Once again, I have dropped off the face of the Internet. This time it's not because of illness (Everyone in the house is healthy but let's just keep that between us. If the universe hears about this we will probably all come down with the black plague.) and it's not due to a lack of potential topics. I've contemplated several blog posts...I just haven't written any.
This might clue you into why.
Here's a snapshot of my typical weekday*:
Get up at the ungodly hour of 5 a.m.
Drink coffee in the shower (Yes, I'm serious. How else do people function at 5 a.m.?!?)
Eat breakfast
Nurse the baby
Help get the baby ready to go to the Childcare Center
Work Pump Work Pump Work
Rush to pick up the baby the minute I'm done working, usually forgetting to eat lunch
Play with the baby
Sneak in some chores
Eat dinner
Put the baby to bed
Talk about the baby
Sleep (this starts embarrassingly early because 5 a.m. you guys!)
Nurse the baby
Sleep some more
Repeat
*Two days a week R watches him at home while I work. On those days I eat lunch and pump less. I don't want anyone to accuse me of misrepresenting.
In order to fully appreciate this schedule, I should note that I work between 6 a.m.(ish) and approximately 1:30 p.m.. The baby is at the Childcare Center from 7:30 until I pick him up. He could stay there until 5.
What does this mean? It means that I could eat lunch. I could have some alone time. I could write a blog post. I could run errands or clean my house while my child is safe and happy and being doted over by a group of women we know, trust, and are educated in early childhood development. Also, his dad goes and visits him at least once a day, and sometimes more often. PLUS,we already pay for that whole time period anyway.
But I don't do any of that. If I have to run errands, I usually do it with the Little Guy in tow. Why? Because I am completely addicted to my baby. I cannot get enough of this kid. He changes so fast and I don't want to miss it.
Is there some sort of 12 step program I should be looking into?
Showing posts with label parenting; newborn. Show all posts
Showing posts with label parenting; newborn. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 4, 2013
Thursday, November 14, 2013
A Movin' and A Shakin' and A Coughin' and A Wheezin'
I just read my last post. Mmmhmrph. Hrmph. Ha. Ha hahahahaha! BWAHAHAHhahahahah!
Past self, you so silly.
Since that post SO much has happened. Let's recap, shall we?
I caught the baby's cold and it was horrible.* I shudder to think how he felt because I was all achy throat and throbbing head and painful joints. And snot. LOTS of snot.
*But wait, you ask, didn't you say you'd already gotten a cold this season? Twice in fact? I did. Fuck you very much for asking. Moving on.
Lo and behold, it got worse. The baby did, in fact, NOT have a cold. He had croup. My poor sick baby.
And then R caught it and we spent a miserable day on the couch. Except for the baby, who ironically was super chill and happy because we finally figured out how to get him to sleep. So he's been taking regular naps, and extra naps, and sleeping for hours at a time.** One baby-related challenge met (for now).
**Except the night the pediatrician had us give him prednisone, which has the unfortunate side effects of increased hunger and trouble sleeping. That was a super awesome night.
The Little Guy continues to be a snotty mess, is sometimes a bit clingy, but is mostly a smiley drool covered mess.
Oh, and by the by, his first tooth broke through today. And the second one is a white line under the skin and will probably be through by tomorrow. So lah dee dah. My baby is gearing up for feats of carnivorism. Or, if I'm very unlucky, cannibalism.
Finally, he learned to roll over about a week and a half ago. He is now practicing to be the world's youngest paratrooper, ready to roll off any shoulder or lap at a moments notice. Trust me, I'm seriously considering getting him a tiny parachute. He also super enjoys his new found ability to say "screw you" to tummy time. Which is ironic, since he loves tummy time now that he has mastered his head. But roll him over and there's a 50/50 chance he just keeps on rolling. The rest of the time he attempts to claw forward, ineffectively kicking and squirming, because taking a moment to bask in ones ability to keep ones head at a level 90 degrees off the floor is for slackers.
Past self, you so silly.
Since that post SO much has happened. Let's recap, shall we?
I caught the baby's cold and it was horrible.* I shudder to think how he felt because I was all achy throat and throbbing head and painful joints. And snot. LOTS of snot.
*But wait, you ask, didn't you say you'd already gotten a cold this season? Twice in fact? I did. Fuck you very much for asking. Moving on.
Lo and behold, it got worse. The baby did, in fact, NOT have a cold. He had croup. My poor sick baby.
And then R caught it and we spent a miserable day on the couch. Except for the baby, who ironically was super chill and happy because we finally figured out how to get him to sleep. So he's been taking regular naps, and extra naps, and sleeping for hours at a time.** One baby-related challenge met (for now).
**Except the night the pediatrician had us give him prednisone, which has the unfortunate side effects of increased hunger and trouble sleeping. That was a super awesome night.
The Little Guy continues to be a snotty mess, is sometimes a bit clingy, but is mostly a smiley drool covered mess.
Oh, and by the by, his first tooth broke through today. And the second one is a white line under the skin and will probably be through by tomorrow. So lah dee dah. My baby is gearing up for feats of carnivorism. Or, if I'm very unlucky, cannibalism.
Finally, he learned to roll over about a week and a half ago. He is now practicing to be the world's youngest paratrooper, ready to roll off any shoulder or lap at a moments notice. Trust me, I'm seriously considering getting him a tiny parachute. He also super enjoys his new found ability to say "screw you" to tummy time. Which is ironic, since he loves tummy time now that he has mastered his head. But roll him over and there's a 50/50 chance he just keeps on rolling. The rest of the time he attempts to claw forward, ineffectively kicking and squirming, because taking a moment to bask in ones ability to keep ones head at a level 90 degrees off the floor is for slackers.
Thursday, November 7, 2013
Call this whatever you want
I realize that I haven't been posting as often. **stares blankly into the distance for unknown length of time**
You see, how do I say this...I haven't been sleeping. **more serious staring** **notes it's raining outside**
Maybe I mentioned this already? Uh, I'm not sure. I can't seem to remember. I can't remember because, and I want you to pay special attention to this next part, I have NOT been sleeping lately.
The Little Guy got a cold. I don't remember how long ago. A long time. Maybe back when there were dinosaurs. I vaguely remember that he used to sleep. But the f*#$ing cold moved into his sinuses and took up residence. Otherwise he's fine except for one minor detail: he can't breath through his nose.
Funny to think that you have to learn to breath through your mouth. Before having a baby I always assumed you had to learn to breath through your nose. That was based solely on the high number of mouth breathers I've encountered through the years and not on actual facts/thoughts/something else probably but I don't remember.
Anyway, the baby can't sleep lying down. For over a week now. We have to let him sleep in his little rumble seat thingy, which I'm sure it expressly says not to do, but f-you instructions we have to sleep sometime. It has a harness. We buckle him in. It's fine.
I mean, yeah, it's a huge parenting failure because our baby will probably never want to sleep in his crib or pack and play ever, ever again, but you know, it's fine. It's the only way I can get more than 45 minutes of sleep in a row, so it's fine.
He's been spending a lot of time in the steamy bathroom. Also we have a humidifier going all the time, and if you leave the room it's running in and walk back in you feel like there might be dinosaurs lurking in the mist under tables and behind the piles of laundry.
So, we had gotten used to the no sleep. Well, we had succumbed to a kind of numb stupor of acceptance anyway. BUT THEN, haha, this next bit is funny, he started teething. Oh yes. Funny isn't it!?! He's all of 4 freaking months old and now my nipple is a chew toy and he's running a mild fever and he's not happy right around dark-thirty. We used to call that bedtime, but that's a misnomer these days. Gotta move with the times, my man. Or woman. Or whoever.
....wait...what were we talking about? Oh yeah, the fuckfestival that's happening to my poor baby's head.
And let me tell you, during the day he's still mostly happy, plus he's super adorable and I love him to death. But at night it's dark and he's just this grasping, pinching, biting, screaming black hole of hunger that occasionally coos or babbles in his sleep - just often enough to remind us of his cuteness so we don't abandon him to his crappy attitude, swollen gums, and snuffles.
So, you see, there was a reason I stopped posting for a while. Let's hope everything returns to "normal" soon. By normal I mean some sort of daily rhythm that involves sleeping for several hours at a time. Please let it be soon.
You see, how do I say this...I haven't been sleeping. **more serious staring** **notes it's raining outside**
Maybe I mentioned this already? Uh, I'm not sure. I can't seem to remember. I can't remember because, and I want you to pay special attention to this next part, I have NOT been sleeping lately.
The Little Guy got a cold. I don't remember how long ago. A long time. Maybe back when there were dinosaurs. I vaguely remember that he used to sleep. But the f*#$ing cold moved into his sinuses and took up residence. Otherwise he's fine except for one minor detail: he can't breath through his nose.
Funny to think that you have to learn to breath through your mouth. Before having a baby I always assumed you had to learn to breath through your nose. That was based solely on the high number of mouth breathers I've encountered through the years and not on actual facts/thoughts/something else probably but I don't remember.
Anyway, the baby can't sleep lying down. For over a week now. We have to let him sleep in his little rumble seat thingy, which I'm sure it expressly says not to do, but f-you instructions we have to sleep sometime. It has a harness. We buckle him in. It's fine.
I mean, yeah, it's a huge parenting failure because our baby will probably never want to sleep in his crib or pack and play ever, ever again, but you know, it's fine. It's the only way I can get more than 45 minutes of sleep in a row, so it's fine.
He's been spending a lot of time in the steamy bathroom. Also we have a humidifier going all the time, and if you leave the room it's running in and walk back in you feel like there might be dinosaurs lurking in the mist under tables and behind the piles of laundry.
So, we had gotten used to the no sleep. Well, we had succumbed to a kind of numb stupor of acceptance anyway. BUT THEN, haha, this next bit is funny, he started teething. Oh yes. Funny isn't it!?! He's all of 4 freaking months old and now my nipple is a chew toy and he's running a mild fever and he's not happy right around dark-thirty. We used to call that bedtime, but that's a misnomer these days. Gotta move with the times, my man. Or woman. Or whoever.
....wait...what were we talking about? Oh yeah, the fuckfestival that's happening to my poor baby's head.
And let me tell you, during the day he's still mostly happy, plus he's super adorable and I love him to death. But at night it's dark and he's just this grasping, pinching, biting, screaming black hole of hunger that occasionally coos or babbles in his sleep - just often enough to remind us of his cuteness so we don't abandon him to his crappy attitude, swollen gums, and snuffles.
So, you see, there was a reason I stopped posting for a while. Let's hope everything returns to "normal" soon. By normal I mean some sort of daily rhythm that involves sleeping for several hours at a time. Please let it be soon.
Monday, October 21, 2013
Feeding the Beast. The beginning.
Ugh. You guys, I got sick again. And so did the baby (poor sniffly, adorable baby).
A friend recently told me that once the baby gets sick that the whole family passes it back and forth and "you're never healthy ever again."
So far, only two of us have had the same virus and one has been spared...so as you can see, I'm still in denial.
Illness, continued lack of sleep,* work deadlines, impending winter (you know, yard clean up, swapping out wardrobes, time consuming dribble), family visits annnnd BOOM. That was my head exploding. Whatevs.
*R, "I never thought I'd look back at two months and think of that as the golden age of sleep."
Let's talk about food prep. R and I are very into taking the foods we get from the Farmer's Market and saving them for winter. We do this with the food from our own garden as well, but this year we basically practiced survival of the fittest in the garden. Because the baby takes priority over all things.
And in that vein, we didn't stay on top of our Farmer's Market winter prep nearly as well as usual. What we are prepping is largely baby food. Who'd a thunk, right?
Preparing and storing fruits and veggies now means that we'll have organic, nutritious food ready when he starts solids right smack in the middle of December.
So far we have canned pear sauce and apple sauce. Froze pear juice that we can later dilute with water. We have chopped/blanched/vacuum sealed carrots and parsnips. I currently have a basket of German butterball potatoes awaiting mashing and freezing. There are also an acorn squash and a couple of sugar pumpkins hanging out, meekly awaiting slaughter.
Of course, preparing for our little guy to eat solids has kicked off a new area of research (Surprise! Let's talk about Research Topic # 375! Let's start with Appendix B, as in Boring Your Socks Off, shall we?).
Traditionally, people start their babies off with rice cereal. I know that this is what our pediatrician will recommend because she mentioned it at his two month visit. Spoiler: we will not be feeding our baby rice cereal. Double spoiler and addendum: I am not trying to shame people who choose to feed their babies rice cereal; do what you damn well please.
It turns out that rice has a very high level of arsenic. The effects of arsenic vary, depending on exposure and the type of arsenic compound. We are all exposed to arsenic all the time, I'd just like to keep my son's exposure as low as possible. So, no rice cereal.
As I started researching rice cereal, it turns out there is no actual reason to start infants on grains at all. It's one of those "that's what we've always done" kind of things...except it isn't. It's actually a fairly recent trend and it turns out that there may be some very good reasons to delay exposures to grains. I say may be because I still need to verify what I've read.**
**That the production of amylase, the enzyme needed to break down grain, isn't produced in high quantities until after one year of age. To summarize, feeding a baby grains before that time is hard on the digestive system and may increase the likelihood of food allergies. Again, I am still planning on verifying this in academic, peer-reviewed publications (AKA don't believe everything you read on the internet).
At any rate, it seems like grains are recommended because they are 'iron fortified'. I can just make sure to feed my baby other foods that are high in iron, like meat or kale. So there's a good chance the little guy isn't going to be carb loading for quite a while.
I am also looking into baby led weaning. Basically, that's not pureeing everything and letting a child actually chew by feeding them things like steamed chunks of veggies. Based on my stockpile of fruit sauces, I am not planning on screaming any baby led weaning war cries. I'm thinking that we'll incorporate some of these practices, which is why the carrots and parsnips we prepped are sitting in our freezer in pieces rather than pureed.
This is just the first of what I'm sure will turn into many a ramblin' soliloquy about baby food and nutrition. I suppose I should also mention that the little guy is going to be exclusively breastfed until at least 6 months of age and that his primary nutrition will be breast milk until he's a year...barring some freak milk drought or something.
So join me, won't you, as I start my nerdy, hippy hybrid journey that I'm thinking of calling Feeding the Beast.
...
That's brilliant.
I'm totally using that. I'm changing the title of this post right now.
A friend recently told me that once the baby gets sick that the whole family passes it back and forth and "you're never healthy ever again."
So far, only two of us have had the same virus and one has been spared...so as you can see, I'm still in denial.
Illness, continued lack of sleep,* work deadlines, impending winter (you know, yard clean up, swapping out wardrobes, time consuming dribble), family visits annnnd BOOM. That was my head exploding. Whatevs.
*R, "I never thought I'd look back at two months and think of that as the golden age of sleep."
Let's talk about food prep. R and I are very into taking the foods we get from the Farmer's Market and saving them for winter. We do this with the food from our own garden as well, but this year we basically practiced survival of the fittest in the garden. Because the baby takes priority over all things.
And in that vein, we didn't stay on top of our Farmer's Market winter prep nearly as well as usual. What we are prepping is largely baby food. Who'd a thunk, right?
Preparing and storing fruits and veggies now means that we'll have organic, nutritious food ready when he starts solids right smack in the middle of December.
So far we have canned pear sauce and apple sauce. Froze pear juice that we can later dilute with water. We have chopped/blanched/vacuum sealed carrots and parsnips. I currently have a basket of German butterball potatoes awaiting mashing and freezing. There are also an acorn squash and a couple of sugar pumpkins hanging out, meekly awaiting slaughter.
Of course, preparing for our little guy to eat solids has kicked off a new area of research (Surprise! Let's talk about Research Topic # 375! Let's start with Appendix B, as in Boring Your Socks Off, shall we?).
Traditionally, people start their babies off with rice cereal. I know that this is what our pediatrician will recommend because she mentioned it at his two month visit. Spoiler: we will not be feeding our baby rice cereal. Double spoiler and addendum: I am not trying to shame people who choose to feed their babies rice cereal; do what you damn well please.
It turns out that rice has a very high level of arsenic. The effects of arsenic vary, depending on exposure and the type of arsenic compound. We are all exposed to arsenic all the time, I'd just like to keep my son's exposure as low as possible. So, no rice cereal.
As I started researching rice cereal, it turns out there is no actual reason to start infants on grains at all. It's one of those "that's what we've always done" kind of things...except it isn't. It's actually a fairly recent trend and it turns out that there may be some very good reasons to delay exposures to grains. I say may be because I still need to verify what I've read.**
**That the production of amylase, the enzyme needed to break down grain, isn't produced in high quantities until after one year of age. To summarize, feeding a baby grains before that time is hard on the digestive system and may increase the likelihood of food allergies. Again, I am still planning on verifying this in academic, peer-reviewed publications (AKA don't believe everything you read on the internet).
At any rate, it seems like grains are recommended because they are 'iron fortified'. I can just make sure to feed my baby other foods that are high in iron, like meat or kale. So there's a good chance the little guy isn't going to be carb loading for quite a while.
I am also looking into baby led weaning. Basically, that's not pureeing everything and letting a child actually chew by feeding them things like steamed chunks of veggies. Based on my stockpile of fruit sauces, I am not planning on screaming any baby led weaning war cries. I'm thinking that we'll incorporate some of these practices, which is why the carrots and parsnips we prepped are sitting in our freezer in pieces rather than pureed.
This is just the first of what I'm sure will turn into many a ramblin' soliloquy about baby food and nutrition. I suppose I should also mention that the little guy is going to be exclusively breastfed until at least 6 months of age and that his primary nutrition will be breast milk until he's a year...barring some freak milk drought or something.
So join me, won't you, as I start my nerdy, hippy hybrid journey that I'm thinking of calling Feeding the Beast.
...
That's brilliant.
I'm totally using that. I'm changing the title of this post right now.
Tuesday, September 24, 2013
Growth Spurt of Epic Proportions
Have I mentioned that my baby is big? Like really big?
He wasn't born that way. He was a bit over average in the weight department and around the 75th percentile in length when he was born. Quite a bit larger than I had expected, given my diminutive stature, but my husband is around 5'10". Also, we both have male ancestors - my grandfather and his great-grandfather - that are famous in our respective family circles for their height. So, above average baby. Go us.
But then...
Our baby kept growing. And growing. Much faster than other babies his age.
Now, at 3 months old, he is nearing the 60th percentile in weight and the 97th in length! He's grown 2 inches in a month!!
He has been going through a growth spurt (yeah, all that growing he's done up until now was the slow and steady kind). Rather than waking once a night, he's been waking every 3 hours to eat. It's adorable and totally exhausting. Adorable because he doesn't want to be awake, but he's hungry. He makes these plaintive hungry noises from his bassinet*, and when R brings him to me he hungrily nurses, but never opens his eyes. As soon as he's eaten his fill (which can take 30 minutes or more!), he's completely out. Repeat every 3 hours - thus the exhaustion thing.
*He totally doesn't fit in that bassinet anymore. There is discussion about putting him in a pack and play in our room until we are ready to transition him to a crib. And here I thought he'd be sleeping in that bassinet until he was at least 4 months old. *le sigh*
Between last Saturday and the Saturday before he gained nearly a full pound and the growth spurt is still going!
On the plus side, his ravenous hunger and accompanying growth has allowed me to fit into my pre-pregnancy jeans. So. There's that. Also, I'm developing some pretty serious arm muscles.
He wasn't born that way. He was a bit over average in the weight department and around the 75th percentile in length when he was born. Quite a bit larger than I had expected, given my diminutive stature, but my husband is around 5'10". Also, we both have male ancestors - my grandfather and his great-grandfather - that are famous in our respective family circles for their height. So, above average baby. Go us.
But then...
Our baby kept growing. And growing. Much faster than other babies his age.
Now, at 3 months old, he is nearing the 60th percentile in weight and the 97th in length! He's grown 2 inches in a month!!
He has been going through a growth spurt (yeah, all that growing he's done up until now was the slow and steady kind). Rather than waking once a night, he's been waking every 3 hours to eat. It's adorable and totally exhausting. Adorable because he doesn't want to be awake, but he's hungry. He makes these plaintive hungry noises from his bassinet*, and when R brings him to me he hungrily nurses, but never opens his eyes. As soon as he's eaten his fill (which can take 30 minutes or more!), he's completely out. Repeat every 3 hours - thus the exhaustion thing.
*He totally doesn't fit in that bassinet anymore. There is discussion about putting him in a pack and play in our room until we are ready to transition him to a crib. And here I thought he'd be sleeping in that bassinet until he was at least 4 months old. *le sigh*
Between last Saturday and the Saturday before he gained nearly a full pound and the growth spurt is still going!
On the plus side, his ravenous hunger and accompanying growth has allowed me to fit into my pre-pregnancy jeans. So. There's that. Also, I'm developing some pretty serious arm muscles.
 |
| Soon. (source) |
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
Why you may or may not ever see my baby
I've really been struggling with the idea of how much of my child I will share with you, Oh Mighty Internet.
I really want to tell you his name, because it is awesome and the very best name ever. It is. Seriously. R and I had settled on it years before he was born, and (this is the best part) we kept it a secret. No one knew until he was born*, and we are continually getting praise for it. But I also don't want to share it because I am paranoid that soon everyone will be using it, destroying the special, unique snowflakiness of it. Also, internet stalkers. Trolls. Humanity and its need to piss on everything. The last thing I want is to read a bunch of comments that say things like "that name is crap," or "I came up with a horribly mean twist on that name you never thought of."
Also, let's not forget that I write an anonymous blog. So sharing my son's name would be the weirdest type of hypocritical.
So...I won't be sharing his name.
*Note: Keeping the name of your fetus a secret is the very best way to completely piss off your mother and mother-in-law. Fact.
I really want to show you pictures! He is adorable! Seriously. Cutest baby ever! (Of course, your baby is also the cutest baby ever; I know how this works.) But there are creepy people out there that steal pictures and pass them off as their own children. Did you read about the woman who found a picture of her son on a cancer blog...some creepy teenager pretended to be a mom, made up a kid with cancer, and then stole pictures from this woman's blog and tried to pass off her son as a child dying of terminal cancer just because. That's right. There was no other reason. There are other similar stories. People are just...weird. That's the nice way of putting it.
Also, someday soon we will be able to do a photo search on Google. Technically there already is one, but it's pretty limited. Someday though, my son's friends will be able to scan a picture of him and then search the internet for other pictures. And that option won't be limited to his friends and the purpose behind it may not always be as petty as finding naked bath pictures to tease him with.
So, I likely won't be posting photos of him. Though my resolve waivers here because he's adorable and you'd be a happier person if you got to see his big, toothless grin.
I want to share humorous anecdotes, like the time(s) he peed in his own ear, but I also want to protect his privacy. In the same way I avoid posting too much about my husband, I feel the need to respect that my son is an individual and not just an extension of myself. BUT I love reading about other people's children.
Basically, I'm still wrestling with it.
I really want to tell you his name, because it is awesome and the very best name ever. It is. Seriously. R and I had settled on it years before he was born, and (this is the best part) we kept it a secret. No one knew until he was born*, and we are continually getting praise for it. But I also don't want to share it because I am paranoid that soon everyone will be using it, destroying the special, unique snowflakiness of it. Also, internet stalkers. Trolls. Humanity and its need to piss on everything. The last thing I want is to read a bunch of comments that say things like "that name is crap," or "I came up with a horribly mean twist on that name you never thought of."
Also, let's not forget that I write an anonymous blog. So sharing my son's name would be the weirdest type of hypocritical.
So...I won't be sharing his name.
*Note: Keeping the name of your fetus a secret is the very best way to completely piss off your mother and mother-in-law. Fact.
I really want to show you pictures! He is adorable! Seriously. Cutest baby ever! (Of course, your baby is also the cutest baby ever; I know how this works.) But there are creepy people out there that steal pictures and pass them off as their own children. Did you read about the woman who found a picture of her son on a cancer blog...some creepy teenager pretended to be a mom, made up a kid with cancer, and then stole pictures from this woman's blog and tried to pass off her son as a child dying of terminal cancer just because. That's right. There was no other reason. There are other similar stories. People are just...weird. That's the nice way of putting it.
Also, someday soon we will be able to do a photo search on Google. Technically there already is one, but it's pretty limited. Someday though, my son's friends will be able to scan a picture of him and then search the internet for other pictures. And that option won't be limited to his friends and the purpose behind it may not always be as petty as finding naked bath pictures to tease him with.
So, I likely won't be posting photos of him. Though my resolve waivers here because he's adorable and you'd be a happier person if you got to see his big, toothless grin.
I want to share humorous anecdotes, like the time(s) he peed in his own ear, but I also want to protect his privacy. In the same way I avoid posting too much about my husband, I feel the need to respect that my son is an individual and not just an extension of myself. BUT I love reading about other people's children.
Basically, I'm still wrestling with it.
Tuesday, September 3, 2013
A Return to Work
Yes, the title is correct. I have returned to work. Part-time.
It wasn't as hard as I was worried it would be, since I had only been away from him two times...and that was only in the days leading up to my return to work because, jeeze, it might be a good idea to have a test run!!
He can go to an AWESOME, AMAZING, Childcare Center run by the local college three days a week. I say can go because I am hoping he only goes twice a week, most of the time. Then dad watches him Tuesdays and Thursday mornings and I get him Thursday afternoons and most Fridays.
So far so good, except, well, let's just keep this between ourselves, okay? It turns out that I have a hard time paying attention to work because I just don't care as much. Work has been downgraded from WORK to work in it's level of importance in my life. Maybe that will change as time goes on. Who knows?
Then there is the big distraction: pumping. When I'm around, my baby eats every hour. Read that again. Every hour. Sometimes he'll go an hour and a half. He sleeps great at night, so I'm not complaining too loudly, but trying to replicate that same eating schedule with pumping is insane.
That said, it's Tuesday and I hear the Little Guy starting to cry for boob.
That said, it's Tuesday and I hear the Little Guy starting to cry for boob.
I'll discuss the leaky highs and chaffed lows of breastfeeding in my next post.
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
You'll have to wait some more
So many posts to write, so little time. I promised to write about the birth, which was nothing like what I hoped it would be but that was okay because it gave me this amazing little person. I promised to write about breastfeeding, which was also nothing like I expected but has sustained my baby -hell, it's done more than that; he went from 7 lbs 13oz to 10 lbs in a month! I promised to write about cloth diapers, which has been easier than I expected and I have recommendations out the wazoo (spoiler, go buy these newborn fitteds, I can't recommend them enough https://www.etsy.com/transaction/102490049?ref=fb2_tnx_title). I want to tell you about how great my husband has been, how this baby has filled out our relationship. I want to tell you about my ever evolving body (down 26 lbs at one month and unable to fit in my clothes). I want to brag about my baby.
But right now I don't have time for any of that. I am currently typing one handed* while I hold a sleeping, snoring miracle...what an arm workout!
*Hark, my typing skillz are crazy impressive!
I am sorry to keep you waiting. Those of you who are wanting to hear these stories.
But not very sorry.
I'm pretty busy, and pretty happy about it.
But right now I don't have time for any of that. I am currently typing one handed* while I hold a sleeping, snoring miracle...what an arm workout!
*Hark, my typing skillz are crazy impressive!
I am sorry to keep you waiting. Those of you who are wanting to hear these stories.
But not very sorry.
I'm pretty busy, and pretty happy about it.
Friday, July 5, 2013
Things I didn't know about labor and post-pregnancy
Breaking your water, rupturing membranes, whatever you want to call it, it's gross. I was under the assumption that your water broke, there was a gush of fluid, and that was that. But it doesn't stop there. It keeps coming because your body keeps making it. It's basically like getting to pee your pants over and over again. Like I said, gross.
A lot of people will reach up your vagina. Progress needs to be checked. Even if you are trying to keep exams to a minimum, a lot more fingers will be inside you than you'd probably realized. I would recommend doing perineum massage for that reason alone.
Time is meaningless. During labor, after labor, time loses its normal rhythm. It stretches and contracts in odd ways. The time we spent in the hospital after the baby was born seems like days, maybe even a week, but was only 36 hours.
Stretch marks. I thought that the stretch marks you had when you were pregnant were the total sum of stretch marks. I even thought some of those might disappear or shrink when the pregnancy swelling reduced. WRONG. SO very very wrong. The stretch marks you can see while pregnant are just the tip of the iceberg, and the rest of the iceberg is submerged in bloat. As you get smaller after the baby is born, and the water recedes, those jagged red icebergs are exposed. The small cluster of stretch marks I had on my upper thighs while pregnant have been befriended by the ring of stretch marks I now have all across my upper thigh and inside thigh and they now rise to meet the patch of stretch marks on my hips that have grown darker since the baby's arrival.
I'm not that upset that I have stretch marks. I've come to terms with it quite a while ago. But I feel like I was lied to. Like my body threw me a nasty surprise party - SURPRISE! We got you more stretch marks!
Joint pain. I thought that would end with the pregnancy, but what I failed to realize was that my joints were way more loose and out of whack than I thought. And as the relaxin reduces throughout your body, your joints ache as they slowly get pulled back in place. More than two weeks out and my shoes don't fit yet (yep, not all of that was swelling) and I still can't wear my wedding ring.
Breastfeeding. Where do I begin? I think I'll do a whole post on my personal experience, which hasn't been horrible, but did present some surprising little gifts of its own. Anyway, some general things I didn't know beforehand about breastfeeding*:
1) it is messy! You drip, leak, and gush, and that's not even counting what the baby is doing. Get out of the shower and you may leak. Bend down and you might notice a puddle below you. Adjust your bra and BAM! wet spot. I took a nap and woke up in the middle of a small lake because I had soaked through not one but two breast pads, my bra, my shirt, my comforter, my blanket, and my sheets. Good times.
2) you need a specialized wardrobe. I knew that. Rather, I thought I knew that, but I totally underestimated, well, everything. I have the right bras in the right quantity, but my newly ballooned balloons don't even fit into most of my clothes. The clothes they do fit into usually restricts access, which is very important these days. So, baby = yet another wardrobe.
3) a complete loss of modesty. While in the hospital, approximately 20 people saw my swollen, stretch marked boobs. And I totally didn't care. At least 3 women I do not know touched my breast(s) to help me adjust my latch, and it was more like getting help moving furniture than a 'bad touch.' And when the photographer came to our home for the newborn photo session, I started nursing - and I'm not yet a pro so much boob was flashed - right in front of her without a second thought. Only afterwords did I think to ask R if I should have been more discreet (for the record, he said she was probably used to it).
*Note: I knew a lot about breastfeeding. I've done research for WIC on ways to increase breastfeeding in certain populations, I've attended lactation classes, I've watched many of my friends and relatives breastfeed, and this was stuff NObody thought to mention.
Taking the baby out. We started taking our baby out fairly early. It's June, the weather is nice, it isn't cold or flu season, and I don't let strangers touch him, so that's totally okay. Seriously, our pediatrician says so. But not everyone agrees. Some people are fascinated to see him, some think its totally normal, and then there are people who give you death stares because he's too new to be outside. One lady even told me that she waited 6 weeks before leaving the house with her baby.
I'm sure there are other things I'm forgetting, but I need to go and see about that breastfeeding thing again.
A lot of people will reach up your vagina. Progress needs to be checked. Even if you are trying to keep exams to a minimum, a lot more fingers will be inside you than you'd probably realized. I would recommend doing perineum massage for that reason alone.
Time is meaningless. During labor, after labor, time loses its normal rhythm. It stretches and contracts in odd ways. The time we spent in the hospital after the baby was born seems like days, maybe even a week, but was only 36 hours.
Stretch marks. I thought that the stretch marks you had when you were pregnant were the total sum of stretch marks. I even thought some of those might disappear or shrink when the pregnancy swelling reduced. WRONG. SO very very wrong. The stretch marks you can see while pregnant are just the tip of the iceberg, and the rest of the iceberg is submerged in bloat. As you get smaller after the baby is born, and the water recedes, those jagged red icebergs are exposed. The small cluster of stretch marks I had on my upper thighs while pregnant have been befriended by the ring of stretch marks I now have all across my upper thigh and inside thigh and they now rise to meet the patch of stretch marks on my hips that have grown darker since the baby's arrival.
I'm not that upset that I have stretch marks. I've come to terms with it quite a while ago. But I feel like I was lied to. Like my body threw me a nasty surprise party - SURPRISE! We got you more stretch marks!
Joint pain. I thought that would end with the pregnancy, but what I failed to realize was that my joints were way more loose and out of whack than I thought. And as the relaxin reduces throughout your body, your joints ache as they slowly get pulled back in place. More than two weeks out and my shoes don't fit yet (yep, not all of that was swelling) and I still can't wear my wedding ring.
Breastfeeding. Where do I begin? I think I'll do a whole post on my personal experience, which hasn't been horrible, but did present some surprising little gifts of its own. Anyway, some general things I didn't know beforehand about breastfeeding*:
1) it is messy! You drip, leak, and gush, and that's not even counting what the baby is doing. Get out of the shower and you may leak. Bend down and you might notice a puddle below you. Adjust your bra and BAM! wet spot. I took a nap and woke up in the middle of a small lake because I had soaked through not one but two breast pads, my bra, my shirt, my comforter, my blanket, and my sheets. Good times.
2) you need a specialized wardrobe. I knew that. Rather, I thought I knew that, but I totally underestimated, well, everything. I have the right bras in the right quantity, but my newly ballooned balloons don't even fit into most of my clothes. The clothes they do fit into usually restricts access, which is very important these days. So, baby = yet another wardrobe.
3) a complete loss of modesty. While in the hospital, approximately 20 people saw my swollen, stretch marked boobs. And I totally didn't care. At least 3 women I do not know touched my breast(s) to help me adjust my latch, and it was more like getting help moving furniture than a 'bad touch.' And when the photographer came to our home for the newborn photo session, I started nursing - and I'm not yet a pro so much boob was flashed - right in front of her without a second thought. Only afterwords did I think to ask R if I should have been more discreet (for the record, he said she was probably used to it).
*Note: I knew a lot about breastfeeding. I've done research for WIC on ways to increase breastfeeding in certain populations, I've attended lactation classes, I've watched many of my friends and relatives breastfeed, and this was stuff NObody thought to mention.
Taking the baby out. We started taking our baby out fairly early. It's June, the weather is nice, it isn't cold or flu season, and I don't let strangers touch him, so that's totally okay. Seriously, our pediatrician says so. But not everyone agrees. Some people are fascinated to see him, some think its totally normal, and then there are people who give you death stares because he's too new to be outside. One lady even told me that she waited 6 weeks before leaving the house with her baby.
I'm sure there are other things I'm forgetting, but I need to go and see about that breastfeeding thing again.
Friday, June 28, 2013
Making a Baby: Mission Complete
Well, it finally happened. We have a baby! He's beautiful and lively, just as predicted.
The benefit of having a newborn that spent 2 extra weeks cooking (2 weeks you guys!!) is also the major drawback - he's alert. As in, he's now been awake and looking around for the past 2 hours. Fortunately, he's a happy little guy (so far). He only cries when he has gas or he hasn't been fed fast enough; rooting and lip smacking lasts approximately 30 seconds before becoming a pissed off scream that we have dubbed the Strangled Billy Goat*. Other than that, he's quiet and easily calmed.
*Note: Other noises that we have come to know and love include: The Hulk, My Little Broney (R hates that I named it that, but it totally stuck), The Bullfrog, and The Machine Gun. I've been told by several reputable sources that I need to record these sounds ASAP before they disappear. My favorite is The Hulk, which represents frustration/impatience. He'll make this low grunt and literally lunge at my nipple.
I will, of course, be posting lots more about our little guy. But right now I'm pretty sure I have another diaper to change and diaper laundry to finish up.
I have to give single parents serious props. R's been fantastic and I don't know how I'd retain my sanity if I had to do this alone. Working as a team has helped turn situations that would be frustrating, possibly even soul shattering at 3am when consecutive hours of sleep is like glimpsing a unicorn, into something comical. Like that time muconium kept pouring out like a river of brown/green toxic waste into the Great Lakes or the time that the baby managed to pee in his own ear.
On that note, I'll be in touch.
The benefit of having a newborn that spent 2 extra weeks cooking (2 weeks you guys!!) is also the major drawback - he's alert. As in, he's now been awake and looking around for the past 2 hours. Fortunately, he's a happy little guy (so far). He only cries when he has gas or he hasn't been fed fast enough; rooting and lip smacking lasts approximately 30 seconds before becoming a pissed off scream that we have dubbed the Strangled Billy Goat*. Other than that, he's quiet and easily calmed.
*Note: Other noises that we have come to know and love include: The Hulk, My Little Broney (R hates that I named it that, but it totally stuck), The Bullfrog, and The Machine Gun. I've been told by several reputable sources that I need to record these sounds ASAP before they disappear. My favorite is The Hulk, which represents frustration/impatience. He'll make this low grunt and literally lunge at my nipple.
I will, of course, be posting lots more about our little guy. But right now I'm pretty sure I have another diaper to change and diaper laundry to finish up.
I have to give single parents serious props. R's been fantastic and I don't know how I'd retain my sanity if I had to do this alone. Working as a team has helped turn situations that would be frustrating, possibly even soul shattering at 3am when consecutive hours of sleep is like glimpsing a unicorn, into something comical. Like that time muconium kept pouring out like a river of brown/green toxic waste into the Great Lakes or the time that the baby managed to pee in his own ear.
On that note, I'll be in touch.
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