Twelve Months

Dearest Leah,

Snuggle in sweetie, this is going to be a long one. I'm finding it nearly impossible to summarize the first year of your life. So often it seems like we just brought you home from the hospital; I can barely even fathom the fact that you have actually been here for twelve whole months. You, my love, are one year today. 

One year...

Crap, wait a sec..

Better.

Watching you grow into this teeny tiny person has been the most fulfilling time in my life so far. And it's hard for me to imagine now, but I know it's only going to get better. 

This past month you have learned to clap. I think it partially comes from playing pattycake with your grammy, but also I like to grasp your tiny wrists and do it for you. Which inevitably cracks you up. Now when you do it on your own, you hold one had still while slapping the other against it. It's much cuter than I am describing it, I swear. 

Your getting pretty good at cruising along furniture, and sometimes, for a split second, you will stand on your own. Although the moment you realize it you drop down to your knees and crawl away.

You're so silly. You laugh so much, and so often. And your hearty little belly laughs are impossibly contagious. We just can't get enough.

Why you make a B-line for my bra every morning is beyond me. 

(it's usually on the bed as I'm getting dressed)

(I wasn't naked when I took this picture)

Your birthday was a total blast. We had both families over (about 19 people)! I ordered the template for your invitation from E.tsy and printed them at Cos.tco, I got the banner for your party with E.tsy as well! 

(Momma has no problems paying for convenience.) 

So happy with how this turned out!

Love this design, but it was supposed to say Happy 1st Birthday

I made your cake myself because, well, I take pride in preparing every ounce of food that goes into your little body. Since I haven't introduced you to Wheat yet, I made you a gluten free cake. (I've only held off on wheat because I'd like to limit the amount of processed foods I give her, not for any allergy concerns.) Anyway, I bought a gluten free cake mix, since I have no interest in investing in Rice and Tapioca Flours; and made a chocolate butter cream frosting from scratch. 

You ate two bites, and seemed mostly uninterested.

This will not always be the case. (I keep telling myself.) 

The mix provided plenty of batter so I poured some into an 8x8 pan with the intentions of cutting your piece into the shape of a 1. 

And poured the rest into a 5 inch round. 

 Which was good thinkin' cause the top part of the 1 broke off 

while I was frosting it. 

BULLOCKS.

Pretty happy with the other final product though...

This is what everyone else ate. I totally did not make it. 

Your first birthday present was a 4-in-1 Trike! You LOVE it. 

I had the best time decorating. My main objective was to take the focus away from the Christmas decorations. While the pictures don't really do it justice, 

I believe I was successful. 

A vase inside a vase, fill the larger one with gum balls!

 That is your "Birthday Tree" on the left.

Almost done, but I would like to close this post with 'A Mother's Prayer'. 

I did not write it. It is more eloquent and thoughtful than I could ever divine.

“First, Lord: No tattoos. May neither Chinese symbol for truth nor Winnie-the-Pooh holding the FSU logo stain her tender haunches.

May she be Beautiful but not Damaged, for it’s the Damage that draws the creepy soccer coach’s eye, not the Beauty.

When the Crystal Meth is offered, may she remember the parents who cut her grapes in half; And stick with Beer.

Guide her, protect her when crossing the street, stepping onto boats, swimming in the ocean, swimming in pools, walking near pools, standing on the subway platform, crossing 86th Street, stepping off of boats, using mall restrooms, getting on and off escalators, driving on country roads while arguing, leaning on large windows, walking in parking lots, riding Ferris wheels, roller-coasters, log flumes, or anything called “Hell Drop,” “Tower of Torture,” or “The Death Spiral Rock ‘N Zero G Roll featuring Aerosmith,” and standing on any kind of balcony ever, anywhere, at any age.

Lead her away from Acting but not all the way to Finance. Something where she can make her own hours but still feel intellectually fulfilled and get outside sometimes, And not have to wear high heels. What would that be, Lord? Architecture? Midwifery? Golf course design? I’m asking You, because if I knew, I’d be doing it, Youdammit.

May she play the Drums to the fiery rhythm of her Own Heart with the sinewy strength of her Own Arms, so she need not Lie With Drummers.

Grant her a Rough Patch from twelve to seventeen. Let her draw horses and be interested in Barbies for much too long, For childhood is short – a Tiger Flower blooming Magenta for one day – And adulthood is long, and dry-humping in cars will wait.

O Lord, break the Internet forever, that she may be spared the misspelled invective of her peers And the online marketing campaign for Rape Hostel V: Girls Just Wanna Get Stabbed.

And when she one day turns on me and calls me a Bitch in front of Hollister, Give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends, For I will not have that Shit. I will not have it.

And should she choose to be a Mother one day, be my eyes, Lord, that I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 A.M., all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back. “My mother did this for me once,”she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby’s neck. “My mother did this for me.” And the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each generation and she will make a Mental Note to call me. And she will forget. But I’ll know, because I peeped it with Your God eyes.

Amen.”

-Tina Fey
(An Excerpt from her fabulous book, Bossy Pants)

Can't wait to see what the next YEAR brings!

Love you more than you'll ever know,

Momma

And I Lost It

I was stuffing Christmas card envelopes last weekend, when I suddenly and completely fell apart. I just burst in tears. A wave of gratitude and I guess... relief; just bowled me over.

Relief that my darkest days are behind me.  

It's been years since we've sent out cards. In fact it was only three short years ago that I couldn't bring myself to open any of the cards we received, or even get a tree for that matter. 

Throughout our IF journey, Christmas has been particularly painful. (obviously, I know we weren't alone there.) It only reminded me of everything we didn't have. 

But Christmas wasn't really the culprit, the truth is I was a complete and udder train wreck for most of the last four years. It wasn't until the last few months that I have really made the time to reflect on where I was. Part of me thinks I've been too afraid to fully digest how bad things really were. It consumed and effected every part of my life. I let it. I guess you could say I was the poster child for 'leaning into it'. But I don't think I could have done it any differently. That is just how I function. I have to breathe things in, and really feel them in order to process the situation. Boy did I ever. And it was abysmal. 

But now? 

Now, I am obscenely, unabashedly happy. All the time. Sure I've been in a mood from time to time, but truly 98% of the time I am grinning from ear to ear. But I will never forget how lucky I am. And how so many of you, including some very dear friends that I have met through this community, whom are still fighting a very brave fight. Thank Gawd I found this community. THANK YOU, UNIVERSE, FOR BRINGING THESE WONDERFULLY AMAZING BRILLIANT COMPASSIONATE GENEROUS WOMEN INTO MY LIFE. 

**** I wrote this post a few days before the Newton Tragedy. Even the word tragedy feels like an atrocious understatement. I read one of the first reports that came out about it and not a single thing more. I stayed away from facebook. I couldn't watch or listen to the news. What happened... destroyed me. I felt physically ill. I was in tears on and off throughout the weekend, clutching my daughter. Shaking my head as I bit my lower lip trying to keep myself from completely losing my shit, again and again. I don't even know how to process what happened. All I can do is pray for those beautiful little babies, and all of the victims, and their families. This has to stop. IT JUST HAS TO.  

Oh Hey, I Quit My Job

Say WHAAA?

Yep. Quit. Quit. Quit.

I gave my notice back in October, but I offered to stay long enough to hire and train a new person. My last day with my current company will be December 19th... It's bananas. I've been with this company for over seven years. And I've had a job for the last eighteen, plus. 

BUT. 

What an amazing opportunity I have before me. And I am so ridiculously proud of and grateful for my husband who is making it possible. He's done an amazing job building his business and we're at the beginning of seeing it start to pay off. I'm not going to lie, it's still going to be tricky financially. It will require a lot of tweaking to our budget, but I have already made the bulk of the adjustments already. It's scary to rely solely on my husband's business, since I have always been the one to bring in the steady check and Health Insurance. But we are both prepared for the sacrifices ahead. And we know they will be so fricken worth it.

I'm going to be a SAHM!!!! 

Eleven Months

Dearest Leah,

YOU are Eleven Months now! This past month has been beyond amazing because you have made so many huge accomplishments – your dad and I consider our minds Officially. Blown.

Early in the month you began waving hello and good bye. Which is obscenely adorable because it’s more like a flap, than a wave. But it was so cool to see the first time you really understood what it meant. You were waving bye-bye as Daddy drove away in his truck! And yes, I cried. 

Sitting up in the shopping cart like a big girl!

Halloween was a hoot. We gathered a few of your future BFF's and we partied hardy until 6:30pm! Which was a little passed your bed time, but you did just fine. Until Day Light Savings started and that totally screwed with your sweet little mind. For a week straight you were up at 5am. NOT A HAPPY MOMMA. So we pushed your schedule back an hour and you adapted quite well. Now you stay up till 7pm, right after the Seinfeld reruns are over! (not that either of us get to watch them)

We also celebrated your very first Thanksgiving! The thankfulness took place at your Great Grandma Marjorie's house. Great Grandpa was there of course, too. It was so much fun to watch you with the entire family. You played hard, and then ate dinner with everyone. Not too much of your food ended up on the carpet...

Can't decide if you look more like Silvio Dante or Robert De Niro here...

(not exactly the perfect background but the sentiment is there)

Pulling yourself up onto furniture peeked your curiosity and quickly lead to you being brave enough to move along the furniture, and figure out how to lower yourself down to retrieve the items you’ve flung off of whatever surface you have pulled yourself up to.  And you can crawl faster than the speed of light! I think what cracks us up is how you’ve gotten the concept of “chase”. Except for when we start to chase you. As soon as you realize you are being chased you squeal and roll over on to your back and start giggling uncontrollably. Which makes us giggle uncontrollably. Game Over.

Speaking of giggling. There is one particular phrase that makes you absolutely lose your mind. And we have no idea why. But you literally get this guttural laugh that makes me almost pee my pants. You laugh so hard that you eventually go silent and just shake with hilarity. The phrase is “bless you”. I said it one time after you sneezed, and you got this huge smile on your face. So I kept doing it. And it still works now at any time. It’s almost like instead of 'Bless You' I said “ You are sooooo good looking!" And you totally got it. 

Because you are your mother's daughter. 

You are starting to babble quite a bit more. Making "mehm-mehm-mehm" sounds and "geh-geh-geh" (Giggidy, anyone?) Of course I am praying to hear a MA-MA, but realize it doesn't mean anything until YOU actually know what it means. P.S. Since I started writing this you have now added "Dah-dah-dah" "Buh-buh-buh" to your repertoire.

Every single day with you is more amazing than the last. I love watching you play, and sleep, and crawl. I love the way you look exactly like your daddy when you first wake up in the morning.  Every time you laugh it's almost as magical as hearing your heartbeat for the first time. You are our world. And we love you so very much.

Can't wait to see what the next month brings!

Love,

Momma

Happy Holidays! No One Cares What You Think.

TIffany-Amber Thiessen(!) I've been meaning to post something here! But I have been all sorts of busy being an asshole, and ruining peoples lives. Evidently. And also drafting brilliant posts in my head, but never quite making it to my laptop. 

So the asshole thing, let me elaborate...

I have a secret talent.  Well maybe it's only a secret if you've never actually met me. Which is most of you.  So here it is; I have the ability to make my good intentions make me look like an asshole. 

I'm not even really sure where to start with this, but I'll bet you guessed it probably has something to do with my inlaws. And you'd be right!

I basically asked her and the family to only buy one gift for Leah's Birthday and Christmas combined. (Her birthday is three days before Christmas) Because she is tiny and doesn't need much, and we don't have a big house to store tons of crap and I didn't want people going bananas. Oh, and also there are at least thirteen, 13 I SAY, immediate family members buying for her this year. Not including Brian and I.

But apparently that makes me a controlling asshole.

Because of the push-back I got, I ended up consulting a few veteran Mommy friends. They both completely understood my position, had attempted to set similar ground rules themselves at some point, but ultimately realized it wasn't worth the headache of trying to manage other peoples gift giving. 

As one of them put it: "Smile and nod, then Return, Re-gift, or Donate."

So I conceded. Reluctantly.

But you can fully expect an 'I Told You So' Post on December 26th, by the way. Complete with photographic evidence. 

My final thought is this: I can completely understand the excitement from family wanting to buy gifts for the new baby. But was I wrong to presume a little more respect for my request as her parent? I didn't tell anyone what to buy, just requested that it only be one item... 

The Formula For Density

If you are in the process of switching to formula from Breast milk, I urge you with all sincerity, not to Google the word Infant Formula. Unless that is, you are looking to read stories about how many babies end up dead or in the hospital every year because of the careless parents who feed it to them.  I was simply trying to find best practices and tips for serving and dispensing formula to my daughter. It’s like Mr. Bloomberg is overriding google searches to advance his cause.

Anyway. I am following the conservative preparation advice published by the WHO. Whereby I boil the sin out of filtered tap water before mixing it with the formula. Then I prepare enough for one day, and store them in my Glass baby bottles. Which can be quickly warmed up in the radiation fueled microwave and transferred to a sippy, requiring minimal effort. In addition, Leah is on the Sensitive formula, which gets notoriously foamy when shaken. So I mix it with a fork, and it stays pretty flat. I also strain the first two bottles that I pour because I tend to find little chunks of the formula that either get stuck in the nipple or end up between Leah's only two teeth.

Also, in the three-ish weeks that Leah has been on formula, she has gained 1 pound, 3 ounces. Impressive for a baby whom falls into the long and lean category. She's gained weight steadily her whole life, but always been on the skinny side. I mentioned in my last post that she just went through a big growth spurt, which feels like more than a coincidence with the timing of when she started full time of formula. But I guess we'll never really know. 

So I still have a small stash of my frozen milk. I spent a little time contemplating whether or not I should donate it to a hospital, because opening it was just a reminder that it's the last of my milk that she'll ever have. And I didn't want to reintroduce it, now that she is fully transitioned over to full time formula. But then the idea of adding it to her food came to mind, and decided that would be the easiest (on my heart) way. So I make her oatmeal with it. I do half water and half breast milk into organic steel cut oats. It smells a little peculiar, but it tastes sweet. And she eats it right up! 

Only about 30 more ounces to go...Then it's really over. 

Ten Months!

Dearest Leah,

The last few weeks have been CAH-RA-ZY. You are an entirely different baby from last month, 
I hardly know where to begin! My baby girl is TEN months now!

Still can't get you to sit for this photo...

Allow me to begin with your most accomplished new act; Pulling yourself up! The first time I saw it was on your monitor when you pulled yourself up in your crib! Needless to say we lowered the mattress that very day. And every day since then you try your best to pull yourself up using the couch, the ottoman, a chair, my leg, and even daddy’s chest hair! That one is secretly my favorite. Maybe not so secret anymore… In our living room we don’t have a coffee table, but a padded leather ottoman. You spend the bulk of your day in between that and the couch. As though flapping your arms, slapping the ottoman with your palms and banging the remotes together was your job. 
And you take it very seriously!

Doing business with a friend

You’ve started babbling with consonants, making a Fuh, and Kuh sound. Though, not together. 

You’re not exactly like your momma.

Please ignore my sideburns, it's regrowth from my post-partum hair loss

Mimic! You've started to mimic your dad and I when we stick our tongue out at you. You push your tongue out of your mouth and then immediately feel for it, seeming surprised when it slips back in your mouth. Ahhhdorable.

I'm Your Huckleberry

(Doc Holiday?)

(No?)

(mmmkay)

This is your first fall . And as everyone around me knows, I LOVE FALL. (I'm so unique!) We haven’t been able to go to as many Fall functions as I would have liked this year, but we‘ll have many more years to make up for it. Which will be great because you’ll then, of course, have some idea as to what we are doing anyway. You hit a pretty big growth spurt and were napping more than four hours per day for close to two weeks! And since you also sleep 12-13 hours at night, it wasn't leaving us much time during the day. And yes, I continue to be profoundly grateful to the universe that you are such an awesome sleeper. At least we managed to make it out to Half Moon Bay for pumpkins! 

Pumpkin Perfection. 

I constantly have to remind myself that you will only be this tiny once, because it's so hard not to day dream about all the super fun stuff we'll be able to do with you when you are a bit older.  I constantly wonder how your voice will sound once you are speaking in complete sentences, and how you will inevitably humiliate me in public by regurgitating something your dad or I have said in front of you unintentionally. Mortified and shame-filled I'll do my best to demonstrate how to slink out of a public space unnoticed.  Oh the places we'll go. And leave, disgracefully. 

Can't wait to see what the next month brings.

Love,

Momma

. 

Loud and Clear

I think my body is getting the message. I've been able to make it at least 48 hours in between pumping. Only getting between two and four ounces. I'm going to wean my body instead of stopping cold turkey and resorting to making coleslaw in my bra.

The rest of my body is catching on as well. I've noticed some...differences...in my nether regions. Either my lady parts are aiming to catch up for 8 1/2 months of missed periods (I haven't had any bleeding since postpartum), I'm going to ovulate a Grade A Cage Free Brown Egg, orrrrr - the Whore-Bag is back.  I've had all sorts of pinchy heaviness going on down there for several days. It's starting to get pretty uncomfortable.  I may even go see my Gyno or Acupuncturist. On top of that, I've had an outbreak of eczema, a reoccurrence of hemorrhoids, and a bout of insomnia.

I have an IRL friend who has Ovulatory PCOS as well and after her son was born; ended up with classic PCOS - irregular periods accompanied with regular cysts. Sounds terrific. She ended up having to go on Birth Control to temper the cysts. NOT what I want at all.

The next obstacle is MY ASS. It's umm...Well, it's huge right now.  I have only lost about 15 of the 35ish that I gained during my pregnancy. That 15 came off within a week of coming home, and after that nothing. Breastfeeding didn't do SHIT for weight loss up in here. 

But I also haven't been exercising or even remotely conservative with my diet. Not that I'm eating Junk Food - Leah didn't react well to fried foods, and by policy I try to stay away from a lot of processed stuff and products that contain MSG. I know how to lose weight. I've done it before. Just need to get back on it. Can you feel the motivation behind my words? 

Me neither. 

A Moveable Feast

I think it's over.

She went the entire day today on just formula.

And did great.

Per a friends recommendation I switched her from the Soy Based formula over to a Dairy Based Sensitive formula. Truthfully the soy based was HORRIBLE. Over two weeks I had worked my way up from cutting it with a 1/2 teaspoon of formula to cutting it 50/50 with my pumped milk, and the few times I tried to give her straight formula she flat out refused it.  So I started the new stuff at 50/50,  and within four days was able to give it to her straight. I tried this one too and it's a vast improvement over the soy. Like a thin room temperature milkshake, really. At first I worried about the sugar content, but in all honesty it's probably not much different in sweetness to the way my milk tastes. Well, tasted.

I have gradually reduced the amount that I am pumping. Down from four times a day, to two. And at some point this week it will be one...

And then none.

While I feel at peace with my decision to switch; there was really no way I could continue with trying to nurse her, or be shackled to a pump four times a day. I can't help but mourn the loss of my physical connection to Leah. From egg, to embryo, to fetus, then a baby in my arms, and milk in my breasts. I've been lucky to have this amazing connection with her, but in a way it now it feels like it's being severed. It was a sacred bond that we had, just me and her. And selfishly, I loved that it was something else no one else could do.

And I know I'm trading this one little thing for a much different kind of bond. It's pretty fricken cool to see her want me. She actually knows how to express that she wants ME to hold her. But I just wasn't prepared to let it go so soon. So I'm dealing with it the way I know best, by eating my feelings. My glorious dairy filled feelings. 

Oh, how I missed you, cheese. Brie will always be there for me...

I Still Don't Get It...

We battled for almost five years before we received the greatest gift we could ever hope for. Our daughter.

I know the depths of the IF battlefield so well that it still knocks the wind out of me when I think about my darkest days. 

It haunts me. 

I am afraid of who I was. 

Terrified that it will find me again. 

The anguish. The sorrow. Consumed on a daily basis by the fear of the unknown. It's crippling. Still.

When I see my dear friends, in the blogosphere and in real life suffering; consumed, paralyzed by loss. By failure. It crushes me.

Especially now that I know the joy, the unbelievable gift of a child. It kills me that much more to think of my friends who have been denied the experience. Who have suffered losses. 

I want it so very much for them. 

Why can't children come from wishes?

Nine Months

Dearest Leah,

NINE MONTHS. NINE! I know I say it all the time, but holy crow I can’t believe it! This past month has been so much fun.  You are hilarious. Your level of awareness and curiosity has skyrocketed and I am currently preparing your application for MENSA.

 You were a little less than cooperative with our 

wanting to take your monthly picture

 No sweet potatoes?! I'm outta here.

So we took what we could get...

You can army crawl with the best of them. I laugh because it sort of looks like you are swimming as you swing your arm out and reach, while pushing yourself forward with your foot. And when you make it to the hardwood floor, you can really scoot with the rubber tread on the bottom of your socks!

You have become a stellar eater in your high chair, though not so much with the nursing, as previously discussed. You still love sweet potatoes the best, but there hasn’t been anything you have refused.  Except maybe bananas. Otherwise you’ll eat carrots, oatmeal, blueberries, green beans, avocado, rice pasta, and zucchini, with gusto! Next on the list: Ground turkey, Broccoli, Peas, and plums! What cracks me up the most is how you 'talk' while you eat. You sound like a little mogwai, munching and babbling... It just kills me. So I just pretend like we are carrying on an actual conversation... 

You are more fascinated with the random objects around the house than the plethora of toys you have at your disposal. What I should have invested more in is your socks, because you are always holding at least one. Tupperware, which you love banging together. And shoes, because you always make a B-line for them. Gross.

 Reaching for the camera lens.

I honestly can't begin to explain how much joy you bring your dad and me. I wake up thrilled to jump out of bed to scoop you up and start our day. I love you so ridiculously much.

Can't wait to see what the next month brings...

Love,

Momma

The Taste of Betrayal

I spent the larger part of the last week torturing myself over whether or not to continue breastfeeding Leah. Though it may not appear so, your comments and suggestions were all of great comfort. They were abiding and validating, everything I am use to from this ALI community. 

Wednesday afternoon during my bi-weekly trip to Target, (it's a problem, really) I reluctantly picked up a can of Soy Based Formula for my lactose intolerant daughter. I bought it on the premise that it would be for an absolute emergency. In case both my freezer stash and actual supply had completely diminished. Later that night I came to the conclusion that I might possibly just use the formula to supplement, but still primarily nurse and pump as much as humanly possible. Though as I came to appreciate my new revelation I realized my physical supply had taken a huge hit. While allowing my nipples to recover I had been using up my bountiful freezer supply and been lazy about pumping. In my defense it was just that I didn't make enough time for it, not that I hahazardly chose not to.

So on Friday when Leah's first nap of the day rolled around, I pulled the can of formula from the cabinet and made her the first bottle. I scooped her up off the floor and carried her into her room to give her the bottle I had so lovingly made with warm tap water. She whined and reached for it as I got us both into the optimal position for a relaxed feeding. When I finally offered her the sippy cup shed squealed and popped it in her mouth. She took one big gulp, and mid-swallow ripped the cup from her mouth with a look of distress and confusion. And then betrayal. That wasn't my milk. It was the taste of betrayal. She dropped the cup and let a big portion of the milk already in her mouth drool out on to her onesie. I grabbed the cup and offered it to her again, but she pushed it away. I tried three more times this weekend, but she would have nothing to do with it. I even mixed it with my milk and she wouldn't hear of it. 

All this time I agonized and fretted over whether or not to make this transition, and I didn't even consider the fact that she would't like it. And I don't blame her. I tried it. It was terrible. 

Oh, the irony....

I spent this weekend feverishly working to increase my supply. Pumping every three to four hours. Drinking that awful Tea (Which has worked well for me before), and eating Oatmeal regularly. I have to say at this point spending every spare moment pumping, is no way to live. I would have to dedicate about two hours per day. And now that Leah is so active, I can't imagine another three months of of pumping two hours per day. 

I'm going to try to add small increments of formula into her bottles with my milk from now on and hopefully be able to transition over to formula completely... I still can't believe I'm saying that. But the bottom line is, I would rather be spending time with her on the floor, than confining her to her crib so I can have 30 minutes to pump three times a day. My tata's have healed up well, but her troublesome actions while nursing are still a constant. The bites hurt just a little less sans blisters. I noticed too that I still get that special time with her while she's taking a bottle, because I make it that way purposely. I go to a quiet area, and stroke her hair while we stare into each other's eyes. The main difference is that I can relax and smile at her instead of holding my breath while I wait for a bite, or struggle against her while she tries pulling away... I guess I have my answer. 

It's Not You, It's Me.

And just like in real life breakup's, that means it's actually you. 

Meaning Leah. 

Still with me? 

K. 

Every time I start to think about researching which formula to start her on, I feel like I'm breaking up with her. I get this heaviness in my chest reminiscent of my late-teen dating era. And then I suddenly remember what having my nipple slammed in a drawer feels like. Except the drawer has two teeny tiny razor sharp baby teeth and a cute hiney. But still, I go back and forth. The day that I published my last post was the day after a really bad nursing day. And then miraculously the day I posted it was almost perfect. Like old times. Wanna know what I did differently? Not a damn thing. Then yesterday was horrible again. Horrible. Bitten every single session. I swear by the skin left on my right nipple that I watched her every move. And there is no way I could have prevented any of them. otherwiseIfuckingwouldhave,right?!. Most were caused by distractions that I had no control over, nor did I see coming. The only sessions that seem to go smoothly are in the morning. Because she is half asleep and starving.

Last night I slept terribly. I was haunted by dreams of formula. There were apparently three cans of formula in Leah's closet, and I HAD to choose the right one. But I couldn't get in there because she was asleep. But I had to choose one already. But she was asleep. And then it was 5 am and I was wide awake.... 

Please understand my trepidation with Formula is not entirely about her health, or possible nutritional variances. I know she will be just fine with formula. This is not about milk. It's about nursing. I loved nursing her and I am grateful to have been able to do it at all. Because I personally know several women who weren't able to for various reasons - inadequate supply, severely inverted nipples, medication. Believe it or not, I have a friend who was on a walk with her husband and her two month old, and she was attacked by a raccoon. (around dusk) Then had to get a rabies shot, which meant no more nursing... Crazy right?  

Every time I think I have made peace with one direction or the other, something changes my mind. Nursing her first thing in the morning goes smoothly, and I think: Well maybe I can just nurse in the morning and pump the rest of the time. Then I think, damn pumping takes up a lot of time and I have no qualms with paying for convenience not to mention pain free nipples. And I have to be honest there are a few selfish reasons floating in the back of my head. One, I could eat dairy again. GOD I MISS DAIRY. Two, I could go back to my REAL bra's. Since Junior High I have bounced between a 34DD,and a 36F. So nursing bra's fundamentally lack the fortitude - if you will - to keep my girls up where they should be. I am really looking forward to getting them into my Le Mystere's and back into the correct Hemisphere. And for the record, breastfeeding didn't wreck them. Being a 34DD before the age of 16 did. Perky went buh-bye a LONG time ago. I digress. 

Then switching to formula means money I didn't count on spending (though we can afford it), and also? I'll start getting my period... I haven't had anything since postpartum. 

Anyhoo, I want to thank all of you for your wonderful comments. And especially the wonderful ladies over at PAIL for featuring my post and sending extra support my way. It was super validating to hear your stories, and to remind me that I have to let go of the guilt. HAVE TO. Really, your comments meant a lot, and I hope to get over to your blogs soon!

To Be Continued....

A Tale of Two Tata's

I'm starting to rethink how long I will Breastfeed Leah. Which simultaneously makes me want to jump off a bridge. Because I feel like a quitter and a failure. While I know that’s technically not true I can’t help but reflect on how significantly being able to physically provide milk for my daughter effects my sense of self-worth. It's hard to quantify the amount of pride I feel from filling a little storage bag to the brim with wholesome milk that I know is for her.  I look upon my stash of frozen bags of milk as though they were bars of gold. Not to mention how very much I love snuggling and being so close to her. Watching her suckle while her eyes slowly close.  It makes me fall more and more in love with her.

Last weekend I met with a Lactation Consultant for the blister on my right nipple that just wouldn’t heal. Not only was there pain from the blister, but it started to hurt even when I wasn’t nursing. It was sore and throbbing, and would stay hard all the time. And it was so very painful. Then I started to suspect suspect thrush. And it got to the point where I was pumping every feeding instead of just nursing her. 

The lactation consultant was very helpful, she watched Leah nurse and immediately saw the problem. Aside from Leah being incredibly easily distracted (which is very common at this age), she's been doing this thing where she pulls her neck back then pushes against me with her hands and legs at the same time. Which results in a shallow latch. Which causes in a blister. Which leads to a clogged duct. And this has been going on WEEKLY since she was about six months. So for the last three months straight I have been dealing with blisters that would develop only days after the last one healed. And now? Well now she has teeth. And I've been bitten several times. I've read up on how to handle biting, but it's hard to react in a controlled manner when you're caught off guard and then bitten on an already very tender spot. This is the suggestion: "If baby bites, it can be very effective to calmly remove baby from the breast and say nothing (or perhaps make a calm comment like “oh? don’t want to nurse right now?”), then end the nursing session for a bit."  Umm, my reaction is no where near as graceful. It's typically a yelp or gasp and it takes everything I have to remember not to pull away without breaking her latch first. There are behaviors to look for that typically happen before a bite, and sweet Jesus, can I tell you I look for them. But it happens anyway. Usually before my letdown when she seems vaguely annoyed by how much more work nursing is compared to how easy the flow is with her sippy cup. She can pound five ounces of milk from her sippy cup in like two and a half minutes... 

The lactation consultant gave me similar advice for bitting but said the pushing away is a lot harder to break, and isn't always something that can be corrected.  I love nursing her so much, and had truthfully planned to nurse until about 18 months. But it's just so fricken painful and pumping all the time is exhausting. And inconvenient. 

I was able to get a prescription for APNO, which is All Purpose Nipple Ointment. It has components that help heal wounds, and an anti-fungal to help prevent yeast issues (thrush). Because when you have a wound you are much more susceptible to thrush, especially when you are wearing a bra all day and even one at night - warm, dark, moist places and all. The APNO has made a huge difference, and while I am not completely healed, I am MUCH more comfortable. And I am nursing her again, but also pumping. Though my supply has dropped a bit.  I'm just feeling so conflicted. Because I want to keep nursing, so much. I really do love it. But the physical pain and frustration of her behaviors just feel like they are becoming too much to bear. And I don't want to be frustrated with her... And I have to wonder if my want for this connection (which isn't really there much anymore) is truly only torturing us both.  

Man, I did not see this coming.