he started sleeping IN my bed. He is so cuddly and I love it, but as soon as I put him in his bed, it's over. He can stay awake for hours with no problem.
6) Breastfeeding is hard, but worth it. When I first started breastfeeding, I cried a lot. I was worried about milk supply and his latch. But I kept at it and I'm so happy I did. A year later and I know I can comfort him whenever needed. When he's sick, I know I can keep him hydrated. There was a time when I wanted my milk to dry up, but now I think I'll cry when it finally does. Breastfeeding has made us closer and that's something I needed.
7) I've never been more scared about anything in my life. I have this constant fear because I know how big and cruel the world is. I'm terrified for Connor to go out in it. He's so happy and innocent, I don't ever want to see that go away. But it will. Life will deal him rough hands at times, but I hope he keeps the light in his eyes and pushes forward. There's always an opening at the end of the tunnel.
8) Baby food stains. I was really surprised about this because normal people food usually doesn't stain clothes like baby food does. But then I remembered that babies aren't normal people. Babies are these little creatures who make noise and steal your sleep. They also steal your attention and your heart. I have made best friends with stain remover over the last few months.
9) Friends come and friends go. Connor has helped me figure out who my real friends are, and I'm so thankful for that. The ones who have stuck with me, answered my calls, listened to me cry and helped me through this last year are few, but they are so cherished. I hope Connor will learn that it's better to have a few great people in your life than a ton of mediocre. I hope he applies that to life in general.
10) Everyone has an opinion, but in the end you have to do what works for you. Throughout this last year, I've had a lot of helpful and not so helpful advice given to me about being a parent. In the end, we are all different and things work differently for each one of us. Do what works for you, don't worry about everyone else.
11) True love endures. Josh Tobin has been my rock. He has been my teammate, my punching bag, my resting place and the one person I can fully rely on. A child puts a strain on marriage and adjusting is hard. I'm so thankful to have someone who loves me and stands with me no matter how hard things get.
12) I would do every bit of this all over again. The sleepless nights, the many tears shed and the pounds that won't go away are all more than worth it. This child has challenged me to be my best. He has pushed me to my breaking point and then pulled me back in with a kiss. I know I can make it through even the worst things because he needs me. There's nothing I would change about the last year and as I hold my baby, I am so overwhelmed with love and joy.
Happy Birthday to Baby Connor Tobin. I love you more than life itself. Grow strong, my love.
Wednesday, September 10, 2014
Acrobats, motor boaters, all on a typical Wednesday morning
It's 6:00 a.m. and my child is an acrobat.
A heat butting acrobat.
I'm in that state where I'm not quite asleep, but not even remotely awake. I don't feel my hair being pulled as usual, but I do feel a soft-skinned, sweet-smelling, entirely too happy 20 pound mass on my face. This tiny little person I've created is laying on my face, only after he tried to flip over my body.
Is that how base jumping occurred? One night or early morning a child had the wild idea to flip off a queen-sized bed for the thrill of living.
I don't even speak.
I just hang on to his body, on my face, so that he does not injure himself the next time he attempts to imitate Tom Petty by free falling.
Just before, or maybe after, I'm not quite sure since I wasn't quite awake, I felt his soft hair against mine. I felt his hair against mine with each BANG as he hits his head to mine at least three times in a row.
Like who does that? As if ravaging my bosom at all hours of the night isn't enough.
He takes a break from hitting his head against mine and his entire body on my face to raise up and fall back down, face first, on my boobs. This kid puts even the professional motor-boaters to shame.
I close my eyes. Maybe if he's sucking, he'll decide to go to sleep.
No suck luck.
There's the scratching on the wall. That's totally cool though, because it means he's at the head of the bed, beside me and hopefully out of harm's way.
I would be furious that this incredibly small THING is interrupting my sleep, except that I keep hearing little sounds come out of him.
"Ba ba ba."
"EE-hEE."
These sweet little laughs and mumbles wake me up the rest of the way.
I decide to get out of bed and head straight for the coffee maker. After a bowl of oatmeal, a cup of coffee, letting the dog out, saving pieces of a wipe from being devoured, finding the dog who is still outside and sitting down on the couch to binge on Scandal, my sweet little baby boy is asleep on my lap.
Until next time, my friends. Until next time.
A heat butting acrobat.
I'm in that state where I'm not quite asleep, but not even remotely awake. I don't feel my hair being pulled as usual, but I do feel a soft-skinned, sweet-smelling, entirely too happy 20 pound mass on my face. This tiny little person I've created is laying on my face, only after he tried to flip over my body.
Is that how base jumping occurred? One night or early morning a child had the wild idea to flip off a queen-sized bed for the thrill of living.
I don't even speak.
I just hang on to his body, on my face, so that he does not injure himself the next time he attempts to imitate Tom Petty by free falling.
Just before, or maybe after, I'm not quite sure since I wasn't quite awake, I felt his soft hair against mine. I felt his hair against mine with each BANG as he hits his head to mine at least three times in a row.
Like who does that? As if ravaging my bosom at all hours of the night isn't enough.
He takes a break from hitting his head against mine and his entire body on my face to raise up and fall back down, face first, on my boobs. This kid puts even the professional motor-boaters to shame.
I close my eyes. Maybe if he's sucking, he'll decide to go to sleep.
No suck luck.
There's the scratching on the wall. That's totally cool though, because it means he's at the head of the bed, beside me and hopefully out of harm's way.
I would be furious that this incredibly small THING is interrupting my sleep, except that I keep hearing little sounds come out of him.
"Ba ba ba."
"EE-hEE."
These sweet little laughs and mumbles wake me up the rest of the way.
I decide to get out of bed and head straight for the coffee maker. After a bowl of oatmeal, a cup of coffee, letting the dog out, saving pieces of a wipe from being devoured, finding the dog who is still outside and sitting down on the couch to binge on Scandal, my sweet little baby boy is asleep on my lap.
Until next time, my friends. Until next time.
Sunday, August 3, 2014
What was I thinking?
Throughout my life I have made more than my share of questionable decisions.
And I really think becoming a parent was one of them.
Before you jump me, I'm not saying I regret my child. That's not it at all. If you read further, you'll understand.
Yesterday, C was playing with my full length mirror. I was in the bathroom putting makeup on and I heard the crash. I knew instantly what happened and all I could picture was my child in a "Carrie"-like scene with blood all over him and shattered glass everywhere.
Thankfully there was no blood. But there was a lot of glass. A lot.
And not for the first time, I thought, "Why did I do this?"
I grabbed him out of his walker and checked him for blood. I didn't see him bleeding and I didn't see any glass protruding from his body, so I tried to calm him (and me) down. But the whole time, I thought, "Why did I do this? Why did I have a baby? I can't deal with this."
He didn't even get hurt!
When he fell off the couch a couple months ago and scared both my husband and I, I had the same thought.
When I first began breastfeeding, I had the same thought.
Breastfeeding was demanding. I didn't get to sleep as much as I could have if we used formula (so I thought). If we used formula, he might stay full longer. If we used formula, he might sleep all night. What was I thinking trying to breastfeed?
To this day, those things above are all true. But as I've mentioned before, breastfeeding went beyond just how I chose to give my child nutrition. I needed it too. I needed the closeness.
I saw this quote on Pinterest (I think) that said something like, The first six weeks, you'll envy those who chose formula, but after six months, you'll be thankful you breastfeed.
That was totally paraphrased, but it basically just meant that if you keep on breastfeeding, if you keep trying, then it's worth it in the end.
Well that's true.
So that makes me wonder if when I die, when I take my last breath, I'll think, "This was all worth it."
I say when I die, because I don't think I'll ever not worry about C. I don't think I'll ever not think, "Why did I do this to myself?" I'll never stop wondering what he's doing or why he's doing it. I just hope that no matter how old he gets, he'll still give me those sweet kisses and the warmest hug I've ever gotten in my life. I just hope that he'll still look at me with bright eyes full of love. I hope that he'll still smile whenever he sees me walk into a room. I hope that he will still love me just as much as he does in this very moment in time.
And in that second, right before I close my eyes for good, I'll know why I did it.
Wednesday, July 30, 2014
Just a typical Wednesday
The challenges I've faced since becoming a mother are endless, just in my eight and a half months experience.
For example, before I was a mother, I had never peed or pooped while holding another human being in my lap.
I've never had to lift 20 pounds with one arm.
And I've certainly never had to say, "Please get out from under the recliner."
But this morning was a doozy.
Last night we tried to get C to sleep in his crib so we could have some mommy/daddy time. After screaming for an hour and throwing up twice, C finally realized that we were still in the house and he was still going to sleep in his crib (so we thought). After about two hours of being in his crib, I finally just put him in the bed with us again. I mean he slept for two hours, waking up once each hour, so I gave him some credit and thought a little progress was better than no progress.
But this morning we woke up much earlier than we normally do, and it was because one of us was a little bit poopy. Thankfully, this time, it was not me. I got up to pee and while I was in the bathroom I hear this screaming. So of course I just thought he was mad that I left him in the bed by himself.
Oh no.
It was much worse than that.
I walk out of the bathroom and ask him what in the world was wrong with him, and I see two legs (and eight rolls) flailing in the air. What I didn't see what my son's torso or his face.
Fantastic.
I did what any caring mother would do. I stood there with my hand on my hip and asked my eight-month-old, "What are you doing?"
Apollo, the dog, was lying contently under the covers as well trying to ignore the noise that was interrupting his slumber. He still has not figured out why we won't take the thing back where we got it. He also has been exhibiting suicidal behavior so we have to watch him closely.
After getting my fill of entertainment for the morning, I pulled the covers off of my son's head and got the giant turd out of his diaper.
Needless to say he felt like a new man, ready to suck a tit and watch the Today show.
For example, before I was a mother, I had never peed or pooped while holding another human being in my lap.
I've never had to lift 20 pounds with one arm.
And I've certainly never had to say, "Please get out from under the recliner."
But this morning was a doozy.
Last night we tried to get C to sleep in his crib so we could have some mommy/daddy time. After screaming for an hour and throwing up twice, C finally realized that we were still in the house and he was still going to sleep in his crib (so we thought). After about two hours of being in his crib, I finally just put him in the bed with us again. I mean he slept for two hours, waking up once each hour, so I gave him some credit and thought a little progress was better than no progress.
But this morning we woke up much earlier than we normally do, and it was because one of us was a little bit poopy. Thankfully, this time, it was not me. I got up to pee and while I was in the bathroom I hear this screaming. So of course I just thought he was mad that I left him in the bed by himself.
Oh no.
It was much worse than that.
I walk out of the bathroom and ask him what in the world was wrong with him, and I see two legs (and eight rolls) flailing in the air. What I didn't see what my son's torso or his face.
Fantastic.
I did what any caring mother would do. I stood there with my hand on my hip and asked my eight-month-old, "What are you doing?"
Apollo, the dog, was lying contently under the covers as well trying to ignore the noise that was interrupting his slumber. He still has not figured out why we won't take the thing back where we got it. He also has been exhibiting suicidal behavior so we have to watch him closely.
After getting my fill of entertainment for the morning, I pulled the covers off of my son's head and got the giant turd out of his diaper.
Needless to say he felt like a new man, ready to suck a tit and watch the Today show.
Sunday, July 27, 2014
Our first trip to the library
Connor and I went to the library last week. It was during Handy Week, a week long music festival that most people in North Alabama look forward to because they get to stay wasted for a week straight, AND it's socially acceptable.
Anyway, so we walk into the library and I went straight to the computer to search for the book I wanted ("All Fall Down" by Jennifer Weiner). They didn't have the book, which is what began this journey.
I'm really picky when it comes to books, or choosing one. I like to look at ALL of my options before I make a decision. I mean one of the worst things in my opinion is picking out a book and the whole time I'm reading it, I'm wondering what other book I'm missing out on because I didn't take the time to look for it.
This weird obsession/compulsion leads me to look through each aisle, on every shelf, until I am absolutely positive I have what I want. Needless to say, that can take awhile.
I was holding C the whole time, and he was actually really good. He wasn't fussing, he was enjoying himself.
Really enjoying himself.
"BAH!"
"Bahbahbahbahbahbah"
"BAHBAH!"
"MAAAHHHHH"
These were just a few of the things he wanted to shout out while we were in the reading section of our local library.
Even if it wasn't Handy Week, the library is usually busy, especially in the summer.
So let's look at this situation:
1) Library (A/C, free, open to the public)
2) Summer (kids programs)
3) Handy Week (festivities, visitors, etc.)
And then there's Connor. Loving life. Yelling while the older man with dreads sits in a chair, in the reading section, and tries to take a nap.
I wanted to apologize but he would never look directly at us. I couldn't exactly blame him either.
Then there was the older man who was smiling and talking to C, a sweet gesture, and wasn't upset at all that C was jabbering louder than he ever has while the man was working on his computer.
I tried "shhh-ing" him, but that didn't work. Then I tried quietly saying, "Yes, ma-ma-ma-ma..." so at least people would think I was trying to teach him something rather than just let him scream like the terrible mother I'm sure I appeared to be.
None of it worked.
I went for a different approach.
"Connor, please stop screaming. We're going to get kicked out."
"BA-BA-BA-BA."
I wasn't sure if I should sit down and pop a tit in his mouth or just hurry up and find a book. Which is going to annoy the older people more?
Seeing tits? Screaming baby? Tits? Baby?
I went to the Youth section. I looked around, grabbed a book, and almost ran to check out.
We didn't get kicked out of the library. We actually went back.
And I enjoyed the book I hurriedly grabbed. It was a teen love story, which kind of sucked, but it had a happy ending, which I don't see enough of these days. So I didn't totally regret my decision...
...and even a teen love story is better than "50 Shades of Grey," am I right?
Anyway, so we walk into the library and I went straight to the computer to search for the book I wanted ("All Fall Down" by Jennifer Weiner). They didn't have the book, which is what began this journey.
I'm really picky when it comes to books, or choosing one. I like to look at ALL of my options before I make a decision. I mean one of the worst things in my opinion is picking out a book and the whole time I'm reading it, I'm wondering what other book I'm missing out on because I didn't take the time to look for it.
This weird obsession/compulsion leads me to look through each aisle, on every shelf, until I am absolutely positive I have what I want. Needless to say, that can take awhile.
I was holding C the whole time, and he was actually really good. He wasn't fussing, he was enjoying himself.
Really enjoying himself.
"BAH!"
"Bahbahbahbahbahbah"
"BAHBAH!"
"MAAAHHHHH"
These were just a few of the things he wanted to shout out while we were in the reading section of our local library.
Even if it wasn't Handy Week, the library is usually busy, especially in the summer.
So let's look at this situation:
1) Library (A/C, free, open to the public)
2) Summer (kids programs)
3) Handy Week (festivities, visitors, etc.)
And then there's Connor. Loving life. Yelling while the older man with dreads sits in a chair, in the reading section, and tries to take a nap.
I wanted to apologize but he would never look directly at us. I couldn't exactly blame him either.
Then there was the older man who was smiling and talking to C, a sweet gesture, and wasn't upset at all that C was jabbering louder than he ever has while the man was working on his computer.
I tried "shhh-ing" him, but that didn't work. Then I tried quietly saying, "Yes, ma-ma-ma-ma..." so at least people would think I was trying to teach him something rather than just let him scream like the terrible mother I'm sure I appeared to be.
None of it worked.
I went for a different approach.
"Connor, please stop screaming. We're going to get kicked out."
"BA-BA-BA-BA."
I wasn't sure if I should sit down and pop a tit in his mouth or just hurry up and find a book. Which is going to annoy the older people more?
Seeing tits? Screaming baby? Tits? Baby?
I went to the Youth section. I looked around, grabbed a book, and almost ran to check out.
We didn't get kicked out of the library. We actually went back.
And I enjoyed the book I hurriedly grabbed. It was a teen love story, which kind of sucked, but it had a happy ending, which I don't see enough of these days. So I didn't totally regret my decision...
...and even a teen love story is better than "50 Shades of Grey," am I right?
Wednesday, July 23, 2014
Why I chose to breastfeed
I've written a few times expressing the love for my son, and this is going to be another one.
Last night, I got into bed after my husband and C. Connor was laying there asleep, his little body halfway covered, his chest slowly moving up and down as his breathing evened out, and his face completely relaxed.
Seeing him so peaceful because he knows that he's safe completely takes my breath away. How did I do that? How did WE do that? I looked at him and thought of how perfect he is to me. I laid down beside him and thanked God for giving him to me. I begged Him to PLEASE keep my baby safe.
I've never loved like this until I saw Connor for the first time.
I have a dog. I love my dog. I've had him since I was 15, and his name is Apollo. I tell everyone that he's my first born, and most anyone who knows me knows that it's true. I treated him like a baby, he sleeps in the bed with us, he goes on trips with us, and when I was pregnant with Connor, I was terrified that I wouldn't love him as much as I did Apollo.
I was so wrong.
On November 15, 2013 at 4:38 p.m., I pushed as hard as I could and I saw everyone at the end of the table light up. The nurse laid my son down diagonally on my belly. I looked at him and my only thought was, this is him? He is mine?
He turned his head, wrinkled up his forehead and looked at me with eyes I've only ever seen in a mirror. I started to cry. I touched his arm, and looking back now I think I was scared to pick him up.
Then he started to cry. I have never laughed as hard as I could and cried as hard as I could at the exact same time until the moment I heard his sweet whine. That moment was completely majestic.
Sometimes when I'm breastfeeding, I feel that same burst of love. It feels like inside my body is the 4th of July, like my heart is exploding fireworks. There's no way to explain it. I look at him nursing and he looks up at me with those same mirroring eyes, and I almost can't take it.
I watch his free hand slide across the breast he isn't on. His hands are so soft, not yet callused from play.
I'll nurse him until he falls asleep, his eyes fighting so hard to stay open, but eventually closing. He relaxes and my nipple falls out of his mouth. Sometimes he will wake up immediately and ravage for it, like he'll never have it again. But sometimes he is in such a deep sleep that he just lays there beside it. He lays there beside my heart.
It was hard for me to encompass that I was a mother. It took awhile. I felt like I didn't know this little person who was thrown into my life, or I was thrown into him. I was terrified. What if I screwed up? What if I screwed HIM up? I didn't think I deserved to be the mother to this incredible little being. I thought he needed someone else to love him and raise him. I thought he needed anyone in the world except for me.
I would nurse him and think about how I couldn't do it. I couldn't be a parent. I cried when he cried. I felt like he would only cry when I had him and that he didn't want me.
That's why I kept breastfeeding. I didn't want to, but even more than that, I was terrified I had no other way to be close to him. I had never been around babies and I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what to say. So I nursed him. I held him and I let him eat, and I burped him, and we did it all over again.
Eventually, whenever someone else had him, he would watch me. His eyes would move wherever I moved. Relief flooded over me. Even though he only wanted me for milk, for nourishment, at least he wanted me.
Breastfeeding for me was about my son wanting me and loving me, and it turned into something completely wonderful. It turned into something I enjoy doing and I enjoy learning about.
I didn't breastfeed to be better than anyone else or to be more natural. I breastfed because I NEEDED the skin-to-skin. I NEEDED to have a way to bond with my child, because I don't think I would have been able to otherwise.
Last night, I got into bed after my husband and C. Connor was laying there asleep, his little body halfway covered, his chest slowly moving up and down as his breathing evened out, and his face completely relaxed.
Seeing him so peaceful because he knows that he's safe completely takes my breath away. How did I do that? How did WE do that? I looked at him and thought of how perfect he is to me. I laid down beside him and thanked God for giving him to me. I begged Him to PLEASE keep my baby safe.
I've never loved like this until I saw Connor for the first time.
I have a dog. I love my dog. I've had him since I was 15, and his name is Apollo. I tell everyone that he's my first born, and most anyone who knows me knows that it's true. I treated him like a baby, he sleeps in the bed with us, he goes on trips with us, and when I was pregnant with Connor, I was terrified that I wouldn't love him as much as I did Apollo.
I was so wrong.
On November 15, 2013 at 4:38 p.m., I pushed as hard as I could and I saw everyone at the end of the table light up. The nurse laid my son down diagonally on my belly. I looked at him and my only thought was, this is him? He is mine?
He turned his head, wrinkled up his forehead and looked at me with eyes I've only ever seen in a mirror. I started to cry. I touched his arm, and looking back now I think I was scared to pick him up.
Then he started to cry. I have never laughed as hard as I could and cried as hard as I could at the exact same time until the moment I heard his sweet whine. That moment was completely majestic.
Sometimes when I'm breastfeeding, I feel that same burst of love. It feels like inside my body is the 4th of July, like my heart is exploding fireworks. There's no way to explain it. I look at him nursing and he looks up at me with those same mirroring eyes, and I almost can't take it.
I watch his free hand slide across the breast he isn't on. His hands are so soft, not yet callused from play.
I'll nurse him until he falls asleep, his eyes fighting so hard to stay open, but eventually closing. He relaxes and my nipple falls out of his mouth. Sometimes he will wake up immediately and ravage for it, like he'll never have it again. But sometimes he is in such a deep sleep that he just lays there beside it. He lays there beside my heart.
It was hard for me to encompass that I was a mother. It took awhile. I felt like I didn't know this little person who was thrown into my life, or I was thrown into him. I was terrified. What if I screwed up? What if I screwed HIM up? I didn't think I deserved to be the mother to this incredible little being. I thought he needed someone else to love him and raise him. I thought he needed anyone in the world except for me.
I would nurse him and think about how I couldn't do it. I couldn't be a parent. I cried when he cried. I felt like he would only cry when I had him and that he didn't want me.
That's why I kept breastfeeding. I didn't want to, but even more than that, I was terrified I had no other way to be close to him. I had never been around babies and I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what to say. So I nursed him. I held him and I let him eat, and I burped him, and we did it all over again.
Eventually, whenever someone else had him, he would watch me. His eyes would move wherever I moved. Relief flooded over me. Even though he only wanted me for milk, for nourishment, at least he wanted me.
Breastfeeding for me was about my son wanting me and loving me, and it turned into something completely wonderful. It turned into something I enjoy doing and I enjoy learning about.
I didn't breastfeed to be better than anyone else or to be more natural. I breastfed because I NEEDED the skin-to-skin. I NEEDED to have a way to bond with my child, because I don't think I would have been able to otherwise.
Tuesday, July 15, 2014
Sex. What's that?
In the last eight months I have become unfamiliar with a three-letter-word.
Sex.
I don't even know what it is anymore, let alone how to actually do it.
C has been sleeping between the hubs and me for about three or four months now and he's really cramping our style. I mean who wants to have sex when the baby is in the bed?
For example, my husband and I tried to "do it" but I could feel Connor's feet on my leg and I had to call it quits. Like, that's just not a turn-on, you know?
We tried to get dirty on the floor beside the bed, but it's ceramic tile throughout our house so that was entirely too painful (and let's face it, I'm pretty lazy as it is).
Another obstacle we face in trying to "get down" is that we have to sneak out of our bed. Our own bed.
Are you with me here?
My husband and I have to sneak out of our own bed in order to have sex. What is wrong with this?!
The more I think about it, the more I realize that this is simply a (successful) plot by Connor to stop us from reproducing. He knows that if we have another baby, he will have to share...everything, so he nips it in the bud (excuse the cliche).
Geeze Louise, Connor, I don't WANT another baby right now. I just WANT MOMMY-DADDY TIME!
Is it really too much to ask to just want to lay there on my bed and do it?
Why yes, Mommy, it is.
We have tried to put him in his crib, but just the site of it sends him into a screaming fit, and then I get worried because what if I am screwing him up psychologically because I'm letting him scream. Life has a way of screwing you up anyway, not even considering the fact that I'm his mother which is a problem enough, but what if he sits there and screams and feels like no one loves him and it's all because I want to get down and dirty with his dad?
Gah, I have problems.
If you've read any previous posts, you'll notice that there was a time when he slept in his crib, but during my last semester of college (and especially after Josh's wreck) we put him in the bed with us. It was so much easier because I could turn over and pop the tit in his mouth and we could sleep. We do sleep. That's amazing in itself and I'm thankful that we're finally getting to that point. Plus, I just needed to know that both he and his dad were in the bed beside me, and we were all OK.
Of course I think about these times and then I think about the three months we dealt with colic. Those days seemed like they would never end, the sleepless nights, the tears and begging him to just sleep. But now, those days seem like forever ago, and I don't really know where they went.
I feel like this stage is exactly the same. So even though I miss snuggling next to my husband and having intimate time with him, I think about how sweet it is when C snuggles up to me and throws his other arm over to touch his dad too. He loves us and he loves being in the bed with us and one day, he won't. He won't want to snuggle with me. He won't want to hold on to me as he sleeps. He won't wake up looking for me. And when that time comes, I'm going to miss these sex deprived nights. And I'm going to cry. A lot.
So if you're in the same bed as me, don't worry too much about it. These days are going to pass way too fast. Cherish that goofy, needy, sweaty, adorable baby.
Sex.
I don't even know what it is anymore, let alone how to actually do it.
C has been sleeping between the hubs and me for about three or four months now and he's really cramping our style. I mean who wants to have sex when the baby is in the bed?
For example, my husband and I tried to "do it" but I could feel Connor's feet on my leg and I had to call it quits. Like, that's just not a turn-on, you know?
We tried to get dirty on the floor beside the bed, but it's ceramic tile throughout our house so that was entirely too painful (and let's face it, I'm pretty lazy as it is).
Another obstacle we face in trying to "get down" is that we have to sneak out of our bed. Our own bed.
Are you with me here?
My husband and I have to sneak out of our own bed in order to have sex. What is wrong with this?!
The more I think about it, the more I realize that this is simply a (successful) plot by Connor to stop us from reproducing. He knows that if we have another baby, he will have to share...everything, so he nips it in the bud (excuse the cliche).
Geeze Louise, Connor, I don't WANT another baby right now. I just WANT MOMMY-DADDY TIME!
Is it really too much to ask to just want to lay there on my bed and do it?
Why yes, Mommy, it is.
We have tried to put him in his crib, but just the site of it sends him into a screaming fit, and then I get worried because what if I am screwing him up psychologically because I'm letting him scream. Life has a way of screwing you up anyway, not even considering the fact that I'm his mother which is a problem enough, but what if he sits there and screams and feels like no one loves him and it's all because I want to get down and dirty with his dad?
Gah, I have problems.
If you've read any previous posts, you'll notice that there was a time when he slept in his crib, but during my last semester of college (and especially after Josh's wreck) we put him in the bed with us. It was so much easier because I could turn over and pop the tit in his mouth and we could sleep. We do sleep. That's amazing in itself and I'm thankful that we're finally getting to that point. Plus, I just needed to know that both he and his dad were in the bed beside me, and we were all OK.
Of course I think about these times and then I think about the three months we dealt with colic. Those days seemed like they would never end, the sleepless nights, the tears and begging him to just sleep. But now, those days seem like forever ago, and I don't really know where they went.
I feel like this stage is exactly the same. So even though I miss snuggling next to my husband and having intimate time with him, I think about how sweet it is when C snuggles up to me and throws his other arm over to touch his dad too. He loves us and he loves being in the bed with us and one day, he won't. He won't want to snuggle with me. He won't want to hold on to me as he sleeps. He won't wake up looking for me. And when that time comes, I'm going to miss these sex deprived nights. And I'm going to cry. A lot.
So if you're in the same bed as me, don't worry too much about it. These days are going to pass way too fast. Cherish that goofy, needy, sweaty, adorable baby.
Friday, July 11, 2014
You smell that?
Sometimes we're all a little stinky. Sometimes, being stinky is normal. I'll even say that being stinky is a part of life.
But the stench that comes from my child is not a little stinky. The stench that comes from my child is not normal. The stench that comes from my child is bad enough to end someone's life.
Oh. My. Goodness. I smell the same way.
Am I the stench?
No. I take showers. I have a pretty regular showering routine. That can't be me, can it?
OK, I took a shower. I still smell it. WHY does my son smell like this?!
After much bathing and investigating, I found out the culprit to the gut-wrenching scent is my sheets. So now I'm freaking out because we've been sleeping on what could possibly be a dead body.
I am aware that it's a terrible habit to start your child sleeping with you. I know that. But I also know that we sleep SO much better since we've started co-sleeping. C gets an all-you-can-eat buffet, and I get ten times more sleep than I was when we were trying to get him to sleep in his crib, or when I had to get up in the middle of the night to feed him. I mean, the crib turns into a full bed, so it's not like he's never going to use it. It's not like he's going to sleep with us forever.
...right? No way. He's not going to sleep with us forever.
For now, he sleeps in the bed with us. So picture this: a queen size bed. A queen size bed with my husband in it. A queen size bed with my husband and my dog in it. A queen size bed with my husband, my dog and my son in it. A queen size bed with my husband, my dog, my son and me in it.
Now think of it this way: A queen size bed with three people and a dog, in the Alabama summer heat. For anyone who has ever even thought about Alabama, you know that just because you have air conditioning, it doesn't kill the sky high temps and the wet that just hangs out in the air.
All of this put together creates some sweaty (Apollo is a heater by himself) individuals. We're all under the cover, we're all sweating and we all stink in our own special way. The stink travels to the sheet and just stays there, getting worse with each passing night until it gets so bad that it marches into my nose and triggers my gag reflex.
No one else in my house can smell the stench, and if they can, it doesn't bother them. I think it does bother Apollo, but he's way too polite to say anything.
Well Lauren, what is the point of this post?
That's a great question and I plan to provide you with an even greater answer! If you want to co-sleep and you know you have a severe sweating/stinking disorder, then you need to change your sheets every night. If you choose not to change your sheets every night, eventually the stench will get so bad that it will take on a life of it's own and eat you.
Good luck explaining that one.
But the stench that comes from my child is not a little stinky. The stench that comes from my child is not normal. The stench that comes from my child is bad enough to end someone's life.
Oh. My. Goodness. I smell the same way.
Am I the stench?
No. I take showers. I have a pretty regular showering routine. That can't be me, can it?
OK, I took a shower. I still smell it. WHY does my son smell like this?!
After much bathing and investigating, I found out the culprit to the gut-wrenching scent is my sheets. So now I'm freaking out because we've been sleeping on what could possibly be a dead body.
I am aware that it's a terrible habit to start your child sleeping with you. I know that. But I also know that we sleep SO much better since we've started co-sleeping. C gets an all-you-can-eat buffet, and I get ten times more sleep than I was when we were trying to get him to sleep in his crib, or when I had to get up in the middle of the night to feed him. I mean, the crib turns into a full bed, so it's not like he's never going to use it. It's not like he's going to sleep with us forever.
...right? No way. He's not going to sleep with us forever.
For now, he sleeps in the bed with us. So picture this: a queen size bed. A queen size bed with my husband in it. A queen size bed with my husband and my dog in it. A queen size bed with my husband, my dog and my son in it. A queen size bed with my husband, my dog, my son and me in it.
Now think of it this way: A queen size bed with three people and a dog, in the Alabama summer heat. For anyone who has ever even thought about Alabama, you know that just because you have air conditioning, it doesn't kill the sky high temps and the wet that just hangs out in the air.
All of this put together creates some sweaty (Apollo is a heater by himself) individuals. We're all under the cover, we're all sweating and we all stink in our own special way. The stink travels to the sheet and just stays there, getting worse with each passing night until it gets so bad that it marches into my nose and triggers my gag reflex.
No one else in my house can smell the stench, and if they can, it doesn't bother them. I think it does bother Apollo, but he's way too polite to say anything.
Well Lauren, what is the point of this post?
That's a great question and I plan to provide you with an even greater answer! If you want to co-sleep and you know you have a severe sweating/stinking disorder, then you need to change your sheets every night. If you choose not to change your sheets every night, eventually the stench will get so bad that it will take on a life of it's own and eat you.
Good luck explaining that one.
Tuesday, July 8, 2014
Ouch.
Let me just tell you what hurts. It hurts when your child bites your nipple. It also hurts when your child bites your face. It hurts when your child watches your arm.
That's where this is going.
But the thing is, it hasn't just happened all at once. As soon as he started feeling something new happening to his body, he went into this zombie-crazed, flesh gnawing THING. He would gum my nipples, and you wouldn't think that would hurt because there are no teeth, but it does.
When the teeth finally came in on the bottom, the biting hurt worse. I would tell him no and keep him away from the boob for a few minutes so that maybe he would understand he wasn't supposed to do that. I don't know if it worked or not. I guess it didn't though, since he would just bite me again.
Now he has top teeth and they have broke through, but they're not all the way down. He still bites me. It still hurts.
Maybe I wouldn't have such a problem with this whole thing, maybe I could just look over the shooting pains in what was once my small, petite nipples, if he wouldn't get so damn happy about it. The child things it's hilarious when I tell him no. I try to be stern. I try to let him know that we aren't playing, but he doesn't care.
Even worse than that, when he starts smiling or laughing about it, his face is just so stinking cute. So of course, I start laughing.
How is this kid ever going to take me seriously? I can just see all the problems this is going to create down the road. What if I tell him not to do drugs and he laughs at me and I laugh back?
I really hope I don't ruin my child's life.
Oh my goodness. This has spiraled down quickly. Welcome to my mind.
That's where this is going.
But the thing is, it hasn't just happened all at once. As soon as he started feeling something new happening to his body, he went into this zombie-crazed, flesh gnawing THING. He would gum my nipples, and you wouldn't think that would hurt because there are no teeth, but it does.
When the teeth finally came in on the bottom, the biting hurt worse. I would tell him no and keep him away from the boob for a few minutes so that maybe he would understand he wasn't supposed to do that. I don't know if it worked or not. I guess it didn't though, since he would just bite me again.
Now he has top teeth and they have broke through, but they're not all the way down. He still bites me. It still hurts.
Maybe I wouldn't have such a problem with this whole thing, maybe I could just look over the shooting pains in what was once my small, petite nipples, if he wouldn't get so damn happy about it. The child things it's hilarious when I tell him no. I try to be stern. I try to let him know that we aren't playing, but he doesn't care.
Even worse than that, when he starts smiling or laughing about it, his face is just so stinking cute. So of course, I start laughing.
How is this kid ever going to take me seriously? I can just see all the problems this is going to create down the road. What if I tell him not to do drugs and he laughs at me and I laugh back?
I really hope I don't ruin my child's life.
Oh my goodness. This has spiraled down quickly. Welcome to my mind.
Wednesday, June 25, 2014
Napkins. My child. Lots of nudity.
I finally get to post again! My husband wanted to cuddle one night while I was using the laptop ANNDDD the laptop fell on the ground and the screen broke.
So much has happened since I last posted. The gym thing? Yeah, that's not working like I thought it would.
Don't get me wrong, I still want to go...I just haven't. Plus when I went to the gyno, I had gained three pounds. What a drag.
Speaking of the gyno, here's a story I hope you like.
Picture this.
I have Connor dressed and I am dressed and we are ready to get this visit over with. We walk into the building, Connor still strapped in his seat, and he's being great. He's quiet, looking around, everything is going smoothly.
I get back to my doctor's bay and the nurse asks me if I want to go ahead and give a urine sample. I said yes and lugged Connor into the restroom.
Here's where things get tricky.
I have my pants down and a cup at my vagina, trying to pee in it. Connor is starting to fuss. The whole time, I'm saying, "It's OK, Mommy is right here. I'm almost done. Just give me a second."
My six month old didn't understand.
I finish peeing and at this point, he's screaming. I know everyone can hear him, so I hurry and pull my pants up, dispose of the cleaning pads, wash my hands and try to get out of that confined space.
Then the nurse wants to weigh me. Connor was quiet for about half a second while I wallowed in self pity and wanted nothing more than a giant chocolate chip cookie.
We get in the room. I sit Connor's seat in front of me while I sit in the chair beside the nurse's desk. I'm trying to answer her questions and tell her my concerns all while Connor screams like we have no idea he's sitting right in front of me.
I get Connor out of his seat and sit him in my lap. The nurse tells me to undress and that the doctor will be in in a few minutes.
So here I am, holding Connor and taking my clothes off at the same time. Now the kid is pretty chunky, so this wasn't an easy feat. I sat him on the table and put one hand on him (because I could not deal with him falling off) while I take the rest of my clothes off.
Then, I pick him up, get on the table myself, wrap my body in two oversized napkins and wait.
BUT WAIT, THERE'S MORE!
He decides he wants to play with the giant napkin over my boobs. Go ahead Connor, have at it.
So now one side of the napkin is ripped and my left breast is exposed. It isn't exposed for long though, because Connor lunges at it with his face. Whatever. So I'm laying on this table, naked, with my legs in stirrups and Connor is latched onto me like a leech.
Then the doctor comes in. At this point, the napkins are merely just there. They aren't covering me up. They aren't doing anything.
"Oh, you're nursing. I'll come back," said the doctor.
"No, it's fine. Really." I say.
"No, I don't mind coming back if you want to finish," she said, clearly OK with waiting on me.
"He's not eating. He's not even hungry. He's just there." I say, ready for this ordeal to be over with.
So now, the doctor starts examining me while my son is still on top of me. As she examines my right breast, I move him over to the left side, and move him to the right when she examines my left. Then I hold him on the side of the bed while she presses on my stomach.
Now is the fun part.
I just have him. I have him on top of me, with a boob in his mouth, while she looks at all my lady parts. As uncomfortable as an annual exam is, it was so much better with 18 pounds laying on my stomach/chest area. I didn't even feel the duck beal.
When the whole thing is over and I ask about the issues I was concerned with, I lay Connor in his seat and let him scream while I hurriedly put my clothes on.
After I strap him in and we leave the room, heading to the check-out, he's great! Everyone commented on how cute he was and how good he was.
Yeah. OK.
I have never been so happy to leave the OBGYN and get into my minivan.
What a day.
What. A. Day.
So much has happened since I last posted. The gym thing? Yeah, that's not working like I thought it would.
Don't get me wrong, I still want to go...I just haven't. Plus when I went to the gyno, I had gained three pounds. What a drag.
Speaking of the gyno, here's a story I hope you like.
Picture this.
I have Connor dressed and I am dressed and we are ready to get this visit over with. We walk into the building, Connor still strapped in his seat, and he's being great. He's quiet, looking around, everything is going smoothly.
I get back to my doctor's bay and the nurse asks me if I want to go ahead and give a urine sample. I said yes and lugged Connor into the restroom.
Here's where things get tricky.
I have my pants down and a cup at my vagina, trying to pee in it. Connor is starting to fuss. The whole time, I'm saying, "It's OK, Mommy is right here. I'm almost done. Just give me a second."
My six month old didn't understand.
I finish peeing and at this point, he's screaming. I know everyone can hear him, so I hurry and pull my pants up, dispose of the cleaning pads, wash my hands and try to get out of that confined space.
Then the nurse wants to weigh me. Connor was quiet for about half a second while I wallowed in self pity and wanted nothing more than a giant chocolate chip cookie.
We get in the room. I sit Connor's seat in front of me while I sit in the chair beside the nurse's desk. I'm trying to answer her questions and tell her my concerns all while Connor screams like we have no idea he's sitting right in front of me.
I get Connor out of his seat and sit him in my lap. The nurse tells me to undress and that the doctor will be in in a few minutes.
So here I am, holding Connor and taking my clothes off at the same time. Now the kid is pretty chunky, so this wasn't an easy feat. I sat him on the table and put one hand on him (because I could not deal with him falling off) while I take the rest of my clothes off.
Then, I pick him up, get on the table myself, wrap my body in two oversized napkins and wait.
BUT WAIT, THERE'S MORE!
He decides he wants to play with the giant napkin over my boobs. Go ahead Connor, have at it.
So now one side of the napkin is ripped and my left breast is exposed. It isn't exposed for long though, because Connor lunges at it with his face. Whatever. So I'm laying on this table, naked, with my legs in stirrups and Connor is latched onto me like a leech.
Then the doctor comes in. At this point, the napkins are merely just there. They aren't covering me up. They aren't doing anything.
"Oh, you're nursing. I'll come back," said the doctor.
"No, it's fine. Really." I say.
"No, I don't mind coming back if you want to finish," she said, clearly OK with waiting on me.
"He's not eating. He's not even hungry. He's just there." I say, ready for this ordeal to be over with.
So now, the doctor starts examining me while my son is still on top of me. As she examines my right breast, I move him over to the left side, and move him to the right when she examines my left. Then I hold him on the side of the bed while she presses on my stomach.
Now is the fun part.
I just have him. I have him on top of me, with a boob in his mouth, while she looks at all my lady parts. As uncomfortable as an annual exam is, it was so much better with 18 pounds laying on my stomach/chest area. I didn't even feel the duck beal.
When the whole thing is over and I ask about the issues I was concerned with, I lay Connor in his seat and let him scream while I hurriedly put my clothes on.
After I strap him in and we leave the room, heading to the check-out, he's great! Everyone commented on how cute he was and how good he was.
Yeah. OK.
I have never been so happy to leave the OBGYN and get into my minivan.
What a day.
What. A. Day.
Wednesday, June 11, 2014
One hot mama
I was at work a couple weeks ago and a lady asked me if I was pregnant.
So that was a slap in the face.
I decided that since a gym membership is included in our rent, I might want to consider using it. I have worked out four days and none this week.
I know that doesn't sound like a lot, but for me, it is. I have never liked anything physical (except GETTING physical, which I've found to be pretty darn good at). But I started running on the treadmill and lifting (small) weights, and it's actually really fun. I look forward to it and I'm disappointed when I can't make time to go.
Don't worry, this isn't about me talking about how super hot I look when I pump iron.
Along with my whoppin' four days at the gym, I've also tried to eat healthier. By healthier, I mean I eat cookies with oatmeal instead of normal cookies. I eat whole grain cereal rather than sugary cereal.
I get stuff with lettuce on it at McD's instead of a big, fat juicy burger that I really want. Believe me, it's a struggle.
Anyway, this post is about how, if you want to lose weight, you can do it and not affect your milk supply. After all, who cares how you look if your baby is angry because you ran out of milk!
For starters, from what I've read, it's best to start out easy. Don't start going fitness crazy right after you give birth, just do it gradually (VERY SLOWLY).
Also, don't take this advice as professional. This is ONLY what I am doing and you are more than welcome to follow. However, I do not take any responsibility for how well or terrible you do, so don't try to sue me. Please and thanks.
One of the most important things about losing weight and breastfeeding is to make sure that you're not cutting down on your meals or food. Just cut out the junk and sweets, or in my case, cut down on them. Make sure to keep meat (unless you're a vegetarian, and in that case, I am not the person to talk to) in your diet, because your bebe needs protein.
Don't cut out carbs. Not only does your body need them for energy, but so does your baby. Plus, if your body has no energy, it's not going to make milk.
Which leads me to remind you that breastfeeding burns calories, so make sure to continue to consume your extra 500 calories than normal, just make sure they're the good calories.
Well Lauren, what are good calories?
That's a great question!
Good calories are those found in fruits (which are also high in fiber so you poop more) and veggies. I'm not a huge eater of either of those, but I do like yogurt and fruit is in yogurt, AND you can buy the "light" kind so that it's not as high in fat. Greek yogurt is always good and it's high in protein too. Plus yogurt tastes good.
Make sure you have fiber in your diet, which you can get from whole grains, wheat, fruit, green veggies and some juices.
In a nutshell (nuts are good sources of protein and are great for snacking), don't change your diet unless it's to cut out those bad calories.
Exercise to the extent that you're sore the next day, but that you're not forcing your body to "over-do" (my mother's favorite word) it. If you get to carried away and hurt yourself, then who's going to take care of that sweet little person of yours?!
I don't know how this gym thing is going to go, but I'll be sure to keep you updated.
OK and just as a side note, I have to go to the gyno tomorrow (because APPARENTLY GIVING BIRTH ISN'T AN EXAM ENOUGH) and I'm hoping my four days will have paid off on the scale. I'll tell you all about it in a week or so, don't worry.
Kelly Mom website, lots of different help topics
Choose my plate.gov It's a government site, so it's legit
Baby Fit, I just really liked this site so maybe you will too
Most importantly, don't give up on breastfeeding. You are doing a terrific job.
So that was a slap in the face.
I decided that since a gym membership is included in our rent, I might want to consider using it. I have worked out four days and none this week.
I know that doesn't sound like a lot, but for me, it is. I have never liked anything physical (except GETTING physical, which I've found to be pretty darn good at). But I started running on the treadmill and lifting (small) weights, and it's actually really fun. I look forward to it and I'm disappointed when I can't make time to go.
Don't worry, this isn't about me talking about how super hot I look when I pump iron.
Along with my whoppin' four days at the gym, I've also tried to eat healthier. By healthier, I mean I eat cookies with oatmeal instead of normal cookies. I eat whole grain cereal rather than sugary cereal.
I get stuff with lettuce on it at McD's instead of a big, fat juicy burger that I really want. Believe me, it's a struggle.
Anyway, this post is about how, if you want to lose weight, you can do it and not affect your milk supply. After all, who cares how you look if your baby is angry because you ran out of milk!
For starters, from what I've read, it's best to start out easy. Don't start going fitness crazy right after you give birth, just do it gradually (VERY SLOWLY).
Also, don't take this advice as professional. This is ONLY what I am doing and you are more than welcome to follow. However, I do not take any responsibility for how well or terrible you do, so don't try to sue me. Please and thanks.
One of the most important things about losing weight and breastfeeding is to make sure that you're not cutting down on your meals or food. Just cut out the junk and sweets, or in my case, cut down on them. Make sure to keep meat (unless you're a vegetarian, and in that case, I am not the person to talk to) in your diet, because your bebe needs protein.
Don't cut out carbs. Not only does your body need them for energy, but so does your baby. Plus, if your body has no energy, it's not going to make milk.
Which leads me to remind you that breastfeeding burns calories, so make sure to continue to consume your extra 500 calories than normal, just make sure they're the good calories.
Well Lauren, what are good calories?
That's a great question!
Good calories are those found in fruits (which are also high in fiber so you poop more) and veggies. I'm not a huge eater of either of those, but I do like yogurt and fruit is in yogurt, AND you can buy the "light" kind so that it's not as high in fat. Greek yogurt is always good and it's high in protein too. Plus yogurt tastes good.
Make sure you have fiber in your diet, which you can get from whole grains, wheat, fruit, green veggies and some juices.
In a nutshell (nuts are good sources of protein and are great for snacking), don't change your diet unless it's to cut out those bad calories.
Exercise to the extent that you're sore the next day, but that you're not forcing your body to "over-do" (my mother's favorite word) it. If you get to carried away and hurt yourself, then who's going to take care of that sweet little person of yours?!
I don't know how this gym thing is going to go, but I'll be sure to keep you updated.
OK and just as a side note, I have to go to the gyno tomorrow (because APPARENTLY GIVING BIRTH ISN'T AN EXAM ENOUGH) and I'm hoping my four days will have paid off on the scale. I'll tell you all about it in a week or so, don't worry.
Kelly Mom website, lots of different help topics
Choose my plate.gov It's a government site, so it's legit
Baby Fit, I just really liked this site so maybe you will too
Most importantly, don't give up on breastfeeding. You are doing a terrific job.
Friday, May 30, 2014
Night out? Night in? Drinkin' again!
As I write this post, my little person is not home. I miss the kid, what with his biting my nipple, fussing, whining and absolutely adorable smile. But it's nice to be able to spend time alone with my husband (and share a bed with him). Usually on our nights out we go eat and have a drink or two (or four which is my personal limit).
Oh no! I'm ruining my milk! In the words of the Redneck Ninja, "No says I."
It's OK to drink and breastfeed.
I'm not saying to get smashed and give your baby some milk on tap (see what I did there?), but I am saying that if you have a night out and have one or even a few drinks, it's not going to ruin your milk. The alcohol content that goes into breast milk from just one beer or glass of wine is so small that even if you fed your baby immediately after, it would have no effect (Detailed information here).
Wait a minute. What about when you get a little toasty?
DON'T FREAK OUT. If you get kind of drunk, it's best not to feed your baby immediately, but once you feel sober, then it's safe to say your milk is sober (Really great article here). When my husband and I went out for his birthday and I celebrated (he stayed sober...happy birthday suga suga), I was in no shape to sit up and pump when we got home. In other words, sitting up straight wasn't really an option for me that night.
After I woke up COMPLETELY engorged (try to pump if you can just for physical comfort) and feeling like I had just undergone a cheap breast augmentation, I pumped a good 15 oz. I froze the milk (because alcohol doesn't freeze...the logic is uncanny, really) and later decided to throw it out JUST BECAUSE it looked more water than milky.
To pump and dump is wasting your milk, especially if you are sober. The truth is, the milk is not going to change just because you throw out the milk that was "in there" while you were drinking. The only reason to throw the milk out is because:
1) you're drunk and uncomfortable
2) it's more foremilk (watery) than hindmilk (fatty and more nutritious) <personal thought.
So go out, have fun and if you want to drink, sip it up!
Or not.
It's whatever.
If you are an alcoholic, you probably don't need to breastfeed. <personal thought, just throwing that out there.
None of the information above pertains to illicit or prescription drugs, so don't do those. Just say no.
Oh no! I'm ruining my milk! In the words of the Redneck Ninja, "No says I."
It's OK to drink and breastfeed.
I'm not saying to get smashed and give your baby some milk on tap (see what I did there?), but I am saying that if you have a night out and have one or even a few drinks, it's not going to ruin your milk. The alcohol content that goes into breast milk from just one beer or glass of wine is so small that even if you fed your baby immediately after, it would have no effect (Detailed information here).
Wait a minute. What about when you get a little toasty?
DON'T FREAK OUT. If you get kind of drunk, it's best not to feed your baby immediately, but once you feel sober, then it's safe to say your milk is sober (Really great article here). When my husband and I went out for his birthday and I celebrated (he stayed sober...happy birthday suga suga), I was in no shape to sit up and pump when we got home. In other words, sitting up straight wasn't really an option for me that night.
After I woke up COMPLETELY engorged (try to pump if you can just for physical comfort) and feeling like I had just undergone a cheap breast augmentation, I pumped a good 15 oz. I froze the milk (because alcohol doesn't freeze...the logic is uncanny, really) and later decided to throw it out JUST BECAUSE it looked more water than milky.
To pump and dump is wasting your milk, especially if you are sober. The truth is, the milk is not going to change just because you throw out the milk that was "in there" while you were drinking. The only reason to throw the milk out is because:
1) you're drunk and uncomfortable
2) it's more foremilk (watery) than hindmilk (fatty and more nutritious) <personal thought.
So go out, have fun and if you want to drink, sip it up!
Or not.
It's whatever.
If you are an alcoholic, you probably don't need to breastfeed. <personal thought, just throwing that out there.
None of the information above pertains to illicit or prescription drugs, so don't do those. Just say no.
Saturday, May 24, 2014
Employee by day...Nursing mother all the time
I have not posted in a couple weeks because I was busy.
I was busy GRADUATING COLLEGE!
So now I have a Bachelor's degree and that's cool. I also only have a part-time job to focus on.
Oh and a baby.
...and a husband.
But at least I'm out of school, which means I have one less thing to worry about.
Of course now that I'm working more hours, I haven't been home with my baby as much and haven't been able to feed him like I was. What's a mom to do?
Pump at work!
I thought this was going to be super awkward, but it wasn't. I work in a pharmacy so when we aren't busy, I just take my hand pump into the back and express. Both of my pharmacists (both women, never breastfed) are understanding about it. Though even if they weren't, I have a right by law to take time out of my day to pump. Period.
And so do you.
For those of you who are about to start back to work and think you may have to stop breastfeeding, you don't. By law your employer is required to give you time to pump (usually 15 minutes) or nurse. I'm not sure, so don't quote me, but I think the employer also has to provide a place to pump other than a restroom. Even if you don't have a "designated pumping area" at work, PLEASE refuse to express your milk where others express their bladders/bowels.
I know there is the possibility of being harassed by your boss for taking advantage of your rights, and if this is the case, go to HR. Go to corporate. Go to whoever you need to, but don't let yourself be bullied into stopping what you feel is best for your child. There are so many different breastfeeding support groups and organizations out there that will help you find the resources you need to combat breastfeeding harassment.
The La Leche League has groups all over the world (literally). There's also a ton of groups on Twitter to follow (just search for #breastfeeding) and Facebook groups to "like." The people associated with these groups are always more than willing to help, and they have in-depth knowledge of the rights you have as a nursing mother. Don't hesitate to get help. Don't hesitate to drain those boobies!
I was busy GRADUATING COLLEGE!
So now I have a Bachelor's degree and that's cool. I also only have a part-time job to focus on.
Oh and a baby.
...and a husband.
But at least I'm out of school, which means I have one less thing to worry about.
Of course now that I'm working more hours, I haven't been home with my baby as much and haven't been able to feed him like I was. What's a mom to do?
Pump at work!
I thought this was going to be super awkward, but it wasn't. I work in a pharmacy so when we aren't busy, I just take my hand pump into the back and express. Both of my pharmacists (both women, never breastfed) are understanding about it. Though even if they weren't, I have a right by law to take time out of my day to pump. Period.
And so do you.
For those of you who are about to start back to work and think you may have to stop breastfeeding, you don't. By law your employer is required to give you time to pump (usually 15 minutes) or nurse. I'm not sure, so don't quote me, but I think the employer also has to provide a place to pump other than a restroom. Even if you don't have a "designated pumping area" at work, PLEASE refuse to express your milk where others express their bladders/bowels.
I know there is the possibility of being harassed by your boss for taking advantage of your rights, and if this is the case, go to HR. Go to corporate. Go to whoever you need to, but don't let yourself be bullied into stopping what you feel is best for your child. There are so many different breastfeeding support groups and organizations out there that will help you find the resources you need to combat breastfeeding harassment.
The La Leche League has groups all over the world (literally). There's also a ton of groups on Twitter to follow (just search for #breastfeeding) and Facebook groups to "like." The people associated with these groups are always more than willing to help, and they have in-depth knowledge of the rights you have as a nursing mother. Don't hesitate to get help. Don't hesitate to drain those boobies!
Monday, April 28, 2014
But now
We had our first bad storm today since my son was born. I've never been scared of storms since they're a normal part of living in the South. But today, I shook. That sounds weird, but it's true. I was shaking. I've never been shook up because of a storm warning, but as I strapped my baby into his car seat to take him out back to the shelter, I was shaking.
When I got into the storm shelter, I was still shaking. I left him strapped in until he started to fuss and then I took him out. For the first time in eight years, I wasn't worried about my dog and I wasn't worried about myself. I was worried about my son.
Everyone tells you having a child changes your life. You knew that when you got pregnant, didn't you? You knew that you wouldn't be able to just up and go whenever you wanted. You knew those days of staying at the bar until 2 a.m. were over. You knew that what you wanted didn't matter (more on this). You knew that you were going to have more bills or at least more financial strain.
You knew all of these things.
But you didn't know these.
You didn't know that you were (eventually in my case) going to love this person more than you've ever loved anyone in your life. You didn't know that things that normally terrify you suddenly don't anymore because you have to be tough for your child. You didn't know that things that never scared you in the past horrify you because anything could happen at any time, and it your baby could be in the crossfire. You didn't realize the true meaning of, "I would take a bullet for you" until you looked into your baby's eyes.
I could keep going.
This is hard. So hard. It's hard how you can love a person so much that it physically hurts you to think about harm coming his/her way.
I had dreams one time. I wanted to be a journalist. I wanted to write for Rolling Stone. I wanted to have a career. I wanted to graduate college.
But now...now, I just want to see my baby smile when he wakes up. Now, I want to hold and kiss and cuddle my person as much as I can. Now, I want to look into his eyes as I nurse him. Now, I want him to sit up on his own.
I still want the things I did before I had a baby, kind of. I still want to graduate. I still want to be a journalist. But now, I want to write for a different audience. I want to write for mothers. Now, if I have a career, that's great, but if it takes a little longer than anticipated, that's OK.
When I got pregnant, I wanted to breastfeed for a year.
Then when I had my son and realized that it can be quite stressful, I decided I was only going to do it six months.
As colic hit, I decided I was only going to do it until my milk dried up.
But now.
Now, I want to nurse as long as he will let me. I love that time with him. I love when he looks into my eyes and smiles. I love when he takes his hand and rubs mine. I love going to sleep with him snuggled up next to me (because the crib thing only works part-time).
But now.
It seems like that's how all of my thoughts start these days. Having a baby changes you, we know that. But we didn't know just HOW MUCH.
But now, we do.
Breastfeeding is hard. Breastfeeding can be stressful. Breastfeeding is easy to give up on.
But don't.
Because next week or next month, or in the next three months, you'll be so happy you stuck with it. You'll love that sweet look your baby gives you. You'll love those little fingers rubbing across your hand. You'll love that money you're saving (had to throw it in there). You'll love that sweet look that your baby gives you. You'll love that your baby KNOWS YOU. You'll think back on these difficult times, and then you'll think,
but now.
When I got into the storm shelter, I was still shaking. I left him strapped in until he started to fuss and then I took him out. For the first time in eight years, I wasn't worried about my dog and I wasn't worried about myself. I was worried about my son.
Everyone tells you having a child changes your life. You knew that when you got pregnant, didn't you? You knew that you wouldn't be able to just up and go whenever you wanted. You knew those days of staying at the bar until 2 a.m. were over. You knew that what you wanted didn't matter (more on this). You knew that you were going to have more bills or at least more financial strain.
You knew all of these things.
But you didn't know these.
You didn't know that you were (eventually in my case) going to love this person more than you've ever loved anyone in your life. You didn't know that things that normally terrify you suddenly don't anymore because you have to be tough for your child. You didn't know that things that never scared you in the past horrify you because anything could happen at any time, and it your baby could be in the crossfire. You didn't realize the true meaning of, "I would take a bullet for you" until you looked into your baby's eyes.
I could keep going.
This is hard. So hard. It's hard how you can love a person so much that it physically hurts you to think about harm coming his/her way.
I had dreams one time. I wanted to be a journalist. I wanted to write for Rolling Stone. I wanted to have a career. I wanted to graduate college.
But now...now, I just want to see my baby smile when he wakes up. Now, I want to hold and kiss and cuddle my person as much as I can. Now, I want to look into his eyes as I nurse him. Now, I want him to sit up on his own.
I still want the things I did before I had a baby, kind of. I still want to graduate. I still want to be a journalist. But now, I want to write for a different audience. I want to write for mothers. Now, if I have a career, that's great, but if it takes a little longer than anticipated, that's OK.
When I got pregnant, I wanted to breastfeed for a year.
Then when I had my son and realized that it can be quite stressful, I decided I was only going to do it six months.
As colic hit, I decided I was only going to do it until my milk dried up.
But now.
Now, I want to nurse as long as he will let me. I love that time with him. I love when he looks into my eyes and smiles. I love when he takes his hand and rubs mine. I love going to sleep with him snuggled up next to me (because the crib thing only works part-time).
But now.
It seems like that's how all of my thoughts start these days. Having a baby changes you, we know that. But we didn't know just HOW MUCH.
But now, we do.
Breastfeeding is hard. Breastfeeding can be stressful. Breastfeeding is easy to give up on.
But don't.
Because next week or next month, or in the next three months, you'll be so happy you stuck with it. You'll love that sweet look your baby gives you. You'll love those little fingers rubbing across your hand. You'll love that money you're saving (had to throw it in there). You'll love that sweet look that your baby gives you. You'll love that your baby KNOWS YOU. You'll think back on these difficult times, and then you'll think,
but now.
Tuesday, April 15, 2014
The two types of mothers
I have come to the conclusion that there are two types of mothers:
1) The kind who wonders when it's OK to give their child Benedryl
2) The kind who lies when she says she doesn't think about giving her child Benedryl.
This thing called parenthood is hard. It's even harder when the child (like mine) thinks sleep is for the weak.
You hear people tell you, "Sleep when your baby sleeps" as if that's going to solve all your problems. If you're like me, our invisible maid is really slacking on her job. The dishes are still in the sink, the laundry is still dirty, the house is still a mess and dinner is still frozen.
Then if you're really like me, your school work has taken a big step to the back burner. This adventure to the back burner wouldn't be such a big deal if it wasn't my LAST SEMESTER.
With all that being said, it's no surprise I am the type 1 mother. I'll admit, shamefully, that I get upset with my son at night when he doesn't want to sleep. It makes me mad. I just want to get warm and get some sleep. Why doesn't he understand?!
Because he's five-months old, that's why. He doesn't do it to hurt me, in fact I think that's the last thing he wants. I feel like he loves me so much that he just wants to be with me (even if this is only to make me feel somewhat better). It's these times that I regret breastfeeding.
If I had never breastfed, he would never be so attached to me. He would be more independent. He wouldn't want me so much.
But then those are exactly the reasons I love breastfeeding. I love that he knows me. I love that he wants me. I love that HE LOVES ME.
I don't think the lack of sleep has anything to do with me breastfeeding. Even when he's in the bed with my husband and I, he still wakes up. Sure, I could give him supplements and make him sleep longer, but I enjoy giving him strictly breast milk.
I enjoy the closeness we have together. It's not that I get angry at night because I have to get up. I get angry at night because I have to get up every hour (so it feels).
I don't know what the point of this post is, other than that parenthood is hard. As if we didn't know, right?
Maybe this is just my way of asking you guys to try not to be so harsh on other parents. The things we criticize each other for are things that we've all probably at least considered in our lives.
We've all thought about Benedryl. We've all thought about formula. We've all thought about early weaning. We've all wondered just how much it would screw our child up if we just let them cry because we can't take it anymore. All of these things and more.
So. Stop being so judgmental. Stop being so mean. You're not the baby guru, and if you are, it's because you don't have a baby.
To all my breastfeeding ladies: Don't give up.
1) The kind who wonders when it's OK to give their child Benedryl
2) The kind who lies when she says she doesn't think about giving her child Benedryl.
This thing called parenthood is hard. It's even harder when the child (like mine) thinks sleep is for the weak.
You hear people tell you, "Sleep when your baby sleeps" as if that's going to solve all your problems. If you're like me, our invisible maid is really slacking on her job. The dishes are still in the sink, the laundry is still dirty, the house is still a mess and dinner is still frozen.
Then if you're really like me, your school work has taken a big step to the back burner. This adventure to the back burner wouldn't be such a big deal if it wasn't my LAST SEMESTER.
With all that being said, it's no surprise I am the type 1 mother. I'll admit, shamefully, that I get upset with my son at night when he doesn't want to sleep. It makes me mad. I just want to get warm and get some sleep. Why doesn't he understand?!
Because he's five-months old, that's why. He doesn't do it to hurt me, in fact I think that's the last thing he wants. I feel like he loves me so much that he just wants to be with me (even if this is only to make me feel somewhat better). It's these times that I regret breastfeeding.
If I had never breastfed, he would never be so attached to me. He would be more independent. He wouldn't want me so much.
But then those are exactly the reasons I love breastfeeding. I love that he knows me. I love that he wants me. I love that HE LOVES ME.
I don't think the lack of sleep has anything to do with me breastfeeding. Even when he's in the bed with my husband and I, he still wakes up. Sure, I could give him supplements and make him sleep longer, but I enjoy giving him strictly breast milk.
I enjoy the closeness we have together. It's not that I get angry at night because I have to get up. I get angry at night because I have to get up every hour (so it feels).
I don't know what the point of this post is, other than that parenthood is hard. As if we didn't know, right?
Maybe this is just my way of asking you guys to try not to be so harsh on other parents. The things we criticize each other for are things that we've all probably at least considered in our lives.
We've all thought about Benedryl. We've all thought about formula. We've all thought about early weaning. We've all wondered just how much it would screw our child up if we just let them cry because we can't take it anymore. All of these things and more.
So. Stop being so judgmental. Stop being so mean. You're not the baby guru, and if you are, it's because you don't have a baby.
To all my breastfeeding ladies: Don't give up.
Tuesday, April 8, 2014
Sleep it off
I haven't posted in a few weeks because we have been in the middle of moving. We stayed at my daddy's house for about three weeks and during that time, we let C sleep with us. Doesn't sound like a big deal, right? Well it is.
My husband and I decided that we wanted our bed back, but that was kind of hard since we were sharing it with both C and our dog, Apollo. There was no more snuggling for Mommy and Daddy.
Don't get me wrong, I loved snuggling next to my Sweet C. Plus, feeding was SO much easier. All I had to do was flop my boob out, turn over, and C ate while I slept. It was a magical thing. Really.
We tried putting him in his crib, but that didn't work. It didn't matter if C was asleep when we put him in there, the second he felt himself on the mattress, he woke up. So when we went for his four-month check-up, I asked the doctor what we could do, and if co-sleeping was as bad as I had heard.
The doctor told us that the majority of babies he had seen from SIDS were co-sleepers. So that scared me to death. He told us to do the "cry it out" method where we would check on C every 10 minutes until he realized that we were still there with him. It was hard. It took a few nights, but eventually C got it. He now sleeps in his crib (yayyy!!!).
As grateful as I am that we have returned to normalcy, I am still unsatisfied. C still wakes up anywhere from two to four hours to eat. This means that rather than pop a boob in his mouth, I have to physically get out of bed, put my feet on the cold tile, and walk into his room. Then I have to get him out of his crib, walk over to the rocking chair, and feed him. When he's done eating, I have to get back up, walk to his bed, put him in the bed, and walk back to my bedroom. THEN I have to fight not only my dog, but my husband as well, to get the covers back and get into a comfortable position to go back to sleep, only to get back up and do it all over again in a matter of short hours.
It's a workout.
Before we all judge the ped, he did tell me that based on C's growth, I should EXCLUSIVELY BREASTFEED for at least two more months.
This was a relief to me since I had been hearing from different people that C may need to go on cereal, formula, or even solids. I'm not ready for that. I enjoy our feeding time, even when I'm a zombie.
During this moving thing, my supply had dipped in a bad way. Stress combined with Dr. Pepper and coffee, combined with everything else going on in my life, my body just had too much going on. I started taking Fenugreek, two capsules, three times a day, and upped my water intake. It helped. I realized I had quit taking my prenatals too, so when I started that back, it really helped.
Now my supply is back to where it needs to be.
SO. My point of this post is the same as all the other posts: Don't give up.
Life has a way of throwing everything at you at once, and that can affect you mentally and physically. But breastfeeding is one thing that you're doing right for yourself and your baby, so while you may be giving up on other things, don't let this be one of them. It's hard, I know, but you can do it.
I'm not going to tell you to get rest and drink water, because sometimes you can't rest and you just want a damn Dr. Pepper. But I will tell you to keep feeding, keep pumping, and keep reminding yourself that you're doing the right thing.
Another word of advice: If your ped is not supporting you in breastfeeding, FIND ANOTHER ONE. If C's doctor hadn't been so supportive, it would have been much easier for me to quit. As mothers we trust our children's doctors, so it's imperative that they support us.
Conclusion: Don't give up. Drink the soda. Enjoy the milky way life.
My husband and I decided that we wanted our bed back, but that was kind of hard since we were sharing it with both C and our dog, Apollo. There was no more snuggling for Mommy and Daddy.
Don't get me wrong, I loved snuggling next to my Sweet C. Plus, feeding was SO much easier. All I had to do was flop my boob out, turn over, and C ate while I slept. It was a magical thing. Really.
We tried putting him in his crib, but that didn't work. It didn't matter if C was asleep when we put him in there, the second he felt himself on the mattress, he woke up. So when we went for his four-month check-up, I asked the doctor what we could do, and if co-sleeping was as bad as I had heard.
The doctor told us that the majority of babies he had seen from SIDS were co-sleepers. So that scared me to death. He told us to do the "cry it out" method where we would check on C every 10 minutes until he realized that we were still there with him. It was hard. It took a few nights, but eventually C got it. He now sleeps in his crib (yayyy!!!).
As grateful as I am that we have returned to normalcy, I am still unsatisfied. C still wakes up anywhere from two to four hours to eat. This means that rather than pop a boob in his mouth, I have to physically get out of bed, put my feet on the cold tile, and walk into his room. Then I have to get him out of his crib, walk over to the rocking chair, and feed him. When he's done eating, I have to get back up, walk to his bed, put him in the bed, and walk back to my bedroom. THEN I have to fight not only my dog, but my husband as well, to get the covers back and get into a comfortable position to go back to sleep, only to get back up and do it all over again in a matter of short hours.
It's a workout.
Before we all judge the ped, he did tell me that based on C's growth, I should EXCLUSIVELY BREASTFEED for at least two more months.
This was a relief to me since I had been hearing from different people that C may need to go on cereal, formula, or even solids. I'm not ready for that. I enjoy our feeding time, even when I'm a zombie.
During this moving thing, my supply had dipped in a bad way. Stress combined with Dr. Pepper and coffee, combined with everything else going on in my life, my body just had too much going on. I started taking Fenugreek, two capsules, three times a day, and upped my water intake. It helped. I realized I had quit taking my prenatals too, so when I started that back, it really helped.
Now my supply is back to where it needs to be.
SO. My point of this post is the same as all the other posts: Don't give up.
Life has a way of throwing everything at you at once, and that can affect you mentally and physically. But breastfeeding is one thing that you're doing right for yourself and your baby, so while you may be giving up on other things, don't let this be one of them. It's hard, I know, but you can do it.
I'm not going to tell you to get rest and drink water, because sometimes you can't rest and you just want a damn Dr. Pepper. But I will tell you to keep feeding, keep pumping, and keep reminding yourself that you're doing the right thing.
Another word of advice: If your ped is not supporting you in breastfeeding, FIND ANOTHER ONE. If C's doctor hadn't been so supportive, it would have been much easier for me to quit. As mothers we trust our children's doctors, so it's imperative that they support us.
Conclusion: Don't give up. Drink the soda. Enjoy the milky way life.
Tuesday, March 18, 2014
It SUCKS.
He sucks, she sucks, they suck.
My son has decided that he no longer wants to take a paci, rather he wants to use me. So there we are, for what seems like all day, with him sucking the life out of me. Seriously.
He can be in a great mood, but when he gets sleepy he wants to nurse until he goes to sleep even, if he's not hungry. This poses a problem with his reflux because he's overeating, which makes his stomach hurt, which makes him want to suck more.
I know he does it for comfort, and I love that I'm able to provide that for him like no one else. But I have things to do. I have a house that needs to be cleaned, dishes that need to be washed, laundry that needs to be done, and homework that needs to be turned in. Not only am I a mother, I'm a wife and a full-time student too. As if all of this isn't hard enough to do, now he wants to stay on me constantly as his pacifier.
There's nothing I enjoy more than our feeding times. The way his big eyes stare into mine and his soft little hands rub my chest, it makes my heart melt. But I can't keep being a paci.
I don't know how to get him back to a paci. I'm trying to hold one in his mouth until he takes it, and that works sometimes, but then sometimes he screams. He screams like someone is murdering him. Which they aren't. I am just murdering his feelings by not popping a boob in his mouth.
Anyway.
I can see this is going to be a war. Not a battle, but a war. This is going to be a long, tiring, ear-bleeding war.
I will update.
And as always, DON'T GIVE UP BREASTFEEDING! Even though I am venting about a giant annoyance brought on by breastfeeding, there is no way I would stop or take back the time we have.
So even if you are having super issues, don't freak out and don't give up. Stay milky, my ladies.
My son has decided that he no longer wants to take a paci, rather he wants to use me. So there we are, for what seems like all day, with him sucking the life out of me. Seriously.
He can be in a great mood, but when he gets sleepy he wants to nurse until he goes to sleep even, if he's not hungry. This poses a problem with his reflux because he's overeating, which makes his stomach hurt, which makes him want to suck more.
I know he does it for comfort, and I love that I'm able to provide that for him like no one else. But I have things to do. I have a house that needs to be cleaned, dishes that need to be washed, laundry that needs to be done, and homework that needs to be turned in. Not only am I a mother, I'm a wife and a full-time student too. As if all of this isn't hard enough to do, now he wants to stay on me constantly as his pacifier.
There's nothing I enjoy more than our feeding times. The way his big eyes stare into mine and his soft little hands rub my chest, it makes my heart melt. But I can't keep being a paci.
I don't know how to get him back to a paci. I'm trying to hold one in his mouth until he takes it, and that works sometimes, but then sometimes he screams. He screams like someone is murdering him. Which they aren't. I am just murdering his feelings by not popping a boob in his mouth.
Anyway.
I can see this is going to be a war. Not a battle, but a war. This is going to be a long, tiring, ear-bleeding war.
I will update.
And as always, DON'T GIVE UP BREASTFEEDING! Even though I am venting about a giant annoyance brought on by breastfeeding, there is no way I would stop or take back the time we have.
So even if you are having super issues, don't freak out and don't give up. Stay milky, my ladies.
Tuesday, March 11, 2014
Supply and demand
OK ladies, we've all worried about our supply at some point or another. Whether it's "I'm making so much, I can't leave my baby/pump" or "I'm not making enough to feed my baby."
So what do you do?
At first, I was making milk FOR DAYS. I'm talking about pumping five ounces from each breast AND feeding my son. I didn't realize how lucky I was then, and I certainly didn't take advantage of it.
Now there are times when I'm barely making enough to pump a bottle.
It's hard. I have taken Fenugreek (sp?) vitamins and they really helped me, but once my supply was built back up, I stopped taking them. The hardest thing for me is that since my son thinks that sleep is for the weak, I take in a lot of caffeine. I'm also ridiculously addicted to chocolate.
The lot of caffeine and little water makes for a bad combination when breastfeeding. But how do I stay awake otherwise? I know, it's a million-dollar question.
Even though I haven't been on top of my A-game when it comes to amount produced, I have been mindful of everything I do or don't do. If I am completely sleep deprived and know I'm going to need a lot of coffee, I try to make sure that, even when I don't want to, I down a lot of water. As you know, this can be hard.
Something I've found useful is flavored water, especially flavored sparkling water. It tastes almost like a soda, but it's since it's water, I'm getting a good taste and better milk production. Another thing I like is the add-in flavors. I prefer the liquid kind that can be squeezed into water more than the powder stuff. It gives the water flavor, which helps to down it faster and drink more.
These are just a couple of things that have helped me, so please feel free to share what's helped you!
As always, don't give up. Breastfeeding is demanding and can be a pain in the ass, but it's SO worth it.
So what do you do?
At first, I was making milk FOR DAYS. I'm talking about pumping five ounces from each breast AND feeding my son. I didn't realize how lucky I was then, and I certainly didn't take advantage of it.
Now there are times when I'm barely making enough to pump a bottle.
It's hard. I have taken Fenugreek (sp?) vitamins and they really helped me, but once my supply was built back up, I stopped taking them. The hardest thing for me is that since my son thinks that sleep is for the weak, I take in a lot of caffeine. I'm also ridiculously addicted to chocolate.
The lot of caffeine and little water makes for a bad combination when breastfeeding. But how do I stay awake otherwise? I know, it's a million-dollar question.
Even though I haven't been on top of my A-game when it comes to amount produced, I have been mindful of everything I do or don't do. If I am completely sleep deprived and know I'm going to need a lot of coffee, I try to make sure that, even when I don't want to, I down a lot of water. As you know, this can be hard.
Something I've found useful is flavored water, especially flavored sparkling water. It tastes almost like a soda, but it's since it's water, I'm getting a good taste and better milk production. Another thing I like is the add-in flavors. I prefer the liquid kind that can be squeezed into water more than the powder stuff. It gives the water flavor, which helps to down it faster and drink more.
These are just a couple of things that have helped me, so please feel free to share what's helped you!
As always, don't give up. Breastfeeding is demanding and can be a pain in the ass, but it's SO worth it.
Tuesday, March 4, 2014
Don't give up
It started on November 15, 2013:
I had just given birth and the nurses said I should go ahead and try to feed my new baby.
He was still pretty groggy from the drugs I had to induce labor and treat pain. He wouldn't latch on. What was I going to do? How was my child going to eat? I didn't want to give him formula, I wanted him to eat from me.
I laid in postpartum and they brought him in to me to eat again. I was still having trouble feeding him. When he would latch on, everything was great, it was just getting him to that point that was hard. The nurses would comment about what a good latch he had and how he was going to be good at breastfeeding. But in my mind, I didn't understand how--I couldn't even get him to latch without trouble. That night, I still wasn't able to get him to latch by myself, and this sent me into freak out mode.
I sat in bed and cried. I didn't know how I was going to feed him, and the nurse mentioned something about me using a shield and putting formula on it to make him latch. I didn't want him to latch because he wanted formula, I wanted him to latch because he wanted me.
By the time we got home, he was latching better. I never used the shield and I never used formula. My point of this post is that if you're having trouble feeding, don't give up!
Breastfeeding is hard to start, and it's even a little bit annoying at first, but it's so worth it. The bond I have with my son, the way his eyes follow me, it's amazing.
One of my favorite parts of our feedings is when he holds my hand, or he looks up at me with his big eyes. Breastfeeding gives us a snippet of time together that's just us. I'm the only one he wants, and that's a good feeling. This time is our time.
If you're having trouble, don't be afraid to ask for help, and most importantly, just keep trying.
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