Milkin’ Mama

Or Moo, as R likes to say. For you see, I breastfeed D. Wait, I guess I should put a disclaimer here** This post is all about the wide, wacky world of my boobs since D was born. So if you don’t care for that subject, please turn back now. For the rest of you, let’s break on through…. **

To breastfeed or not is probably one of the first questions on most new moms’ minds. And sometimes, it’s not entirely up to them. The baby may not latch on right, the milk supply may not be there, and honestly, it’s just not for everyone. From the time I found out I was pregnant, though, I knew I would give breastfeeding a shot.

I was never one of those women who was adamant either way on the issue, but I just felt it would be right for me to try. I actually was somewhat expecting it not to go smoothly for me since I am not, how shall we say, well-endowed in the chesticles region. 😉 Why I thought that would be an issue, who knows. I’m weird, you should know that by now.

Anyhoo… Fortunately my worries were quashed practically immediately after D was born, for as soon as they got her out and cleaned off in the delivery room, they positioned her on my chest and she started sucking away. (see, if you were one of those who turned back, that image probably would’ve grossed you out. hence, the disclaimer) I kept thinking what in the world good is that doing? There’s nothing in there, I can’t tell if anything’s coming out, and these things are so little there’s no way they’re providing her any nutrients whatsoever.

The nurses reassured me, though, that even though I wasn’t producing milk yet, the colostrum she was getting those first couple of days (fancy medical term essentially meaning pre-milk) was basically liquid gold to her body and was all she needed. Ok, if you say so. I’ve never done this before so I’ll trust you guys.

Fast forward a couple days to a day or two after we got home from the hospital, so either 3-4 days after she was born, and VAVOOM! These babies filled up like you would not believe, and I was shocked to see myself in the mirror that day. I even made R come into the bathroom to take a look, because it’s nothing he’d ever seen with me before. 😉 I said look at these! Don’t they look like implants?! They totally did too – perfectly round, just stuck right on there all perky for the world to see. Hey, I could get used to this; now I see why some chicks get the surgery.

And ever since then, I have been Mama Moo. R jokes that we should just go up to the farm and he could hook me up to the cows’ milking machine. Um, NO! I don’t want them to get ripped off, thankyouverymuch.

Everyone has their own personal reasons for choosing whether or not to breastfeed their babies, but my main criteria were thrice:

  1. It’s free
  2. It’s the best thing for her, so if I am capable of producing it then why not give it to her?
  3. It’s been easy and pretty convenient for me

Oh real nice, SM, you decided whether or not to breastfeed based on economical reasons? Um, yes. Please revisit #1 – it’s FREE. Have you priced formula lately? That shit is expensive! So if I am physically able to provide my daughter my milk at no added cost to our family, why wouldn’t I?

And I know formula is not harmful to babies (duh, or else it wouldn’t be out there), but I have never heard anyone say that formula is better for an infant than breast milk. I do personally believe there is some truth to the saying “Breast is Best”, but again, I’m not one of those staunch exclusive breastfeeding moms who looks scornfully down upon anyone who formula feeds. No way, none of that crap going on here. This is just what I chose.

And as for #3 – breastfeeding has worked easily and comfortably into our schedule. For the first couple months that’s all she did was nurse, no solids yet. So it was great – she’s hungry, I’m full, let’s do this. And believe me, when I say full, I mean FULL. Man, if she didn’t eat for one reason or another or I didn’t pump for too long at a time we were talking some serious swelling going on.

Remember the implant day? Yeah, they tend to get back to that status after too many hours of no sucking, whether it be from D or the milk machine. And dude, it hurts! I never would have thought boobs full of milk would be a painful thing, just more like a squishy water balloon or something, but boy was I wrong. The only thing I can even think to relate it to, and having no personal physical experience with this I can’t confirm for sure, but is when a guy hasn’t, well, um, you know…. released?

The one thing I really haven’t had to deal with is nursing in public, thankfully. For the most part we’ve timed outings so she’s either fed before or after we go, or we take pumped bottles for while we’re gone, or whatever. If we go to friends’ or relatives’ houses I’ll obviously just nurse her there if we stay long enough, too.

And I have nursed her in the back seat of the car, but never just right out in the open in a public setting. I do have a nursing cover for such instances, but I still think I’d feel a little weird. I’m pretty private like that, and I don’t really want people watching when I’ve got things hanging out, cover or not. In fact, the only people I’ve actually nursed in front of are R, my mom, and one of R’s sisters-in-law. They’ve got kids, they don’t care. 🙂

I was a little anxious to see how pumping was going to go once I went back to work, but so far it’s been no trouble at all. I have one of the good double electric pumps, so I only have to do it once a day, and it only takes about 20 minutes total from the time I step off to the time I’m back at my desk.

And I don’t make a big deal about it with fanfare and an announcement that I’m going to go relieve by breasteses or anything like that, I just discreetly step away and return. I figure if anybody has a problem with it, screw them. D comes first now in every aspect of my life, and anyone with kids (which is practically everyone with whom i work) should recognize and respect that.

It works out perfectly, too, because we send the two bottles I pump at work each day to daycare with D for the next day. Actually, I pump 3 bottles a day, because in the morning I need to pump the side on which she doesn’t eat, too. Ok, so 3 bottles go to daycare, and then sometimes we get a backlog so I’ll freeze the morning ones. This kid gets lots of milk. 🙂

I actually started pumping and freezing milk a while before I went back to work, just in case my supply dwindled too soon, or pumping during the workday ended up being a bust (ha! no pun intended), or things just didn’t work out for whatever reason and we would need some back-up reserves. Fortunately we needed not worry there either.

When I said R says Moo about me, he’s not that far off. I seriously make enough milk for a couple babies. We have a freezer-full of bags in the basement, a freezer door-full of bags in the kitchen, and a couple bottles chilling in the fridge on a daily basis. Yep, I’ve got milk.

I’m planning on breastfeeding D for the whole first year, which, judging by how well my supply has lasted for almost 8 months so far, should be no problem whatsoever. It’s what I’m going to do when I want to stop that kind of frightens me. I don’t get quite as engorged after long periods of no relief as I did in the early months, but these suckers still get quite enlarged and painful if I do go too long.

So what am I supposed to do when it comes time to stop if I’m still producing this much? Do I just pump little bits at a time less frequently to trick my body into thinking I don’t need to make that much? Do I suck it up and just sit in pain for a few days until they go down? (that last notion scares the shit out of me, because i’m not kidding when i keep saying these things hurt when they’re full!) Eek, we shall see.

One nice side effect of BFing that I’ve experienced is that it has served as my *exercise* for going on 8 months now. I’ve read that it burns like 500+ calories a day, depending on how much you produce, and I believe it. Without substantially changing my diet at all (and actually eating crappier than usual sometimes) I’ve been able to lose all the weight I gained during my pregnancy and then some, and I credit 100% of that weight loss to BFing.

I haven’t worked out regularly since shortly after D was born, and even then I was just taking her for walks. Before that, it was a good couple months since I’d followed my normal workout schedule, so it’s pushing a year now that I haven’t exercised like I’m used to.

I haven’t gone this long without regular exercise since high school, and I really need to get my butt back in shape. I’m still contemplating trying a half marathon this summer, so I need to do some serious work to get my cardiovascular stamina back up. I’m not gonna lie, I am a big fan of the BFing weight loss, but I really am wimpy right now in the fitness category.

Oh, and I forgot to mention – nursing releases some hormone that has a calming effect on both baby and mom, so yeah, I’ll take that too. And now that I think about it, never once have I felt nervous or antsy or rushed or unsettled at all while breastfeeding D.

Moo.

Just to clarify

I got to thinking about my previous post this evening, and I just wanted to clarify something. Although I love D unconditionally and can’t get mad at her when she’s miserable and screaming in my face because it’s my job to fix whatever’s causing the misery, I wasn’t trying to imply that every day of parenthood is rainbows and unicorns. Some days it is, but others it’s really really hard work. In fact, about 7 weeks after D was born, I announced that I had had all I could take and I was done being a mommy. Remember that lack of patience with which I was blessed? Yeah, it had kicked in big time at that point, fueled by broken sleep and lack of a newborn instruction manual.

So I certainly wasn’t trying to say oh hey, look at me, I’m such a great parent because I soothe my crying baby to sleep each night. No, not at all. Hell, I have no idea if I’m a good parent or not. Granted D hasn’t broken into the neighbors’ homes or kicked anyone’s cat yet, but she is only 7 months old. There’s still plenty of time for my parenting skills to pass or fail.

I will claim one small victory though. D actually went to bed peacefully again tonight. *knock on wood* I’m not sure if it was the bowl of cereal I fed her around 6:00, or her not taking her usual evening nap, or me nursing her the last time in the rocking chair in her room instead of on the couch, or leaving her Jerry Garcia songs for kids on in her room, but I’ll take it. I put her to bed at 8:30, which might be a little early, but it’s not too far off. Generally she’s in bed around 9:00, so hopefully this will work. We did hear one little wail a few minutes ago, but I think it may have just been a sleep terror. Fun, huh? Fortunately it was a singular squawk, so hopefully his friends don’t come out to play later. Keep your fingers crossed for a full night’s sleep to go with the scream-free bedtime!

So this is what unconditional love sounds like

R and I have really been blessed with D. She was never colicky as a newborn, generally not fussy very often at all, doesn’t get all bent out of shape when we take her places and she has to adjust her schedule to new and unfamiliar surroundings, and is just a really happy kid overall. But in the past week or so she has adopted a new bedtime routine – screaming. And not just your ordinary run-of-the-mill screaming; I mean screaming like someone’s poking her with a branding iron.

Her normal bedtime routine has been fairly consistent since birth. After the last time she nurses for the night she falls asleep on my shoulder and I put her to bed shortly thereafter. Even if she wakes up a little after eating, we can usually still just put her in her crib with her rain forest sounds on and rainbow light on the ceiling, and she’ll put herself to sleep within a few minutes. Alas, those days of easy sleepy time have apparently been forgotten. Now when I try to put her to bed she looks at me like just what do you think you’re doing, Mom?, and starts crying. This has occurred almost every night for about the past week. Even if she has fallen asleep on my shoulder after eating she wakes up as soon as she feels herself being put in her crib and the cries begin. And if R goes in there after a while to try and comfort her, she starts screaming even harder. Odd.

Last night I thought maybe we had it licked. The usual crying happened instantly when I put her down the first time, so I didn’t even try to fight it and just took her back out into the living room. It was a little early for her to go down for the night anyway even though she was obviously tired, so I didn’t really think too much of it, knowing how the past couple nights have been going. And of course she started playing and laughing right away, as if to say see, I told you I wasn’t ready for bed. Silly Mommy. Strike 1.

About an hour later she was getting real dozy in my arms (plus it was getting to be my bedtime too), so R said just try putting her down and if she cries, she cries. Okey dokey, here goes nothing. Of course the wails started right on cue as I laid her down, so I turned on her rain forest sounds and light and just let her cry. I proceeded to go to bed, and after about 10 minutes sure enough, the screams subsided and the individual cries became very few and far between. Success! Or so I thought. Her projector must have hit its 12 minute time limit when you have the light on, because all of a sudden she started shrieking again. Strike 2. This time R went in and got her, but as soon as he picked her up I could hear her sobs getting stronger and stronger and she approached a banshee decibel level. Ok, time for Mommy to step back in. As soon as I took her from R she calmed down, as usual. So yet again, after a few more minutes I nursed her once more and she was knocked out for the night. I guess 3rd time’s a charm, eh?

Throughout all of this I’m pretty surprised I never get mad or really upset at all, seeing how I was born with a negative patience level. Besides being disappointed that I get less sleep than I’d like, the more overriding emotion is feeling so bad for D. That poor little red face and gasps and sobs and rivers of tears are enough to break your heart. I’m sure letting her cry it out is the way to conquer this night time terror fest, but once she reaches a fever pitch I start to get a little nervous. Unhappy crying is one thing; screaming bloody murder like Freddy Krueger is in her crib is quite another.

Last night proved once again that my Mommy love is totally different than any other kind – it is 100% completely and undeniably unconditional. For if anyone else screamed in my face that they didn’t want to go to bed when I was bone tired and trying to go to bed myself, they would promptly be told to shut the f up. 😉

Oh, but I will take any suggestions on how to get rid of this bedtime beast once and for all…

The verdict is in

I think we have a little water bug! D seemed to like her first swim class the other night, so hopefully that bodes well for the rest of the session. She was a little apprehensive when we first got in, like Mom, what in the world are we doing? But once we were fully in the water she was all about it. She kicks like mad too – a natural breaststroker!

I'm at swim class!

 

 

 

 

 

 

C'mon, Mom, let me in there!
Hey guys, this is fun!

One fish, Two fish

I am so excited! Tonight is D’s first Parent Tot swim class, and I can’t wait to see how she likes (or doesn’t like, I guess) the water. She loves to splash around in her bathtub now, so I’m very optimistic that she’ll enjoy the pool as well and not be one of those kids who screams when they approach it. I’m sure all we’ll be doing is dunking them up and down and floating them around to get used to the water, but I really want her to grow up not being afraid of it.

SM, don’t tell me you’re trying to start D’s swimming career already?! Uh, no. As most of you know, I swam all through high school and college and am also now on a Masters swim team in the area (when I actually make it to a practice, that is, which hasn’t yet happened since D was born. oops!). I am often asked whether or not our kids will be swimmers. I don’t know, that’s up to them. My parents didn’t force me to be a pool rat by any means; it just happened to be a sport at which I excelled. If D, and any possible future siblings, choose that same fate of chlorine-laced skin and hair, then more power to them. It does take a little bit of crazy to enjoy diving into cold water only to swim back and forth in a straight line for hours on end. 😉

But back to our little fish. Here is D trying on her first swim suit last night. Talk about cuteness defined!