The Unspoken Milestone on the road to independance

There are all kinds of milestones on our children’s journey to adulthood and independence.  Their first steps, potty trained, first day of school – just to name a few, but there is one that no one talks about and is more terrifying than all the other early milestones (at least to me).  This is experienced only by the parent of the opposite gender child (being female and having 2 sons, I get to go through it with each child while my hubby gets to avoid it completely).  What am I talking about?  The first solo trip into the public restroom, of course.

The first time the I realized vaguely that this milestone was approaching was when my oldest turned 4 and I walked into the gym changing room with both boys in tow and read the sign on the door, “Boys over 5 years old must use Men’s changing room.”  The sign is innocent enough, and I’d seen it hundreds of times, but for some reason that day it might have well as said, “Hey you! SOON you will have to make your son go change by himself in a room full of strange men so get ready!”  A panicked monologue began in my brain,  “What the heck!!! My baby boy can’t always come in here with me???  Dang!  Oh noooooo, public restrooms apply too!  Stop, slow down, I’M not ready! HE’S not ready!”  Quickly my brain came to terms with the deadline being a year away and I calmed my internal panic.

Then the day came. He wasn’t 5, and it wasn’t the changing room. Nope.  My husband had just walked out of the restaurant with our youngest to load up in the car.  I told my son we needed to use the restroom before we go and he turned to me and said, “but Momma I want to use the Dadda restroom.”  I explained that I had to go pee and Dadda was already out at the car.  Then the hammer came down.  “No Momma, I want to go in the Dadda restroom all by myself.”  Well, dang!  Deep breath.  Internally I thought, “he’s taken the lead, let him go, don’t hold him back.” Verbally, all I said was, “ok” and he took my hand and we walked over to the restrooms.  We stopped and I let him do our normal routine of identifying which was which and he said, “There’s the super hero cape so that’s the Momma one – you go in there, and I’m going in this one for Dadda’s.”  (You bet I taught him the dress is a super hero cape!)  I told him I’d be waiting outside when he was done.  I have never pee’d so fast in my life! I washed my hands and went outside to wait for him.  It was a looong wait (maybe because I pee’d so fast or maybe just because I was anxious).  Finally, he came out with still wet hands with one of proudest smiles he’s worn.

restroom

So, so many milestones for them, and this one is the unspoken one.  But just like any other milestone, we aren’t ready, we hold our breath, and revel in how proud they are of themselves once it’s accomplished.  Any just like the others, afterwards we realize how much easier it is for us now that they are capable of it.  So, I’m celebrating the unspoken milestone- one down, one to go!

Cheers to going to the super hero room ALONE!

cheers

-Rebecca

Finding the Silver Lining

  This is Rebecca.  A year ago I was going through one of the hardest times in my life to date, so I’m feeling reflective.  Here’s a synopsis of my personal storm cloud:  I had a 5 week old new baby, a 4 year old having some big adjustment issues, a hubby working more than full time (which a job that does not accommodate ‘sick time’ or ‘family leave’), and Mastitis-From-Hell.  Mastitis of any form is horrible, and I had it bad.  I had already had 2 out-patient attempts at drainage, and antibiotics with no relief when it was decided I would need surgery and hospitalization.  After 6 days in the hospital without seeing my baby (now 6 weeks old), I was discharged home with IV antibiotics, a gaping hole in one breast that had a wound drainage system hooked up to it, and started receiving in home nursing care.  It took a month for me to get off all antibiotics, and the wound to close.  It took even longer to be able to breastfeed full time again and even longer still to feel like I had a handle on motherhood again.  My parents live 6 hours away and still work.  We had lived in the area about a year, so we didn’t have a great support system built up, although we did have a fantastic neighbor at the time who took care of both boys until my parents could arrive when I was admitted.  We felt very isolated and alone.IMG_3176                                                                 (first time seeing my baby in a week)

My parents called in the cavalry in the form of my Aunt Bev, Uncle Larry, and Cousin Mandy.  Bev and Larry are retired and all 3 live only 2 hours from us and they dropped everything and came to stay with us when my parents couldn’t stay any longer.  They did everything- they cooked, cleaned, they fed our baby when I was too tired or weak, they played with our older son (keeping him occupied and helping him adjust), they offered moral support.  So much moral support!  It was hard on me emotionally to not be able to supply enough milk for my young son and Aunt Bev reassured me and reminded me that I needed to heal.  And it didn’t end when I had recovered, they came back again and again.  Over the past year we have gone to see them twice, and they have come to see us countless times. Before this, they were the Aunt and Uncle I saw a couple times a year growing up.  After our wedding we moved and subsequently went 9 years without seeing.  Once we moved back to the area, in the year prior to this, we saw them 3 times.  Since this, I can’t even count the number of times.  Mandy went on vacation with us and my parents, and Bev and Larry house and dog sat. We moved and they came (along with my parents) and helped us pack, move, unpack, and build a chicken coop. Our relationship with them is great and we are so thankful to have them in our lives.  They are our silver lining.  I’m not saying I want to go through all that again (please, no), but at least I can see the silver lining and be thankful for them. So, in the end I am healthy, my family is healthy, and we have an Aunt Bev, Uncle Larry, and Cousin Mandy to count as close friends.

during my recoveryIMG_3299

tree trimming partyIMG_3939

fall apple orchard tripIMG_4448

painting gourdsIMG_4530

Cousin Mandy and us in front of Blackbeard’s CastleIMG_5479

cuteness!IMG_4532

fun at the ZooIMG_6511

making a tool boxIMG_7090

building a chicken coopIMG_7007

painting a sign for the play structureIMG_8004

Uncle Larry assisting the Captain

boating2

Aunt Bev watching the brotherly love

boating

Family Vacation

family

Thank you Aunt Bev, Uncle Larry, and Cousin Mandy for everything!!!!

Chaos in the form of Life

Hey, everybody. It’s Kristen checking in!

sold
T-11 days until pure insanity. Last you heard, I was going back to work on August 21st. Well, that is certainly still true… and here are the complications: daycare has no opening until the 25th and we are closing on a new house on 22nd. Yep. You read that right. And since my life is crazy, the flow of this post may be non-existent. Sorry about that.

Timeline:
Thursday, August 21st – Mommy starts work again, Daddy took off…
Friday, August 22nd – Daddy signs the paperwork for the new house and moving begins, Mommy is at work, Gammie will be with Baby A…
Saturday, August 23rd – A turns 1!! Oh, we are moving the rest of our stuff and starting the unpacking process…
Sunday, August 24th – Keep unpacking and get ready for the week…
Monday, August 25th – Mommy’s school year officially begins, A starts daycare…

So, where are we now? In hell. OK, not hell, but pretty close to it. I am spending as much time as possible snuggling my girl and then racing around like a chicken without its head during naptime (which is successfully only once most days – but, SERIOUSLY, only 1 nap!? I have stuff to do!!), trying to pack and finish my online trainings to get ready for school (and squeezing in this blog post today). I am also finding that it is hard for me to pack since I am still home. The place looks barren and depressing… but it’s all got to get packed at this point. 11 days, peeps. 11 days.
Naturally, A is JUST about to walk any second so there is no progress during her awake time. She is also ready to grow out of her current clothing, so I have the next size bin just hanging out and waiting. I was thinking we might make it to the new house in the current size (which is still 9mos, by the way) but I may have to rip off the band aid and just make the switch to 12mos. TWELVE MONTHS. As in, a whole year. My baby is (almost, don’t rush me) a year old. Which I’m clearly handling real well. Waaahhhhhh!
My friends and family have been super supportive, and I have even gotten a few back to school gifts to ease my pain! (School supplies help. They just do.) But, that said, I kind of want to lose my mind when I hear, “She’s going to do great!” and/or “You’ll be fine once you get back into your routine.” I know she is going to do great. I know it will be an adjustment in the beginning and then she is going to rock her new routine. I know that being back in my old routine is going to be great. I know we are both going to make it. I also know that I was super blessed to have a full year home with her. But I am still just sad about it.
On the flip side, while getting ready for school has been super stressful with trying to get a sitter and get into my classroom, I am feeling OK about it while I am there. I am excited to have a schedule that is pretty awesome this year, thanks ML (vice principal) – you rock, with lower than normal numbers in my classes, but it is a ton of work. My stuff isn’t where I left it! I have to find everything before I can do what needs to be done with it. As frustrating as that can be, it feels so familiar to be back in my room, moving desks, making copies, etc.

school stuff

 school stuff2

Familiar is a welcome feeling since motherhood can feel so alien. I have always loved kids; I babysat, nannied… and I’m a teacher for crying out loud. But none of those activities were 24/7 and I am certainly no stranger to the mommy guilt. It comes over all sorts of ridiculousness that I realize is ridiculous and still feel none-the-less. So pair that with the super fun process of moving with a mobile infant (almost a toddler – when does the title change?) and familiar is looking and sounding pretty darn good.

cutie

So, send me some prayers, some happy thoughts, positive vibes, whatever you have going on.

THANKS, ALL!

SAHM with a deadline

A Stay at Home Mom with a Deadline

allison

Hey, y’all! Kristen here. Get ready for a rollercoaster of emotions…

Flashback 5 years: My (now) husband wanted me to stay home with our (someday) children. I wanted to work. I felt it would be wasting my hard earned degree and I had just been accepted a MEd program for Curriculum and Instruction.

And now, here we are: Our daughter just turned 7 months old and I am enjoying a full year of maternity leave before returning to utilize the degrees I did not want to waste. And I am feeling a combination of dread and nervous anticipation about it more and more every second.

I was very firm with my husband (until pretty much this past week) that I was absolutely, 100%, returning to work. That is the decision we made while I was pregnant. That is what I put in my request for leave letter to the superintendent and school board. That is the decision we used when working on our financial plan for the near future. Our discussions of our next home — the home we plan to stay in for the long haul — was based on what our finances look like with me working. And here I am basically flip-flopping all over the place.

But I’m also not flip-flopping at the same time. I love teaching and I absolutely adore the daycare we have chosen. I have heard only fantastic things from parents, feel very comfortable when visiting, and just have a general sense of ease. I know that the socialization will be so great for Baby A. She will get to be around other kids her age, they will do some really cool crafts and help cultivate her independence. (That’s not to say I don’t do crafts and work on independence, but it’s just totally different.)

I definitely look forward to using my brain in a professional capacity again. I am not going to get into my concerns over my profession and the changes to it on all levels, but some of it does lead to a knot in my stomach. I love teaching. But, like with all jobs, teaching is actually only a small percentage of how I spend my time. It drives me crazy to think about the time I will be spending on the non-teaching stuff when I could be with Baby A. Especially the things that can be accomplished anywhere, such as grading, planning, corresponding, and updating my teacher website. I could easily do that from home while A is sleeping or playing, but some of that is (along with other things I will not even let myself think about) built into the day.

I used to be an assistant coach for the high school track team, and even coached until the end of last spring season with my belly sticking out. This year I am volunteering one day a week with the middle school track team. It feels wonderful to have a few hours guaranteed out of the house for me. Doing something that is just mine. Leaving is tough. Much tougher than I thought it would be. What if in the next 2 hours she actually crawls instead of just rocking and scooting, and I miss it!? I know there will be tons of firsts and I will not get to experience every single one of them, but I want to.

I hate the monotony of being home. This was definitely not the best winter for judging, since the polar vortex basically made us hermits, so I am interested to see what the spring and summer bring for me. We had finally hit our rhythm when it got cold. I thrive with a schedule and an anticipation of knowing what comes next, but I despise cleaning and laundry. Guess how I spend 95% of my time when she is sleeping!? The other 5% is for researching the products I use for her and for the home and pinning things, most of which I will probably never have the time to actually do.

So, I am going back to work on August 21. That is what we decided. But I’m not sure how I feel.

 

 

Daring to break the vacation mold (part 1: plan and prep)

While pregnant with our second child, I planned and brought to life what would turn out to be our 6 month old’s first family vacation adventure – a 7 day sailing trip in the British Virgin Islands (renting a bareboat catamaran), knowing full well that this would include 2 days of travel on either end, a 4 hour time change, and living on a 44′ boat crammed with at least 4 adults and 2 children.  (for those of you that have never heard of this: think RV camping, but on the water) My husband asked, “Are you sure you want to do this?”  My Dad asked, “Are you sure this is good timing for this trip?”  And I said, “Heck yeah!”  To mediate the level of crazy you are now elevating me to you in your mind, let me explain.  We had done this type of trip before (exactly one year before we started planning this trip).  That trip had some major issues: we learned our older son (he was 2 years old at the time) is very motion sickness prone as well as myself and 2 other passengers from that trip, my Mom got Vertigo requiring a trip back to port to go to the medical clinic, and we got a line looped around the propeller requiring some local workers to come fix it.  Despite all that, the trip was awesome!  This time, we would be renting a boat with a better configuration that would alleviate my son’s motion sickness, we would bring the correct medication in case of a repeat Vertigo incidence, and all would be fabulous! “What about the 6 month old (to be)?” everyone asked.  At just under 6 months the baby wouldn’t be mobile (less risk of falling off the boat), and would still be exclusively breast feed (no special food to bring) – have boob, will travel!  “Why not travel with a 6 month old?” I said.  (Famous last words, right?)  So, we agreed and booked the catamaran.  The vacation members were to include: Myself, and my mom, dad(the Captain), husband, 2 sons, and my cousin.  Even better because my cousin was going to fly with my husband, myself, and our boys (3 adults to 2 kids!).  We were set!

Fast forward nearly a year (10 days before departure)- the 6 month old was NOT following my plan!  He had been begging for food since 3.5months, and had been receiving it since 4 months; someone forgot to tell him you aren’t supposed to be mobile at 6 months, because he was already scooting backwards around the house and on the verge of full fledged crawling; AND he wasn’t sleeping more than 2 hours at a time at night.  From 10 days out to 3 days out I was in a full-fledged panic.  I couldn’t believe I had thought this was a good idea.  I just kept plugging away at the packing and continually talking myself off the ledge (of meltdown). Then it occurred to me- he doesn’t sleep here, so he won’t sleep there, but there my 4 year old will have lots of others to keep him company, and there will be extra hands to hand the 6 month old off too so I can actually get a break, and all while we are in the British Virgin Islands.  3 day til departure we were nearly packed and I was beyond excited again!  We were prepared for everything, including what I was referring to as “boob-ageddon” (if I was sea-sick enough to need the scopolamine patch and it had the side effect of drying up my breast milk).  Off we went!

In part 2 I will delve into the adventure itself, but first here’s a bit on the planning and preparation that went into this trip that helped make it an adventure, as opposed to a disaster.

Boat: I touched on this a little above, but the first decision was the boat itself.  A catamaran allows for cabins in each hull – ours had 4 cabins and 4 heads (bathrooms).  Most important to us was that there was exterior forward seating – without this one the first trip it had contributed to nearly everyone being sea sick.  There isn’t a whole lot you can do for a 4 year old that was sea sick so an improved boat layout was paramount.  We also got him sea bands and some homeopathic oil for behind his ear.  With the boat selected we then had to decide the best way to get to it.

The boat, and it’s forward seating options:

                 forward seatingcatamarantrampoline

Travel: We sailed out of Tortola, a British Virgin Island, but flew into St.Thomas, which is a U.S. Virgin Island.  To get from one to the other we took an hour long ferry, which was cheaper than flying into Tortola and allowed us to go through customs at the ferry dock instead of an airport.  Flying from the west coast of the U.S. meant a lot of travel time, so we decided to break it up into 2 days.  We searched for flights that gave us a long layover (8 hours or more) at a midway point.  Also factoring into this decision was how cold it would be at that overnight city (any stops in the top half of the U.S. were ruled out simply due to the temps and weather delays that would expose us to).  Last point on the flight decision tree was time of day we started and ended in SFO, because in addition to the usual “two hours prior to departure” part, we had a 2 hour drive to get to the airport.  After settling on our flights, we then booked airport area hotels for our layover cities.  One more hotel was booked for the last night of our trip before our flights – we would be returning the boat and taking the ferry back into the U.S., then begin flying home the following day.  Our last transportation decision was deciding to take the airport shuttle bus to the airport instead of driving – we hoped it would allow us a little more freedom, and space, with less stress.

dadda and parker

Participants:  Honestly, the participants in a vacation can make or break it, even more so when kids are involved.  When you are on a boat your child has to follow directions from anyone giving them, feel comfortable being around anyone on the boat (it really is close quarters), and everybody has to participate in duties.  Travel with kids has all the same components as living with kids – the diapers, feedings, discipline, naps, etc don’t stop just because you are on vacation. Plus, on this type of vacation the cooking, dishes, and cleaning don’t either.  We decided that my parents and our family were not quite enough hands on deck, so to speak.  Several options were considered and my cousin, who has spent considerable time around the boys, agreed to join us.   She was a perfect fit!  She knows nothing about sailing (honestly though, neither do I) but is always willing to try and never has to be asked to pitch in.

group pic

Making a list: With the details all worked out, next came the actual packing.  If you read my other post, you know I am the queen of forgetting something important.  I aimed to minimize that this trip.  There are small convenience stores on some of the beaches, but not much in the way of groceries stores, and definitely no Targets, so it was very important to bring any essentials.  I realized if an item makes the list it gets packed, so I tried something new this time – I confiscated my 4 year old’s easel and made BIG lists, DAYS before.  That way as I thought of things I could just go add them to the list (I was barely functioning on very little sleep during this time), plus it kept all those lists out of my head.  Then starting a week before, I started bringing items to be packed into one central spot and made one HUGE pile.  If it made the pile, I crossed it off.  As it got closer, I used a new sheet of easel paper taped to the wall to make a list of each of the carry-on bags we would be carrying and what would go in each (keep in mind, the night at the layover airport we would not have our checked bags).  The lists probably would have made some people go insane – for me it allowed it all to be on paper and not in my head.

The ever growing pile and the initial list, the pile packed into the checked bags, and the carry-on bags:

listluggage  carry ons

Baby gear:  due to the space limitations of the boat, bringing baby gear was extremely limited.    A high chair was out, as was a stroller, a pack n’ play, baby gates, or any type of swing or bouncer.  He sat on the ground, bench, table or counter to be fed.  We brought a blanket as a play mat and some toys.  For sleeping we brought a very compact travel bassinet (Brica was the brand), which doubled as a playpen at the airport.  He was either carried or in the lillebaby carrier (a soft pack style carrier) when we went anywhere (when we did the trip 2 years prior- we used a metal framed hiking backpack for our 2 year old).  We brought a tub of formula he was used to (just in case my supply was compromised), my breast pump, bottles, a manual food masher, and an assortment of food pouches (what I thought would be sufficient for all meals out plus all travel days), disposable bibs, and cheap baby spoons.

Messy feedings, bassinet for nap, night, and travel, and baby wearing:

  messy food nap sleepingairport penbaby wearing

Safety: We were assured by the boat rental company they had life jackets for infant – adult.  Our 4 year old weighed in at just over 50lbs right before we left, which means he fit into a youth life jacket, so we opted not to bring an extra one for him, but did bring his water wings.  Our 6 month old clearly needed an infant jacket and we decided to bring ours just as back up in case we didn’t like theirs, since his was so critical.  It turns out they did not have infant jackets and we were sure glad we brought ours!  We brought a first aid kit and an assortment of essential medications, including some for the boys.  My Dad brought a tether, which came in handy to keep the little mobile one from tumbling down the stairs to the cabins. Immediately after arriving at the boat, we all sat down together and discussed the rules of the boat concerning the boys so everyone was on the same page as to when life jackets had to be worn, when the 4 year old was and was not allowed to go, etc.

The tether and the gaping hole down the stairs, and the infant life jacket:

 tether hole infant life jacketbaby life jacket

Itinerary and provisioning (boat-speak for food):  Luckily for me, this was not my responsibility, but since I’m the Momma I did have major input.  My dad, the Captain, did all the work of plotting different courses and letting us decide as a group which itinerary was best for us.  He did a great job of factoring in what everyone really wanted to see, and what would work best for the boys and came up with a great itinerary.  It allowed us to have some idea before hand where we would be going and what to expect from each day.  Knowing our 4 year old may have issues, Dad limited the length of time we would be ‘under way’ each day and it even worked out that he got a nap every day! The main grocery store is in the town we start from, but there is limited fridge and freezer space on the boat, plus even bread and produce spoil very quickly there, add in 2 kids, and planning your food supplies suddenly becomes a big issue. Dad gave us a list of restaurants at each of our stops for us to look into.   We agreed to plan breakfasts, lunches, and 1/2 our dinners (the other 1/2 we would eat out).  We all agreed on 4 simple dinners and a general shopping list was created ahead of time.  The night we arrived at the boat provisions were obtained, however that grocery store did not end up having everything they listed on their website.  That night after dinner we reviewed what was purchased and what the meal plan was.  We revised our meal plan and created a second list. The following morning before we set sail, a second grocery store run was made.

On to the adventure!

Little Man Fashion

*WARNING-This post contains pictures. LOTS of pictures. Because my son is just too stinkin’ cute to pick and choose.

Moms of boys-this one’s for you! Often when you tell people you have a boy, or are having a boy, or that you want a boy, people’s first reaction is “Ooooh, but girls are so fun to dress!” Maybe, but boys are just as fun, if not more so.  It may be true that there aren’t as many options out there for boys as there are for girls, but that just makes it a little more interesting.  Until my first was about 5-6 months, we lived in sleepers, onesies, and, more often than not, just a diaper (he was what the doctor called a “happy spitter” …he puked, A LOT). Then he started getting chunkier, sitting up by himself, and having a semblance of a neck (although he still puked…A LOT).  The fun began! We took him to Belfast for the first time when he was 5 months.  And here, I discovered Next.  The Holy Grail of amazing baby clothes.  Colored chinos? Yep. Tiny Aztec print button ups? Check. Skinny jeans FOR BOYS? You got it! I was in tiny clothes heaven.  My sisters-in-law shared my enthusiasm for gorgeous baby gear and showered A with adorable cardis, polos, vests, etc.  Each time we went to Northern Ireland, or my husband’s family came here, A’s wardrobe was supplemented tenfold.  My addiction was solidified.  My son would be a fashionable dude! He is now 2 years old and I still absolutely LOVE dressing him.  I’m hoping he’ll continue to let me play dress-up for years to come.  I can’t wait until little bro starts to grow into A’s hand-me-downs, and to continue to think of ways to mix things up and have fun with both of their wardrobes!  Don’t be afraid of colors, patterns, “girly” items (Leggings? We got em! Skinny jeans? Absolutely! Mint colored chinos? Yes please!).  Have fun with shoes, hats, layers, etc.  One piece (a vest, for example) can be worn a million different ways.  Too warm for your old favorite pair of jeans? Turn them into cut off jorts! Want something different for your family pictures? Make your toddler be your statement piece-mix patterns, explore neons, have fun!!

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When Breastfeeding Fails…

I took the class offered by the hospital, I read the books, but my downfall was putting my trust in the wrong people.  I had a great at home support system.  But, I’m a first time mom and I expected the experts to, well, be experts.  So, here is my journey from preparation to failure to acceptance to hope.  It’s LOOOONNNGGGG.

Kbreastfeeding

My husband and I took the hospital class as part of our childbirth prep series.  The instructor was awesome and I was prepared for it to hurt a little in the beginning, for it not to be easy, but for it to work out if I persevered and had support.

Eventually the baby, Alison, came!  She latched on quickly and it felt awkward and hurt a little.  The nurses assured me that her latch was just fine and I’d get used to it.  Every time she needed to eat, I buzzed the nurses in to make sure we were getting a good latch (I remembered that it was important to get it right from the start!).  They said everything looked good and that the hospital LC would see me soon.  Each nurse came with different suggestions on how to get her better at latching and sucking.  One nurse said to give her a pacifier to make her learn how.  The next nurse told me never to use a paci, but to use a nipple shield when nursing.  And so on, and so forth.  Suddenly it was time for discharge… and I still had not been seen by a LC.  There was apparently only one on duty since I delivered late on a Friday night.  The LC never came, despite my asking repeatedly to see her on Saturday.  My nurse called one of the LCs who was off duty and let me talk to her on Sunday before my discharge.  It was not very helpful because I didn’t even know what to ask.  The LC on the phone spoke to the nurse.  I overheard the nurse tell the LC that Alison was not tongue-tied.  I left the hospital with some sugar water and a syringe and the instruction to put some sugar water on the nipple shield to encourage her to latch well.

So, home we went.  With a baby.  Without a clue.  Alison wanted to eat every 2 hours, which is normal for a newborn.  She would nurse 30-40 minutes on each side.   So we were left with 40 minutes to an hour before we started this all over again.  Around the clock.  And did I mention that I had a long and painful labor that lasted 30+ hours?  So, I arrived home with a teeny tiny little baby that takes forever to eat and I haven’t slept in days or physically recovered from the marathon labor.   Thank God my mom was with us for that first week… then my husband’s mom… then my sister… then my college roomie.

It did not take long before I felt completely defeated and exhausted.  We took her to the doctor and she had lost more weight.  Nobody was terribly concerned.  We went back to the hospital to (finally) meet with a LC.  We were worried because she hadn’t had a bowel movement since her transitional stool.  The LC told us that Alison was tongue-tied (even though the nurse said she wasn’t!).  So, off we went to see an ENT.  He told us the tongue-tie was super mild and would stretch out.  He also said he could release it if we really wanted, but didn’t think it was necessary.  So, when the surgeon told us he didn’t think he should do it… we decided not to do it.

By now my milk had come in.  I had one night of relatively painful engorgement, but never had the squirting or leaking you hear about.  Back to the LC we went!  This time she asked me a ton of questions about my pregnancy, my miscarriage and menstrual history.  She told me that my milk supply could be negatively affected by my PCOS.  (I later did some research and found that it can, in fact, affect prolactin levels in either direction.)  She weighed the baby, had me nurse, and weighed her again.  After nursing on both sides, she did not even gain half an ounce.  She told me that supply would always be an issue and that I should pump after each feeding and mix my pumped milk with the formula that was now necessary since Alison wasn’t gaining enough weight.

I went home half encouraged and half defeated.  I was relieved that this particular LC didn’t seem to fit the mold of others I had heard about.  The ones who will tell you to sell your soul to make breastfeeding work.  She talked to me like a normal person.  She told me it wasn’t my fault I didn’t have enough milk and there was nothing I could really do about it… but really?  Pump for 20 mins after nursing for an hour to an hour and 20 mins!?  AROUND THE CLOCK?!  Or I could try power-pumping and pump for 10 minutes more often.  I decided instead to do a hybrid of the two.

We entered into a frenzy of nursing, followed by someone else giving a bottle, and me pumping.  Over and over and over.  It wasn’t long before we turned the night feedings into bottle only.  For the love… someone needed to get some sleep.   Eventually this switched to EP and bottle feeding.  You can only handle cracked and bleeding nipples for so long…

And then all the help was gone.

The family and friend who came to help were back to their own lives, as they should have been. It was me, my little bit of milk breasts, a hungry baby, a pump, and lots and lots of feelings.

I felt completely overwhelmed with simply trying to function.  In addition to my help being gone, I also no longer had to pretend to have it more together than I really did.  Yes, I realize how stupid that was… but I didn’t even realize I was doing it at the time.  Hindsight is 20/20, after all.  What followed were many days of not showering, wanting to cry when the baby cried, not having lunch, and not pumping as much as I should have because I just couldn’t get it done.

In addition to the nursing struggles, we (still) have an anti-napping baby.  So that is where the lack of time to pump (and eat) came in.  I fell into that new mommy mold of “I must entertain the baby while she is awake and not eating” and then she was refusing to sleep if she wasn’t being held… so my chest was just not available for the pump.  Everyone in my life was telling me it was OK to quit pumping because I was holding on so hard and it clearly wasn’t working.

My milk supply dwindled.  Of course it did.  And then I started to get upset about it.  I just couldn’t let it go.  I was feeling completely betrayed by my body.  My body that I have worked so hard all these years to take care of was failing me.  It failed me in the miscarriage and it was failing again.  After my milk was gone and Alison was doing just fine, I still wasn’t.  So, I eventually decided to attempt relactation.  I reached out to some postpartum doulas in the area and contacted LLL.  Turns out the LCs at my hospital do not have a great reputation in the area.  I gathered their advice and moved forward.  I did not tell my friends and family about this because I felt like they had all closed the door on that chapter and I didn’t want to have to justify all my feelings.  Only my husband and my online mommies knew.

I ordered domperidone and started pumping again. ALL. THE. TIME.  Sometimes I would get drops… sometimes I would get nothing at all.  By the time the domperidone arrived I had been taking the normal supplements for weeks and I was feeling really hopeful.  Alison would latch and/or lick drops off of my nipples occasionally.  She was already showing major improvement from the early days by sticking her tongue out past her lips and all that.  The drugs came on a Thursday and I started taking them immediately (on top of starting the old supplements of Fenugreek, Blessed Thistle, drinking Mother’s Milk tea and putting Brewer’s Yeast in everything I could tolerate to consume it).  I did not notice a change in output.

The Saturday after I started taking the domperidone, I completely forgot to take the pills and to pump.  I was just so caught up in being a mommy and a wife.  We had a fantastic day as a family of 3.  I wasn’t sad during bottle feeding.  It was a real turning point.  When it went upstairs to go to bed and saw the pump next to the armchair in our bedroom I had a huge pang of guilt.   I got back to pumping and taking the pills the next day.  But, I started feeling crappy physically.  I had a nasty headache that Tylenol was just not kicking.

I had no change in output.  I spent some time Googling domperidone and found out that headaches are a side effect.  I stopped the pills for a day and the headaches subsided.  Took them again, headache returned.  The decision was made.  I packed up the pump and all the nursing bras.  It was over.

At that point I finally, really, mourned the official end of our breastfeeding relationship.

A few weeks after that, Alison started showing symptoms of teething and so I really got in her mouth and poked around.  Noticed that her tongue-tie is pretty mild, but she also has a top lip tie… which wasn’t mentioned by the LC, her pedi, or the ENT.  She also has a very high palate – also not mentioned.  Naturally I turned to my best friend, Google, who told me that all of these things can cause major breastfeeding issues, including a lack of supply establishing (maybe it WASN’T my PCOS?), lack of latching (which we knew), and can lead to eventual speech impediments, etc.   We will definitely be discussing this at her next check-up and may have to have these ties released eventually.

I am still sad about the whole thing, but I have hit the stage of hope.  If we decide to have more kids, now I know what these things look like and you can be certain that if there are signs of these ties, they will be released immediately.  Perhaps if we had done that with Alison, I would be typing one handed while nursing instead of squeezing this in while she is (sort of) napping.  We will also look for a new OB (probably a midwife, actually) that can deliver at a different hospital with highly reputable LCs and doulas.  I am a little disappointed about that because I do really like my doctor. However, she only delivers at the one hospital… and that kind of makes the decision for me.

So, take my word for it.  Breastfeeding is hard.  It can defeat you even if you have the support.  If it does, it’s OKAY!  If you have a great breastfeeding relationship with your baby, AWESOME!  I am happy for you and also jealous.  No matter what you are putting in your baby’s belly, formula or breast milk, and no matter how you are getting it there, you are doing a great job!  You are a great mom!  Your baby loves and needs you!

I sincerely hope that you truly believe that sooner than I did.

Loving baby number two

Hey there, it’s Cassandra. I have been thinking a lot about what I wanted my next blog post to be about. Food, family, baby sleep routines, parenting paranoia, getting my pre-baby body back, how I got my body back the first time, traditions, toddler toys, etc…I couldn’t focus on any one subject and so I just decided to put it off, until yesterday. I started thinking about how much I love my girls. That is usually a major theme for me as a mother. I have turned into a giant sap. I still wish I was working, but I enjoy being a mother more than I ever dreamed would be possible. I wasn’t always this way, and I think in exploring the change that I went through these past three years will hopefully help some of you moms who are going through this out.

First off, here is my beautiful baby after some mango.

Norah

Get ready to hate my guts after looking at this adorable girl and reading what I am about to write.

When we decided to start trying for a second baby, I thought I was ready. Lucy had gotten so easy, everything just flowed. We had settled into a routine that fit and I felt like adding a second one would be easy as pie. After a few months and a miscarriage, I found out that we were expecting our second daughter. I am very tall, and so even though I was very pregnant, I didn’t look it. Lucy was blissfully ignorant and I was taking advantage of her awesome three hour nap to get in my workouts and naps. Around month 6 or 7, I realized that I was going to have a newborn around the house and reality sunk in. Oh my goodness, what did I do? How was I going to take care of two? Moreover, how was Lucy going to react to playing second fiddle to this new bundle of joy that’s entire life’s purpose was to exhaust me and take up all my love? I suddenly realized that I didn’t want another baby. I wanted to give all my love to Lucy, end of story. On top of my horrible realization, I started showing and Lucy got really clingy. She stopped pooping in the potty, only wanted me, and got really weird about baths. We always took baths together and she played, but that turned into her clinging tightly to me and refusing to play. By month 9 I was fine staying pregnant forever. That way everything would be fine and I wouldn’t have to confront my mistake head on. That’s right, I said mistake. (Insert horrible mother photo here.)

When Norah arrived, I was still in shock. I hadn’t worked through my issues and here I was, sitting in the hospital after a whirlwind birth, about to introduce baby #2 to baby #1. I loved Norah, but it wasn’t that tug at your heartstrings, love at first sight kind of love that I felt I should have for my child. What kind of horrible mother was I? All I could feel was guilt at the fact that I didn’t cry when she was born. I thought if only I had a VBAC, things would be different. Having one meant that I would have that special bond so many mothers talk about. Why was it missing?

Fast forward four months and I am a completely different mother. Looking at Norah wiggle around on her mat, try to chew off my chin, and how she lights up when her sister is near gives me all of those feelings I was missing the day she was born. Sometimes, I stare at pictures of her and she makes my heart ache. I am talking sixteen year old girl, my life is over if Justin Bieber doesn’t know who I am heart aches. The kind that make you cry yourself to sleep.

happiness

I have come to two conclusions after adding number two to the mix. The first is it’s okay to not have the same parenting reaction that society expects of you. We are all different and we take to this job differently. Adding another person to a family is not a trivial thing.  Even though babies are cute, rarely are those “cute babies” that everyone loves from the commercials a newborn. Newborns are tough and sometimes, they leave you at your wits end. Every parent has had the “Why did we do this again?” moment at least once. If you have that baby that never cries, puts itself to sleep, eats like a champ, and you left the hospital in your pre-pregnancy clothes, good for you. Just be sure to keep that to yourself for a few years. At least until I am through with the baby stage. Mentally, I am not capable of hearing about your perfect baby.  Just remember, the rest of us are out here in the trenches, cleaning the latrine with a toothbrush and grinning from ear to ear, saying, “This is the best time of my life.”

The second thing I learned is more personal. Norah has taught me more about how I love. I used to fancy myself a romantic, but now I know better than that. I need time to fall in love, and that is okay. My mother is a total sap and said she cried the moment she saw me. It was “love at first sight” as she says. Lucy and Norah aren’t as lucky to have a mother that has that open of a heart. I do, however, love them now with all my heart, soul, mind, time, and body. I would die for them. I sometimes pray at night that I want to take their place if ever anything happens to the family. I would gladly give my life for them in an instant. I want to.

Norah has won me over with her smiling eyes, her coos, her snuggles, and gentle disposition. She is such a sweetheart. I don’t know how someone as cold hearted as me could have a baby this loving. My point is, if you are worried about having baby number two, don’t worry. You will love the second child. You may be a heartless mother like me and it might take you a few months, but you will love them. Then you’ll be writing a blog about how you couldn’t imagine your life without both of them. Don’t just take my word for it, get going.

Freezer Cooking: My highs and lows

freezer

So, hubby and I start searching around for a good deal on a freezer and end up getting a bigger one than we thought for cheaper than the smaller one!  Score!  OK, so let’s plug that bad boy in and get cooking!

My sister came and we spent 2 days cooking.  It sounds pretty great, doesn’t it?  But, if you want the food to last as long as possible after the baby comes, you need to cook it as close to the arrival of said baby as possible.  That means that yes, I was on my feet for two full days in a hot kitchen mid-August.  Without the ability to drink.  Yea, it may have sounded like a good idea… But those were the longest two days of my pregnancy… and that’s including the first two days past my due date (but certainly not including my 30 hrs of labor).

We made a lot of great things, but I certainly learned a lot.  Here are just SOME of the things I learned… the hard way (is there any other way, really?):

1.    – Space it out!  We did two full days like that because my sister is not local.  Had I been doing this on my own, I would have done it very differently.

2.    – SING IT LOUD.  Once people know you are stocking up, they will bring you stuff.  It’s very helpful.  Now is NOT the time to turn away this kind of help. You like your mother-in-law’s casserole?  Chances are, she’ll bring one or two for the freezer if she knows what you are doing!

3.    – Now is not the time to try new recipes.  Most times, when you are freezing, you make stuff in bulk.  So, imagine hating the chicken… and you’re either going to hate it the next 3-5 times you have it or you’re going to leave it in there to get freezer burned and throw it out when it’s time to thaw out the freezer.  For us it was the pasta sauce.  It was a new recipe and turned out way more like marinara sauce.  We used it for meatball subs, but there’s still a bunch out there… and we are less than enthused to defrost it!

4.    – Now is also not the time to pick recipes that are a pain to make!  I made awesome parmesan-zucchini stuffed chicken breasts.  But yea, trim the chicken, fillet the chicken, make the filling, stuff it, bread it, flash freeze it, etc.  The other killer was the very delicious bacon leek swiss quiche.  Have you ever worked with leeks?  If not, ALWAYS buy the pre-slices and pre-cleaned.  TRUST ME.

5.   –  Really plan ahead for what you are planning to use the meals.  I made some things to use together, but did not remember to pull both parts out at the same time… so now I have a bunch of cornbread muffins, but I already ate all the soup!  Good thing it’s prime time for chili…

6.   –  When in doubt, add shredded zucchini.  Seriously!  I added shredded zucchini to my meatloaf, baked ziti, meatballs and I also made a batch of carrot-zucchini muffins which were not on the original list of things to make.  Now, this was because I had an abundance of zucchini thanks to a friend’s garden, but it works very well for keeping things moist.  The meatloaf was really good.  I was disappointed when we ran out because I don’t really use a recipe and I’m not sure I’ll get it that good again.

Here’s the list of stuff we made!

8 apricot pork chop in crock pot (2 packs of 4) 2 london broil marinades 12 chicken marinades (3 packs of 2 breasts in each: zesty, bbq, teriyaki and honey mustard) 4 packs of 2 mini-meatloaves 3 packs of meatballs 3 packs of 2 parmesan zucchini-stuffed chicken breasts 6 trays of ziti 2lbs taco meat 19 black bean and corn quesadillas 10 twice baked potatoes (20 half potato servings) with scallions, bacon and cheddar 2 dozen cornbread muffins – to go with the soup… whoops! 2 dozen lemon poppy muffins 3 dozen carrot zucchini muffins 3 dozen pear walnut muffins  4 dozen cinnamon apple muffins 1 bacon-leek and swiss quiche (8 servings, wrapped individually) 1 pear crisp 6.5 dozen choc chip cookies (frozen in dough balls) 4 tubs cheesy chili soup (2 servings each, add cheese to serve) 9c instant oatmeal w/ nuts and dried berries *Not in the freezer, in the pantry.  Add milk and microwave! 6 berry smoothie packs 8 containers of pasta sauce (each has enough for 1/2 box pasta)

My REAL Christmas list

IMG_4679

This year, just like every other, I gave my Christmas requests to those who asked.  Those items that I requested are things that can be bought in stores.  They are just things, they aren’t my real Christmas wishes – you know those elusive things that don’t really exist, but you wish they did or those dreams in your head that will always just remain dreams.  This year I decided to actually write out that list, so here it is Rebecca’s Christmas wish (in no particular order):

1.  I want my 5 month old to sleep all night, and go down for naps without a fight (and for one of those naps to overlap with my 4 year old’s nap).  I would love to have received an owner’s manual with each of my children, but I’ll settle for the instructions out of the “sleep” chapter.

2. I want my 4 year old to let me cuddle him.  For him to just sit in my lap and let me wrap my arms around him.  To lay in his bed with him sometimes and just hold him.  For him to come and give me hugs, just because.

3. I really want an invisible house elf.  My house elf would dust and sweep the floors nightly, because it truly needs to be done daily in order not to find dust bunnies hanging from my 5 month old’s mouth or wads of my shedding hair wrapped in his hands.  My invisible house elf would also be on constant camera duty in order to catch all of those perfect moments, and ‘firsts’.  That way I would never be fiddling with a camera when I could just be enjoying the moment (only to miss the shot any way) and I would actually be in some of our family’s photos too!

4. I want to be able to clone myself selectively.  I do realize a second me would be useful most of the time, but in an effort to be reasonable, I just want a second me while I am breast feeding my 5 month old.  I cherish that time alone with him (and it does have to be ALONE with him if I expect to keep my nipple attached to my body), but that time would also be the perfect time to be spending quality alone time playing with my 4 year old.

5. I want 30 min per week to drive around in our neon green jeep Wrangler with the top down and music blasting, singing at the top of my lungs.  If my 4 year old would be willing to sing and dance along with me (instead of screaming at me to stop) then he would be allowed in this wish.  This really is great therapy!

6. I want a day every so often that is perfect: everybody is in a good mood, no fights over naps or food, and everyone (including my husband) behaves and no discipline needs to be dished out.  Just pure happiness together as a family.

7. I would love magical clothes that grow with the child.  It’s horrible when you have to declare a favorite shirt is ‘too small’ and the hunt for new favorite shirts is so frustrating. Clothes need to grow with them physically until they grow out of the emotionally.

8. I want to be able to take away all my 4 year old’s fears and anxieties so he can just enjoy life.  There are so many things to worry about later.  He should just be able to be a carefree child now.  No 4 year old should have panic attacks and be controlled by fear.

9. My 4 year old is old enough to start to enjoy the outdoor activities I do for exercise with me (kayak, hike, SUP, etc).  I want him to WANT to join me an be excited to get out into nature with me.

10. More than anything, I want to be around to watch them grow up and to cherish every moment I have with them.  Life is too short, and childhood is an even shorter stretch of time.  They will both be grown and gone before I know it and I don’t want to look back and wish I had held them or played with them more.  I want to look back and be happy about the time I got to be with them.

The Houghton family

The Houghton family