Four Months!

An Afternoon Adventure

  I left yesterday afternoon with Jude unsure of our destination. When we reached the end of the complex we took a right. We went passed the Romanian church, looking at the world in wonder.

When we reached the first big intersection we decided not to cross. The air was chilly and brisk, as warm as it would get. Perhaps a touch too cold as Jude began to fuss. Going back at this point was not an option. We had come almost a mile away from home. I needed to tend the baby before we could go any further, one way or the other.

I looked around us for a place of refuge. Nearby was a quaint mom and pop cafe, a Starbucks, and Lumberjack's diner. They have a chain of them out here, all with giant statues of an ax wielding lumberjack in front.
 
Starbucks is no place for a baby, and the smaller cafe seemed too transparent to breastfeed comfortably should the need arise -- with walls on three sides made up of floor to ceiling windows. This left Lumberjack's, a place we've been to frequently for breakfast.

I knew the wait staff was friendly, mostly women, and the layout comfortable and private. Less overwhelming for a baby. At two o' clock we had the whole place mostly to ourselves. Only two other tables were occupied, one by a tiny old woman shoveling soup by the spoonful into her mouth and the other by an older gentleman with a kind face and a hat on that identified him as a veteran of the Korean war.

As I sat down and ordered a simple hot chocolate this man who sat across from me in the table next to mine nodded a hello as the waitresses fawned over Jude. Lumberjack's has a senior special from two until five where people over the age of sixty-five get two meals for only twelve dollars. While I had a feeling the old woman would be by herself, since she had already ordered her food, this man sat with only a mug of coffee to warm his hands. Clearly he was waiting for a friend.

In the meanwhile he spoke to me with a voice that complimented the warm laugh lines age had left on his face. He asked how old my little one was and complimented his good behavior. I sat with the baby in my lap and his stroller pulled up alongside the table, as out of the way as I could make it. Jude is very personable, even with strangers and he smiled at the man as we spoke. As I sipped my hot chocolate and warmed up this man told me the story of his first born.

He was only twenty years old and in the military stationed someplace far from home. His wife, the love of his life, gave birth at the service hospital and he was too afraid to hold his son until they got home. He was just so tiny and perfect. Once they had gone home, he held him for the first time very nervously in bed. Just in case. He said in that moment, his life changed forever. Holding that little bundle of raw innocence and possibility.

He had only wanted one child, but found he loved being a father so much that he wound up with four more children! Sadly they all live out of state now. Just as he finished his tale his friend arrived, an older Korean man who brought with him a deck of cards and some sort of block made from a pale wood with two pegs to keep score. One peg topped with onyx, the other topped with jade so you could easily tell them apart.

I greeted the new man politely and then left them to their game as I continued drinking my delicious hot chocolate.  When Jude got tired of sitting down, I stood up and gently swayed with him as he looked out of the window. When he grew bored of that, I turned to face the other way so that he could watch the cooks in the kitchen. I decided this would be an opportune time to settle up, so I paid for my drink in case I needed to make a hasty retreat with a crying baby. The waitress, a young red headed woman who had earlier complimented Jude and I on our own red hair, filled up a travel cup with more hot chocolate free of charge.

I put the travel cup in the cup holder on the stroller and held Jude close, looking out of the window myself now. Wondering if it was going to rain again or not. The original man at the table across from me remarked that I must love being a mother. I couldn't help but smile because it was true and he could tell just by observing. I then buckled Jude safely back into his stroller, bid the old men farewell and headed homeward bound.

Just before we got there Jude fell asleep, so rather than disturb him by taking him up a flight of stairs I just continued to make rounds near the creek until he woke up on his own. Then we went home.

About Boobies

Om nom nom.

Breastfeeding is exceptionally important for babies. Really, all mothers should breastfeed if medically able to for at least the first three months of their child's life. Ideally the first entire year! Even if you cannot feed baby at the breast, pumping breast milk and feeding via bottle, cup, or dropper is just as well.

Formula just isn't the same and even poses significant risks to newborns, such as improper preparation resulting in malnutrition, introduction of bacteria to your baby, and (due to the lack of antibodies found in breast milk) an increased risk of diarrhea and pneumonia: the leading causes of infant and childhood deaths. Breast milk also provides a resistance to allergies and is directly related to creating a lifelong healthy metabolism, meaning less chance of obesity. As added bonus, breastfed babies are also less gassy, less likely to develop colic, and are far less likely to spit-up.

Not all benefits are for baby, either. Breastfeeding helps mom return to her pre-pregnancy weight faster, shrinks the uterus back down to size after delivery, and reduces the risk of both breast and ovarian cancers. All of which are pretty significant pros! It's also a free resource, meaning financial hardship can never impact your ability to provide. It also helps establish a bond between mommy and baby and babies who have breastfed have been shown to be more receptive to being held and cuddled (who doesn't wanna cuddle with their little one?!).

Sure, there are cons as well. Breastfeeding is an acquired skill -- it's not something you and baby will be experts at from the start. It's also uncomfortable at best and painful at worse, in the beginning. It takes a week or so for your breasts to get used to their new role in life, but once you're over the proverbial hump -- you're over it!

So long as the latch is correct, soreness should fade in short order. If it doesn't, you may want to speak with your physician to try and figure out why. It's rare, but sometimes there are underlying conditions (with either mommy or baby) that make breastfeeding painful. Even then, that doesn't mean you need to resort to formula. There are options. You could champion through the discomfort like a Spartan, or pump and give baby the liquid gold (breast milk) that way. Pumps aren't as powerful as a baby's latch, so it is often not as hard to cope with in these circumstances. What's important is that your baby gets that vital breast milk -- not how baby gets it.

Sadly, very few women stick with it. Statistics show even though many mothers intend to breastfeed exclusively for the first twelve months, most don't even make it out of the hospital breastfeeding. That means in less than two days they've given up. Now, I'm not blaming the moms here. There are many factors involved in this outcome and usually it has little to nothing to do with the mom. Suchas...

Support
In many states, hospitals aren't baby-friendly. This means they do not educate mothers-to-be about the benefits of breastfeeding, encourage skin-to-skin right after delivery, or encourage mom to try breastfeeding within the first hour after baby is born. The single most important hour of your breastfeeding lives. Nurses may supplement baby with formula or sugar water with or without parental consent, making baby even less likely to bother with the breast when introduced. Newborns are picky eaters and bottles are way easier to eat from (the flow is much quicker). Formula is also harder to digest making baby feel fuller, longer. A one-two combo that leaves baby wondering why he'd ever bother with mom.

Lack of a positive support network is also a culprit. Anxiety can impact milk supply. So being around family or friends, even if they're well-meaning, who do nothing but criticize can really kill the chance of success. "You're positioning her wrong." "You're not feeding him enough." etc., etc. While the intention is maybe in the right place, the execution is poor.

Even if your wife is blatantly doing it wrong, making her feel dumb about it in this vulnerable, hormonal postpartum state is really not going to help her whatsoever. She's already feeling anxious and inadequate about the situation, you need to approach the subject carefully. Increasing her anxiety will only hamper her let-down process, which will in turn make her feel even more inadequate. A cycle which spirals out of control quickly once it starts. She'll get it, it sometimes takes up to a week, but she'll get it. Encourage her. Don't criticize.

In the same vein, being embarrassed can hamper let-down also. So inviting everyone into the room while she's topless and looking like Death due to sleep deprivation and blood loss isn't going to help. Limit guests to people you know she'd be comfortable half-naked with. And if you're worried about anyone seeing her boobs, stfu about it. If she isn't insecure about her body image, trying to cover her up or telling her to leave the room to breastfeed so no one sees is only going to make her so.

Some women can breastfeed like gold medalists but cannot pump for shit. This is normal! Even the best electric pump under the best of conditions is only half as effective as baby at expressing milk. Don't take what your wife pumps as a sign of what your child is getting at mealtime. So long as baby is maintaining his or her weight and is growing, they're getting plenty. Don't worry mom that she may not be providing enough. If that's really a problem you'll find out from the pediatrician during your frequent well-checks.

Work
Going back to work often conflicts with breastfeeding and/or pumping. Many places of employment lack facilities for pumping and frown upon breastfeeding in the workplace, meaning you need to find someplace else to do either of these things if you intend to do them. If you cannot find such a place and need to work, often times it boils down to breastfeeding or working. Considering having a place to live is also important for babies, through no fault of her own, work generally wins out.

Laws
In some states breastfeeding in public still isn't legal. Which means if you plan to ever leave your house, you'll need to either bring expressed milk in a bottle or formula. However, either of these options interfere with on-demand feeding to maintain supply.

Society
While a number of states now protect a woman's right to bear her breast and nurse her baby in public that does not mean the public condones it. A lot of women wind up feeling ashamed while trying to breastfeed out in the open due to public reaction to the sight. This is why there now exists such a market for nursing covers, to hide what you're doing from prying eyes so that you can do it whenever and wherever you need to without dealing with naysayers.

Breastfeeding is how babies are meant to be fed! This is the sole function of breasts in the first place. Why then is it such a taboo?

Convenience
Unless you never plan to leave the house, being a nursing mother can be tricky. You need to be able to get at your breasts at a moment's notice (one handed) should baby be hungry and yet still stay covered much of the time, because we're supposedly a civilized country. Since you are expected to wear clothes, you'll also need to protect them from milk, which can be unruly at times. This means you need to buy stuff. Thanks to capitalism, this needed stuff is naturally expensive because they're deemed specialty items.

You'll need nursing bras, nursing shirts, nursing pajamas, and nursing pads. You'll probably also want a nursing cover of some sort due to reasons mentioned above. If you bought merely one of each of those things, it would run you about eighty dollars minimum. And that'd be a lucky bargain. Thing is, you need several of each of those things. The kicker? These things aren't necessarily easy to find.

While many stores have maternity departments, they often only deal with pregnancy clothing. Not post-pregnancy items such as those needed for nursing. The internet makes this hunting a little easier, but no less expensive. Granted, breastfeeding costs are still miniscule in comparison to formula feeding costs.

See my tips for convenient nursing on a reasonable budget here.

Misinformation
The amount of misinformation about pregnancy, childbirth, and nursing that persists these days is mind boggling. We'll just touch on the misinformation related to nursing here though. While I have no fucking idea why, it is a common misconception that breastfeeding will ruin your breasts. Now, there are all sorts of things wrong with this perception. Really, it's kind of absurd.

Breastfeeding is the reason your breasts even exist. So using them for their purpose is hardly going to ruin them. Changes in the breast are usually temporary anyway (you know, like your giant pregnant belly was), and take place long before you put baby to breast! Your breasts undergo their metamorphosis due to hormones at least a month before your little one is even expected to make their appearance in the world.

So if this is your reason not to breastfeed... it's kind of a flawed one.

Medical Conditions
Sometimes there are legitimate medical reasons why breastfeeding doesn't work out.

Difficult labor resulting in severe anemia or injury can damage your milk supply so much that you need to also give formula so baby doesn't starve. Which incidentally further impedes your milk supply, meaning you may need to supplement permanently or switch to formula completely.

Certain hormonal imbalances prevent proper milk supply from ever establishing itself, resulting in much the same. Hormonal imbalances, if caught right away, can be treated though. So don't give up right away. Working alongside your physician, you may be fully capable of establishing a normal milk supply.

Some physical deformities (under-developed or damaged ducts, for example) can impact milk supply or prevent it from ever coming in to begin with. Generally there is nothing that can be done for a problem such as this. Even if you made colostrum, there's probably not going to be enough milk to satisfy your baby.

Even in situations such as this though, there are options available to ensure your baby gets at least some breast milk -- even if it's not necessarily yours. There are a few services out there that provide donated breast milk to women in such circumstances as this, who want to breastfeed their child but literally cannot. Sometimes even free of charge!

If you're concerned about supply but suffer from no prohibitive underlying condition, there are methods of increasing your supply. I suggest contacting a lactation consultant (the hospital you delivered at can put you in touch with one if needbe). Otherwise I'll touch on this in a later blog, as I had a hell of a start, myself.

Postpartum Depression
Depression saps the will to accomplish even simple daily tasks out of anyone, super depression such as PPD even moreso. Your milk supply is hampered by emotional lows, particularly prolonged ones! Breastfeeding is often not bothered with or given up on by women experiencing postpartum depression for many reasons, all of which essentially boil down to: too depressed. If your postpartum blues last longer than a month or you have thoughts of harming yourself, your significant other, or your baby -- seek support and help right away. PPD is of such severity than it often does not resolve on its own.

Desire
Some women just don't want to breastfeed. You know what? Whatever, that's fine if you just really, really, really don't wanna. Formula feeding is way easier. I'm sure we've all eaten a Poptart rather than a real breakfast because it was quick and simple. Just prepare a bottle and you're basically done. It takes five minutes instead of thirty. Baby is full longer, meaning he'll sleep longer, leaving you with more free time for yourself (work, sleep, chores, hobbies, and so forth). Anyone can feed your baby for you. You don't even technically need to be there, which isn't technically a bad thing. Being able to pass baby off for a few hours to get some rest does wonders for a speedy recovery!

In summary, I find it strange that in a society that by-and-large knows the facts, breastfeeding is still a taboo surrounded by misinformation, shaky (sometimes well-meaning) support structures, and a surprising lack of available resources.

AAA

We had quite the adventure grocery shopping tonight. While in Trader Joe's someone's phone rang, but it seemed close enough for it to have been Aaron's phone. So I'm all, "Hey, is that your phone?" because he convinced me to wear my hearing aid to the store when I was going to leave the house with only my glasses on because wearing both is uncomfortable and I deemed eyesight more important to shopping than hearing but he disagreed.

And he's like, "I left my phone in the car." As he was going to go fetch his phone from the car he realized he could not find the key to our vehicle. As a dude he has a million pockets and it so happens the car key isn't in any of them. At first I think he is messing with me, because he loves doing that, but as I realize he's being for real the anxiety of a fast-approaching dinner time for baby surfaces. He retraces our steps, looking, while I wheel around the produce section to keep Jude entertained.

Trader Joe's is a chilly place though, so after several minutes of this Jude's too cold to stay in his carrier. He's making a sound like he might be deflating and if his bottom lip stuck out any further I'd be rolling over it with the cart. I have no choice but to park the cart and take him out for warm cuddles. Not that I mind. I see Aaron appear again and he signs across the store to me that he found the keys. I give him a big thumbs up!

Then he comes over and says, "It's not what you think. I did find them, but they're in the car." Oh no. Oh no-oh no. Jude is already fussy because it's nippy in the store, it's only going to get worse once he starts getting hungry and sleepy. Not that a fussy baby is anything new to most people who spend any time at all out in public, but I like to tend the baby before he's reached that point. Something I can't do properly in a cold, crowded grocery store.

Luckily I had brought my phone, even though I was tempted to leave it at home, so Aaron's able to call AAA. They arrive by the time we're done shopping. Even got the parking space right next to us. We have no idea how long this is going to take though, so I leave Aaron with the cart and carry Jude into the nearby pet store where it is warmer. After ten or so minutes, Aaron enters to let me know all is well and we're back in our car.

Unfortunately we still had one more stop to go, so poor Jude was exhausted and quite hungry as we waited for the pharmacy to refill my vitamins. A few tours around the brightly colored cosmetics seemed to distract him well enough though. He passed right out on the car ride home and got dinner as soon as he awoke. All's well that ends well.

Thank goodness for AAA and roadside assistance!

Ten Pounds

10 lb. of pure love.

I just have to say, I adore being a mother.

It is absolutely worth the self sacrifice. Every smile, every cuddle, every giggle, and that sweet face more than make up for the sleep deprivation, fussy days, lack of time for yourself, and surprise diapers.

Watching his personality develop, helping him learn... The love I have for this little person is overwhelming. I cannot wait to share more of the world with him.

Demanding

It's okay to wash the baby with the laundry
if I use Dreft and the gentle cycle, right?

I love motherhood and being a mommy. It's hard work, easily the hardest work I've ever done, and I spent a summer flipping hundreds of queen size mattresses daily (physically demanding) and several years running my own business (mentally demanding). However it is also absolutely the most rewarding.

The first few weeks of his life were the roughest I've ever survived. I was weak from a difficult delivery, trying to breastfeed a baby born with an appetite when my milk hadn't yet come in, and we were under the impression that a baby HAD to sleep in a bassinet. Of course the one place the baby would not sleep was his bassinet. I got no sleep and essentially spent every waking moment nursing.

It wasn't until I just started sleeping in bed with him nestled beside me that I got any sleep at all, but I felt guilty about doing this. Wouldn't my baby spontaneously combust or something if he didn't sleep swaddled on his back in the bassinet?! No, actually. After a lot of research, this became our norm and life was much happier for both of us because of it.

After month 2, all was well. Jude developed his own schedule, slept through the night, and left me with plenty of time to at least accomplish sitting tasks (writing, chatting, gaming, art, etc.) on my own, with him in my lap (nursing, talking to me, or napping). He required very little in this stage of life, kind of like he was still in the womb. I'd read or sing to him and that was really the extent of entertainment required. Tummy Time was practiced out of necessity rather than interest.

By comparison now, Jude is a fairly needy baby, quickly approaching 4 months. He wants to be amused, stimulated, interacted with. As well he should. So long as his needs are met, he's happy. Though he dislikes everything for at least 5 fussy unsure minutes before enjoying it. He hates to be put down, especially in a reclined position, so I'm often hauling him around from the moment we get up (7am latest) until the moment he goes to bed (about 7-8pm), entertaining him in various ways. Great exercise, considering his weight and unwieldiness. My back hates it though.

While I expected raising a child would require my full attention, I did not account for all the carrying. He doesn't seem to much enjoy the Baby Bjorn style carrier either, meaning my hands are never free.

I do not believe in cry-it-out, for many reasons. First of which being the research done on its long term effects. Second being it's ineffectiveness, many babies just cry until passing out, sometimes upwards of 45 minutes -- that isn't healthy. Sure, some babies will cry for 5-10 minutes then find something interesting to distract them and be fine. This is okay. Sometimes you need to get something done and baby just needs to deal with it. If after a few minutes baby is still screaming, it's probably better to go scoop them up rather than let them drive your neighbors batty and pass out thinking you were eaten by dingos.

"There is evidence that leaving babies to cry alone can increase their emotional stress level. Researchers measured saliva cortisol levels in infants during a sleep training program in which the infants were left to cry themselves to sleep over a three-day period. The infants’ cortisol levels were elevated when they were left to cry alone, indicating a state of high emotional stress. However, the cortisol levels remained high even on the third day, after the infants had stopped crying. This implies that, even though the sleep training program appeared to "work" and the infants fell asleep without crying, their stress levels were still high. Another study found that even brief separations between mothers and their 9-month-old infants can result in elevated infant cortisol levels, indicating emotional stress."

I get moments to myself, sort of, while he eats, and count myself lucky if he falls asleep on me while nursing because he has never been much of a daytime sleeper -- not even as a newborn. At most he will sleep for an hour total each day. Not consecutively. He usually sleeps fantastically at night though, for at least 8 hours. So there's that.

Basically, it leaves me with a lot of entertaining to do. So I'm seeking ideas. I know eventually he'll be more interested in things and willing to play on his own but until then, I need ideas so my brain doesn't turn to mush.

We do a lot of walking, talking, singing, and playing with various objects. Though most toys seem to be 6+ months... I try to get him to spend at least 30 minutes a day on his playmat with me, practicing at grabbing, holding, and pulling. There's Tummy Time, for as long as he'll tolerate it, but he started rolling himself over at 5 weeks so he gets bored of that really fast. I've made it a habit after diaper changes to take him into the restroom to talk to himself in the mirror and watch himself stomp around on the counter top (supported by me of course). Every now and then he'll watch a bit of TV in my lap, but it's typically less than 5 minutes before he'd rather be doing something else (don't blame him, but it's nice when I get to sit down). In the mornings he'll tolerate his swing for about 10-15 minutes but really has no interest in it for the rest of the day unless he's fallen asleep and I can sneak him into it without rousing him. We also go to fetch the mail together in the early afternoon. Every other day or so he gets a bath, which he enjoys more now than he used to, but has yet to play in the tub.

Sometimes he'll do all of these things, sometimes he'll only want to do some of them, and occasionally none of them -- which leaves me basically pacing around the house with him in my arms for nine hours straight. Which is just... it makes me tired thinking about it.

Any suggestions? Diversity is good, even if he doesn't care yet, it's nice for me!

The Day Everything Went Wrong

Here's another installment in my genuine motherhood line of blogs. Today? Not especially great.

Dinner last night was delayed so I didn't go to bed until after 11:00PM. Jude decided we had to wake up at 2:00AM. He has yet to so much as take a nap, meaning I have not so much as taken a nap. That's 15 hours and counting after less than 3 hours of sleep. Holding him the entire time because he'll have it no other way.

Shortly after 2:00AM I spend an hour standing with him in the bathroom with the fan on hoping the white noise will put him to sleep again, to no avail.

I go into the living room and spend half an hour standing and rocking him near his swing with the white noise turned on. He finally doses off so I put him down all nestled and warm... where he proceeds to sneeze and wake himself up.

I pick him back up and start from scratch. Same method. An hour later, standing all the while, he's out. I put him down, he pees. Awake again!

I go change him then we try laying down together. Nope. So I try rocking some more and when he seems destined for sleep I put him down. He protests. I try walking away for a few minutes, because sometimes that works. Sometimes Mommy is just too distracting so close by. Not this time! I give up and we watch Netflix forever.

At 8:00AM, as I am eating breakfast with Jude in my lap playing with a toy, he explodes into poop. It gets everywhere. I don't even know how. It's on me, it's on him, it's on the furniture, it's on the carpet, it's on our clothing, and the boppy. Front, back, top bottom, you name it -- there is poop. I need to clean all of this up before it ruins the house and bathe the baby, and Aaron is asleep.

This isn't even a picture from this incident.
This just happens so frequently I have another pic of it.

Anyone who knows Aaron is aware he sleeps like the gd dead. It goes without saying my attempts to rouse him are ineffective. So I clean the baby up with wipes best I can, wrap him up naked in a towel (in case he's not finished), plop him on the changing pad on the floor, and leave him there crying while I tend this shit. No pun intended.

Then the cats are hungry, yelling at me and getting underfoot. Making matters even worse. At two points they almost wind up in poop, exacerbating the problem. Thankfully at like the halfway mark Aaron emerges to tend Jude. I say thankfully because honestly the baby's crying causes me physical discomfort and I'm at the point where I might die or something. He's dressed him, unknowing the need for a bath, so I decide to just postpone it. Aaron also feeds the cats.

He then goes back to bed but Jude isn't done being awake yet. So I have to stay up. I spend an hour and a half nursing and rocking Jude to sleep. Then right as I put him down some asshole neighborhood kid starts throwing his basketball at the staircase. Why? I DON'T KNOW. He does it at least once a week, for no reason whatsoever. Bouncing a basketball at a staircase cannot possibly be entertaining. Go find a fucking court, you little teenage douche bag. The obnoxiously loud sound this produces immediately wakes Jude up. All my hard work for nothing now. I almost go out on the balcony to scream at the kid but realize as I am about to open the door that I am not wearing a shirt. Fuuuuu.

It's well after noon before I get to finish my oatmeal. Cold and dry. Time passes with more cuddling and standing and walking and rocking all without payoff. Jude is so sleepy but unwilling to sleep that he doesn't even want to talk or play anymore. He just wants to nurse, complain about nursing, complain about being awake, dose off, wake up to complain about dosing off, then nurse some more. All while rocking and only while standing.

My neck, back, and legs are killing me by 3:00PM. As they should, I've been standing with 10 pounds of little human in my arms for more than 12 hours straight.

Aaron gets up and we have lunch. Then he baths Jude while I go to throw baby clothes into the wash, only to realize after loading the machine that it's broken. Meaning I have to remove everything and load it all into another machine. All the while trying to hurry so that I can get back to He Who Does Not Sleep. Since the washers are lined up side-by-side, this means I only bang my funnybone like two thousand times.

And did I mention that I am still sick? Ugh. I hope he falls asleep soon. I am so far beyond exhausted. I love my life and all but really, when the crap hits the fan does it have to be by the gallon? Days like this certainly serve their purpose -- to make sure I never take good days for granted, but in the words of Dean Winchester, c'mon!