Go with your gut

There are so many parenting books out there it’s amazing any of us survived when we were kids. I have to admit I fell prey to a lot of them when I was pregnant. Now that I’m not, I have no time whatsoever to read them and I’m ok with that. Why? Because being a mom is innate. When a dog has puppies, she doesn’t go and read a book on how to care for them, so why do I need one. I’m sick of the competition going around about whose method is best or whose kid is better at sleeping through the night. I mean who cares. Honestly, I will be sad when my son starts sleeping 12 hours straight because I won’t get to cuddle with him every 4 -6 hours. And I’m ok nursing my son to sleep even though all the stupid books and articles that bombard my email box say don’t do it. And that’s because my gut says its ok. My gut says its ok for my son to snuggle in bed with me 4 am too. I love sleeping next to my husband so why wouldn’t my baby want to sleep next to me. So go with your gut. The end.

Twinkie Diet

The first week I was back at work I was getting what I thought was a ton of milk.  I was so happy.  Then the strangest thing happened, my son started to actually take a bottle and drinking all his milk.  So that nice 9 ounces of milk I would tote home with me at the end of the day was not enough.  Turns out he wants 12-14 ounces a day.  Yikes.

At first I started to pump more often, which only helped a little.  I was starting to stress and was becoming exhausted trying to keep up which I know did not help the situation so I had to take drastic measures.  I added Twinkies to my diet.  Yes Twinkies.  And wouldn’t you know, that did the trick .  Ok I think the real culprit was the fact that I was working so hard and I was not eating enough calories to keep up with his demand.  In addition to my Twinkie diet, I also starting taking Fenugreek.  However, this did not work out as well as the Twinkies.  I started producing too much milk again and now his poop was turning green from too much foremilk.  Then he sporadically started breaking out in hives which after doing some research, can be caused by the Fenugreek.  Low and behold, once I cut back on the dosage, his hives stopped.  Weird huh .  THEN I started spotting ever so lightly.  Upon even further research, I found that Fenugreek can cause your menstrual cycle to start.  WTF.  I do not want that.  So needless to say, Fenugreek, although it did increase my supply, was not my solution.  In the end, the Twinkies won.  Yeah!!

Side note, I have since given up the Twinkies but have added in other good high fat foods which also seem to be working.  I just really wanted Twinkies that week and it was a great excuse to eat them .  ANd my spotting stopped and no period.  Whew.

Pumping at Work

I’m going to go ahead and say I am proud of myself.  4 months in, 5 weeks back at work and I am still exclusively providing my son with breast milk.  I know that I am very lucky to be able to do this.  My goal was one year so I am hoping to get that far as it is a tedious task.  Worth it but tedious.

I know that I am even more fortunate to have a private office, with blinds installed over every window for privacy.  I ran into a woman in the bathroom who was washing out pump parts.  I striked up a conversation and found out that she has to pump in the bathroom.  YUCK!  How uncomfortable and gross.  I felt so bad.  I really want to share my office but I can’t.  So, I did the next best thing and contacted management and insisted they at least put a chair in the big stall for the woman.  I mean, she either has to sit on the floor or on the toilet seat.  That is not ok. 

3 ounces down, 11 to go.  I swear my whole days revolves around getting my 14 ounces of pumped milk.  Everything else is one big blur.

4 months

Well my little guy is now 4 months old as of last Sunday.  Holy cow.  This morning I pleaded with him to stop growing but he just stared at me like I was crazy.  Oh well, there’s always tomorrow.

It is amazing how fast time is going now.  When I was pregnant, it could not go fast enough.  It seemed like my pregnancy dragged on FOREVER!!!  Now that I have this wonderful little creature in my arms, he’s slowly becoming his own little person and will no longer need his mommy to wipe away the crocodile tears that formed at 3am because mommy took too long to change his diaper and doesn’t she know he is STARVING.

I am blessed with such a good baby.  I love him more and more everyday if that is even possible.

The Joy of Pumping

First, let me start off by saying I feel like a cow.  Not because I still have a few pounds to lose or because now I am sporting a pooch or because I am eating like one but because I sit at work multiple times a day with pump equipment attached to my udders, I mean teats, I mean breasts. 

Second, they should make a book much like the Joy of Cooking but about pumping.  It should contain stories of what women have gone though while pumping.  I have a feeling it would be a pretty funny book.  Maybe this book already exists  but I don’t have time to find out or read it if it does.  But in my head I am imagining stories of women getting walked in on by a co-worker, or milk shooting out and hitting their spouse in the face or landing all over their freshly dry cleaned suit, or crying because half and ounce dripped out of their nipples and they were unable to catch it in a container before it hit the floor.  Or yelling at their daycare provider because they “accidentally” spilt a bottle containing 2 oz’s of breast milk.  “2 ounces, do you know how long it took to get 2 ounces!!!!” You know, stories like that.    

Ironically, the one who took 47 months to bring home a baby and couldn’t even get pregnant naturally, produces a lot of milk.  Per kellymom, I’m off the charts for how much I can pump.  Whoohoo!!  I’m sure if I had gotten pregnant naturally and then couldn’t produce milk, I would be sad and defeated so either way you can’t win. Whatever.

FYI I’m pumping as I write this sitting at my desk in my pink hands free bra.  Yeah for technology!

Precious Time

Now that I am back to work, I have come to the horrible realization that I don’t get very much time with my son during the week. I hurry in the morning to get ready and then nurse him. Sometimes he is asleep and it breaks my heart to leave him without saying goodbye but I know his sleep is important. Sometimes I nurse him very quickly and then hand him off to my mom like a footbal pass in the last few seconds of the superbowl.

Then when I get home, he wants to nurse his little heart out. We are pretty sure he is reverse-cycling which means he is eating just enough to get by while I am gone and then nursing non-stop once he sees me. In between his small breaks, he sleeps. I miss starring into his little blue eyes all day long. I miss watching him wake up from naps only to focus in on my face and give me the biggest smile in the world. I miss him.

I think I miss him even more because the realization that this may be my only child is really starting to settle in. My husband and I had always wanted 3 kids. But with the amount of money we spent and the 47 months it took just to bring home one child, we are pretty certain he will be our one and only. I want to make them most of of every moment I have with him and I feel like going back to work is killing that dream.

52 Weeks

For 52 weeks, 40 gestational and 12 actual, I have held and comforted my son.  We have been inseparable.  Literally, since I wear him in a Sleepy Wrap or an Ergo almost all day.  He has only known me for food.  He has only known me for comfort.  He has only known me for deep sleep.  And now, with the deposit of one final disability check, his reality is ripped apart.  We no longer get to spend 24/7 together.  He is forced to take his milk from a foreign contraption and root on the shoulder of a loving grandmother who can do nothing in that department to soothe his basic instinct of comfort.   This is a lot to take in right now. 

I tried to leave him for an hour here or there to help build his confidence that I would be back but in the end, I didn’t want to leave him until I absolutely had to.  I’m not sure if I made the transition worse for him or if it would have been bad no matter what.  All I know is, leaving him in the care of someone else, even if it is my mom, sucks.  I want to go home and get him right now.

In California, pregnant women get 6 weeks for a vaginal delivery and 8 weeks for a c-section.  That is not enough time at all.  I was fortunate enough that I got 12 weeks.  I technically get an additional 12 weeks of unpaid leave but when you factor in that I don’t get paid nor do I get disability and would have to pay 100% of my medical premiums during that 12 weeks, well, financially, that is not an option.  I know I have better options than most but why America is not more sorted out on child rearing and it’s importance is still a mystery to me.  It makes me want to run out and demand more rights on the steps in Sacramento but that would take away precious moments I get with my son and I’m not willing to give that up yet. 

Someday.

Back to work

Well my 12 weeks is up and I am back to work. Side note/a topic for later, 12 weeks is not enough time. California benefits suck.

My first day back was perfect. It could not have gone smoother. I realize now it’s because I did a half day and there was no pressure for either of us. My first full day back was a different story. My mom called me because my little buddy was screaming at the top of his lungs and wouldn’t take a bottle. My dad called me back 20 minutes later because little buddy was still screaming. My baby had never cried before that. He is a genuinely happy baby, in my arms and on my boob only as it turned out. Day three went better but he still cried throughout the day and that breaks my heart.

So for the second night in a row, operating on fumes, I sit with my baby permanently attached to my boob. I know this phase will pass and that he will be fine but I feel horrible.

Ps pumping every two hours at work is a laborious chore. Worth it but hard.

Two months

Austin is now 2 months old. Well he was a week ago. I go back to work in two weeks so updates will be coming more regularly. Honestly, every moment I’ve had i just want to spend with him. He’s only this small once and considering he has almost doubled his weight, time is flying by. It’s interesting how this past 4 years of IF seemed to take forever, my stressful pregnancy seemed to drag on but the first 10 weeks of my guys life has flown by. Well I’m off to watch my sleeping angel.

Shots

We survived three shots and an oral liquid. Whew!

As i lay in bed last night, I rolled over and said “honey, why is the one who passes out and can’t watch people get shots on tv taking our son to get his first shots”, no comment. Although I hate shots, I reminded myself that over the last four years I have endured so many shots, including countless that I have given myself, that I would be fine.

And I was. And after a shriek and a sound that sounded like “maw maw”, and a boob, so was he. I just held my little guys hands and kissed his head. And reminded him that I was up here and the pain was coming from down there. I didn’t want him to think i was causing him pain .

So here i lay with this sweet angel in my arms trying hard to not touch his legs. I’m real queazy about injection sites for myself so I assume he is too. Poor thing.