The opposite of baby fever

Eric and I spared ourselves the annoyance of having everyone asking when we would be getting engaged while we were dating by just getting engaged relatively quickly (after 11 months). Then we made up for it by waiting 6+ years to procreate. This gave us plenty of time to enjoy people requesting and/or ordering us to have children. I recommend everyone ask any married childless couple these questions as much as humanly possible, it's so much fun to hear. I'm even guilty of it myself.

"Another baby in your life? Unthinkable."

I thought actually having a child would finally put an end to that, but no, as soon as the kid is out of the womb, sometimes even before, it starts again. "When are you having number 2? You really should do it now before you get too old." Well you really should pay our daycare bill if you want that so bad and while you're at it maybe breastfeed this hypothetical baby because I would like a hot minute with no one on my boobs.

Hard to blame people....we are a beautiful family, as evidenced by this perfect photo.

As cute as another child would be, after a year of trying for a baby (aka giving up alcohol 2 weeks of every month), 9 months of pregnancy, and (hopefully) a year of breastfeeding, I selfishly just want a tiny bit of time with my body being just mine. Crazy, I know. We 150% do want another child. Eventually.

I had a real fear the baby fever would hit me this weekend. We went to New York to celebrate my nephew turning 3, and to snuggle my adorable new niece, who is one month old today. I understand it sounds ridiculous to talk about baby fever when I do, in fact, have a baby. They just change so quickly! My baby is no longer a little teeny tiny baby like Sloane! There's nothing like seeing a newborn to get those ovaries aching. But, at the same time, there's nothing like seeing the mom of a newborn breastfeeding constantly while recovering from a c-section to remember how much I don't miss that. I love breastfeeding, but it's a lot easier now that I'm not chained to my baby nursing 24/7. I do not love having holes cut in my abdomen.

I'm sure nothing can truly prepare anyone for the reality of how overwhelming two kids is. However, I very briefly took over for my sister, mom to a 3 week old and a 3 year old. When I say briefly, I mean like 30 minutes so she could shower. That made it real enough for me. I'm really enjoying devoting all my energy and love to just one child for now, and I'm not ready to completely lose my mind just yet.

And I didn't even have Dalton at the time I was watching the other two.

Dalton seems to me to be a pretty awesome baby, the absolute perfect, best baby ever, in fact, although it's possible I may be biased. I'm positive our next child will be his total opposite and this frightens me. In particular, I feel we have been exceptionally lucky that he is not a crier (as far as babies go), he's generally very happy, and has always been a good eater and gained weight consistently. Clearly the next one will be colicky, terrible at nursing, and probably only eat purees until 18 months to punish us for having it so easy this time around. Although, by that logic, at least the next baby will be a great sleeper.

On the drive up, we once again took a hit in the "things every single baby loves but not yours" category (see also: Rock and Play, Swing). When we did the ten hour drive to Ohio last month, we just left at naptime and took tons of breaks. It wasn't awful, but it wasn't great. "Leave at bedtime!" said every parent ever. "They'll just sleep the whole time and won't even know they are in the car, and then whoever sleeps in the car can wake up with the baby!". Well, I already knew that driving late at night OR sleeping in the car were both out of the question for me, so I just had to accept that I wasn't going to be sleeping that much. It seemed like a fair trade for a peaceful trip that didn't ruin Dalton's life by confining him to the car seat during peak playtime hours.

He's really devoted to his playing.

We left at 6:45 and Dalton was passed out by 7. Everyone was right! We were chatting and laughing and everything was just fine and dandy until we stopped for a bathroom break about 2 hours later. Dalton woke up and was like WTF THIS IS NOT MY CRIB THIS IS TERRIBLE. We tried everything to calm him but he was screaming hysterically and crying real tears and did not appreciate that he could see me but I couldn't pick him up, unless we stopped, which kind of defeated the purpose of the trip. I can't stand to hear him cry for even three seconds, as evidenced by the fact that I would rather spend ten months waking up every night than five minutes letting him cry it out. And he seriously never cries like that, even when he gets hurt. It went on forever although in reality it was probably like ten minutes, but that was enough and we both were just like NO and decided to get a hotel. As usual, my mom hooked us up and found one on Priceline that was 15 minutes away and only $61. Binge watching Giggle Gang kept things at an angry snuffling level rather than screaming like a banshee, and as soon as he was out of the car and in the king sized bed, he was beyond thrilled and ready for a relaxing night of sleep.

I woke up to him attempting to crawl off the edge of the bed.

So ready to let us all get some sleep. 

How does such a tiny person take up an entire king sized bed?

Finally, the next day, we made it to my sister's house. This was the first time all three cousins had been together, and as you might imagine, the grandparents were just thrilled.

 Sloane's grumpy face...I die.

Harrison couldn't even stand looking at the above picture. Just the memory upset him.

Despite appearances, I swear these two little boys were psyched to see each other.

Dalton just crawled around the yard, chasing Harrison and his mower. And we died of cuteness.

And then somehow we decided the cuteness wasn't even enough and brought in more from outside sources. My friend Jessy (check out her blog, it's awesome!) brought her adorable daughter over to visit. 

Yeah, this collar's popped.

We were good friends in high school, but lost touch and I don't think we've seen each other in...14 years? We both had babies and reconnected. I swear motherhood is the best thing I've ever done for my social life, aside from blogging.

I got 3.5 days of no work, newborn snuggles, hilarious 3 year old stories and dances, slobbery open mouth Dalton kisses, and delicious food. It was a perfect little summer vacation.

Ladybug bum STOP with the cuteness baby girl clothes!

Even managed to enjoy some time with the adults in the family, in this case laughing at childhood photos.

Apparently a lot of babies Dalton's age have separation anxiety. I wouldn't know, because my child came out of the womb with separation anxiety. Anyone who has met him knows he really, really likes to keep tabs on me. Travel really intensified things, though. By our third day in New York I couldn't even run to the bathroom without him screaming in panic? Anger? I can't even pretend I don't love it. I want him to be a mamas boy for life.

Eric wanted to play with him so badly, and he just wanted to keep a death grip on my knee.

Which question is more annoying: 

• When are you getting engaged?
• When are you having a baby?
• When are you having a second baby?

Do you believe in the rule that everybody gets one "easy" baby (so if it's your first, you're screwed)?

A post not entirely about my boobs

I didn't have to go the ER this weekend to ask them to milk me. Progress! I told my friend about the whole saga this weekend and she correctly understood that the only solution is to breastfeed until I die. The main issue is milk not being removed properly/quickly enough. Probably because my child stands up and gets into insane positions while nursing, but I literally don't have the strength to pin him down.

This weekend we had our housewarming party! I don't have any pictures because I was trying out this thing called living in the moment but imagine NINE babies all being freaking adorable. It's kind of a big deal for me because I'm shy and introverted at heart and I really struggled making friends when I first moved to Maryland from New York ten years ago. In all honesty, for years I still felt like I didn't really fit in socially. Looking around at our entire house and yard filled with people I like that actually came over because they like me was pretty exciting.

I did develop a new clog during the party and tried to get Dalton to nurse and he was like MOM I'M MISSING THE PARTY GO AWAY so then I had to go hand express into the sink but I actually almost stole my friend's 3 month old and nursed him and then I was going to invent some story about how once Dalton went to a party at that age and refused to eat when he wouldn't feed from her later.

It didn't inflate my boob to massive proportions though. I'm trying this new thing where I nurse on a "schedule" - morning, before afternoon nap, and before bed (and as needed at night). Before it was a free for all, which I loved, but now he's kind of over it and more into food. I had a meatball on a fork at the party about to eat it and he took it off the fork and ate it himself. Story of my life.

Sorry I really hate pictures of other people's kids with food on their faces but his GIANT eyelashes caught a piece of food at dinner tonight.

Anyway, I need to get my supply back down to meet his actual needs. After ten months of slamming fenugreek and oats and praying for more during every pump session, that's something I never thought I would say.

Ok, moving on from boobs. And bottles! Dalton has been taking his milk from a sippy cup at daycare for the past few weeks, so I just sanitized all the bottles and they are shipping on out.

Bottles have been toys around here.

Goodbye and good riddance!

We are taking them up to Rochester with us tomorrow to go visit my niece and nephew (and the adults in my family)! Have fun with little baby Sloane, bottles. I sure won't miss you. Unrelated, bring on the garbage plates.

My nephew is 3 years old today! I swear he was just a teeny baby, and now he is this sweet, thoughtful, adorable little boy with a hilarious sense of humor. How could this have happened? 

Love him!

And in other trite OMG TIME FLIES news, I sent out the invitation for Dalton's first birthday party today. 

"Hello ladies and/or gentlemen" (we try really hard not to be hetero-normative, especially since he can marry anyone now, YAY!)

I'm so sad that my sweet little baby is almost done being a baby, but also this age is just beyond fun. 

Going crazy laughing and making faces at me through the window.

I swear he learns something new every day. This weekend he started giving kisses and flipped all the flaps up in Where's Spot looking for Spot! Which sounds completely stupid to celebrate but it was huge for us, I've been looking for freaking Spot on my own for months now.

When we return, summer will be pretty much over. I even planned and looked at curriculum today. As per usual, pretty much nothing I planned got done, both in terms of fun activities and useful projects. But I got a ton of extra time with my little man, and his dad, and even some sleep! Overall, a win.

Thank you for all the supportive comments about all my issues. My boobs truly thank each and every one of you. 

What's your favorite summer activity? Mine is probably swimming, so I'm really glad Dalton likes it too.

My boob saga....part 2

This post is sponsored by Similac. Not really, but it should be, because I've put so many future mothers off breastfeeding at this point. It's shameful.

To catch up, last week I nearly had to stab myself in the nipple with a needle to unclog things, but managed to avoid that by using tweezers. Lucky me.

As you might imagine, I was hopeful to avoid that fate again, to say the least. When I realized I had a clog in the same spot this past Tuesday, only one week after the incident, my blood pressure started rising.

I managed to keep the clog at a manageable level with frequent nursing and, everyone's favorite phrase, hand expression (or is it just me who hates that?). The pump was not helping at all. Problem was, I have other things to do in my day than just milk myself.

I could tell things were getting worse, so I went out to Babies R Us and bought a hand pump, since mothers I know have had better luck with those. It didn't help.

It was getting worse and Wednesday morning I was starting to panic again. I thought that I had the solution (tweezers, nipple), however unpleasant. But even though I did try, I just couldn't spot a visible blister to attack like the previous week, so I was SOL. Pumping wasn't helping, nursing wasn't helping, there was no way out.

I called the lactation consultants back. This time they said I needed to buy a cabbage, put it in the freezer, then pound it with a meat tenderizer, place it all around my breast, and cover the whole thing with saran wrap, and lay down for at least an hour to use my breast to "cook" the cabbage. More than one person was convinced they were completely screwing with me. But, you know, desperate times and all.

Now my bed is full of cabbage.

Again, didn't work. It helped with the pain but not the overall issue. Last week, my OB said if this continued, I could see a breast specialist, which the lactation consultant agreed was a good idea. For those in the know, I've already run through the gamut of usual fixes. Hot compresses, massage, lecithin supplements, dangle nursing (that's a joke at this point, he just crawls away), etc.

Mr. On the Move

The breast specialist got me in that day at the request of my doctor, which was great. Making the appointment, I was SO relieved that finally I was going to see a medical professional who could help me.

I arrived at the appointment, filled out 25 minutes of paperwork, and finally the doctor came in. One of the first questions he asked me was what my breastfeeding goal was, which I felt like was a good sign. I know this is going to sound terrible, but when I made the appointment, and found out it was a man, I wasn't thrilled. It's a huge generalization, and I have an awesome male dentist, but in general, I prefer to see women. And come on, the title is breast specialist. I'm not trying to say he's not good at what he does, but get real. I could study hard, become a penis specialist, use as much compassion as possible towards my patients, but the bottom line is, I'm never going to properly empathize with how it feels to get kicked in the balls.

I started to feel like maybe I was just being sexist, and this guy gets it. But then he asked me what I wanted him to do for me. I kind of stammered "well, uh, you're the one who went to medical school, so...?". Then he told me he didn't really know much about lactation.

I was pretty thrown by the fact that he had introduced himself as the specialist of a body part and practically in the same breath stated that he didn't know much about the only function of that body part. Ok then, what, are you an expert in? Helping me use them to get free drinks? That's ALL THEY ARE FOR. It would never fly to be like oh hey I'm a lung specialist but breathing? Can't help you there, I don't know anything about that.

He emphasized that he was pretty sure he couldn't help me and told me to wean. He said ten months was "more than most women". That comment really rubbed me the wrong way. I'm not trying to win some contest here, and I really don't give one teeny tiny crap about how other women feed their kids. My goal is a year because that's what I decided was best for me and my son, so I just felt that was completely irrelevant and pointless.

Obviously I stayed mute because I was trying not to cry, and he said he would do an ultrasound just to make sure I wasn't about to die. He did the ultrasound himself, and told me that there wasn't any milk clogging anything up.

I was pretty surprised to hear that my engorged breast was milk free. He said production had stopped or slowed in the ducts on top (the problematic ones) and that the fact that it felt solid was just dueto swollen breast tissue, and again recommended weaning to get rid of it (but agreed I could still nurse when I told him I wasn't weaning).

Despite the rocky start, this was a huge relief, because if it was just swollen tissue, it wouldn't continue to blow up and get worse and worse like last time, I just could wait it out with Advil and ice packs and cabbage.

When someone wasn't stealing my cabbage

I wasn't too concerned about the low/lack of production, since the right side seemed fine and it wasn't like I needed to worry about starving this child. I went on my merry way, no more pumping, since I wasn't trying to get any milk out, none there!

He actually eats more than the average adult HLB. 

The night is dark and full of terrors, and when it hit, I was suddenly like "this diagnosis is sketchy as hell". I really respect doctors, they have a ton of education and experience, so I'm not one to play internet MD and second guess things. That said, it made no sense to me how there could be absolutely no milk in a rock hard boob. That's not what boobs are supposed to feel like.

I woke up at 2am, crazy engorged and in too much pain to sleep. I used the hand pump and got almost two oz, and then Dalton woke up and nursed a little on that side (and trust me he lets me know when things are not to his liking). Clearly something was in there, but I was still super engorged after nursing and pumping.

I went to work, called every doctor back saying my boob was twice the size it was yesterday, of course I got no responses to my messages. I had stretches of solid, lumpy skin reaching up almost to my neck. It was exploding out of my shirt. It seriously felt like a metal plate was under my skin. I made all my coworkers touch it and the general response was "go to the ER", and I would have, but what would they do that a breast specialist couldn't?

Facebook saved me. I posted a message in a local Facebook group (Baltimore's Badass Breastfeeders, FYI) and a wonderful LC gave me a link to a physical therapist that specializes in women's health. By some miracle it was in my insurance network. I had no idea physical therapy had anything to do with anything, but I called them, and they got me in within 30 minutes.

The PT, a breastfeeding mom herself, said she would treat me like it was a clog despite what the ultrasound said and I totally agreed. She explained they often help women with clogs and was telling me how she had recently seen the worst clog she'd ever encountered. I asked her to see how mine stacked up. The moment she touched it, she was like, nope, this is the worst. She then went to tell the secretary to call everyone with appointments the following day to figure out when they could fit me in because it was pretty much HOLY SHIT level and I really don't swear much on this blog but I need you all to understand how close my boob was to exploding.

She used heat ultrasound, then massaged it super hard. I'm guessing it's similar to a sports massage because it's the kind of thing where the more it hurts, the better it's working. After about ten minutes, milk started spraying out. She did more heat, then let me massage, then I was getting plenty of milk out.

As a final measure (until the next day), she taped me using Kinesio tape, the stuff runners use on their injuries. Apparently some moms have luck with it keeping the ducts in line with the nipples. I was super skeptical.

I went home and tried to nurse. Dalton had pretty much no interest and just went down for a nap. I decided to try pumping, with low expectations.

And here's what I got from the side that "had no milk". Imma need you to double check that ultrasound, doc.

I managed to massage it enough that the clog finally broke up and my boob is squishy again and doesn't feel like a suit of armor! That tape AND the PT are miracle workers. Next up: figuring out how to go a week without this ordeal (without weaning). Ideas?

Now I've spent the whole week milking myself or having others do so and this place is a hot mess and we have a housewarming party in less than 48 hours.

On a scale of 1-10, how much do you trust doctors? I was a 10. Now I'm down to maybe a 6 or 7.

But for real, breastfeeding is awesome (see above re: refusing to wean) and I stumped all the doctors so don't worry, it won't happen to you.

I'm kind of a grown up

We recently bought and moved in to our house, and it finally feels real enough that I believe we actually own it, or at least owe the bank lots of money for it while they let us live here.

Yay!

A really awesome part of this whole process was the timing. Since our seller was a real jackass, and so many things were up in the air with the buying process, by the time we felt confident enough to tell our apartment leasing company "peace", it was the same price to either break the lease or just finish it out. We chose option B, so I've kind of felt like this whole home owners thing isn't truly "real" since we still technically have the apartment.

What that boils down to is that we've been paying for two places this summer. It's cool though, payroll has my back. I get emails that say things like "you will be compensated on August 14 for your work on June 25". Then last week they just plumb forgot to give me half my paycheck! When I called, they were like, yup, looking at the time sheet, whoops! Good times.

I hate money! Don't give me any!

We can all agree moving is actually the worst and I truly don't recommend doing it with a baby. As we do with many things, we half assed it. We mainly completed the move, except for a bunch of random crap that we left sitting in the apartment. Including, but not limited to, board games we haven't played in years, clothes we don't want and intended to donate, lamps we don't need in the new house, things hanging on the walls...you get the idea. Sounds lazy, and it is, but our thinking was that we might as well deal with it in the summer when we were working part time and therefore had child care, instead of continuing to do insane stuff like trying to move my entire closet while wearing Dalton since we had no one to watch him nights and weekends while we tried to move.

That put a whole bunch of irritating tasks (moving random things, cleaning, etc) in that sweet spot of "future problems to ignore in the present" which is always satisfying in the moment. But our lease finally ends on Friday, so we were forced to deal with it. The amount of items that still needed to move had really shrunk in our heads and we were very unpleasantly surprised with what we found when we arrived.

I really struggle with getting the motivation for cleaning a place I actually live in and can actually reap the rewards (sitting around in a non-filthy house), so to spend a hot afternoon cleaning a place I'll never see again was a hard pill to swallow. Don't even get me started on the fact that Dalton had to stay at daycare for it. I am financially motivated though, and we need that security deposit back. After last week's half paycheck (which was only supposed to be for 2 days to begin with, even though I had worked the full pay period...yeah) we had exactly $8 left once we paid daycare.

We persevered, got all our crap out, cleaned all the nastiness, and turned in our keys. It felt so good to be done with that place.

Dalton's first nursery

I was a little nostalgic, since this was our first home for just the two of us (we had roommates when we rented a house downtown), and of course, we brought Dalton there from the hospital!

This picture gives me PTSD about my ab binder...that's why people don't want to have c-sections.

He had a lot of firsts in that apartment.

This must be photoshopped. He could not have been that tiny.

One of his very first teeny little smiles.

Santa feet. I cannot.

I will not miss apartment living, and I will miss hauling that car seat up three flights of stairs even less, but we definitely have many good memories there. It's been real, it's been fun, but it hasn't been real fun.

The point of all this is not to complain about my lack of income, but to say that now that we are done with the apartment, I finally, finally feel like an adult. I did a whole bunch of stuff that is often considered grown up in the past ten years. Moved to a new state, held a job that requires professional dress, used my own health insurance, got a masters degree, saved for retirement, married, procreated, even hosted a holiday. But I always felt like an imposter. Even looking at that Christmas photo, it didn't feel like real Christmas, because it wasn't our real, permanent home. Now we have one, and it's conveniently filled with all that random crap we didn't bother to move just in time for our housewarming party this weekend!

What was the one thing that finally made you feel like a real, live grown up?

Worst moving/homebuying/selling experience?

Utterly unimportant life updates (see what I did there?)

I was getting just a tad bummed that my blog comments were down (not that they were ever anything to write home about, but I enjoyed them). Nothing brings people out of the woodwork like posting a picture of a giant inflated breast with a horrifying story to go along with it, apparently.

All standing, all the time. (Picture unrelated to previous paragraph for obvious reasons.)

Since that awful day, I've naturally lived in fear of this problem returning. So far, so good, knock on wood. Once things were back to flowing, I had to deal with the resulting issue, which was the fact that it tanked my supply. I didn't really think one day of holding all the milk inside would make so much of a difference, but boobies be crazy. The following morning, when I pumped at work, I was getting jack. I called the lactation consultant yet again, and ended up removing myself from the pump and literally milking myself like an Amish cow (my sister reminded me regular cows get machine milked) into a bottle. Always a good way to start off a work day. Someone remind me how much money I'm saving by not buying formula, please?

The silver lining to all this was bringing lactation cookies back into my life. I hadn't made them in months.



Pretty much the only things I've blogged about this summer are my new niece and my exploding boob. Sometimes blogging is hard.

No blog for you.

Here's some other random things we've been up to.

1. Emptying every item out of every drawer.

All day, every day.

2. Exploring at the expense of his personal safety, on a daily basis.

Yeah, that's blood. Upset him for ten seconds, upset me for much longer. 

3. Baby swim classes - SO MUCH FUN. He went under water for the first time today, and was totally fine with it. He's a little honey badger.

Can you see the pure joy on this kid's face? 

4. Baby music class

We tried a free one and it was fun! But not $120 to sing in a church basement level fun, so we haven't been back.

Rattle.

5. Road trip! To Eric's family reunion, in Ohio. Dalton got to meet a ton of his extended family!

We got tired, he had to take the wheel.

Matching shirts!

6. Biking! Well, once. I hadn't been in two years, because pregnant and winter. I forgot how much I liked it, I should totally do it again before winter. I'm currently watching live Ironman Canada coverage because my friend Rachel will be crossing the finish line soon! Just reading about her training made me tired.

8. A college reunion! A few of my besties from college came to visit from out of state, and brought their babies/toddlers/fetuses, and it was amazing. We are totally going to get into the alumni magazine.

Those who couldn't make it, Facetimed. 

It was pretty much the best thing ever. While I would love to magically make it so we all lived within a mile of each other again, and I wouldn't mind a wild night out at our favorite bars, getting together at this stage of life is even more fun. It still blows my mind that it's been an entire decade since we graduated. #classof2005

9. We celebrated our 7th wedding anniversary! On our last anniversary, it was crazy trying to imagine what life would be like the following year with a 9 month old, and little did I know it would be better than I ever imagined. 

We watch our wedding video every year. 

10. (Some) exercise. Such as running. With and without strollers.

#strollerbrigade

I've also been into the T25 workout DVDs, but let's get one thing clear. I like the workouts, they are quick and make me want to die, but it ends there. I do not drink Shakeology, and I will never message you on Facebook pretending like I'm interested in talking to you and then sneak in a reference to your fat ass and try to get you to join my beachbody team. To each their own, but I'm pretty devoted to eating, not drinking weird ass shakes instead of meals, especially since I'm (about to be) training for a half marathon and breastfeeding.

11. General summer shenanigans.

11. Napping

These baby naps are KILLING me. I was so excited to get more quality time with Dalton while only working half days (summer school) for four weeks. I pick him up, we get to eat lunch together, and then it's time for his nap. More often than not, he doesn't even wake up until the time I would get home working a normal day! I mean, it's nice to be able to do housework or exercise during that time and not be trying to cram it all in at 9pm or 5am, but why do babies need so much sleep? Not to mention the fact that it's killing me on playdates. Nothing makes a baby sleep like making plans. Nothing. 

12. Girls night out!

My BFFs and I got dressed up and went out for restaurant week. We forgot to take an awesome picture of ourselves, which really upsets me because I was wearing eyeliner for like the fourth time in my life, and put it on myself, for the first time. But here's my beautiful iPhone photo of delicious seafood risotto.

So good, but like four bites worth.

That sums up my wild summer that's much too rapidly coming to an end. Mostly baby updates, naturally, since that's my (wonderful) life now!

What's the most annoying marketing scheme on your Facebook feed right now? Definitely Beachbody for me. Unless I specifically post "I'M TRYING TO LOSE WEIGHT", feel free to not message me suggesting that I do just to get my dolla bills. If I did want to, I know how to cook chicken and veggies and actually make it taste good. 

What's the best part of your summer so far?