Growing up

My baby started solid foods yesterday.  This picture represents the almost 18-pound child that until yesterday, was nourished and sustained by me (with a little initial help from my husband).  It really is a miracle.

I had planned to wait a few more days before beginning solids, in order to maximize the milk stimulation before I head back to work on Friday.  But after having her milk, she was sucking on everything in sight, including my chin, making me think she was still hungry. 

I mashed a banana, as the easiest option available and she ate it with gusto, grabbing the spoon and shoving it into her mouth, sucking on the little plastic spoon with loud chomps and holding it so tightly it was a struggle to get it back to refill it.

Today she received sweet potato with breastmilk and cinnamon and ate with just as much gusto. It looks like she’ll take after River, and after me, as being someone who appreciates some good food.

At the same time she’s increasing her intake, I’m decreasing mine.  I finally feel up to sticking with a diet.  It’s not too severe, since I’m still breastfeeding, but the first week has gone well, so I’m hopeful more weight loss is on the horizon.  I’m really looking forward to the thighs not rubbing together any more.

The toughest thing now, harder than the thought of heading back to work, is that our wonderful sleep training unraveled during the trip.  I had a marvelous week solo with Willow in Iowa, in which she either slept through the night or awoke only once every night.  But when we gave my friend back her magic pack and play with the dip and returned home, she’s up at least two times, often three, sometimes more, before waking up for good at 6 a.m.  Last night I didn’t go to bed until midnight and she was up multiple times.  It was very painful. 

There isn’t much I can do when groggy and exhausted at 6 a.m.  I often sit with her on the front porch. But today I decided to take a short walk.  Might as well get some exercise out of it.  I love the freedom that summer offers to step outside whenever we want to, to put her outside to enjoy the air, to have sunlight at 6 a.m. and well into the night. 

Tomorrow is my last full day before returning to the office.  I probably won’t do anything special, other than assemble the things I’ll need at the office.  Because I only have to go in for four hours on Friday, and because I’ll be off for four days after that, it’s really not too bad as far as transitions go.  Part of me wouldn’t mind more time off, and another part of me thinks that perhaps it could be good for me, and for Willow, to spend more time apart.  

Night weaning successful

We are a week and a half into the night weaning and it has been a resounding success. I now feed her at 10:30 p.m., before I go to bed, and set my alarm to feed her at 5:30. By 5:30, when my boobs have had over five hours to refill, they are like boulders, so she gets a buffet for her wait.

Besides those two feeds, she sleeps from 7 p.m. to 8 a.m. and takes two good naps per day of about two hours each. She’s sleeping a good hour or two more each day since we started this, which makes her happier and more well-rested.

I look back at things I wrote just two weeks ago and marvel at how quickly it all can change. I’m SO glad we did this, as it’s been beneficial for the health and well-being of the whole family.

**


In less good news, I remain at my consistently overweight state. After wearing the same two pair of maternity pants non-stop for months, I finally had to accept reality and go buy some fat clothes. I needed a dress for mother’s day weekend and while I was at it, decided that a pair of jeans and a coat that fit would be useful too.

Mark had covered for me while I attended another conference. So to try to give him a break in return, I dropped River off at a friend’s house and took Willow shopping with me. She woke up from her nap just as I’d started trying things on and began to scream. I knew she needed to be fed, so decided to try to quickly finish trying on the clothes, then go feed her in one of the armchairs near the entrance to the changing rooms.

A lady tried to open the door of my dressing room, without knocking, and with me half naked.

“Excuse me!” I said.

“I really think you should pick up your baby,” she said.

“Thank you,” I replied, lacking a comeback in the stress of the moment. If she’d come back again I would have told her that if she had a lactating breast she wanted to offer, she was welcome to do so. But otherwise, she’d have to trust me to handle it.

I try to remember that such intrusions come from good intentions, from a pain many women feel at hearing a child crying. However, I am the mom, I know what she needs, and I know when and how I can best give it to her. Some people are helpful, such as an employee who offered to push the stroller while I was paying or people who offer to hold her when I’m not able to. But those who just tell me what they think I should do are not helpful at all. At such times, I wish there was a way to remind them to butt out.


**

Over the past week or so, I’ve been doing a little bit of work. Not a lot, just an hour or two per day. But still, that hour or two is about the only time I have to concentrate. Which doesn’t leave time for anything else.

I finished the item I promised to deliver and don’t plan on doing much more until my return to the office in July. Now that both my statistics class and this work project are over, the small chunk of daily free time is now available for me. I can read, I can write, I can walk, I can try to cross some items off my to-do list.

Today I was able to walk to the library, sit in an armchair and read a book for fun. This was such a strange experience that after about an hour, I started feeling anxious at my lack of productivity. I’m not used to having an hour or more to read. I’d love for this to happen more often, because the list of books on my to-read list is daunting. And I miss being able to immerse myself in a book for hours, the way I did as a kid. Crossing my fingers this may happen more often.

It's Over

The breastfeeding is done – for good now. We had one rare substantial feeding during our Christmas visit home. I took River into my parent’s Jacuzzi bath and the bubbling waters must have soothed him enough to lose focus on the outside world enough to breastfeed, because it was at least a 10 minute feeding, which hadn’t happened in ages. I had that nostalgic feeling of isn’t this sweet, it’s so beautiful to look at him and spend this time with him. At the time same, the old feeling of – how long is this going to take? Are we almost done? crept up on me.

My breasts continue to produce a little milk, as though they are preparing for just in case. I have to accept it’s over though. I should be glad that I was able to give him some breastmilk as long as he wanted it – that the weaning came from his initiative, not mine. Still, little nagging thoughts ask whether if I did something differently we might have continued through the winter. Since we’re not, I’m now giving him one bag of frozen breastmilk a day until that’s all gone. We’ll stretch the immune protection out for another week or two.

“Mom excrement,” Mark called it, as he thawed a bag of it today. I never got much out of the pump, but still, it seems kind of unreal to see bags of liquid that have come from me emerging from the freezer.

So now that I’m no longer tied to River by breastfeeding, this should be the time for me to go away. It is time to find a job and I’m looking. But just when I’m able to go away, I no longer want to very much. Or, I do want to, but I don’t necessary want to be away from River. He’s so sweet and loving, he brightens my day. He’ll hold out his arms to ask for hugs during a meal, or even while on the potty. The other day he started to tap my back during the hug.

It’s no longer just me holding him while he suckles at my breast. We hug and kiss and play games and roll balls and laugh together. While losing the intimacy of breastfeeding is sad, this stage is fun enough for me to want to spend more time with him.