On Being Out

And about, that is.

Thank you all for your wonderfully sympathetic comments on my last post. They made me feel SO much better. 

Yesterday when I threw up my harried post, I was so frustrated from a lunch we had just come back from. Leah is still napping twice a day so my life is pretty segmented into what I can get done in-between. 

7am: Up for the day 
 - Bottle
8am: Breakfast
9am: Nap
10:30am: Up
- This is when I typically shower, though I prefer to try to do it around 6:30am most times the snooze button wins. Our bathroom is against her bedroom wall, and we have an old house with no insulation. So it's not ideal to shower while she is napping. I usually wait until right when she wakes up, or when I think she's slept long enough. She is really good, and will entertain herself in her crib for a good 20-30 minutes while I'm in there, I can usually get my hair dry by then too. 
11:30am - Lunch
12:30: Books & Bottle 
1:00: Nap
3:30-4:00: Up
4:00: Bottle
5:45: Dinner
6:30: Bath
7:00: Bottle & Bed

So the hour after her first nap is spent getting us both dressed and ready for the day, then it's lunch time and by the time she finishes I have about 30 minutes before I have to start winding down for her afternoon nap. Which doesn't leave a lot of time to do stuff outside the house.  When I really need to get something done, I'll give her a bottle in the car at her normal lunch time, then try to make it back home by 12:30 to do her regular lunch before her nap time rolls around again. 

Which is what I did Friday. I rushed out of the house at 10:45 to meet Brian at one of his job sites so I could see some of his work, then we went to lunch with a client of his. I was pretty clear about the timeline I was on, but since I spent the entire lunch wrangling her by myself - Brian was entrenched in conversation with his client (rightfully so); I didn't realize what time it as until she really started to fall apart. And then I fumed the whole way home about how I didn't even taste the food I inhaled, and wasn't able to participate in the conversation, and now she was overdue for lunch and dangerously close to nap time. (When she's overtired she doesn't eat well, and then she won't nap well because she's hungry) I had attempted to give her some avocado at the restaurant, but most of it ended up in her lap, or on the floor - Sorry Mr. Bus-Boy-man. 


Leah has absolutely zero attention span. So I could bring the entire inventory of toys from our house and she would still want to play with the wrapper from my straw or the salt and pepper shakers. She is a great eater normally but food becomes a nightmare outside the house.  She is either so fascinated by her surroundings that she doesn't eat, or she tries to eat but the food ends up in her lap because she's not paying any attention to getting it into her mouth. 


The thing is, I'm not mad at anyone. I'm not mad at Brian for spending the time with his client (whom is kind of a friend of ours and going through a rough time) and I'm certainly not mad at Leah for being so curious of everything. I was just exhausted and overwhelmed by how much energy I expended trying to keep her entertained and out of trouble in a crowded restaurant. And I'll admit, I was a little caught up in feeling self-conscious about what a poor job it appeared I was doing. Which I think made it worse... 

So I find myself conflicted with two schools of thought. 1. FUCK THAT SHIT, I'm not taking her with us again until she is old enough to understand that she needs to eat and can't get down; or can enjoy a toy or five that will hold her attention for at least 30 minutes. Because it's just not worth the stress. It's really not. 2. People do this all the time, the more I do it the more accustomed we will both become to it - or the more desensitized I will get. But this theory is tougher to follow because we just don't go out that much. Part of the cutbacks/sacrifice we've made so that I can be home with her. Either way I am entirely resigned to the fact that having a little one is tough and the tough part is reasonably temporary. I love her and I knew 100% what I was getting into, and I am learning just as much as she is. 

It's just really nice to hear from all of you that I am not entirely incompetent. And it actually is difficult...

Lie To Me

At what point does leaving the house become NOT such a monumental undertaking? So far, I've only gotten grocery shopping down...And even that requires mental preparation. 

So I'm either over thinking it, completely incompetent (entirely possible) or it is actually really fucking hard when kids are this age. 

It seems like I end up exhausted or regretful with just about everything else I attempt. Please tell me I'm not alone and how soon it will get easier. 

If you don't have good news - just lie to me. 

Alright, Maybe I Can Swing It.

Thank you, ladies for walking me through the logistics of it. And providing your own experiences. It has really taken the edge off of my anxiety about leaving her. I don't feel guilty about the time- never have. It's more about my being away from her. I know she'll kind of forget we're gone to an extent. Between naps and nighttime, she sleeps around fifteen hours a day. And she is VERY comfortable with my MIL. So I feel good about that. With the exception of the gloating and blustering I'll have to hear about her spending the WHOLE WEEKEND with her snookum-pie. (cue gag reflex) (and mama-bear reflex, for that matter...)

I genuinely believe in making time for Brian and I a priority. Leah goes to bed at 7pm every night, which gives us a good three hours each night. I do my best to have most of the stuff around the house finished by then. We also try to do a date night every month. The last one was in October, but it's been nuts. So the next one will be this week! Thanks to Christmas we have gift certificates to dinner and the movies!  

Anyhoo, I have decided to aim for staying there both nights, but allowing myself a little time to get used to the idea. And come game day, if I just can't handle it, I'll do one. Though I am preparing myself for how tough the days leading up to it can be. Thank you for pointing that out... And thank you again for the reassurances. I'm so grateful for the input. 

Not Without My Daughter

We have a wedding to go to in April. Brian is in it. So we have to go.

Why am I making it sound like a bad thing? Because it will be my first night away from Leah. Or first two nights. That part is up to me. Whether it's one night or two. 

The wedding is only a little over an hour away, but it's an evening wedding at a vineyard. So driving home just seems silly. The rehearsal dinner is up there the night before, next day is the wedding, and of course brunch the day after. 

My choice is that Brian goes up Friday, for the rehearsal and rehearsal dinner. Stays at the hotel that night alone. And I come up early Saturday, leave Sunday late morning. OR we both go up Friday and come home Sunday Afternoon.

A weekend away? With my husband? Sounds pretty fricken great. 

Now you know what I'm going to say; I don't want to leave Leah. 

I would not have planned a weekend getaway for us. 

Not yet. 

But the time with him sounds lovely. And I'll be honest, occasionally I miss the me-time. Don't mistake my incomparable gratitude and love for my daughter. But sometimes? When I leave her with Brian to run to an errand, I get in the car and blast my stereo, and it feels so good to have that little piece of time to myself, even for just a half hour or so. I know this is normal.  I know that a weekend away with my husband is a good thing. That it will be good for us. And I know I will rcover from being away from her. 

And Leah will be fine. I know this. We'll have Brian's mom stay at the house with her. I know we could bring my MIL up there, and get a room for her too. But it sounds more stressful. Taking her up there, she'll be all out of her element, and then it'll be much harder on all of us than it would to just keep her at home; in her own environment. 

This is great problem to have, I KNOW. And most certainly not the end of the world.

In theory, I want to go up for the whole weekend. And while yes, Brian will be busy with the wedding in part. It'll be nice to have some extra time alone with him. And I know I of course, will not regret it. I just haven't been away from her for more than 9 hours and I'm struggling with the thought of 48.

What did you do the first time you let your baby???

Christmas

Christmas was a bit of a whirlwind. Though I rarely hear people refer to it as uneventful or low-key. With Leah's party occurring just three days before, and all the preparation that that entailed; on top of all the standard Christmas hoopla: finishing shopping, wrapping gifts, while cramming that all into the regular daily schedule. Plus my last three days of work leading up to all that... It's been nuts, and I am EXHAUSTED. 

But good. 

Really good. 

And grateful.

Christmas Eve, as always was spent with my extended family at my Grandparents house (aunts, uncles, cousins). Everyone contributes an appetizer and we all over indulge in snacks. I think I love Christmas Eve the most. 

It's all laughter, and chaos. It's perfect. 

See that Glass Coffee table near Brian? My Uncle was given a homemade bottle of Kaluha which was sitting on that very table. But my ninja daughter knocked it over in the split second that I turned to acknowledge a thank you, and the bottle shattered into a million tiny pieces. With Kaluha and glass pooling onto the table and carpet, I can tell you I don't think I have ever moved so fast in my entire life. She was fine. The carpet, was not. Fortunately I have a connection to a Cleaning Company, and they took care of it the day after Christmas. And next year it'll be a fun story to re-tell. I hope. 

Not a great picture, but I love that shirt. Which we later changed her out of, because she was covered in Kaluha. It says: "Is It Too Late To Be Good?" 

Christmas morning was quiet. Since Leah had been up late the night before, and had been through the chaos of the previous three days (her birthday). She woke up an hour later than normal; 8am. Barely picked at her oatmeal, then went back to bed at 9 and slept until noon. So Christmas morning, was really Christmas afternoon for us. 

I put her in those striped little jammies, because they were very much like the pair we had her in last year on her first Christmas.

CAH-RAZY to see how tiny she was, just a year ago. 

We helped her open a few packages, and she was entirely interested. She played with the paper, and crawled over to her existing favorite toys across the room. 

Since our families were ridiculously generous, Brian and I Santa went easy. She got a Jack-In-The-Box (actually The Very Hungry Caterpillar) and a few other small gifts.

So overall it was wonderful and I feel so fricken lucky for my husband and daughter, and the rest of my family. I always do. 

But Christmas is just an extra reminder...

Hope yours was lovely too!

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?