E and I are pretty well adjusted now to not breastfeeding, I think, and it feels good. But he's a bit obsessed with my breasts. This had actually started before we weaned. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that he's into bodies in general. He knows where his penis is and can say penis ("puh-puh"), and likes to play with it. He also likes TJ to pull up his shirt so he can see his hairy belly and touch his nipples. He doesn't say "boobies" when he sees TJ's bare chest, so he must know there's a difference. Several times a day, he pulls my shirt up and demands to see my boobs. (He also tries to pull down my pants!) He smiles lovingly when he sees the boobies, touches them gently, and then lays his head down on my belly or chest. It is so. very. sweet. He doesn't try to nurse, he just touches them and nuzzles me and says something that sounds a little like "boobuh" or sometimes just "boouh."
We are cuddling more in the rocking chair, which I love. Sometimes when he wakes up from his nap, he'll sleep on me in the chair for a half hour more, and I get to snuggle him and doze a little. I was cherishing this last week, thinking about how that kind of thing won't be possible as often once we have another baby. Right? Then I was thinking about the new baby and about how different his or her first year will be compared to E's--when I was able to focus on him completely. More on this later, I'm sure.
I meant to say before that the preschool issue I mentioned earlier has been resolved, as much as it can be. I'm incredibly relieved, though I still regret that the situation even exists in its current state. But there's nothing I can do about it now. It is what it is, and I have learned from it.
I wanted to start a list of the words that E's saying (boring to anyone but me, I'm sure). A few of these words sound precisely the way anyone would say them, but most are approximations, or just sounds that we know represent certain words. The only sound that's completely unrelated to the word it stands for is "dog," which comes out as "koh." But it's not vocalized, it's just a kinda gutteral noise, like a sound effect. Hard to explain. In any case, here are the words he has so far:
ball
kitty
Squeaky (Kiki)
dog
pig
zebra
outside
bowl
spoon
cup
car
door
apple
banana
yo-yo
penis
boobies
baby
Mama
Daddy, Dat, Dada
Of course, he understands a lot more than he can say. When we're reading, if you ask him, he can point out the fish, bird, elephant, camel, monkey, flamingo, barnyard animals, and various items in his book of colors (like the brown gingerbread man).
Showing posts with label breastfeeding. Show all posts
Showing posts with label breastfeeding. Show all posts
Monday, March 23, 2009
Monday, March 16, 2009
Weaned, Apparently
So, we've been nursing twice a day (morning and bedtime) for quite awhile. This week, starting Monday, we dropped the morning feeding, and E didn't seem to care at all. I figured we'd see how things went and then in a month (or two? I wasn't sure) we'd drop the last feeding and be completely weaned. I've found that nursing while pregnant is uncomfortable/painful, which is partly what prompted me to move forward on the whole weaning thing.
Then at bedtime on Wednesday, right after we started nursing, E bit me. Hard. I started yelling "ow, ow, ow" at the top of my lungs. I put my finger in his mouth, but it did no good. He was smiling with the nipple pinned between his teeth. He finally released and we sat there for a minute. He was saying "kitty" and was completely unfazed. I could just imagine him doing it again, and I was too terrified to risk it. I decided to see if he'd let me rock him instead. I was sure he wouldn't, but I thought if he had to ask for the boob he'd be less likely to bite when he got it. He's hardly ever bitten me before.
Lo and behold, he put his head down and I rocked him like we usually do after nursing. I held him close, and I couldn't believe what was happening, that he was going to bed without nursing, and with no warning. The fact that it followed the biting made it even more upsetting somehow. I started crying, silently, so that hopefully he wouldn't know something was up. When I put him down, he was awake but sleepy, and didn't protest at all. He went down like any other night. I cried and cried, not really knowing why, but sensing that something big had happened.
We haven't nursed since then, which at this point I think means we're weaned. I hate that the biting incident was our last time. I wish I'd pushed it on him after that, so that we ended with a good memory. (There was a moment today when we could've nursed, but I felt like it had already been too long.) I kept thinking he would ask for it, and I decided to wait for him to initiate, but he didn't. I even put him to bed myself those first four nights. I have to believe that he was more than ready to wean, and perhaps so was my body: It's been six days on one side and five on the other, and my breasts are as deflated as ever.
I've been weepy off and on the past few days, missing the snuggle time with my boy. He's not a big cuddlebug otherwise. We'll find our way, though, I know . . . transitions are just hard. I feel like one of those annoyingly needy mothers right now, whose desperation ends up forcing their children to push them away to keep from being smothered. I can already see glimpses of how that dynamic develops over time. I vow here and now never to become one of those moms. It better not be one of those things that sneaks up on you. I will not do that to my children.
I should mention that TJ put E down last night for the first time (with me here, anyway), and it went off without a hitch. It was liberating! So there is something to celebrate in this change. And I have so many beautiful memories of nursing E, I can't even begin to count them. One day soon, I'll be able to think about them without crying.
Then at bedtime on Wednesday, right after we started nursing, E bit me. Hard. I started yelling "ow, ow, ow" at the top of my lungs. I put my finger in his mouth, but it did no good. He was smiling with the nipple pinned between his teeth. He finally released and we sat there for a minute. He was saying "kitty" and was completely unfazed. I could just imagine him doing it again, and I was too terrified to risk it. I decided to see if he'd let me rock him instead. I was sure he wouldn't, but I thought if he had to ask for the boob he'd be less likely to bite when he got it. He's hardly ever bitten me before.
Lo and behold, he put his head down and I rocked him like we usually do after nursing. I held him close, and I couldn't believe what was happening, that he was going to bed without nursing, and with no warning. The fact that it followed the biting made it even more upsetting somehow. I started crying, silently, so that hopefully he wouldn't know something was up. When I put him down, he was awake but sleepy, and didn't protest at all. He went down like any other night. I cried and cried, not really knowing why, but sensing that something big had happened.
We haven't nursed since then, which at this point I think means we're weaned. I hate that the biting incident was our last time. I wish I'd pushed it on him after that, so that we ended with a good memory. (There was a moment today when we could've nursed, but I felt like it had already been too long.) I kept thinking he would ask for it, and I decided to wait for him to initiate, but he didn't. I even put him to bed myself those first four nights. I have to believe that he was more than ready to wean, and perhaps so was my body: It's been six days on one side and five on the other, and my breasts are as deflated as ever.
I've been weepy off and on the past few days, missing the snuggle time with my boy. He's not a big cuddlebug otherwise. We'll find our way, though, I know . . . transitions are just hard. I feel like one of those annoyingly needy mothers right now, whose desperation ends up forcing their children to push them away to keep from being smothered. I can already see glimpses of how that dynamic develops over time. I vow here and now never to become one of those moms. It better not be one of those things that sneaks up on you. I will not do that to my children.
I should mention that TJ put E down last night for the first time (with me here, anyway), and it went off without a hitch. It was liberating! So there is something to celebrate in this change. And I have so many beautiful memories of nursing E, I can't even begin to count them. One day soon, I'll be able to think about them without crying.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
The First Two Weeks
I went out by myself today to do a little Christmas shopping, and in the car on the way there I could feel the hormonal heaviness of this month's cycle settling around my shoulders. It wasn't so bad; the world just seemed kinda gray and without taste. All day I've been trying to find something I wanted to eat but nothing appealed to me. I had a brief flashback in the car to the way I felt after E was born. It was really nothing like how I felt today; I was at peace, in general, today. But this afternoon's food blah-ness reminded me just a tad of those days. I am so frightened at the thought of ever feeling that way again.
I remember going to the doctor to get my incision checked when E was twelve days old. It was a Friday morning. We'd been home from the hospital seven days. My OB's nurse, who I'd always found abrasive and demeaning (I've since switched practices), fixed me with this look and asked me in so many words if I had post-partum depression. I said I had no idea, but that I loved my baby. For some reason I wanted her to know that I loved him. Looking back, I would say the love I was talking about was more of a fierce protectiveness, closely related to fear, but I didn't know that then, because I didn't have the love I feel now to compare it to. She told me that the amount of weight I'd lost since the birth--twenty-eight pounds--was a red flag. She asked if I was eating, and I hated having to say no. I couldn't eat, not without gagging. I knew I needed to eat, especially given the surgery and blood loss I was recovering from, not to mention the fact that I was desperately trying to breastfeed. But I could not for the life of me eat. To say I had no appetite would be an understatement. This was new to me. My dad called me the human garbage disposal growing up, and not much has changed in that regard. The nurse asked how I was doing emotionally, if I was crying a lot. Um, yes, I was crying a lot. A LOT. I didn't exactly tell her this, although I did admit to being emotional. I told her, feebly, that I'd read that baby blues could last up to two weeks, and I pointed out somewhat desperately that I wasn't quite to the end of those two weeks yet. She stared at me silently, straight through my skull, and I stared back, aware that my eyes weren't able to hide the fear and panic that had me in their grip. I was hardly breathing, trying to keep from crying or showing any sign that I might be about to cry. She told me how important it was to catch PPD early, and encouraged me to call back the following week if I wasn't feeling better. I thanked her in as cheerful a manner as I could fake, and made it halfway across the waiting room to TJ (and tiny E) before starting to sob.
To this day I can't say for sure if I had PPD. I suppose I didn't, technically, because things did start to turn around after the two-week mark passed, but I also feel certain that what I experienced was not just the baby blues. I believe I looked PPD in the eye and ultimately escaped it for various reasons. I'll never forget the way it felt, the way the hours and days stretched ahead of me like a death sentence. The way I couldn't sleep even though I was far, far past the point of total exhaustion. I've never felt so unlike myself, so incapable, so fearful. I remember telling TJ day after day that something was wrong with me, that I knew this was not normal, that I could not go on like this. I have such sympathy for anyone who's felt this way for months on end. I can't imagine. Those two weeks were an eternity.
I remember when I got myself back (however minimally). It was Monday; E was fifteen days old. Fifteen days: it sounds like nothing now. A blip of time. But it felt, and feels, so much more significant than that. Following a talk with my parents and TJ the night before, I realized the next day, Monday, that the dark, dark veil had been lifted from my eyes overnight, and some measure of equilibrium seemed to have been restored in the immediate world. I was still exhausted and weak and overwhelmed, but I didn't feel mentally ill. I could see the top of the mountain. I could see my perfect boy, and I was nursing him and he was finally starting to latch on, and I was saved.
I remember going to the doctor to get my incision checked when E was twelve days old. It was a Friday morning. We'd been home from the hospital seven days. My OB's nurse, who I'd always found abrasive and demeaning (I've since switched practices), fixed me with this look and asked me in so many words if I had post-partum depression. I said I had no idea, but that I loved my baby. For some reason I wanted her to know that I loved him. Looking back, I would say the love I was talking about was more of a fierce protectiveness, closely related to fear, but I didn't know that then, because I didn't have the love I feel now to compare it to. She told me that the amount of weight I'd lost since the birth--twenty-eight pounds--was a red flag. She asked if I was eating, and I hated having to say no. I couldn't eat, not without gagging. I knew I needed to eat, especially given the surgery and blood loss I was recovering from, not to mention the fact that I was desperately trying to breastfeed. But I could not for the life of me eat. To say I had no appetite would be an understatement. This was new to me. My dad called me the human garbage disposal growing up, and not much has changed in that regard. The nurse asked how I was doing emotionally, if I was crying a lot. Um, yes, I was crying a lot. A LOT. I didn't exactly tell her this, although I did admit to being emotional. I told her, feebly, that I'd read that baby blues could last up to two weeks, and I pointed out somewhat desperately that I wasn't quite to the end of those two weeks yet. She stared at me silently, straight through my skull, and I stared back, aware that my eyes weren't able to hide the fear and panic that had me in their grip. I was hardly breathing, trying to keep from crying or showing any sign that I might be about to cry. She told me how important it was to catch PPD early, and encouraged me to call back the following week if I wasn't feeling better. I thanked her in as cheerful a manner as I could fake, and made it halfway across the waiting room to TJ (and tiny E) before starting to sob.
To this day I can't say for sure if I had PPD. I suppose I didn't, technically, because things did start to turn around after the two-week mark passed, but I also feel certain that what I experienced was not just the baby blues. I believe I looked PPD in the eye and ultimately escaped it for various reasons. I'll never forget the way it felt, the way the hours and days stretched ahead of me like a death sentence. The way I couldn't sleep even though I was far, far past the point of total exhaustion. I've never felt so unlike myself, so incapable, so fearful. I remember telling TJ day after day that something was wrong with me, that I knew this was not normal, that I could not go on like this. I have such sympathy for anyone who's felt this way for months on end. I can't imagine. Those two weeks were an eternity.
I remember when I got myself back (however minimally). It was Monday; E was fifteen days old. Fifteen days: it sounds like nothing now. A blip of time. But it felt, and feels, so much more significant than that. Following a talk with my parents and TJ the night before, I realized the next day, Monday, that the dark, dark veil had been lifted from my eyes overnight, and some measure of equilibrium seemed to have been restored in the immediate world. I was still exhausted and weak and overwhelmed, but I didn't feel mentally ill. I could see the top of the mountain. I could see my perfect boy, and I was nursing him and he was finally starting to latch on, and I was saved.
Friday, December 5, 2008
A Banner Day for Personal Upkeep
Started this earlier in the week . . .
Tuesday was a good day. E did well at co-op, and I spent an hour shopping at Book People and Whole Foods while he was there (and still got back a half hour early in case he was getting tired). That hour of shopping did wonders for me. I can't recall the last time I felt so light and inner focused, yet connected to the larger world, just wandering around, looking at books, picking out a new desk calendar, looking for a birthday gift for someone. Then at Whole Foods, I found a waxing kit. Up until now, I've driven to a salon all the way in South Austin to get a bikini wax every, oh, two months or more. When E was little I just took him with me, but then he became too mobile, and since then it's turned into this big hairy deal (groan, the pun; totally not intended), whereby I have to go on a Saturday and have TJ look after E, etc. And it costs close to $40 with tip. I haven't been in months (oh dear), and it's an important ritual for me. It gives me a boost of confidence and leaves me feeling human and kept up. I wish I could just shave, but that doesn't work for me--my skin doesn't handle it well. Anyway. I bought a waxing kit for $11.99, and it worked beautifully. It was positively liberating to take control over this matter of personal hygiene, to no longer have to rearrange my schedule and shell out a chunk of money to have someone else do this intimate and unpleasant task. Now I can do it myself, at home, anytime I need to.
Later Tuesday evening, after I put E down, I went to the outlets to return some shoes I'd gotten him that he refused to walk in, and while I was there it occurred to me that I should buy some new bras. I've mostly still been wearing my yellowed, ratty nursing bras. They're C cups (or B? I can't remember), and my now shrunken breasts swim in the soft fabric cups. It looks gross, and I'm not getting any support. My old bras are mostly padded, and they appear to be too large now as well--I'm smaller than I was before I got pregnant. I wonder if this is common? I discovered Tuesday night that I'm not even an A anymore, which surprised me. When I stare at myself in the mirror, I don't even recognize my chest. My breasts look sad and used up, to be frank. That said, I'm trying to embrace their new smallness. With the help of a kind salesperson, I found three bras, all on sale, very plain (not much to choose from), but they have a wonderfully close fit and it felt good to take care of myself in this way. I highly recommend it--not always neglecting yourself. Even if you're tired and you don't feel like going out at night (which is how I always feel), just do it every now and then. Now that I've done it once, I plan to do it again . . . after I neglect something else for a few months, of course.
Tuesday was a good day. E did well at co-op, and I spent an hour shopping at Book People and Whole Foods while he was there (and still got back a half hour early in case he was getting tired). That hour of shopping did wonders for me. I can't recall the last time I felt so light and inner focused, yet connected to the larger world, just wandering around, looking at books, picking out a new desk calendar, looking for a birthday gift for someone. Then at Whole Foods, I found a waxing kit. Up until now, I've driven to a salon all the way in South Austin to get a bikini wax every, oh, two months or more. When E was little I just took him with me, but then he became too mobile, and since then it's turned into this big hairy deal (groan, the pun; totally not intended), whereby I have to go on a Saturday and have TJ look after E, etc. And it costs close to $40 with tip. I haven't been in months (oh dear), and it's an important ritual for me. It gives me a boost of confidence and leaves me feeling human and kept up. I wish I could just shave, but that doesn't work for me--my skin doesn't handle it well. Anyway. I bought a waxing kit for $11.99, and it worked beautifully. It was positively liberating to take control over this matter of personal hygiene, to no longer have to rearrange my schedule and shell out a chunk of money to have someone else do this intimate and unpleasant task. Now I can do it myself, at home, anytime I need to.
Later Tuesday evening, after I put E down, I went to the outlets to return some shoes I'd gotten him that he refused to walk in, and while I was there it occurred to me that I should buy some new bras. I've mostly still been wearing my yellowed, ratty nursing bras. They're C cups (or B? I can't remember), and my now shrunken breasts swim in the soft fabric cups. It looks gross, and I'm not getting any support. My old bras are mostly padded, and they appear to be too large now as well--I'm smaller than I was before I got pregnant. I wonder if this is common? I discovered Tuesday night that I'm not even an A anymore, which surprised me. When I stare at myself in the mirror, I don't even recognize my chest. My breasts look sad and used up, to be frank. That said, I'm trying to embrace their new smallness. With the help of a kind salesperson, I found three bras, all on sale, very plain (not much to choose from), but they have a wonderfully close fit and it felt good to take care of myself in this way. I highly recommend it--not always neglecting yourself. Even if you're tired and you don't feel like going out at night (which is how I always feel), just do it every now and then. Now that I've done it once, I plan to do it again . . . after I neglect something else for a few months, of course.
Monday, September 15, 2008
A Good Day
I think it's funny that I'm making a big deal out of starting E on cow's milk. You would think we were starting it super early, and in actuality, it's not that early at all. I guess seeing him drink milk just makes him seem like such a Big Kid to me. I wonder if moms who formula-feed feel like the transition to cow's milk is as significant.
By the way, today is the kind of day I love being a stay-at-home mom. E and I are in good places, and most importantly, fall has arrived and it's not blazing hot outside. I think the weather has everything do to with how today feels. The house is still and quiet--no AC in the background--and a cool breeze is blowing through the open windows. I was finally able to air out E's room, which has been hot and stuffy and mildly stinky lately. We always keep the curtains closed in there because the sun beats down on that side of the house in the afternoon, and his room gets really hot. So it felt great to tie the curtains back and open the window. E pulled up on the windowsill and stared wide-eyed at the trees and the cars and the street and laughed when the wind blew across his face.
This afternoon I bought his birthday gift from me and TJ. I've been dying to get this for him. It's a set of musical instruments for children. The set comes with castanets, jingle bells, maracas, and a tambourine. We hope he grows to feel music deep in his bones, and that he learns that, like books, music will always be there for him.
By the way, today is the kind of day I love being a stay-at-home mom. E and I are in good places, and most importantly, fall has arrived and it's not blazing hot outside. I think the weather has everything do to with how today feels. The house is still and quiet--no AC in the background--and a cool breeze is blowing through the open windows. I was finally able to air out E's room, which has been hot and stuffy and mildly stinky lately. We always keep the curtains closed in there because the sun beats down on that side of the house in the afternoon, and his room gets really hot. So it felt great to tie the curtains back and open the window. E pulled up on the windowsill and stared wide-eyed at the trees and the cars and the street and laughed when the wind blew across his face.
This afternoon I bought his birthday gift from me and TJ. I've been dying to get this for him. It's a set of musical instruments for children. The set comes with castanets, jingle bells, maracas, and a tambourine. We hope he grows to feel music deep in his bones, and that he learns that, like books, music will always be there for him.
Another E Report
I have this vague idea that once E is one (in almost exactly two weeks!), I won't blog as much about the ins and outs of his sleeping and all that stuff. That's my goal, anyway. But until then . . . last night felt like a milestone. He didn't wake up at all until 4:45, but he really wanted to nurse then and was crying pretty hard in his room. I made a split-second decision (sorry, TJ) that I wasn't going to nurse him. So TJ went in (cue the next level of angry, hysterical screeching) and rocked him while I listened and cringed. I was sure it wouldn't work and he'd end up staying awake from then on, and I was asking myself if nursing him at 5:00 every morning was really all that bad. Then, lo and behold, he stopped crying after about five minutes and put his head down and went to sleep. TJ rocked him for quite awhile and then came back to bed. Five minutes later, E was up again, screaming mad. TJ went back in and rocked him, and again he went to sleep after several minutes of pissed-off crying. This time he stayed asleep until 7:00. Victory!!!!! At the first peep from him, I ran into his room and scooped him up to nurse (I still felt empty after over twelve hours of not nursing, by the way). We were so happy to see each other. I can't imagine how great it would be if he slept through the night and woke up between 6:00 and 7:00. It would change everything.
In other milk-related news, I gave him cow's milk with his dinner last night. I have never seen him suck so hard for so long on a sippy cup. He freaking loved it. I also heated up a frozen Amy's organic veggie burger for him for the first time (he had cheese and fruit as well), and he really liked it.
His favorite food of all, however, is cottage cheese. I usually give it to him as an afternoon snack, and he practically faints from joy. The only problem is that nothing makes him throw a bigger tantrum than coming to the end of the cottage cheese (and it's not like I give him a measley serving). He FLIPS out (shaking, growling, his face beet red, throat-shredding screams), to the point that it almost cancels out the happiness he was clearly feeling moments before. The emotional rollercoaster has begun . . .
In other milk-related news, I gave him cow's milk with his dinner last night. I have never seen him suck so hard for so long on a sippy cup. He freaking loved it. I also heated up a frozen Amy's organic veggie burger for him for the first time (he had cheese and fruit as well), and he really liked it.
His favorite food of all, however, is cottage cheese. I usually give it to him as an afternoon snack, and he practically faints from joy. The only problem is that nothing makes him throw a bigger tantrum than coming to the end of the cottage cheese (and it's not like I give him a measley serving). He FLIPS out (shaking, growling, his face beet red, throat-shredding screams), to the point that it almost cancels out the happiness he was clearly feeling moments before. The emotional rollercoaster has begun . . .
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Instinct
In the first few months after E was born, I kept a stack of baby/parenting guides by the tv upstairs, and I consulted them often, sometimes frantically. There were so many changes, so many decisions to make, and inevitably something weird would happen with his poop or his sleep or his breathing or his nursing, and I wouldn't know what it meant or if I should be worried. I also used to wonder things like: How will I know when to stop swaddling him? How will I know when he's ready to go longer between feedings? How will I know when it's time to move him from the co-sleeper to his crib? When should we start feeding him solids?
I now look at the baby books very, very rarely. They sit on a shelf in my office, mostly collecting dust. It's not that I'm an expert now. Newborns really are inscrutable mysteries in many ways. Caring for them is very stressful, in my opinion. But I've also realized that there is this thing called instinct and it has guided me through the unanswerable questions and transitions over the past year, even when I didn't realize that's what was happening and I felt anything but confident. I somehow just knew when it was time to stop swaddling E, for instance. And the latest thing is that I think it's time to start giving him cow's milk. He won't be one until the end of the month, but he eats a lot of dairy (cottage cheese is like crack to him) and he has no problems with it. Also, my breasts have felt incredibly empty lately, almost deflated. At the same time, E has suddenly started gulping down water, whereas up until now he would only take a couple of sips a day. So, I think it's time (maybe this seems obvious). I let him have some of my skim milk to try last week and he took to it immediately, so I'll be interested to see what he does with whole milk.
In other E news, the second top tooth came through yesterday, just a sliver. Today his gum has been bleeding but he's been okay. Last night we finally put the kebosh on the middle-of the-night feeding. He woke up at 2:00, and I could tell it was because of his teeth (usually he wakes up closer to 4:00). I rocked him but he kept wincing and twitching and he started screaming again when I put him back down. TJ got up and we gave him some Motrin and then TJ rocked him, which E wasn't happy about at all. He flipped when I left the room but calmed down after a few minutes. TJ rocked him for a long time and then came back to bed and fell asleep, but E was crying again in a few minutes. I went back in and rocked him yet again, and he didn't protest. This time it took. It was after 3:00 when I crawled back in bed. Once we've gotten him night weaned, we'll need to stop going in and rocking him endlessly, but I thought last night went well, considering. I did nurse him when he woke up screaming at 5:30 this morning. I'd like to wait until 6:00 if I can, but I didn't want to make him cry until then. Surprisingly, he went back to sleep after nursing. Thank God. I felt like the walking dead.
He only napped for a half hour or so total yesterday, so that was quite a feat.
He is just the sweetest boy. When you rock him he buries his face as far as possible into your neck and he stays that way the entire time.
I now look at the baby books very, very rarely. They sit on a shelf in my office, mostly collecting dust. It's not that I'm an expert now. Newborns really are inscrutable mysteries in many ways. Caring for them is very stressful, in my opinion. But I've also realized that there is this thing called instinct and it has guided me through the unanswerable questions and transitions over the past year, even when I didn't realize that's what was happening and I felt anything but confident. I somehow just knew when it was time to stop swaddling E, for instance. And the latest thing is that I think it's time to start giving him cow's milk. He won't be one until the end of the month, but he eats a lot of dairy (cottage cheese is like crack to him) and he has no problems with it. Also, my breasts have felt incredibly empty lately, almost deflated. At the same time, E has suddenly started gulping down water, whereas up until now he would only take a couple of sips a day. So, I think it's time (maybe this seems obvious). I let him have some of my skim milk to try last week and he took to it immediately, so I'll be interested to see what he does with whole milk.
In other E news, the second top tooth came through yesterday, just a sliver. Today his gum has been bleeding but he's been okay. Last night we finally put the kebosh on the middle-of the-night feeding. He woke up at 2:00, and I could tell it was because of his teeth (usually he wakes up closer to 4:00). I rocked him but he kept wincing and twitching and he started screaming again when I put him back down. TJ got up and we gave him some Motrin and then TJ rocked him, which E wasn't happy about at all. He flipped when I left the room but calmed down after a few minutes. TJ rocked him for a long time and then came back to bed and fell asleep, but E was crying again in a few minutes. I went back in and rocked him yet again, and he didn't protest. This time it took. It was after 3:00 when I crawled back in bed. Once we've gotten him night weaned, we'll need to stop going in and rocking him endlessly, but I thought last night went well, considering. I did nurse him when he woke up screaming at 5:30 this morning. I'd like to wait until 6:00 if I can, but I didn't want to make him cry until then. Surprisingly, he went back to sleep after nursing. Thank God. I felt like the walking dead.
He only napped for a half hour or so total yesterday, so that was quite a feat.
He is just the sweetest boy. When you rock him he buries his face as far as possible into your neck and he stays that way the entire time.
Friday, August 22, 2008
Friday, and Updates on Sleep and Nursing (Bo-ring!)
We had lunch today with my high school friend Heather and her daughter, Alayna, who's thirteen months old. We hadn't gotten together with them for four or five months (not counting my brother's wedding last weekend), so it was fun to catch up on all things baby related as well as life in general. They just finished weaning, so of course I asked a ton of questions about that. It was amazing to see all the things Alayna can do now. And Eamon was back to his super happy, secure, smiley self. Granted, the babies weren't actually playing with each other and Alayna never took a toy away from him--perhaps the tide would've turned then.
It occurred to me that it's time to offer a little update on sleeping and nursing. Nursing three times during the day is working out fine, and I think I'm ready to drop the 3 a.m. nursing. E's gotten into the habit of waking up at midnight and 3:00 like clockwork, and it's not cool. Last night, for the first time, we didn't go in at all at midnight. Or rather we waited to see what would happen if we didn't go in. He cried some, but not hysterically and not for long. He went off and on for fifteen minutes or so, and then he went back to sleep, and get this: He didn't wake up again until 5:30. [Huge sigh of relief.] I've never been able to stomach the idea of not going to him at night, but I can't argue with these results.
As for naps, I think he's started the transition from two to one. He's ended up taking two today, for the first time since last Sunday. I guess we'll see what happens the next couple of days.
Oh, did I ever report back about the sleep training we tried a couple of weeks ago? I don't think I did. It was incredible! I never thought we'd see such clear results from any one method, but this one worked for us like no other. One night--that's all it took. As I mentioned before, we waited five minutes, then ten, fifteen, and twenty. (Twenty was the longest interval we had to go. Thank God.) We've never had to go that long again, although we've had to employ the method once or twice since then when he's gotten off the routine for various reasons. But it's been quick--nothing like that one night. For the most part, we put him down awake around 7:00 and he plays for a while and then falls asleep quietly or fusses just a bit before falling asleep.
Oops, someone's up.
Gosh, the non-mom part of me just skimmed this post. YAWN!
It occurred to me that it's time to offer a little update on sleeping and nursing. Nursing three times during the day is working out fine, and I think I'm ready to drop the 3 a.m. nursing. E's gotten into the habit of waking up at midnight and 3:00 like clockwork, and it's not cool. Last night, for the first time, we didn't go in at all at midnight. Or rather we waited to see what would happen if we didn't go in. He cried some, but not hysterically and not for long. He went off and on for fifteen minutes or so, and then he went back to sleep, and get this: He didn't wake up again until 5:30. [Huge sigh of relief.] I've never been able to stomach the idea of not going to him at night, but I can't argue with these results.
As for naps, I think he's started the transition from two to one. He's ended up taking two today, for the first time since last Sunday. I guess we'll see what happens the next couple of days.
Oh, did I ever report back about the sleep training we tried a couple of weeks ago? I don't think I did. It was incredible! I never thought we'd see such clear results from any one method, but this one worked for us like no other. One night--that's all it took. As I mentioned before, we waited five minutes, then ten, fifteen, and twenty. (Twenty was the longest interval we had to go. Thank God.) We've never had to go that long again, although we've had to employ the method once or twice since then when he's gotten off the routine for various reasons. But it's been quick--nothing like that one night. For the most part, we put him down awake around 7:00 and he plays for a while and then falls asleep quietly or fusses just a bit before falling asleep.
Oops, someone's up.
Gosh, the non-mom part of me just skimmed this post. YAWN!
Thursday, August 14, 2008
This Boy of Mine
I fall into his eyes.
Love.
Nursing him today . . . I think it was the most wonderful nursing we've ever had. I'm not sure why, and I wouldn't know how to put it into words. Closeness, understanding, laughter, life, communication, silliness, trust, ease, loving, connection. Gift.
Love.
Nursing him today . . . I think it was the most wonderful nursing we've ever had. I'm not sure why, and I wouldn't know how to put it into words. Closeness, understanding, laughter, life, communication, silliness, trust, ease, loving, connection. Gift.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Better for Everyone (Changes in Nursing)
I decided to try dropping a feeding today. I think E's been ready for this for some time, but I haven't been. I finally realized that I've been going about it backwards (listening to my own fears instead of letting his cues guide me), which has caused me to be more paranoid about weaning than I need to be. So, today I'm only nursing him three times: morning, midday (which we did at one o'clock before nap), and bedtime. I'm also leaving the middle of the night nursing session alone for now. Going from four to three daytime feedings feels HUGE. It's a big change. I'll report back on our progress in a week or so, but this feels right so far.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Afternoon Nursing
I can't help wondering if E is moving towards dropping his afternoon nursing. Today was the second time this week that he refused it. Granted, I got my period this week, so that may have something to do with it, but I don't get the sense that's what was going on today. He just wasn't interested. It surprises me that I'm not more crushed. I guess after last month I've come to accept the fact that he's going to wean at some point, and if it ends up happening at a year, so be it (don't know if I really mean that). I feel like he's still very much dependent on the other feedings, so that's a comfort, frankly.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Swim Schedule, No More Pumping
We've decided on a gym schedule. We're going to go Mondays and Wednesdays at lunchtime and take turns swimming laps while the other feeds E. Then we'll go one other time over the weekend. That's the most we can do right now, realistically. We might see about leaving him in the child care center at the Y and swimming at the same time--on Monday I recognized one of the child care providers and later placed her as a doula who sat in on our Bradley class last summer (and is an Austin Mama). That immediately made me feel more comfortable with the idea of leaving E there. Also, even though there are lots of older kids in the room, it looks like there were plenty of people to hold the non-mobile babies.
I'll also be going Friday mornings starting this Friday for a month of parent/baby swim lessons. I think it's going to be hilarious. I wonder if they'll teach us how to get them to hold their breath and go under water. That would be fantastic.
I'm feeling better about the cycle/breastfeeding stuff. Still a little uneasy, but better. I do think that E's cold caused my supply to drop and precipitated the return of my cycle. Suddenly I no longer have to pump at night, which is something I've been working towards a long time, so I guess I'm mostly happy about it. Yes, I am happy about it, what am I saying? I don't have to pump anymore! I'm free! And this morning we took down the drying rack next to the sink, which freed up a bunch of counter space. Cheap thrills.
I'll also be going Friday mornings starting this Friday for a month of parent/baby swim lessons. I think it's going to be hilarious. I wonder if they'll teach us how to get them to hold their breath and go under water. That would be fantastic.
I'm feeling better about the cycle/breastfeeding stuff. Still a little uneasy, but better. I do think that E's cold caused my supply to drop and precipitated the return of my cycle. Suddenly I no longer have to pump at night, which is something I've been working towards a long time, so I guess I'm mostly happy about it. Yes, I am happy about it, what am I saying? I don't have to pump anymore! I'm free! And this morning we took down the drying rack next to the sink, which freed up a bunch of counter space. Cheap thrills.
Monday, June 16, 2008
It's baaa-aack.
So. Yesterday, as I mentioned, I was really moody and emotional, way more than I admitted on here. I was sobbing in the shower and so forth--ridiculous--and in general felt like this silent, terrible gulf existed between me and the rest of the world. I also felt like my breasts were completely empty, which caused me to panic. And Eamon not only didn't want to nurse, but at one point was screaming angrily when I went to nurse him, and he flat-out refused. I could tell that it wasn't because of his cold. I was so upset, and I felt like we were frustrated with each other all day. I wondered fleetingly if my cycle might be coming back, which would account for the breastfeeding changes, not to mention my mood, but I highly doubted it since it hadn't appeared yet. I figured it wouldn't for months to come, or until we weaned. Then, last night, there it was. Doh! I couldn't believe my eyes. It's been so long.
I feel like I'm in shock or mourning something in a way. It scares me to have a period again, and I can't really say why. It brings back a lot of memories. It also kind of feels like the end of E's infancy and a signal that I won't be nursing him for much longer, relatively speaking. I don't know. It's just strange. I was so wound up about it last night I had trouble falling asleep. Since then we've had some sweet nursing sessions, so maybe the milk is getting back to normal, I don't know.
Part of me does feel good (relieved?) that my cycle's back. As though it's a confirmation that everything's in working order again.
I just can't believe how empty and lifeless my breasts felt yesterday. I guess that's what it'll be like once I stop nursing? And then eventually it'll just seem normal again?
In any case, this certainly explains what was going on yesterday, and it also explains some tenderness I'd been feeling over the past week or two when I nursed him. I thought it might have something to do with his teeth, but now I realize it was hormonal.
This is the kind of post that keeps me from sharing this blog with many people (not counting the Austin Mamas)!
I feel like I'm in shock or mourning something in a way. It scares me to have a period again, and I can't really say why. It brings back a lot of memories. It also kind of feels like the end of E's infancy and a signal that I won't be nursing him for much longer, relatively speaking. I don't know. It's just strange. I was so wound up about it last night I had trouble falling asleep. Since then we've had some sweet nursing sessions, so maybe the milk is getting back to normal, I don't know.
Part of me does feel good (relieved?) that my cycle's back. As though it's a confirmation that everything's in working order again.
I just can't believe how empty and lifeless my breasts felt yesterday. I guess that's what it'll be like once I stop nursing? And then eventually it'll just seem normal again?
In any case, this certainly explains what was going on yesterday, and it also explains some tenderness I'd been feeling over the past week or two when I nursed him. I thought it might have something to do with his teeth, but now I realize it was hormonal.
This is the kind of post that keeps me from sharing this blog with many people (not counting the Austin Mamas)!
Saturday, May 24, 2008
A Good Night
E slept from 7:00 last night to 6:00 this morning without waking up. His night sleep has been back on track, generally speaking, for a week or two now, but he hasn't had a night like last night in a long while. I managed to pump only once, at 3:00 a.m., in those eleven hours, which is quite a record for me. I pumped close to two ounces on each side, which didn't seem like much, actually. I was so engorged this morning, I had to hold him out in front of me when I carried him from the crib to the recliner. Nursing was such a relief. It occurred to me that I physically need him, just as he physically needs me. What a wild, beautiful way we're designed.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Recognizing Boobies
This morning I sat Eamon up on our bed so he could play while I got dressed. As I walked between the bathroom and the closet (shirtless and braless, I should add), I stopped to smile at him. He looked at me and then looked down and stared at my breasts with great interest. His eyes went back and forth, back and forth. I saw a look of recognition and something akin to comprehension come over his face. Like, "Wait a minute, I know those!" It was wild. And I'm not gonna lie, I was a little taken aback. He was so riveted. I wonder what he made of it. Does he connect what he saw with his greatest source of comfort and his primary source of food?
Saturday, May 3, 2008
Braless
I slept without a bra on last night for the first time since Eamon was born. I'm not sure whether I'll try it again right away; I think I might. It felt very strange. Before E was born, I hadn't really thought about nursing bras, aside from wondering how I would know what size to get. (If E hadn't come a month early, I probably wouldn't bought a few sizes to have on hand, but he came before I got to that point.) I learned in our Bradley class that some people recommend wearing a bra 24/7 while breastfeeding, but that seemed crazy to me. Then my milk came in, and it just wasn't comfortable without one, plus I leaked fairly often in the beginning. In any case, it did feel somewhat liberating to go without one finally, and it was nice not to have to mess with hooking and unhooking each side in the middle of the night and this morning. It felt cozier.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Good-bye, swing. Good-bye, papasan chair. Good-bye, TV.
This past weekend we dismantled the baby swing some friends had loaned us. I don't know what we would've done without that swing. There were many times Eamon wouldn't sleep anywhere else, and it was also where he would happily stay for a few minutes if I needed to use the bathroom or take some laundry downstairs or whatever. And sometimes, when he used to stay up really late at night, we would put him in the swing, which was facing away from the TV, and watch at least part of a movie. He was chilled out in the swing. So, this feels a little like a rite of passage. (Yet another to add to the ever-growing list.)
Along the same lines, we recently returned the papasan chair we'd borrowed from another friend, who needed it back for her second baby that's due next month. We used the papasan even more than the swing. It was where Eamon hung out in the kitchen, and when he started eating solids, it was where we fed him. We kept it on top of the dining table, which I'm sure isn't safe, but we were always right there. So now we've transitioned to the high chair. He sort of leans to the side, but he's getting it.
And finally, TV. This isn't a bad thing, in fact, it's good, but it's still a change. I used to watch TV when I nursed E during the day. We spent so much time nursing, it was the only way for me to feel connected to the world, and I enjoyed it for the most part. (I didn't seem to have the brain capacity or attention span to read books while I nursed.) It was a big deal leaving the house then because Eamon hated the car seat so much. I've never heard him cry as hysterically anywhere else. Luckily, he outgrew that when he hit five months, and suddenly going places was easy. But my point is that now I hardly watch any TV during the day. I used to DVR a ton of shows and blow through three or four in a day (fast-forwarding through commercials, etc.); now I'm lucky to make it through The View. (I know, it's embarrassing to admit that I watch The View. What can I say.) These days he just doesn't nurse as often, or for as long. When he does hunker down, it's usually first thing in the morning or at the end of the day when he's ready to fall asleep. Those are quiet, snuggly times. The best.
Along the same lines, we recently returned the papasan chair we'd borrowed from another friend, who needed it back for her second baby that's due next month. We used the papasan even more than the swing. It was where Eamon hung out in the kitchen, and when he started eating solids, it was where we fed him. We kept it on top of the dining table, which I'm sure isn't safe, but we were always right there. So now we've transitioned to the high chair. He sort of leans to the side, but he's getting it.
And finally, TV. This isn't a bad thing, in fact, it's good, but it's still a change. I used to watch TV when I nursed E during the day. We spent so much time nursing, it was the only way for me to feel connected to the world, and I enjoyed it for the most part. (I didn't seem to have the brain capacity or attention span to read books while I nursed.) It was a big deal leaving the house then because Eamon hated the car seat so much. I've never heard him cry as hysterically anywhere else. Luckily, he outgrew that when he hit five months, and suddenly going places was easy. But my point is that now I hardly watch any TV during the day. I used to DVR a ton of shows and blow through three or four in a day (fast-forwarding through commercials, etc.); now I'm lucky to make it through The View. (I know, it's embarrassing to admit that I watch The View. What can I say.) These days he just doesn't nurse as often, or for as long. When he does hunker down, it's usually first thing in the morning or at the end of the day when he's ready to fall asleep. Those are quiet, snuggly times. The best.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
The Third Meal and a Lament on Weaning
I added a third meal for Eamon today: breakfast. I have mixed feelings about it. My friend Heather told me that her pedi advised her to go ahead and add the third meal if she wanted to when they went in for their six-month appointment. And it seemed like Eamon was starving this morning. So I decided to try it, and he ate as much as he does when I give him solids at lunchtime and dinnertime, which is to say a lot. But I'm a little freaked out. The thought of my milk supply dropping makes me sad. The thought that this is another step towards weaning makes me sad. I know it doesn't mean he's going to be weaned anytime soon, but he will be at some point.
It reminds me of that scene in When Harry Met Sally when Sally is sitting on her bed sobbing after she finds out that her ex-boyfriend is engaged to someone else when he always said he didn't want to get married. She's crying hysterically and listing all the terrible things about herself and why no one would love her, and she ends by sobbing, "And I'm gonna be forty!" Billy Crystal says, "When?" "Someday!" she says." "In eight years," he says. She replies, "But it's out there! It's just sitting there like a big deadend!"
Anyway. I don't feel *that* dramatic about it, but it reminded me of that scene, because E is only sixth months old and here I am worrying about when he's going to wean. I worry that he'll be ready to wean before I am. :( I know that happens sometimes, and if it does I'll just have to get right with it somehow and move on. Maybe see a counselor. I think part of my attachment to breastfeeding is tied to my birth experience and the trouble we had in the beginning. I nearly killed myself making it work, and there were times I thought I'd have to give up. (I believe I'd be on anti-depressants right now if that'd happened.) The thought of feeding my baby formula in any amount felt like someone was plunging a knife through my heart. I can't really say why; it's not like I look down on anyone who goes the formula route. It could easily have been me. But it wasn't, and we made it through without supplementing (except for three times total at the start). It's the hardest thing I've ever done, and I didn't think it would be easy. But it's also been such a wonderful way for us to connect and bond. It's amazing. In the beginning I told myself I didn't have to do it past three months. If we could just make it to three months. Then six. It's not that I wanted to stop, but it was the only way I could make it through in the beginning. Now I can't imagine that I'll be ready to stop at a year. But who knows.
It reminds me of that scene in When Harry Met Sally when Sally is sitting on her bed sobbing after she finds out that her ex-boyfriend is engaged to someone else when he always said he didn't want to get married. She's crying hysterically and listing all the terrible things about herself and why no one would love her, and she ends by sobbing, "And I'm gonna be forty!" Billy Crystal says, "When?" "Someday!" she says." "In eight years," he says. She replies, "But it's out there! It's just sitting there like a big deadend!"
Anyway. I don't feel *that* dramatic about it, but it reminded me of that scene, because E is only sixth months old and here I am worrying about when he's going to wean. I worry that he'll be ready to wean before I am. :( I know that happens sometimes, and if it does I'll just have to get right with it somehow and move on. Maybe see a counselor. I think part of my attachment to breastfeeding is tied to my birth experience and the trouble we had in the beginning. I nearly killed myself making it work, and there were times I thought I'd have to give up. (I believe I'd be on anti-depressants right now if that'd happened.) The thought of feeding my baby formula in any amount felt like someone was plunging a knife through my heart. I can't really say why; it's not like I look down on anyone who goes the formula route. It could easily have been me. But it wasn't, and we made it through without supplementing (except for three times total at the start). It's the hardest thing I've ever done, and I didn't think it would be easy. But it's also been such a wonderful way for us to connect and bond. It's amazing. In the beginning I told myself I didn't have to do it past three months. If we could just make it to three months. Then six. It's not that I wanted to stop, but it was the only way I could make it through in the beginning. Now I can't imagine that I'll be ready to stop at a year. But who knows.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Still Pumping at Night
Eamon has been sleeping as much as eleven or twelve hours a night, which I know is incredible, and believe me, I'm loving it. But it would be nice if I didn't have to get up several times (well, two) a night to pump. I wonder how long this will last. I was talking to a mama who's a few years out from breastfeeding, and she never had to pump at night. She seemed to think it's strange that I do, and she says that my body should adjust after a few nights if I stop pumping. But I feel like I can't. I get so engorged! I can't sleep when that happens. The most I've gone is six hours, I think, but it's usually more like four. Typically I'll feed Eamon around 7:00 for the last time, go to bed myself between 10:00 and 11:00, and then get up and pump around 12:30 and again around 4:30. Or sometimes I'll pump before bed (which I really should do every night) and then around 4:00. Honestly, it's not *so* bad, and I really shouldn't complain at all with a six month old sleeping twelve hours at a time. It just keeps me from taking full advantage of all that sleep time. Last night the engorgement was extreme for some reason. I woke up at 7 a.m. today and immediately pumped yet again (I usually do an ounce from each side) even though I knew E would wake up shortly.
On a somewhat related note, I think I've discovered that I need to nurse E five times during the day (between 7 a.m. and 7 p.m.). When we only get four nursings in, I start feeling inexplicably anxious, and he seems more likely to wake up at night (I assume because he's hungry). Five just feels like the right number for where we are right now. It's hard to believe, after so many months of 8+ feedings a day.
BO-RING. But that's all I got today.
On a somewhat related note, I think I've discovered that I need to nurse E five times during the day (between 7 a.m. and 7 p.m.). When we only get four nursings in, I start feeling inexplicably anxious, and he seems more likely to wake up at night (I assume because he's hungry). Five just feels like the right number for where we are right now. It's hard to believe, after so many months of 8+ feedings a day.
BO-RING. But that's all I got today.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)