Sweet moments

Now that K is flying, the kids and I are settlinb into a routine. Some days are easier than others, but we are workingit out. So tonight they were both pretty laid back at bedtime. We got through our routine and I tucked Bug in and went to put goose to bed. Like every night, he was uber excited to nurse. He doesn't nurse often these days, and if it's not sleep time will typically refuse if I offer. But at bedtime he loves it, and tonight was no different. It was incredibly sweet as my typically overactive, never sit still, no cuddle time toddler snuggled into me and happily nursed, sighing with contentment. Our routine is that after i get goose down, i go in and sing bug one more song. She is so much a daddys girl these days it's unbelievable. So tonight after i finished our one more song I got up to leave. In her sweet little girl voice she simply said mama, and reached out her hand. She asked me to rub her back and snuggled into me. I had things to do. Instead I sat and cuddled with my little girl. Because these moments won't last, and my little girl deserves her mama's time. So I hung out while she winded down, holding my hand the whole time. These sweet moments make my day, mean the world to me.

I remember

Dear Goose,

When you first came into existence you were an egg in a petri dish that managed to get fertilized.  You multiplied in cells along with others to become one of my much loved embryos.  You and one sibling grew together to be our strongest hope to give Bug a little brother or sister.  There were others, but they were not as strong.  So we picked you and one more to transfer back into my waiting body, and hoped that at least one of you would burrow in for a long 40 week stay.

One of you was a mere 8 cells, and one of you was a mere 9 cells.  We have pictures of both of you.  We will never know which one you were little fighter boy, but to me it doesn’t matter.  I’m sad that we lost your sibling in there, but you were strong and you latched on and burrowed in and held on tight.  I am so thankful for that my love.  I am so glad that in that beginning you knew I was meant to be your mother, K was meant to be your daddy, and YOU were meant to be our Son.

I knew you made it before we had the blood test to prove it.  I just knew it, in my gut, in my soul, and in my being.  I took that leap against your daddy’s wishes and took a home pregnancy test that minutes later took on a faint second line.  I remember that moment so well, I remember the tears that flowed.  I remember pouncing on your daddy who was still asleep to tell him the amazing news that he was going to be a daddy again.  I remember his sleep hazed shock and overwhelming happiness.

I remember 40 pretty uneventful weeks of pregnancy.  I remember agreeing to be induced 1 day after your due date because I couldn’t hardly stand, walk or sit, and I remember a short but powerful labor.

I remember your first scream.  Oh man do I remember.  You were pink and healthy and screaming, very unhappy to be forced into the cold world around you, out of the warm place you had been so content to try to stay.  That first scream lasted a good 20 minutes.

I remember the first time you latched onto my breast.  Gratefully sucking away somehow knowing it was your survival.  It was an amazing moment, the way you knew exactly what to do, the way it quieted those screams down.

I remember the first time your daddy looked at you. I remember the look of love and pure adoration on his face.

I remember introducing you to your sister for the first time.  She was so excited that baby was here, and just wanted to hold you and hug you and kiss you.

I remember bringing you home.  Officially, finally making our family of 3 a much wanted family of 4.

I remember the early sleep deprivation.  The ease that breastfeeding came to us.  The reflux that made me want to cry with you.

I remember how you always want to be held. By me. Except when you didn't.

I remember being peed on when I forgot to make sure your diaper was on, well, correctly. 

I remember being so scared when you were a mere month old and your sister had to spend a few days in the hospital.  I was so afraid you were going to get sick too.  I hated taking time away from you, but needed to spend time with her.

I remember you rolling over.  I remember you sitting up unsupported at 5 months.  I remember you crawling.  I remember that first tooth breaking through at 8 months, and the 5 teeth that followed over the next 3 ½ months.  I remember you taking those first awkward steps at 10 months, and then it was off to the races.

I remember the craziness of you being a boy. 

I remember pink shorts at a restaurant when I forgot to bring you a change of clothes.

I remember feeding you solids for the first time at 6 months, and how you immediately shoveled food into your own mouth.  I love that I’ve never had to feed you, that you’ve been so independent to do it on your own.

I remember the jokes daddy and Nana made about what a mama’s boy you were, and still are. 

I remember that when nothing else would sooth you, I always had the power to do so.  Sometimes by the breast, sometimes by walking, sometimes by bouncing, and sometimes by simply holding you.

I remember the adoration in your beautiful blue eyes as you looked up at me.

I remember how different you are than your sister.  How wonderfully, fiercely YOU you are.

I remember the first time you said mama and dada. I remember when you looked at me and said mama, knowing that was me.

I remember how you’ve adored your sister since day 1.  How you want to be just like her, do what she does, play with what she plays with, go where she goes.

And I remember holding your sleeping body in my arms.  Heavy with fatigue myself.  Marveling at the wonder and miracle that I hold in my hands.

1 year ago today my little Goose.  1 year ago today you came into this world so fast and furious that I knew life would never be the same.  All of these little memories will never go away.  They may fade with time and life may get in the way, but they will never disappear.  Because I will not let them.

Happy Birthday my little Goose, my little boy, my son.  I cannot wait to see what memories this next year brings with you.  I cannot wait to watch you grow more into the little boy you are meant to be. 

I love you Goose, forever and ever. 

Love,
Momma

“….I wanted you more than you’ll ever know, so I sent love to follow wherever you go..."

Nursing

February 25, 2012.

The first day that I didn’t nurse bug. I wrote a number of posts about weaning her last year (see some here, here and here), and going back and looking at them again brought new tears to my eyes.

I look at my little girl, who now really looks so much like a little girl, and it breaks my heart just a little that we weaned when we did, for the reasons we did. Infertility and wanting another baby.

Some of my worries back then didn’t come true. I was so worried that we’d wean and then never get pregnant and I’d regret it. I don’t regret weaning – because I look at the beautiful face of my smiling little boy and know that HE wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for weaning when we did. That doesn’t mean that the ache doesn’t come back sometimes.

One of my other worries that I don’t believe I really wrote too much about was that I was afraid that my nursing relationship with a new baby wouldn’t be the same.

And it’s not.

Goose isn’t known to comfort nurse in the same way that Bug did. For Bug, I was her EVERYTHING. If anything bothered her she wanted to nurse. If she couldn’t settle down she wanted to nurse. If she was tired, cranky, happy, hurt, sad, ill, she wanted to nurse. She loved our nursing relationship as much as I did. In the long run weaning that last daily session was easier with her than I expected, but she held on to my boobs (literally and figuratively) for months and months afterwards. Even when she went through her distracted stage she was still all about the nursing relationship. It was filled with sweet sweet moments of just her and I, loving each other as a mama and daughter were meant to in the early years.

Goose isn’t like that. He does some level of comfort nursing, but not like she did. I can’t keep him focused sometimes long enough to get a letdown. In the morning he’s become so accustomed to taking a bottle that he isn’t interested in me if I’m around when he gets up during the week (weekends he will eventually nurse). In the deep pit of my stomach I’m so afraid that he’ll self-wean earlier than I want him to. I want so badly for him to nurse until at least 2 because of the bond it creates. Because of the good that I know it does for him. (and the ease and price of it ain’t half bad either!)

He is rougher than she was. Yeah, she got those claws in my skin sometimes, but not bad (or maybe I’m just remembering the good part?). He is so rough and tumble, he will grip both sides of my boob sometimes and squeeze it in his tiny little fists. I’ll come out red and marked up. Sometimes with scratches. But the other night I was nursing him before bed, and I realized in some ways it’s not so different.

The relationship. In many ways it is similar.

I choose to take that step back and really pay attention, recognizing that he has a lot more going on than she did with a toddler running around to keep his attention.

As I felt the weight of him curled up against me, the rest of his hands on me (yes, he was being gentle) the way he eagerly drinks and the way his sweet little eyes went half closed reminded me of all those sweet moments with her. I took the step back and reclaimed the sweet moments with him right then and there. I watched him break away for a moment and take a deep breath, only to go back to nursing. That same soft deep pull of the nipple as he gets one of the best things that I can give him. The way his warm body stayed so close to mine.

And I realized that I very well may be wrong. That this relationship may have a lot more time in it yet. That our sweet moments are still there, hanging in tight, and it makes me glad (with a little sadness around it) that I weaned Bug when I did, so that I could have this relationship with Goose. And I thought that about 4 more times overnight as he woke up (teething) and wanted nothing but mama to nurse him through.

And, nursing Goose has taught me something about nursing Bug. Turns out she had a HORRIBLE latch and that’s why my nipples were always sore (nipple cream was used up until the last day I nursed!). Goose? He may be rough and tumble, but that boy has an AMAZING latch and the girls only get tender when AF is near. Nipple cream? I’m sure I have some in the medicine cabinet… somewhere :-)

Updates

So, we did see the infectious disease doc for Bug. He really made me feel SO much better about things. He agreed with my worry, that it was still part of the initial outbreak. He said that the antiviral will keep anything new from popping up while one is on it, but that when you come off of it you may still experience some symptoms as the illness finishes running it's course. Because she has had no other immune issues, he was in no way worried and advised that he didn't even want to do another round of the anti viral.

He reiterated that a huge percentage of people (like 80 or 90%) have the virus in their system by the time they're in their 20's or so. He spent a lot of time with us, going over Bug's history, checking her out and agreeing that the spots she had were herpes sores (the ped wasn't so sure), and just in general talking with us about herpes. It was interesting as he shared with us that there are some (unproven) schools of thought that when the initial outbreak is severe (as Bug's was), those people rarely exhibit symptoms again in their lifetime. I'm crossing my fingers that this is the case for Bug.

He also said that if a baby catches it at 4 weeks or less they treat very aggressively and immediately admit to the hospital. Goose was just shy of 4 weeks when Bug caught this, and luckily he never exhibited any symptoms. The doc explained that due to the fact that I obviously have the virus (I get cold sores rarely) and that he was still working with my immune system on top of breastfeeding probably saved him from catching it. Thank God. I was so worried, so scared, but it sounds like chances are he won't catch it at this point. Bug also seems to be getting over it for the most part, although I do find the starting of sores here and there but then they disappear in a day or so and never even 'explode' so to speak. So, I think we really are past the worst of it!!

On another note, I took Goose to a pediatric gastroenterologist this week to discuss his reflux issues. She wants him to have an upper GI, which I have to do yet, and she added a second dose of Prilosec in at night. We've been doing that for a couple of days and I think it's helping a bit, as long as I can get him to keep the dose down. His sleep for the last week has been horrible, but that could be a million things, after all, he is just shy of 9 weeks old.

Yep, that's what I said, he's 9 weeks old already! And at his GI appointment he weighed in at a whooping 12 pounds flat. He is my oinker, that's for sure!!!

Yep, I've spent a lot of this maternity leave dealing with medical issues. **sigh** I think it's a bit of a blessing that I was on leave for a lot of this though.

Weaned

It's been just over a week. I think that Bug is officially weaned. She's handling it pretty well, although whenever she's stressed, tired, or hurts herself her hand still goes right down my shirt and frantically moves around until she finds my boob, my nipple. And it calms her. So it's nice to know that I still can calm her with my boobs LOL.

The other day I think I realized one of the reasons why weaning her was so hard for ME. K is still at home with her everyday, so she prefers him right now. It still breaks my heart, but I know that as time goes on it'll change. Sometimes she'll prefer him, sometimes it'll be me. I've accepted that.

But weaning. That was still my thing. It was when she always wanted me, no matter what. It was the comfort that I could give her when nothing else worked, and it always worked. It was our time together that K was never a part of, and never could be. After work she would take my hand and lead me to the glider, where we always nursed. She loved those moments, and so did I. I was comforting her the other night just by rocking her when it hit me. K was playing with her hand to help, and I asked him to stop. I wanted those moments. I explained to him that by weaning her I had given up something so special. He understood.

I still wish that I could've nursed longer. I still wish that I could have let HER decide when it was time to stop. I still wish that we were still nursing. But the pain is lessened. I still cry sometimes, but it doesn't hurt as bad as time is wearing on. As I get geared up and excited to start the IVF process to try to make her a sibling. It's easier knowing that's why I made the decision. But as I type this I can feel the tears in my eyes, so I know it's still fresh that I made a very difficult decision, but for all the right reasons.

I still laugh at the time that I thought I would NEVER nurse past a year. Then when I kept going I thought to myself 'by 18 months, no matter what.' At the end I know I wouldn't have stopped if she wasn't ready. At the end I knew that I would've kept going until 2 years, maybe even 3 years. I think that there would've been an eventual cut off for me, but obviously I was proven wrong on that thought a couple of times, so I'm not so sure that I wouldn't have gone until later than 2 or 3. I'll never know, and I'm coming to terms with that.

I think another reason is that if I do get to have another baby, I don't know how that relationship will be. Bug was always so gentle, once we got it down. She only bit once when she got teeth. She loved it as much as I did. Will a second? I don't know, but I sure hope so. I really do. But if not, then I know that I've gotten to have something that is so special. That I gave her the best for as long as I could.

The best part? I saved some frozen milk from my days pumping. It's in a deep freeze so good up to a year. Every night before bed that's the milk she gets now. So she still gets some of mommy, she still gets that goodness for a bit longer.

That makes me happy, and a proud mommy.

Breastfeeding and TTC#2

It seems that I continue to struggle with weaning Bug. I know in part it's because I'm so afraid that I'll wean her, we won't get pregnant with IVF, and then I'll regret weaning her. This is so new to me, someone who, sadly, thought it was creepy to wean past 12 months. We are now almost at 19 months and if it weren't for needing IVF, there would be no end in sight.

Our bodies should work like they're supposed to. I should be able to nurse through pregnancy #2 and let Bug wean when she wants. I should have the OPTION at least to tandem nurse if our relationship would have made it through nursing. Should. Should. Should.

Both Bug and K were very sick last week. I think I might have been the first to have it, but it was short lived for me and I thought it was a mild case of food poisoning. I think it might've been the flu though, as the 2 of them caught it and got really sick for days on end. Once Bug got over the flu she then got the dreaded cold. With her reflux it is taking FOREVER to get over it. So she wants to nurse. We had been down to the just before bedtime nursing session, but now we're back to 2-3 times a day.

I was listening to the song '100 in a 55' the other day and it brought on this crazy bought of nostalgia. I think because the lyrics have so much meaning in regards to what I've been through. Right in the beginning they sing "I still believe that we got a chance, I still believe that we got a chance to be" It speaks to what K and I went through, our separation and then eventual reconciliation. It touches me. Then the chorus in general 'going 100 in a 55 and I don't know why, I'm still alive. But I do what I can but I know I can't take anymore" reminds me of the days leading up to our separation, through all of our primary IF. "I can't go back, I'm in too deep" makes me think of during our separation when I realized I wanted him back, but we were both dating people. Then we worked it all out, and now we are such a happy family of 3 (4 if you include the dog LOL).

Life is amazing. It's hard, but I know that I'll make it through. I know that weaning bug will work out when it's supposed to. I know that when it does we'll start IVF. In a lot of ways I hope it's sooner versus later, but in some I'm OK waiting because Bug deserves to nurse just as long as she wants to.

Hugs to everyone.

Reproductive Endocrinologist?

So, Friday we had our appointment with RE#3 (RE#1 since we moved). Let's call her, hmmmm, how about Dr. Duh. That's what I kind of felt like while we were talking over our history. Once she got down to the nitty gritty she seemed to know what she was talking about, but she just seemed a little air headed or something. We didn't hate her, but didn't love her either.

We honestly walked out both wishing that we had finished what we started back before we moved. We agreed we would have probably used Dr. Erb. Either way, she wants me to get all my cycle testing updated, get an updated sperm analysis and some genetic testing on K. It seemed like these two tests that she wants for him, if they turn out that he has them, she might not want to do IVF w/ICSI with his boys. She gave the impression that she didn't want to play God.

Um. Yeah. Anyone else see any irony here? That's what I thought.

But OK, maybe there are long term repercussions, which we didn't quick think to ask at the moment. So we'll probably get them done.

However. There was another RE here that I had tried to call originally but couldn't get through. So I tried again on Monday, and got through. Set up an initial consult for February 16.

We actually went out to dinner after the appointment on Friday and seriously discussed just stopping the insanity. Just being OK with one kid. This all came up after being slightly disappointed with the RE, with weaning not going well (it's slowly getting better), and just the stress in general. Plus, Bug has been a pill for the last week and a half or so. We really had to talk that one through, discuss the pros and con's to having her be an only child.

But we couldn't agree to that. We want to give it this try. One more time. So I set up this second consult, and we'll see how that goes. Then we'll go from there and make the decision on who we will move forward with. We did agree that if it doesn't work, then we'll stick to our original plan of doing just one IVF, FET if there are any on ice after the IVF, maybe a couple of cycles of donor sperm IUI, and then onto adoption. Still an option if nothing seems to be panning out is to go the one child route.

So much insanity.

So much to say...

Wow, it's been a while since I've written. I've been following blogs still, but not posting as much as I would like. It's just been crazy over the holidays, still settling in, and busy at work. Plus, our work filters now won't let me post, so I have to wait until I get a chance at home, which is rare.

I will catch up later from the holidays, but for today I want to talk about Infertility.

I'm just about due for AF. I know she's coming, but I want to deny it. I've said before that I'm not struggling this time around as badly as I did when we were trying for our first, which is true. But. That doesn't mean it's easy. I'm about 10 months post first AF after Buggie was born. So, we've officially been not preventing, and trying, for that time. I know the chances are so slim of it happening on its own, but I can't help but to hope.

I was never a tester. When trying for our first, I knew, every single month, that I wasn't pregnant. K always wanted me to test, but I never wanted to. I didn't want to see that 1 pink line, that just reiterated what I already knew. Knowing was bad enough. There were a few months that I gave in and tried to appease K, and those were probably the hardest negatives to face. Once we headed down the IVF path he stopped asking me to test. We stopped temping, stopped paying attention to CM (cervical mucous), stopped everything. It was our attempt at gaining some of our control back. Looking back on it now, it never really worked. What it did do was allowed us to take at least 1 step back. It was still the main thing in our lives. The one topic of conversation that was always ongoing, the one thing that pushed everything else back to the back burner.

This time around I've not done any of it. Nothing. The only reason I've even tracked my cycles is because I knew that I'd need to for our RE appointments. Since AF has been back I've been more regular than I've ever been before. Except one month, when K was gone and buggie wasn't sleeping and wanting to nurse all the time. I gave in and tested. The negative was glaring, but I handled it with a shrug of the shoulders. It really was expected, and really didn't have a bad effect on me.

So. I didn't write down my cycle last month, but I know I was at the tail end of it when I had my girls weekend, which was December 10. So, AF is on it's way. I know this. But. I am hoping. I have had these weird twinges for the last week or so. I spotted a little bit after sex over the weekend (which isn't abnormal when AF is on her way), but there's been no more spotting, which is abnormal. Typically I spot off and on for at least a week prior to AF rearing her ugly head. To top it off, a couple times in the last few days there has been what looks like tissue in the toilet after I pee. Maybe a little tinged red, but not really bloody - which I've never had before. I know, probably TMI, but here my brain is hoping it's implantation. One would think I'd be beyond this by now, but obviously that is not the case.

I suddenly find myself wanting to test. I suddenly have this overwhelming urge that maybe, just maybe, I'm pregnant. It's so wrong because I know what will happen. I tore apart the bathroom yesterday when I had 5 minutes away from K looking for a test. I thought I still had one, but alas, I couldn't find one.

I keep hoping that it will miraculously happen on it's own, that way I won't have to wean buggie.  That way if she decides to self wean during pregnancy as I hear happens so often, it's her choice.  I want it to be her choice, not mine.  But I don't want to wait for too much longer since we can't go through treatments if I'm still breastfeeding her.  It's such a difficult decision.  This coming from the woman who never thought she'd nurse past a year.  Buggie is almost a year and 1/2.  It's amazing, and crazy.  I love every minute of it, and so does she.  But I want so badly to start trying to give her a sibling.

**sigh**

I really don't like you... (no, not you as in my readers..)

You as in a former boss of mine, V.  Some of you may remember a brief mention of her in a post a while back (I'm not even gonna search it out because it was so minor).  My post basically talked about how I was paranoid on all my IVF meds and thought she was out to get me.  I realized that was the meds talking, but also knew that we had a lot of other issues.

Just for a base, here's an example of her issues with me back when.  I was handling a territory in my home state negotiating contracts.  It was the biggest and busiest territory worked out of our office.  We took on expansion in the neighboring state, and while I handled my normal territory, I also handled the largest territory in this expansion state.  Needless to say, I was working from 7:15 to 5:30 every day, with no lunch.  I still couldn't keep up.  I busted my butt to do so, and didn't complain.  Because it was my job, and I loved it.  She sat me down one day and told me that I wasn't doing enough, that she expected more from me.  I made sure she knew the long days I was working, and she basically told me that I must need another way to prioritize and organize.  Mind you, by this time I had been with the company for 8 years, had gotten nothing but rave reviews (and I worked as a supervisor in customer service!!), and had been promoted 4 times in these 8 years (and 2 more times since then).  I don't have a problem with prioritizing and organization, I simply had too much on my plate and apparently my best wasn't enough for her.  So, I said if that was what needed to be done, then I was open to, and looking for, suggestion from her on how to make that happen.  (mind you, at this point I was closing my office door to try to keep the world out and she told me I was distancing myself from everyone and needed to keep my door open more)

Her answer?

I don't know, get creative.

Nice leadership V.

After that I had a nice long conversation with my director, her boss.  He basically told me that he knew I was the busiest rep, that I was doing a great job, and just to keep my head above water as much as possible, that they were getting ready to start hiring some more people.  The same day we had this conversation is when he offered me a promotion, a lot more money and a sweet moving package to move to the expansion state.

So, now you have an idea about V.

It has taken me a couple of days to write this post because I'm so pissed.

The other day I had an email from an employee that works for V now, and has for a couple of years.  She just got back from maternity leave.  During her pregnancy we had many conversations about breastfeeding and the benefits, and I made sure she knew if she ever had questions or just needed support, to call me.  I am so pro-breastfeeding I think I even drive myself crazy.  So her email asked me for some pointers on pumping at work.  I was so excited and sent back a nice long email with what I had done.  Then we ended up talking.  She filled me in on the fact that V is riding her about the time it is taking out of her day to pump.

SAY WHAT?

First of all, this is a salaried employee.  Second of all IT'S FEDERAL LAW!!!  For God's sake, we work for a HEALTH INSURANCE COMPANY.  That's right, a health insurance company.  How can you say my company wouldn't want this to happen???

So, I proceeded to explain to her the law, and also explained to her from a management perspective (at least the way my HR does things) that we cannot do anything about the number of hours a salaried employee does or does not work - all we can do is push the 'are they getting their work done' aspect of it, and if not, handle any verbals, write ups, etc from that perspective.  Makes sense, doesn't it?  If you're getting your work done and you are a salaried employee, then who is management to tell you that you're not working enough hours? 

OMG.

So, we had a 2 state staff meeting out of town Thursday and Friday, and I got to see this new mama.  We ended up chatting about it more, and as it turns out she is now the whipping post.  However, she mentioned that really all of her staff get crap handed to them, except for 1.  Did I mention that V's best friend works for her?  I bet you can guess who that 1 person is that doesn't get the shit beat out of her (figuratively of course) at work everyday.  Yep, her best friend (who joined the department right after me, but admittedly was not hired by V as she wasn't the manager yet). 

I tried to remain very PC since I am a manager with the company, but I basically told her that if she was having problems with either the pumping aspect of it, or being the whipping post, that she needed to talk to V's boss, HR, or both.  I also let her know that if the rest of the staff felt the same way about how V treats people, that they ALL needed to talk to V's boss, HR, or both.

In a small part of my mind it made me feel just a TINY bit better knowing that while I was her whipping post back when, that it was not necessarily just me, but rather who this woman is as a manager.  However, I feel horrible that there are other people in my company dealing with what I had to deal with.  I mean seriously, I am a manager too, and do not feel the need to hang my 'power' over my staff every day, and give them only negative feed back instead of positive.  In fact, I have had one of my staff that has struggled.  Know how I handled it?  We talked about it, we tried to find out if we could pinpoint why she was struggling and where it came from, and then we came up with idea's together (some from her, some from me, some a joint effort) on how WE could work on it to make it better.  Notice all the we's there?  After all, I'm only as good a manager as my employees are.

Know what?  She's doing 100% better today.  She still has a little work to go, but it's amazing the turn around I've seen.  I'm not trying to say I'm an amazing manager, but there's a way to get good work out of a person, and there's a way NOT to.  V is the epitome of what NOT to do.

I told this employee to please keep me updated.  I am going to be SO pissed if I find out that she stops breastfeeding (she struggles with supply issues as it is) because of a manager being a complete wench.

Ohhhhh do I dislike her.

I have so much more to tell you all (and get back to my memories since meeting K) but I'll have to get back to that.  This was so much more important to me right now.

Breastfeeding, Crawling, and everything in between

10 months.  I'm so proud that we've made it this far!  I struggled so much in the beginning, as I'm sure most BF'ing mama's can relate to.  I remember one night when Bug wasn't even a week old yet.  She was hungry, and crying.  She couldn't hardly stay awake to latch (jaundice).  I was engorged and sore.  I was crying.  K looked at me and told me that it was OK if I wanted to stop.  He would understand and not think less of me if I did.  All that did?

It reinforced that I would make it through.  And we did.  Breastfeeding now for 10 months.  We have dealt with thrush (numerous times), clogged ducts (a few times), engorgement, nipple bruising, and just plain tenderness.  We have been lucky to not deal with some of the worst things that mama's deal with.  I am thankful for that.

So at this beautiful 10 month mark, only 2 months away from my third goal (first was just doing it, second was 6 months), I reflect on the beauty of this relationship.  I reflect on the love of this relationship.  And I reflect on the sometimes absurdity on this relationship.

Every night when I get Bug ready for bed, I will have her sitting up while I start to get her dressed, and she'll bury her head in my cleavage.  I think she sometimes is in there motor boating!  She will THROW her head into my chest, to the point where you can hear the THUNK.  Wow, I think she likes to breastfeed.

This morning I couldn't help but laugh.  We had already nursed for the day, and I had just finished pumping her fresh bottles for daycare.  I hadn't gotten the girls put away and she had crawled over to me (oh yeah, that's new too.... more about that later), climbed into my lap, and latched on.  Mind you, it had only been about 20 minutes since she fully nursed, and well, there wasn't anything in there.  But, she thought she'd give it the old college try. So she would stop nursing, look up at me expectantly, smile, and latch back on.  All I could do was laugh. 

Oh yes, weaning should be SO much fun!!

I have given up telling stories like these to my coworkers (yes, we are an open group), because they keep harassing me to 'get her off the boob.'  Sorry people, that may have been right for you, but it's not for me.  A-breastfeeding we shall remain.

Crawling: So, she's been taking a few crawling 'steps' over the last handful of days, but then she will stop, sit back on her butt, and look around like 'what the heck was that?'  It's quite amusing if I do say so myself.  So on Wednesday I went to DC to nurse her at lunch and they said that was what she was doing there too.  K picked her up at the end of the day and she crawled across the room to get to him!  Apparently she had been moving all over the room all afternoon.

Humph.

So, I went out to dinner with my boss that night and therefore didn't get to see it.  Yesterday when I went to nurse her at lunch she just laid there and waited for me to pick her up.  So I said to her 'what, you'll crawl for dada but not mama?'  Then when K picked her up yesterday afternoon, she crawled across the room to him again.

Humph.

This is all on the tail of her babble finally turning into 'talking,' and of course, that includes a lot of dadadadadada and absolutely NO mamamama.

I see where this is going.  Freud is at work in her head.  She's already learning to love and want to marry her dada.  I thought that was supposed to wait until she was at least a little older?!

I'm in trouble.  She's already chasing one of the boys at DC around during the day to give him open mouth kisses.  OH boy.

Tooth number 2 is SO close, and thank God, because I could really really use some sleep.  Like, a lot of it.  I get goofy when I'm really tired, and suffice it to say, K has suggested I get coffee before work on a number of occasions this week, due to my extreme level of goofiness.  He's been getting serenaded at 7 in the morning with songs like the Bear Song (come on, you know you know it... the other day, I met a bear, up in the woods, oh way up there.....)

Ha, now you can have it stuck in your head too.  You're welcome.

~Emms