Bye bye formula

Today we will use our last remaining infant formula. We will not purchase any more, even though we’ve still got about two weeks left until River’s first birthday.

We’ve been preparing for this awhile. Somewhere around 10 months (maybe a little earlier), we began to use some cow’s milk instead of formula to make his morning oatmeal, rice or barley. In mid-October (at just over 10 months old) we neglected to bring enough formula while on a trip. So for a couple of days, we used half formula and half milk. That worked just fine.

So when we knew that our formula supply was running low, we decided we wouldn’t replenish it when it ran out. For a few weeks now we’ve been upping the percentile of cow’s milk in the milk to formula ratio until he’s been receiving bottles of 100% cow’s milk. He shows no reaction at all.

For my husband this was an easy decision. River is a perfectly healthy, happy and large and he’ll be just fine on cow’s milk. I felt intuitively that it was the right thing to do, but still had my doubts. Would we be bad parents for switching before the one year birthday? Would we deny him needed nutrients or brain development?

First I asked myself what was so special about the one-year birthday. Nothing that I could identify. I guessed that the medical establishment determined that the vast majority of babies by that age are at the developmental stage needed to switch to milk. Some will get there earlier of course and others later. With River in the 90th percentile growth-wise and a voracious wide-ranging eater, I think he’s already where the average baby would be on their first birthday.

Then I looked at the ingredients of the formula. Yes, there are vitamins and that’s good, especially since his iron was a bit low. But the main ingredient is either nonfat cow’s milk or corn syrup. If he’s getting dried cow’s milk in the formula, why can’t I give him fresh cow’s milk? And corn syrup? I know breastmilk is sweet and this is an attempt to make it similar as well as to provide calories. But really? At this age? He’s gotten it already in the formula we’ve given him to date, but I don’t think he needs any more.

Then, finally, was the fact he’s still getting a couple of breastfeeding sessions in per day so he’s got some “good stuff” to go along with the milk and the vitamins he gets from food.

I think this is just an example of how every parent needs to make choices that work best for their circumstances and particular child. However, even with a careful look at the options, it’s still easy to doubt oneself. I’ll try to lay off the self-doubt for a while and enjoy the ease (and the lower cost) of quickly filling a bottle from a gallon of milk. Hooray!

The new freedom

I recently found out about a biking group in my area. Yesterday, they hosted one of the easier level rides and I decided to attend.

My husband switched baby-care shifts with me, taking River for the morning instead of the afternoon. And off I went.

One thing I really appreciated was that, although I normally breastfeed River in the morning, pumping was not an issue at all. I didn’t breastfeed him for several hours, I didn’t pump and I didn’t feel the slightest discomfort. Of course I don’t want to lose my supply. But it’s very freeing to be able to change my plans, to do what I not, and to not have to worry about something being attached to my boobs.

Anyway, the ride was great. I drove to a park about 15 minutes from our house, then we rode 10 miles to another small park, then back. It amazes me to ride through fields, past ancient decrepit houses and past a group of farmers hanging with a sheriff in a driveway. It feels like rural Iowa, but is so close to home. One of the funniest sites was an ancient house with more holes in the roof than covered spaces. It had wooden planks across the window and the faded beams looked like they had survived centuries. A plank across the front door read “Not for rent.”

The ride pretty much pooped me out for the day. But it felt great. I could certainly go 20 miles on my own but I wouldn’t have done it in two hours. It was nice to be part of a group and to have that pressure, enough to make me move faster than I would otherwise but not so much to be annoying or painful.

There have been periods in my life where I went for a full-day hike or bike ride once per week and that always seemed to be good for me. It helped to make up for missed workouts or excess treats during the week. It’s too bad the weather will soon be turning ugly (we did get rained on during the last 10 minutes of the ride), because I’m up for participating regularly. Hopefully I’ll get in at least one more ride next weekend.

A wave of love

In the past couple of days, I’ve been thinking about how strong is the love that I feel for River. I wonder whether nature intends it to be this way – building up my love so strong at 10/11 months so that I’ll still love him no matter how difficult or annoying his toddler stage, no matter how many people look away in irritation.

I went to a meeting last night. A woman brought her toddler, age 2 or so. All through the meeting the facilitator was making gestures toward the toddler and the mother was making comments. I’m sure she thought these comments were important and relevant – such as how her daughter lives on pizza. She was a stranger to me, so I really didn’t care what kind of food she ate. But her mother thought we’d all be interested. And I suppose that’s a sign of the same type of immense, consuming love

It’s surprising for me to feel this much love. I didn’t connect with him at all in-utero, and didn’t even refer to him (it) as anything more human than a fetus until I got a 3-D ultrasound at 25 weeks or so. I was never one to hug my belly. I thought of him as a person only in the abstract. If anything, I worried I wouldn’t love him enough.

But the opposite has occurred and it feels to me like a wave. I hope it will be a warm, soft wave that will wash around him like a whirlpool and make him feel safe, comfortable and happy. But sometimes it’s so intense, I want to hug him with such power and smother him in kisses, that I worry it’s a tidal wave, in danger of crashing over him.

goodbye dear Jumperoo

We have now parted with another of our most favorite baby items – the Fisher Price Rainforest Jumperoo. Way back in March River cautiously entered it for the first time. We had to place books under his feet so he’d have something to touch. By April he could reach the floor himself and was bouncing with enthusiasm. From that point, we moved the setting up once and then again. Last week he took his last jump before the jumperoo moved on to a new home. He was still enjoying it.



In the months he had this, he had so much fun. I was able to shower or do other short tasks while knowing he was safe and entertained. It’s been a good seven months Mr. Jumperoo. We’ll miss you.

First use of the Jumperoo

Seven months later, his last use:

The magic balloon

This morning I took River on a walk. I’ve been slacking off a bit lately on our daily walks, so I decided to make up for it by doing an extra long one, almost two hours long.

We were about an hour into it. River was starting to fuss and I was wondering whether I needed to take the shorter way home. Then, up ahead, I saw the most magical thing – a blue foil balloon attached to a gate.

OK, it wasn’t the most magical thing. The leaves floating on the slow-moving water were great, as were the orange, red and yellow leaf carpets, the sweet smell of fresh leaves and dying plants and the bare, vulnerable branches. But as I mentioned yesterday, River is a big, big fan of balloons. For him, not much can beat a balloon.

The people who frequent this path seem to be an honest bunch. At the entrance, someone had rigged a branch into the crevice of a bench and from it, hung a keychain someone had dropped. I figured it might be the same case with the balloon. It was attached to the gate in plain sight so that its owner could retrieve it. But how could someone rescue a lost balloon that floats? Perhaps someone was done with it and left it on purpose.

Maybe I’m making too much of this, because at the time I saw it, I was listening to the Pray part of Eat, Pray, Love in which the author recounts her experience of transcendentalism. Just as I heard her recount how she found acceptance, bliss and peace, this magical blue foil balloon, in the shape of a star, appears out of nowhere. It was as though River’s nirvana had suddenly appeared in a burst of beautiful blue.

Figuring that even if it was lost, the owner was not likely to go through the woods to recover it, I decided that we could give it a new home. I tied it to the stroller. River grasped onto the string with both hands and fell asleep. When he awoke, he seemed contented to know the balloon was right there. All day today, he has been staring up the balloon, pulling the balloon’s string, touching the balloon, looking at his reflection in the balloon. He looks at it with wide, open, curious, trusting and infinitely happy eyes. I’ve never seen him so motivated to try to stand without support as when the balloon floats up to the ceiling and the string dangles tantalizingly above his head. It has made his day and will brighten his week. Heck, he’s still pointing at balloons we’ve had hanging on our wall since our first babysitter left in February. If this one lasts anywhere near as long, it will brighten his year.

For now, I also look up at the bright blue shiny star on our ceiling as a beautiful thing.

Ouch, my voice hurts

River has been pointing for a few weeks now. It started out as him pointing at the things that caught his attention. Usually that would be balloons, paintings, lights and our red and gold Chinese calendar.

Then he started to point at things he wanted. When he first pointed at the grapes and cheese I was eating as a sign that he wanted some too, I was psyched. We’re communicating!

Now he’s pointing as a way to learn vocabulary. At least that’s what I think, even though he doesn’t speak. Because he points at EVERYTHING. He points until I tell him what it is. And he focuses very intently on the object while I say the word.

This is cool, I tell myself. He’s going to learn words. He’s going to be able to speak.

It has gotten a bit tiresome lately though to say the same words over and over again. I speak to him in Spanish and the word for balloons is globo. Globo. Si globos. Un globo violeto. Un globo rojo. Un globo amarillo. Un globo verde. Globo, globo, globo. I can’t tell you how many times in a day I say this word. I say calendario (calendar), puerta (door), luz (light) and lampara (lamp) nearly as often.

This evening was both the most exciting and the most challenging though. I took him for a walk after dark. We walked along the main street in town. As we went, he pointed at the stoplight, the cars, and every single building we passed.

That’s a bank, a store, an office, a café, a restaurant, another bank, a church.

Then, he pointed at every shop’s window. I decided to humor him and we paused in front of one window.

“That’s a woman,” I said to him in Spanish, pointing to the mannequin (I don’t know how to say mannequin, guess I need to look it up). “She’s wearing pants, shoes, a shirt, a vest, a jacket and a scarf. And there is another woman wearing a suit and a necklace.”

He looked intently as I pointed to each object. Then his little finger immediately targeted the next display. “That’s a man,” I said. “He’s wearing …..”

You get my point. We did this for a shoe shop, a toy shop, a dance equipment shop, several clothing shops, an antique shop, jewelry shops. I was happy to reach the end of the shops, my voice tired, our slow pace meaning I wasn’t getting the exercise I’d hoped for.

We turned around to head back home. I thought he’d be satisfied since I’d pointed out just about every single thing we passed. However, the little finger just wouldn’t rest and he pointed at the same displays again. From the back of the stroller, all I could see above the hood was his little left hand, glowing white in the darkness, pointing with determination and interest, like he was shooting a gun.

OK, that’s enough for one night, I thought to myself. I’m not going to go over every display again. I’m going to keep walking. But I feared crushing his curiousity and enthusiasm. So I assented to pointing out the larger things we passed – stoplight, cars, building, office, church, man, woman.

While it can get tiresome, and even a bit stressful, it is good for me in several ways. One, I realize I need to start carrying a Spanish dictionary. How do you say stained-glass window? Or mannequin? Or corn husks? Or tulle? Up until now, I’ve gotten by with my mistakes without him noticing. I watch old videos and I can hear my own mistakes, making me cringe. The room I have to make mistakes is now tightening. It’s good for me to have pressure to keep up or even improve my Spanish.

Two, he makes me notice the smallest details, which bring the world to life. In order to describe for him the window display at the dance supply shop, I had to pay attention to the beautiful green and pink ballet outfit, with the delicate pink satin slippers and the display of elegant penguins in tuxes and small cubes of ice. I might have noticed the tutu without him, but I wouldn’t have seen the penguins or the ice cubes in such detail. I saw the various lamps that caught his attention – the one like a chandelier, one with balls of crystal hanging from it, another a bulb within a Japanese-style woven ball.

So yes, my voice is tired. I was happy to spend much of the evening after his bedtime in silence. But as I teach him what each object is called, he calls my attention to their existence and their beauty.

Is he breathing?

“Did you hear any sounds of breathing last time you went upstairs?” I just asked my husband.

“No,” he said. “But I didn’t really check.”

River is almost 11 months old and I still worry he could suddenly expire. Especially at times like this, when he sleeps an unusually long time.

I had trouble getting him to take a nap today, though he was evidently tired. After 1.3 bottles and breastfeeding and 45 minutes of play time in between attempts, I finally got him down and he slept a whole three hours. Later in the afternoon, it was again clear he was tired. He has a new sign in which he puts his head face down upon his arms on the floor and cries. This attempt only took one bottle and no extra steps and he’s now been asleep over four hours. It’s 8:50 p.m., or 9:50 p.m. pre-daylight savings time. That means, if I wanted to go the whole evening without breastfeeding and if we wanted to risk what we’d find in his pants should we wait until morning, he would probably sleep through the night. That, or wake up at 2 a.m. or so for dinner.

I wonder if the time change has an effect. I always notice the time change (hating the dark, as I do now and loving the light in the spring as though a veil has been lifted from my eyes). But I’m learning that it’s a whole different thing for kids, who operate on internal clocks that don’t necessarily correlate, at least right away, to the time everyone else says it is.

Or maybe it’s teething. River’s been handling the teething pretty well. No major incidents other than some occasionally fussiness that we treated with a little Tylenol. But this morning, when he was lying across my lap, I thought I saw something white in the top gums. I pulled back his lip and saw four, yes FOUR, teeth halfway in. How can he have all four top center teeth come in at once? And how did they get so far with no one noticing them? I feel bad now, both for him getting that far without us noticing or sympathizing with him. And for the fact that he’s going to look a bit funny with four upper teeth and two lowers.

In any case, he’s asleep and I should just relax and enjoy the evening. Instead, I worry whether or not he’s still breathing, even though I knew there is little basis in my fears. I worry what kind of shitbomb can explode in 15 hours. I worry about the fact that breastfeeding is slowly and surely tapering off as River seems to be losing patience for it in favor of examining his world and pointing at it with index fingers extended from both fists. Missing a feeding tonight will only hasten that process. So, I will enjoy the quiet for now. But before I go to bed, I’ll probably awaken him for a diaper change, a feeding and an assurance for me that he’s OK. Hoping that afterwards, he’ll return to sleep.

The inevitable shrinkage

Has occurred. My size E (yes, that’s right, E!) nursing bra had been feeling a little loose lately. When I took out a pre-nursing days bra for a special event this past weekend, a 34B, I found it fit. From an E to a B is quite a fall.

One part of me was disappointed. As a small-chested woman for almost 20 adult years, it was pretty fun to experience life as a big-boobed babe for a while. The experience lasted long enough (about a year and a half) to lead me to believe it could become permanent, that I’d never return back to little boob days. That bubble has been burst.

On the positive side, if my memory serves me right, the newly smaller versions don’t appear all that different from the pre-pregnancy days. Those frequent 2-4 hour nursing sessions don’t appear to have done permanent damage. I also see this boob shrinkage as just one more sign that I’m entering the end zone. Life just feels easier now. I’m nursing, but not that much. I sleep well on a regular basis. River is increasingly self sufficient. I’m increasingly comfortable in my role as mother. Now is the time where I’d be much more comfortable being away for longer periods of time. In an ideal world, 10-11 months would be my perfect maternity leave. My body is slowly moving back towards its normal form. I barely pump any more. I feel pretty confident that we’ll reach River’s first birthday still nursing. For me, anything beyond that is just bonus nutrition and bonding. If we make it to a year, we done good in my book.

I’m not entirely in the end zone yet. While I’ve lost 13 pounds since July (I suppose a decent chunk of that was boob weight), I still have another ten to go until normal weight. Among those ten is a big chunk concentrated in the hip and rear section. I recently attended a talk by a reproductive anthropologist, Peter Ellison. When asked whether it was true that breastfeeding helps women lose weight (not true in my case), he said that fat cells are needed for the production of milk. So the cells on the hips and derriere in particular are unlikely to disappear until nursing is over. I also still haven’t started menstruating yet. I’m in no hurry for that one and fairly curious to see how long it stays away. It’s been a nice 19 month absence!

My goal is to get back to my normal self by River’s birthday in December. I don’t know whether 10 ponds in under two months is very likely but I’ll do my best. I feel like I’m looking out the final portion of a tunnel, that while it hasn’t been a very dark journey, it is still brighter ahead. Yay!

When did you find your life beginning to return to normal after having a child/children? When did your chest size and cycles return to normal? Did some things never change?