Away We Go

Two months as a mom of two has me thinking that one blog is more than plenty. Our story will continue at Wanderlynn, I hope to see you there!

About "Breast"feeding

If you've never tried breastfeeding, you probably wonder how hard it could be. Maybe you think nothing of it. After all, women have been feeding their babies at their breasts for millennia. Animals do it.

Well. Guess what? It's HARD.

Your baby has to learn how to do it. You have to learn how to do it. And the only practice you get is... well, none. If you've had any kind of intervention during delivery, you probably have a nurse grabbing your boob and your baby's head and "showing" you how they go together. If you have babies like mine, they just chomp on your nipple. Creases, blisters, scabs... plus the emotional bruising of trying, trying, trying to get the baby to latch properly (and stay latched) so you don't leave a feeding injured.

And you get to do this over and over and over day in and day out! Every two hours! Day and night! At least at first.

Maybe it clicks for you, and when you go in for your first weight check your baby hasn't lost more than 10% of his birth weight. (All babies lose weight in the first few days and are expected to return to birth weight by two weeks.) But you aren't alone if he has, and the pediatrician gives you orders to feed on demand for 20 minutes per breast, offering both breasts per feeding, at least every 2 hours during the day (no more than 3 at night). Then, pump for 20 minutes and give the baby expressed breast milk, preferably with a tiny tube guided by your finger, or better yet!, taped to your breast.

So, this:
20 minutes one boob + 20 minutes other boob + 20 minutes feeding + 20 minutes pumping = 1 hour 20 minutes

That leaves 40 minutes between feedings – unless baby demands to eat before the two hour mark – for burping, changing diapers, cleaning and assembling supplies and, oh yeah!, sleeping. Mom has to pee and eat somewhere in there, too. In theory.

This isn't for forever.  The nagging uncertainty of whether or not you're producing enough might be.

I didn't understand the importance of pumping for my supply with my first son. I was told to supplement with formula, so I did. I was never able to make up the difference. Some of it was likely stress, the rest was likely poor guidance, even from the lactation consultant. After 6 weeks I decided to give up on increasing my supply and nursed until it was clear he was getting at 90% of his nourishment from formula. That was around three months.

This time around started out similarly, but I tried following the above prescription. That is, until the baby would fuss to eat as soon as I started pumping. Then I decided to nurse him to let HIM tell my body to produce more milk. I chugged water, popped fenugreek, whipped up lots of oats (like these bars) and drank Mother's Milk tea for good measure.

Then he was hospitalized for viral meningitis. I pumped devotedly every 2 hours around the clock (except for the day that I broke my pump, bought a new one, and spent the night at the house to get a little sleep). My busted nipples got a break, and amazingly he latched better than before when he was cleared to try breastfeeding. He was back to his birth weight a week later, with just a couple of ounces of supplementation by bottle each day.

Then my mother-in-law returned to the States. Drinking 3 liters of water in a day suddenly seemed impossible. Hiding away to pump in peace became impossible. Nursing comfortably and quietly? Not always with a toddler around. And so the supply has started to dwindle.

At his most recent check, he had gained about a half an ounce a day. This is good, they said. But we want him to gain twice as quickly, they said. Time to up the supplement.

So here I am, pumping away, thinking of how nice it would be able to feed my child without making more work for myself. You know, like how you imagine breastfeeding should go. But I can't stop trying. It's not in my nature to stop because it's hard.

I can't help but wonder if I would have tried harder, or done something differently, if I couldn't have successfully breastfed my oldest. The thing is, though? He's a happy, healthy, incredibly intelligent toddler now. Does it matter any more? Nope.

One Month Old

The past month has been a bewildering blur – yesterday was our second son's one month birthday!

First, who I've now decided to call Walleye here, has cut one of his last two molars, fought off at least one illness and has had to adjust to schedules with visiting grandparents and his new brother. NBD.

Second, who I'm calling Bird from here out, has recovered well from the viral meningitis. He hasn't gone longer than 4 hours without eating, though usually two or fewer. We finally held his bris this past Sunday.

My husband spent last week fighting off a virus. My mother-in-law has been a tremendous help –– and is now fighting off that virus.

Me? I'm exhausted. But I'm fueled by this incredible fullness I feel at having this family. I know this time will soon pass. Though it's probably more tolerable with the extra hour of sleep and household help I'm getting right now. Certainly I'll reach new levels of exhaustion when my MIL returns to the states.

Since time is flying and I've already learned that I'm terrible at logging the little facts and milestones pertaining to these early days, I'm going to force myself to share some of that information here with a monthly photo. (Do you like Paddington for scale?)

Eating: Breastfeeding is going better than I thought. If I don't have time to pump in a day, he takes about 2 ounces of formula. Other than that... he eats every 1.5 - 2.5 hours during the day (usually) and every 3 - 4 hours (or fewer) at night. Right on track.

Sleeping: There's not much time for napping when he takes 40 minutes to eat every hour and a half. I've been astounded that he doesn't care for being swaddled and sleeps perfectly well on his back in a sleep sack at night. Now we just need to get him to stay asleep longer.

Waking: He has been wide-eyed and alert since birth. Every now and then I hear a little (non-crying) squeak that tells me he'll be cooing before I know it. Baby sneezes are the cutest. I love the little gas-smile he sometimes makes with milk dribbling out of his mouth.

Growing: A week ago he was back to his birth weight – 7 pounds 3 ounces. Then we hit the 3 week growth spurt. We have a weight check next week just to be sure everything is on track. He's starting to stretch newborn pajamas!

Diapers: Good-NESS. I forgot how many diaper changes come with a new baby who eats 10 times a day. I'm looking forward to a time when they don't seem traumatic to him.

Soothing: He digs the "Calming Vibrations" in his bouncy seat, his Soothie pacifier and snuggles (especially at 5am). He particularly likes when his dad holds both of his tiny hands in one of his. Very sweet.

Fussing: Diaper changes, boogers that interfere with sleep and farts are the worst things in the world.

Big brother: Walleye is incredibly sweet. He likes to show Bird his toys, help me out when he can and check in on his brother when he's crying. He has played music for him, held his foot and offered the pacifier. It makes me a proud mama.

Parents: We're so very grateful for the help we've gotten from family and friends. It really does take a village! Now we're determined to get the ball rolling on Bird's passport and visa so we can take a family trip to a warm, sunny Spanish beach one day.

He's Here!

Well! Hello. Better late than never:

He's here! Second arrived three weeks ago, healthy and strong. Perfect, really. Until he got sick on his one-week birthday. We spent five nights in the hospital as he was treated for viral meningitis. Thankfully he has recovered well and... he's back to perfect.

We're lucky to have family visiting to help out with the toddler. It's probably as disruptive as having a new brother, but at least I get a break here and there to rest, shower or at least pump without a 25-pound germ monster crawling all over me. But it's hard to say, though. First is also cutting his back top molars and fighting off a virus. The night wakings are unwelcome. As are the classic Terrible Twos tantrums. Especially in the middle of the night.

So, in short, I'm exhausted. Breastfeeding is again a struggle. I intend to devote a post to it soon, after our weight check tomorrow. In the mean time, I'm off to collect the toddler from preschool and perhaps enjoy a bit of this rare sunshine we're having today.

40 Weeks +3: Rage Monster

When I don't sleep well, everything falls apart. I'm cranky. I eat food that makes me feel crummy. I become forgetful. I yell at the dog. I snap at the people around me. Generally speaking, I suck as  human.

I would prefer that the sleep deprivation of the newborn days overlap with the sleep deprivation of life with a melodramatic toddler as much as possible. Right now, the exhaustion, frustration and discomfort are completely interfering with my ability to enjoy these last days of pregnancy. I have no patience to have fun with my two-year-old. I have no energy to tackle new projects. I don't care if I clean my shower AGAIN. I just don't want to be pregnant any more.

The sooner I can begin recovery from birth, the sooner I can get back to my old self. Bending at the waist! Running! Jumping! Drinking wine when I've had a day that makes me want to pull out my hair! Mostly I look forward to being able to play with my kids without being distracted by strange pains in my ribs, contractions (OMG, would they just f*ing do something already?) and urinary urges.

Yes, I realize that my little guy benefits from every day that he soaks up the nutrients from that freaky magical organ called a placenta. I don't want to evict him before he's ready. I just really, really wish he were ready RIGHT NOW. After all, his grandpa is on the way soon and I'd like for them to meet!

40 Weeks (+2): Still Pregnant

I truly didn't believe I'd be pregnant for the full 40 weeks.

I wasn't prepared for the massive disappointment that came with understanding that I wasn't in labor when I woke up Saturday morning. And yesterday morning. And today.

Especially today.

Falling asleep doesn't come easy. Staying asleep is even harder with a toddler who wakes up in the middle of the night screaming "MOMMY!"As such, 6:30 AM Monday morning came early. The combination of exhaustion, discomfort, disappointment and dread of having to spend 12 straight hours alone with a defiant, cranky two-year-old made for an emotional start to the day.

It's very nearly nap time. Wish me luck!

39 Weeks: Ready! A Bumpdate

I can't wait to see the little foot that keeps kicking out my left side. To see his little face, to feel his little head in my hands. He's due Saturday! I expect him to make his appearance before then, but I suppose that's up to him. So here's what I think will be my last chance to do a formal bumpdate.

How far along: 39 weeks +1 day

How big is the baby: Baby Center says he's about 20 inches long and 7 pounds, the size of a mini watermelon. And that makes me think of The Office. Chances are he isn't too very big, though. His brother was 6 pounds full-term.

Sleep: Sometimes fine, sometimes not. I usually wake up every two or few hours to a contraction, or a foot in my rib, or a hiccuping baby, or the need to hit the loo.

Best moment of the week: That moment when I realized that I completely trust my body to bring this baby into the world. Suddenly I stopped stressing about the contractions that I've been having for weeks. I'll know when they're real.

Food cravings: Sugar. Sweets. Cookies. Somehow my son thinks I ate all of his and his dad's cookies. In fairness, they were OUR cookies. And there's totally a stash in the freezer.

Movement: Yup. Kicks, punches, stretches, hiccups. I can't wait to see him in action!

Labor signs: I've had contractions – sometimes regular, sometimes not – for the past few weeks. I guess that's pre-labor, and it's getting old.

What I really miss: Bending at my waist, wine, sleeping on my back.

Most worried about: Big Brother being upset that we're gone if we have to spend the night in the hospital. I know he'll be fine, of course. I just can't help thinking about it when he asks for "mama" every time he wakes up.

I'm looking forward to: Meeting him!

Anything else? We still haven't settled on a name. But I suppose we'll get that sorted out before too long!