Got Milk?

Let’s get personal for a minute.  Today we’re going to talk about boobs.  And breast milk.  And being topless at work.  And the not-so-simple act of providing sustenance for my baby.  Feel free to skip this post if any of those topics make you uncomfortable :)

For me, breast feeding has been a labor of love.  Sadly, I was never one of the moms who enjoyed it.  I wanted to love it.  I wanted to stare down at her lovingly and bond while my body did this magical thing for her, but that’s not the way it worked out.  From the beginning, I was sore, tired, and miserable.  I resented the fact that feedings were solely my responsibility, and I spent a lot of my day staring at the clock, counting down, dreading the next feeding.  When she decided she was hungry before those 3 hours were up, I would grow even more frustrated that I didn’t get the full “break” between feedings that I was so desperate for.

But I was determined to do it.  I wanted her to have all the benefits of breast milk so I made myself suffer through the beginning when it’s especially  hard.  Pumping helped.  It gave me a break from the constant feedings and helped alleviate the soreness.  Whoever invented the breast pump is pretty much my hero.  If it weren’t for that, I would have given up on breast feeding a L-O-N-G time ago.

We had a good thing going for a while, and then, at 2 months, we found out she wasn’t gaining weight, meaning I wasn’t producing enough milk and we had to start supplementing with formula.  I cried.  I felt like I had failed her.  The doctor casually said, “some women just don’t produce enough milk.”  My friends and family told me that I couldn’t have known (she is almost too good of a baby because she showed NO signs that she was hungry or wasn’t getting enough to eat!) and it wasn’t my fault.  But I still blamed myself.  It’s a mom thing, I guess.

We started giving her an ounce of formula at the end of each feeding and her weight went up.  Ever since then I’ve had a new appreciation for my milk, as it is even more precious now.  I spilled an ounce of it one time and almost had a nervous breakdown.  Every drop is priceless.  Every.  Single.  Drop.

Before I knew it, I returned to work and adjusted to working life as a breast feeding mama.

I’m lucky that my office provides a mothers room.  It’s not the most comfortable or fanciest room in the building (it’s basically a barren room with 2 lonely chairs and some holes in the wall from an old dart board), but it’s private and I can lock the door, which I am eternally grateful for.  Not all working, pumping moms have that luxury.  Leaving your baby is heartbreaking.  Getting back into the swing of work is hard.  When you throw pumping at work on top of that, it just makes everything more difficult.  

Pumping at work is a strange concept.  One minute you’re on a conference call discussing a high spend account, the next minute you’re topless in that little room next the office of the big shot in IT.  The last thing you want to worry about is someone walking in on you.  So  yeah, having a locking door is pretty much the greatest thing ever and my heart goes out to the dedicated moms who continue to pump without the “amenities” I have.

After a while, my milk production slowed even more- to the point that she is only getting a bottle of breast milk every day- everything else is formula.  I’m not sure what caused the drop.  Yes, I’m pumping a lot at work instead of nursing, but I was doing a lot of pumping while I was still on maternity leave too.  I try to nurse in the evenings and on the weekends.  I’m drinking teas with Fenugreek, an herb that stimulates milk production.  I chug water.  I eat oatmeal  every day (another thing thought to increase production).  In a week of desperation, I stuffed my face with pretty much every calorie I could get my hands on (breast feeding moms actually need more calories than a pregnant mom, and add in several workouts a week, I’m sure I need a ton of calories to compensate).  Nothing seemed to help and in one of what has turned out to be many moments of frustration during this process, I told JD that I wasn’t sure it was worth the hassle of hauling my pump back and forth every day, and taking time to pump 3-4 times a day on top of the nursing sessions I could fit in.

I’m disappointed that there isn’t more information out there for mamas like me.  Most education seems to center around the “all or nothing” approach like “most moms don’t have a problem with their production” and “formula is fine, but breast milk is better.”  I did a little digging, and from what I’m reading, even if she was only getting an ounce of milk a day, she would still be benefiting from the immunities (actually, it’s thought that mamas with less milk might actually have a higher concentration of immunities in their milk).  I found forums with posts from moms like me who were doing a lot of supplementing and struggling to keep their production up.  I realized that I am not alone and felt empowered in the knowledge that all the effort it requires to get her that 1 bottle a day is still benefiting her enough that it’s all worth it.  

I have a renewed determination to do this.

Martyr Moms

I’m getting really sick of the moms who use their birth stories for martyrdom.  When you spend time with moms, especially new moms, everyone likes to swap birth stories.  You feel as though you’ve entered a sisterhood, and so you gravitate towards each other and the commonality of what you’ve experienced.  What really irks me is when people start to throw the details of their own birth stories into other moms’ faces. 

Some moms labored for days, some moms did it without any pain meds, some moms had emergency C-sections, and some moms did it unconventionally in the water and/or at home.  Many of these moms want the world to know that no one- NO ONE- suffered or sacrificed like they did.

Hey- every birth is dramatic in its own way.  Hell, it’s childbirth, and no matter how it’s done, it’s pretty traumatic on your body.  Would I have wanted to labor for days?  Of course not.  But, in the midst of my labor, as everything was progressing so quickly and I barely had time to stop and comprehend what was going on, it was pretty scary.  My point is that every labor is different, and no individual labor is better or worse than another.  I have a ton of respect for my friends who had to be induced, had long labors, and/or had to have C-sections, just as they have respect for me that I did it without any pain meds (I didn’t have the choice, but still, I did it).

Instead of trying to one-up each other, we should be coming together and celebrating the miracle of childbirth, the strength is takes, and bask in the beauty of what our bodies were able to accomplish.  What us moms should NOT be doing is competing for birth story of the year.

Because I would win.

Totally kidding :)

Loves of My Life

When you pick the person you’re going to spend your life with, you’re not just picking the person who will be your partner and best friend through the ups and downs, you’re picking the person who’s going to parent and help raise your children.  You don’t always think about that when you’re first settling down.  For the first 6 years of our relationship, it was all about JD and I, and I think we were able to work out all the kinks and build a strong partnership.  I was afraid of what a new person would do to our dynamic, but now that I’ve seen him as a father, I don’t think I have ever loved him more than I have in the past few months.

From waking up with me for feedings in the middle of the night, keeping me calm and wiping my tears when I was sore, tired, and frustrated, and changing almost every diaper, JD was my rock while the baby and I were still stumbling through the first few days of nursing.  But more than just being my partner and support system, I now get to see JD as a father, which is more amazing than I could have imagined.

When we first found out the gender, JD was a little nervous about having a girl.  A former Marine turned police officer who likes to cage fight in his spare time, JD is the definition of a man’s man.  During the second half of the pregnancy, he started to get used to the idea and was more and more excited to have a girl (of course, knowing you  have an entire squad of police officers who will help ensure she never goes on a date… ever… helps).  I heard the emotion in his voice when she finally entered the world and he announced, “She’s here!”   and he’s been absolutely smitten since.

He’s a hands-on dad.  To hear him try to soothe her when she’s fussy during a bath or a diaper change, see how snugly she fits in his big arms, or watch her gaze up at him while he gives her a bottle melts my heart.  Once he went back to work, he was always anxious to return home and cuddle up with her at the end of the day.  Now that the roles are reversed and I’m back at work, he’s fallen into the role of “Mr. Mom” quite nicely.  He sends me pictures during the day of tummy time outside on a blanket, play time on her playmat, or long walks in the stroller.  Last night, when I arrived home from work, she was sleeping soundly against his chest in the Baby Bjorn while he cooked dinner.  (Side note: If he could stay at home forever, I would totally let him.  I love having a stay at home husband).  I have always loved him, but now I love him in a deeper, more profound way.  He is not just my best friend, but he is the most important man in our daughter’s life and he is the father I wanted for her- the father she deserves.

Having a baby has changed my perspective in so many ways.  Things that used to be important to me just aren’t anymore, because my daughter takes up so much of the “important” in my life.  Coming home at the end of the day or a weekend free of work has whole new meaning.  Nothing makes me happier than to come home, give my baby a bath and read her a couple of stories.  I can sit quietly, not doing anything but rocking with her, and not be bored.  She is the love of my life.

Well, they both are.

Dear Loralai

Dear Loralai,

Thanks for pooping on me and daddy's bed. Thanks for waiting till I'm ready to eat to decide you're upset about something. Thanks for spitting up all over your clean outfit as soon as I've gotten you dressed.  

Thank you for being quick to smile and your beautiful, observant blue eyes. Thank you for becoming the thing I love most in this world, and changing my perspective in such a profound way. Thank you for being the reason I get a lump in my throat when I think about going back to work tomorrow.

I'm sorry I won't be able to be with you as much. If I had my way, I would spend every second of every day with you. I wasn't sure I'd ever be the mom that said that, but it's a testament to how much you've changed things for me, I guess.  Know that I will be thinking of you all the time while I'm at work, wishing I was with you.  Just because I will be away doesn't mean I love you any less.

I hope you enjoy your month with daddy. It will be a very special time for both of you- a time not many babies are lucky enough to have.  Just don't forget to give him a hard time once in a while, just to keep him on his toes and make me feel better about being away...

Love you lots,
Mommy

Some Bitch Punched My Husband In The Face

When JD called me, he was hyped up and breathless as he quickly told me he'd gotten in an altercation (attacked, really) at a domestic disturbance call.  He was on his way to the hospital to get checked out for a possible concussion. I asked if he wanted me to meet him, but he assured me there were other officers with him and I should stay home with the baby. It was one of those conversations that didn't really sink in till we were off the phone and I'd had a few minutes to process. I looked over at our beautiful baby sleeping next to me and got angry. My husband is a good, honest man who is just trying to serve his city and resolve conflict. He has a baby at home who needs him. Neither he nor his family deserves to suffer because he is trying to do his job.

The story is this.... He responded to a domestic dispute where a mother was kicking her daughter out of the house. JD was the first on scene and entered the residence before his check-in arrives (they don't ride with partners in his department but, depending on the call, they have other officers who check in with them).

I believe he talked to the mother first then went outside to talk to the daughter. The daughter was shouting and he was trying to get her to stop. She got pissed and punched him in the face.  As if that wasn't bad enough, she was holding a bejeweled hard cover cell phone. As he's trying to cuff the daughter, her brother comes out of the apartment and jumps on JD from behind. So, two against one in a surprise, come-from-behind attack.  Luckily, some neighbors stepped in to help JD out.  Fast forward several hours... JD is discharged from the hospital with a mild concussion, a black eye, and a cut on his face.  Both the daughter and her brother are charged with felony assault of a police officer.

In the grand scheme of things that could happen to him at work, this wasn't a huge deal.  JD was back at work for his next scheduled shift a few days later.  But it does seem like we have a wake up call every few months.  Whether it's a fight with a suspect or someone tries to pull a weapon on him, it's enough to keep JD on his toes and remind me that I need to be thankful every day that he comes home safely.  Now it's not just me.  I'm thankful on my daughter's behalf as well.

Here We Go Again

This past summer, JD switched gyms.  He went from your basic, strip mall, cardio equipment + weights gym to a gym that offers classes and training in both boxing and MMA (MMA, for those of you unfamiliar, stands for Mixed Martial Arts, a brutal combat sport that includes various forms of martial arts).  In the beginning, he was pretty much just taking the boxing class, but he eventually started training with the MMA coach, and I knew what was coming next.  It's JD.  It was inevitable.

He is now interested in taking on a real, legitimate, let's get in a cage and beat a stranger senseless until someone gets knocked out or we run out of rounds, fight.  Naturally, as his wife and the mother of his newborn, I'm not super excited about this.   I was there when he broke his kneecap in half.  I was there when he busted his face open on the cement.  I was there when he and his motorcycle did a front flip into a ditch.  I was there when a crash landing while wake boarding resulted in a concussion.  The difference is that it's not just me anymore.  I would hate for him to get injured and for it affect his ability to care for the baby.  But, as a friend recently pointed out, telling JD no will only make him want it more, so better just to go with it and hope for the best.  From his day job chasing down gang members to hobbies that include flipping on a bike and racing a motorcycle, it really is inevitable that JD will always be in harm's way.

I have no doubt that he can do this.  Once JD decides something, he's determined to make it happen.  It's the kind of mindset that allows him to wake up one morning and decide he wants to learn to do a back flip on his bike, then go out and master it that very day.   I also have no doubt he will be good at this.  He has the warrior mindset of a former Marine turned cop who volunteered to go to war.

Still, I'd prefer that he just select different hobbies.  Competitive chess maybe?  Or coin collecting?  I would be much more on board with something like that.

Loralai- 1 Month

Today, Loralai is 1 month old!  She is a happy and observant baby.  She's so easygoing that JD and I can take her out to dinner or even run a few errands.  She is pretty content to just nap in her seat.  When she's awake, she's always wide-eyed and gazing around.  Almost everyone comments on how alert she is.  She loves staring at lights and has started to really study faces within the past week.  She's also strong- she was already lifting her head on the first day and has been lifting it for longer periods of time every day!

This past month has been a blur of continuous visitors, round-the-clock feedings, and happy moments gazing down at my beautiful daughter.  We've been lucky because she's a very easy baby.  She is very content most of the time, sleeps well, and only fusses when she's hungry or wants to be held.  She loves, loves, LOVES to be held and is happy to be passed off to anyone who wants to hold her.  Now that our stream of visitors has died off, the Baby Bjorn has become my saving grace.  It keeps her content and snuggled up to me, and allows me to have both hands free when I want to get something done like the dishes or, I don't know, feed myself on occasion.  Actually, she's sleeping happily in the Baby Bjorn as I type this.

Thanks to her easygoing temperament, motherhood has been pretty blissful and relatively stress free so far.  Honestly, the hardest part has been breastfeeding.  I was aware how often babies need to be fed, but you don't realize quickly 3 hours can pass until your baby is crying hungrily and you are in denial that it's already feeding time again. I was not prepared to hand my postpartum body over to my child. I feel like a milk machine. My sole purpose has become producing milk, feeding the baby, and taking care off myself in order to keep producing milk. It's rewarding, but mostly it's exhausting. Exhausting and painful. To me, this has been harder on my body than the pregnancy was.

I absolutely could not have made it this far without the support of JD and my mom.  JD was amazing in those first 2 weeks that he was home with me.  He got up with me during nighttime feedings and did most of the diaper changing.  He was there encouraging me, telling me I was doing a great job, and reminding me that the pain and hassle was worth it.  My mom was there with a sympathetic ear when I needed it most (after all, she's been there!) and offered reassurance that breastfeeding IS hard and that there wasn't anything wrong with me just because I didn't find breastfeeding to be the "magical bonding experience" that it's "supposed" to be.  With their support, I made the decision to start pumping and integrating bottles with pumped breast milk into her daily feedings.  It has made all the difference.  The baby is still getting the benefits of breast milk (and JD and I don't have to pay for formula), but feedings don't all fall on my shoulders since anyone can give her a bottle.

I'm also thankful for the week long visits from both my mom and JD's mom, who cooked for us, helped out with the baby, took care of the dogs, and did what they could to make sure we got some sleep.  Their help made the transition into parenthood easier, because we could concentrate on taking care of the baby while they were taking care of so much else.  They also each left behind a fridge and freezer full of leftovers, meaning JD and I haven't cooked before the baby was born (hallelujah!)