10 November 2010


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11 October 2010

Postpartum Fail

Three good guesses why I'm awake and, no, the baby isn't one of them. Calico and my husband are both peacefully sleeping in the bedroom and I'm up blogging. Why aren't I sleeping? Because I am in PAIN! *jazz hands* and also because I need a break for a little bit.

I'm going to be completely honest: new motherhood kind of sucks and I can't decide if I feel like a jerk for saying that or not. I knew it wasn't going to be easy, but I feel like I'm already failing at it. I don't know what I'd do if Steven hadn't been home for the last two weeks and was home this week. Honestly, he's been my hero and I couldn't ask for a better partner in this.

I think I'd be able to feel like I could swing this better if it weren't for the PAIN! and that my insomnia has kicked back in full force. How cruel is it to not be able to sleep when the baby is at night? We're co-sleeping at the moment because I find I can grab little cat naps if she's in bed with me, at least. I haven't really napped with her at all; Steven has done most of that.

Back to the PAIN!, though. It looks like I will be calling my OB tomorrow about it because this is miserable. I'm still getting the occasional back spasm (not terribly bad), but what's killing me is pelvic girdle pain. Though Calico was a relatively easy birth, the laxity of my joints and her pushing through seems to have caused some fairly serious dysfunction. It hurts to sit, to stand, to cross my legs, to get up from a seated position, to walk any kind of distance, to sleep on my side at night, and so on. And I mean hurts like contractions, not just a little ache. The only bonus now is that I can take Aleve, which works marginally better than Tylenol.

I was reading about this pelvic dysfunction and it looks like it will be minimally 10 weeks before it settles, with an average time for complete recovery being 6.25 years. Not months, years. I am grumpy that we can cure flaccid penises, but apparently, you just suck it up if you're a woman and in pain. The only good thing is that since I had this issue prior to giving birth, I was able to get right back to seeing my physical therapist and hopefully that will facilitate a quicker recovery because, really, 6.25 years? I don't think so.

While I am also whinging like a baby, my next thing is breast-feeding. I likewise kind of hate it. Actually, no. I don't kind of hate it, I have a love/hate relationship with it, but there's been a lot of frustration and tears involved with my boobs.

The good part is that Calico is getting 100% breast milk, which was something important to me. While I want to breast-feed for the health benefits, the main reason behind this is that we really can't afford to do formula. Calico had a hard time latching... still is on the right side, in fact. I was exclusively pumping for a while and we had to rent a pump since the motor in the one we have isn't as good as it needs to be. We saw a lactation consultant last week and she was immensely helpful and got her latched with a nipple shield on the right side. She occasionally can latch on that side without it and she's pretty much good on the left, but it's not been easy.

I'm sure some of what's making it worse is that I really hate having to deal with the Stunt Nipple, I hate guessing how much she's eating, and I generally hate how helpless I feel when I'm feeding her because of the set-up of our living room. Steven is going to try and rearrange it tomorrow so that I can at least have a decent chair to sit in, where I can reach a drink and see the television or get to the computer. Sitting and just watching her eat makes me want to crawl out of my skin, especially when I'm thirsty or hungry. As long as I have something to do, it's not that bad.

Hell, we even managed to nurse in public today, so it's getting better. Hopefully my dislike for it will lessen as it gets easier.

I don't know. On the whole, I just feel like I'm not doing a great job right now. Calico loves Steven, he's definitely her favourite person, which is great, but it also makes me feel like I'm just the dairy barn. I'm afraid it's going to be awful when he goes back to work in a week. I don't know if I can handle it. I'm honestly also terrified of developing postpartum depression, even though I know that plenty of people are watching out for me. I can't tell if this is still baby blues or if it's more serious. I worry a lot lately.

So now that this whole post has been emo, I'm going to try and end on a positive note with things that I am happy about.

Calico is very healthy and obviously, the breast milk is doing something because she'd gained almost half a pound and is over her birth weight now. I need to weigh her tomorrow because I think she's closer to 8lbs now. She really only cries when she's wet or hungry; she's a great baby.

I'm 6lbs below my pre-pregnancy weight and while that doesn't exactly mean pre-pregnancy pants, my belly is almost gone and I was able to buy real! pants! with a non-elastic waistband and a zipper! They're a size above what I was pre-pregnancy, but that's not even bad for two weeks out. And yes, I realize it's a little foolish to buy pants now, but I was back down to two pairs of maternity jeans, one of which is now way too big and the other of which Calico peed on. The maternity pants I bought, expecting to wear them postpartum are not comfortable since they had the giant belly panels.

My husband is amazing and I fall in love more watching him with Calico. He has been amazing while he's been home and I am so blessed that he could take this time off.

I finally got some tonight and it was great. Ssh, don't tell my OB (though she had mentioned a while ago that as long as my lochia had stopped, there wasn't any harm in it). I felt a million times better afterwards.

My lochia has stopped and, aside from the pelvic issues, I've had a great recovery from Calico's birth. While my non-labour did not go as planned, her birth and the period after has been better than I'd hoped. I hope it keeps going well and maybe that will make me feel more like myself again.

Welcome Calico!

Reposted from my personal journal:

I had my last appointment with the OB on the Wednesday before she was born. I was told that I basically managed to have negative progress. My cervix was high, tight, and closed and I was still barely 50% effaced. Coincidentally, I was told she'd probably be in there for a while. Made my calls about that and went home to try and have a nap. I felt lousy all day Thursday, but when Steven got home, we had to run to Target since we were almost out of toilet paper and I wanted Taco Bell.

There in was my last belly picture. I couldn't fit behind the table at Taco Bell, so we posted pictures of that. Anyone on Facebook will have seen that one.

We ate, I still felt lousy, and got ready for bed. I had taken my collection of night pills and was just sitting down with the computer, waiting for them to start working. As we had been talking construction and how we feel like we're living in the Winchester Mystery house with Grandpa, I was googling that. I felt dribbly and figured I probably peed myself. That's one of the perks of pregnancy. Turns out it wasn't pee; it was my amniotic sac and it definitely ruptured when I stood up. Since I was Group B Strep positive, we called the OB and were told to go straight to the hospital so I could start antibiotics.

I picked the worst night ever to break my water. There were 40 other women who went into labour the same night, three who delivered while still in triage and one in the Ante-Natal Centre. I arrived at 1:15, defiled the hell out of the parking lot, and got into a room. I originally asked to have my IV done in the back of my hand, but was assured that it was better in the side of my wrist. I asked for Emla, which apparently doesn't exist at Women & Infants. They got something else out, which did not work at all, and then proceeded to run the line in with a frakking straw. So now I'm panicky, vomiting because I'm stressed, and have no idea what's going on. At this point, I was not having contractions at all.

We got moved to Ante-Natal Care around 6am because all 22 delivery rooms were full. I was until around 5:30. We didn't even see a doctor until around 4 and that basically was because I was having panic attacks since I had been told I would probably need to be sectioned if my water were broken more than 24 hours because of the GBS. They were able to get me an ativan, which also helped. I finally got moved down to Delivery around 5:30.

Unfortunately, they checked me and I still had not progressed at all nor was I having any real contractions. I was given the option of a couple drugs (cytotec or pitocin) to kick start things since we'd basically been trying natural methods all day. I opted for the pitocin since I was going to be getting it one way or the other. Unfortunately, my body did not handle it very well and by the time they'd gotten it to 3, I was in agony. There was also an issue with being able to monitor her when I was basically doing anything but lying still in the bed, which was horrible. My nurse, Pam, at that point suggested an internal monitor if I wanted to keep trying naturally or she could get an anaesthesiologist in, if I wanted to consider the epidural. We opted for the anaesthesiologist. I didn't want to have a monitor screwed into her head.

The one we had, Dr. Winter, was seriously amazing. I told him that if I didn't already have a name for the baby, I would have named her after him. He was good about listening to my fears about the epidural, did explain to me that I would have to hold still for him, but he'd make sure I could handle it. What apparently worked was a cocktail of Diprivan (aka. the Michael Jackson OD drug) and fentanyl. I got 40ccs of Diprivan since I am a spazz. I did feel the pressure of the epidural, but the Diprivan helped in not caring that I was getting it. The worst part was that I was a little itchy from the fentanyl.

I will say that my concerns about the epidural taking weird were founded. I had almost no numbness in my legs and was actually able to keep control of my bladder the whole time. My nurse was impressed; she said I was only the 4th with that much control she'd seen in 25 years. They were able to crank up the pitocin so that by 4am, I was dilated to 5cm and by the 7am shift change, I was at 9cm with a little lip. By 8:15, the contractions started feeling different and around 8:30, I was feeling pushy. My day nurse, Dita, went to get the doctor, who apparently thought he might have enough time to deliver another baby before me. She told him not a chance... I started pushing at 8:38, she was out in four pushes by 9:02, and the placenta was out 9:05. I opted not to watch her come out, but Steven did.

Steven got to hold her right away. Because of the hatchet job they did on the IV, it was almost impossible for me to use my right hand/wrist. I was able to breastfeed her about 15 minutes after she was born and Steven was able to hold her for the rest of the first hour she was alive. She never left our sight. They had a warmer in the room so I could watch her while I ate lunch (breakfast was basically all things I was allergic to) and while Steven made calls. Total time at the hospital: 33 hours and yes, we did make Battlestar Galactica jokes.

I was in delivery until almost 3p because of all the women having babies. I was able to nap for a bit, which will play in later. My parents were waiting for us. Mum couldn't get over how much she looked like me as a newborn. She is literally a carbon copy of the pictures I've seen. They hung around long enough so Steven could go home and grab a shower and feed our kitties. He got back around 6, just after they'd left, and we basically sat and wondered at our little girl. And then, this is where the story goes downhill.

I realized I was hungry, but didn't think anything of it until a nurse came in and asked where my tray was. I said what tray? They had forgotten to send me a dinner and, of course, it was very late, so they had nothing good left in the kitchen. Dinner was amazingly lousy. Steven ended up grabbing me some candy from the gift shop and I had jello for dinner again. I was exhausted at this point, so we took the night nurse's offer to have her go to the nursery for a little while, since I'd been up basically forever. I fed her from 4a-5a and they went to take her down. I'd just settled in to sleep, when someone brought her back in abruptly at 5:20a. They didn't check our bracelets, told me she was screaming and inconsolable (she was not), and left the room before I had a chance to ask anything. I got her settled and tried to go back to sleep. I don't even know who came in, but we literally had someone stopping by every 15 minutes until breakfast showed up around 7:30.

Since they didn't bother sending me a dinner the night before, they'd also never sent me the menu so I got some random breakfast which consisted of a bunch of things that I was allergic to and eggs, which I don't eat. So, I lost it. Completely. I started sobbing. This is why I'm glad that Steven was able to stay with me; he went down to the nurses' station and talked to them, as well as getting me a new meal from dietary. We also had an amazing nurse, Millie, from the nursery who Calico loved. Upon thinking about it further, I had not had any substantial sleep since noon on Thursday, nor had I actually had a decent meal since Thursday night. Jackie, my day nurse, got us a Do Not Disturb sign for the door and left instructions for me to be left alone from 1-4:30.

Calico got to meet Deb, Steven's biological mum, and Shirley, his biological grandmother, that morning. They were both excited to get to hold her and I believe Calico is the first great-granddaughter. We had a nice, if short, visit with them and I finally got my nap. Steven opted to go home, shower, and feed the cats again. We also chose to take part in the Stork Dinner Club, which is a special meal for new parents. I wasn't going to get it at first, but I am really, really glad we did! It was probably the best meal we had while we were there. We both had filet mignon, green beans, baked potatoes, and cheesecake, plus a glass of merlot and glasses we could take home to remember the birth of our little girl. We ate by candlelight while looking out over Providence. It was amazing.

We kept our Do Not Disturb sign and finally managed to sleep from about 12:30 to about 7:30, which was amazing. Calico went for a light treatment in the nursery since she was fairly jaundiced and we opted for that rather than to see if she still needed it in the morning and, therefore, would delay going home.

I felt a million times better the next day, which was our last day there. We were supposed to be released at 11am, but the doctor noticed I was coughing and wanted to check my lungs. They were gunky and she ordered a chest xray before we could go anywhere. Calico had to have another heel stick before we could be cleared. I was released with bronchitis, which is exactly what you want to go home with a newborn with. Only good thing is that it's chronic for me and she won't be able to catch it.

We're settling in here now. At a week old, Calico is sleeping a little better at night-- she had bad gas pains at first. She's also having a lot of trouble with her latch, but I have been able to pump enough to have her fully on breastmilk. We have an appointment to see a lactation consultant tomorrow and a nipple shield that seems to allow her to latch a lot better. She did well at her first well baby appointment; she hadn't lost any weight, which was nice to hear.

We're doing pretty well with the cloth diapers so far, as well. We switched her the day after we got home since she was already developing a rash from the disposables. Poor kid seems to have my skin for that, since I was likewise getting rashy. Recovery is going well for me otherwise. I'm hardly bleeding, I'm a pound below my pre-pregnancy weight at 8 days out, and my body feels fairly normal again, aside from the little hormone surges.

Steven is home for three weeks, which is awesome. I am really happy to be able to spend this time with him and our daughter. I wish we had fewer projects to do, but meh... We're still finding time to enjoy the kiddo, take walks, and watch Dancing with the Stars.

10 September 2010

Baby Pool

People guessing extreme weights will be required to change poop diapers.

09 September 2010

9 Months, huh?

I'm starting to wonder if the baby is going to insist on pushing to see if we can hit 10 months. I hit the start of 9 months pregnant on Tuesday and, aside from a few random contractions that generally show up when I'm driving or in the car, she's decided NOW that hey, this here uterus? It's pretty comfortable. Tomorrow's my first weekly appointment, so I assume I'll see if I'm dilated at all. I am guessing no.

U gets a kitten, I gets a kitten.
 We're finally getting to a point where I am not panicking that Hieronymus is going to come home and sleep in a laundry basket. Steven put the crib together over the long week-end and Vlad is taking the chance to test it out. The little cow is a gift from friends, but Vlad is convinced it's a kitten. Tuesday, he took it out from a basket, jumped into the crib, groomed it, and napped with it.

Omg, dis box is da greatest!
This was all part of my master plan. I'm not worried about the cats getting into her crib because they get bored with things quickly. When we first got her bassinet, they were in it constantly for about three days. By the end of a week? Not at all interested. I also have a wicker basket that Vlad particularly likes and I plan to put a towel in it and leave it out as a cat trap when the baby comes home. It never fails.

We're also pretty well stocked up on Essential Baby Supplies... or at least what I can seem to decipher are things we need. We ended up going with Burt's Bees for baby wash and lotion. While we don't know if she's going to have sensitive skin, I certainly do and need to be able to bathe her without breaking out in blisters and hives. I have wipes. Of course, I also realized I don't have a nose sucky thing or baby nail clippers, but hey, I've only been to Target once this week. I could go again.

We likewise have her carseat installed in the car and ready to be checked. Most of the furniture has been moved into place and the colours look great together. All that needs to be painted is the back of her door and the room will done. I even managed to wash a couple loads of baby clothes and all her diapers. In fact, I put most of the 0-6 months clothes away over the week-end.

Why yes, those ARE fat little birds.
But ssh, I haven't packed my hospital bag yet. I still need to pick up slippers and I'd like to get another pair of pyjamas to wear. My fat little bird obsession continues: I want this owl nightie I saw at Target.

I am noticing that I have a lot less energy than I did even two weeks ago. It's getting harder and harder for me to get out to do any kind of errands and the only places I tend to drive myself now are doctors' appointments. Even today, having my mum drive me to the store and doing a little painting meant that I needed a cat nap in the afternoon.

I'm still working on art for her room. I forgot how much I hate painting; I am a terrible painter. I also could only reach three of my brushes, none of which I could use for the whole piece, so I ended up JUST painting the birds before giving up for a while. Unfortunately, I also seem to be getting more back spasms from the angle I draw or paint at, so that means I might be printing some of my photographs rather than creating all new artwork for her room.

This week-end is our hospital tour (aka. what insurance WOULD pay for) and I am going to read a little more of the hypnobirthing book I bought since we aren't taking a birth class (aka. what insurance WOULD NOT pay for). I'm not sure I understand that either, but hey, I only pay a tonne of money so I can have insurance, what do I know?

At least it's finally cool enough that I can cook some meals to freeze and, God forbid, get some knitting done. I haven't knit anything since it got warm.

06 September 2010

It's the bad idea bears!

To celebrate making it to 9 months pregnant, Steven and I decided to go to a baseball game. Checked with the OB, who tentatively okayed it, as long as I wasn't having contracts or driving more than a half hour in the car without a break. It's been a good day on both accounts, so we figured we'd go for a couple innings and head home.

Why now and this game? Because Bill "The Spaceman" Lee was pitching. Steven is a Red Sox fan and I like crazy people from Vermont. I check out the ticket selection a week or so ago and noticed that there were plenty of available seats. I picked two and went on my merry way. Every time I checked, it looks like the game would be decent-- not too crowded.

Yep. 9 months pregnant.
Well, when we arrived, the will call line was off the concourse. I personally waited over half an hour. The couple in front of us let SIX of their friends in line to get their tickets. I mean, I am not asking for special treatment for growing another person, but seriously, how much of a jerk must you be to let SIX people cut in line, in front of a pregnant woman, who has been standing there for 30 minutes. And then laugh about how nice it is not to wait in line. I was not pleased, at all.

We did get up to the concourse, finally, during the second inning. We went to find out seats, only to discover there was a guy and his son sitting in them. No usher to be found. Didn't matter anyway, since there was a kid with a balloon in the seat behind us. We ended up going to the top of the concourse instead. To stand.

Spaceman gives up his first homer.
Of course the first pitch was a home run. I was cranky and hungry at this point, but the lines were literally longer than Will Call and I was unwilling to stand there that long to be over charged for fries and a dog.

He bats, too.
We found out later that they ran out of everything except for beer. Someone in catering was not doing their job. The inning was quick, at least, and it wasn't too hot.

Watching the game, standing, 9 months pregnant.
We also got to watch him bat. He had a couple good hits, including a broken bat play that would have been great. Too bad my zoom isn't made of win on the Droid. Maybe we can pretend it's pointillism or something.

I was interesting in the game, when the concrete stadium wasn't killing my back. I spent a lot of time doing belly rolls and hip circles trying to stay comfortable. My back did spasm, but not has bad if I had been sitting in one of those chairs.

No contractions, either. I was very surprised about that. Maybe she will be a baseball fan.

We left at the bottom of the fifth because I was exhausted. Bill Lee did get the win, in the end, so we'd heard, so that was good. I tried to enjoy, but it was tough, being so uncomfortable. I probably should have planned this one out better.

I know the Rox always oversell, but this was expressly bad. They had to be 25% over capacity between SRO and bleachers. Those people always end up in paid seats and sometimes, it's impossible to move them. It's a lot of the reason we stopped holding season tickets.

Here we are, trying not to be cranky.

04 September 2010

Four Weeks

That's four very short or very long weeks, depending on your perspective. It's both for me: four short weeks to get all the things done that I need for her arrival, four short weeks I could go into labour at any time, and four long weeks still I finally get to see the little person who's been subletting my insides since January.

We are moving forward in getting things done for her. I am hoping that we will be able to get her bedroom done tomorrow. Most of what we need is already in there (aside from my husband's pinball machine) and need to be slid into place. Her clothes need washing so they can be put away. Her diapers, of course, are already done, though I do need to get a pail liner for dirties. I have my wetbags, but I need to pack her diaper bag up and I still am at a loss with what I should have for bathtime. We were given a lot at our shower, but some if it is stuff that I can't use, which means either a) I return it or b) someone else bathes Hieronymus permanently. She has a bassinet with sheets now, a pack & play, a swing, and a bouncy seat.

I, of course, have yet to pack my hospital bag. I need some things to wear in the hospital and an outfit to go home in. I still need slippers, though I might be wearing zoris, since my my feet get horribly warm. I'm holding back because I want something cute. After giving birth, I want to have a cute nighty to put on. Maybe there will be one at Target this week-end.

The last two of my nursing bras are here, so I now have five (two HOTMilk, a Fayreform, an Elle MacPherson, and a Bravado). I have my pump, aside from grabbing extra tubing and, oh, figuring out how to work it. I ordered my mama cloth for that icky lochia period. Hell, I even ordered a HypnoBirth book. At worst, it was 5$ and at best, it is an immense help during labout.

I need to make some returns this week-end, as well. We received a lot of non-registry duplicates, so we'll be bringing those back when we return the toiletries we were given. We're getting two more handmade blankets, as far as I know, so I don't see where we need a bunch of minky ones. I may sort this stuff after I finish up this post.

I've finally started getting what I assume are Braxton Hicks contractions, usually when I need to pee or what I've not had enough to drink or something equally foolish. They're odd, to say the least. They don't hurt at all, just a lot of pressure, and I can generally keep doing what I'm doing. The only discomfort I've had is when they're up by my ribs. That is uncomfortable.

23 August 2010

Nursing Top = Sadface

It occurred to me today that at some point in the next 6 to 8 weeks, I will be squeezing my greasy little kitten out and at some point, a) I need to think about stuff for a hospital bag and b) I am going to feed said offspring with my glorious tracts of land. That means, at some point, I should probably think about buying a couple of nursing tops. I have two right now: one from the GAP that a friend of mine ordered and I thought was adorable and one the same friend gave me because it never fit her quite right. Both of which are, admittedly, pretty cool looking... as in, it's possible I would wear them on a regular basis, pre-pregnancy.
Should be easy to find tops like this, right?

Oh my God, internet. Apparently, those tops are the exception to the rule.

Not only that, but my usual go-to places have all of about 9 styles to chose from, half of which are the same top in different colours. Anything that's even vaguely stylish is expensive as hell. And, well, I'm on a very limited budget. 

There doesn't seem to be much on eBay, either.

I'm not trying to be super picky. I'm really not. I just don't want to wear cutesy pink florals, a tonne of ruffles, or those tops that have no shape and the obvious I AM NURSING lift-top just under the boobs. I understand that there is some sacrifice for functionality, but come on. Must I give up any sense of style because I'm having a baby? It's not fair to have to pay 50$ and up for a plain, black shirt, either. 

I've been finding a lot of the same problems getting nursing bras, too. First problem is that the biggest they seem to go up to is a G in American sizings. That's pretty much two sizes smaller than I wore pre-pregnancy-- my bras were a 36G, British sizing. Bravado goes up to and H/I, again in American sizes, but you basically have to get something that looks like a sports bra and goes up to your neck. That means it basically won't work under anything less than a turtleneck. 

Perhaps I was misinformed, but I thought nursing meant I was going to have Shiny New Mum cleavage. And if I have amazing cleavage, I want to show it off, not hide it. Why, then, would I not want a bra that I could wear with a fairly modest V neck? I understand the lack of underwire and blocked ducts, but why no pretty materials?

I have gotten lucky enough to find a couple nice bras (Hot Milk, Fayreform) in what I hope will be my size, but if not, I am out of luck since they were the biggest size I'd seen. (Update: my two Hot Milk bras arrived today, fit perfectly, and have room in the cups for expansion. They're also pretty sexy.) What do women who are larger than me do for nursing bras? Or do they simply not wear a bra, hope not to leak, or just not leave their house ever? 

Target may not be affording me an ability to find cute nursing bras, but they have been an amazing source of clearance items. Tuesday, I found a Baby Bjorn for Steven for half price and Thursday... Oh, Thursday... I found four FuzziBunz in medium for a grand total of 18.12$ Our Target apparently discounts heavily if something has been returned from the internet and I guess they assumed these would be hard to sell. Not to me!

We're doing well rounding out our stash of diapers. I would like to have maybe 10 more and Kawaii Baby is looking like where I want to get them from, as they're very affordable.

It's hard to believe she'll be here in about 6 weeks. It feels like we were just looking at the little pink plus on the pregnancy test and now, I'm watching her elbow me through my belly and we're getting the last few things set.

What were your must haves for a new baby?

14 August 2010

Master List

I've seen a few people doing this and it sounds like a good plan. This will be the master entry for all other entries.

Day 01 – Introduce yourself
Day 02 – Your first love, in great detail
Day 03 – Your parents, in great detail
Day 04 – What you ate today, in great detail
Day 05 – Your definition of love, in great detail
Day 06 – Your day, in great detail
Day 07 – Your best friend, in great detail
Day 08 – A moment, in great detail
Day 09 – Your beliefs, in great detail
Day 10 – What you wore today, in great detail
Day 11 – Your siblings, in great detail
Day 12 – What’s in your bag, in great detail
Day 13 – This week, in great detail
Day 14 – What you wore today, in great detail
Day 15 – Your dreams, in great detail
Day 16 – Your first kiss, in great detail
Day 17 – Your favorite memory, in great detail
Day 18 – Your favorite birthday, in great detail
Day 19 – Something you regret, in great detail
Day 20 – This month, in great detail
Day 21 – Another moment, in great detail
Day 22 – Something that upsets you, in great detail
Day 23 – Something that makes you feel better, in great detail
Day 24 – Something that makes you cry, in great detail
Day 25 – A first, in great detail
Day 26 – Your fears, in great detail
Day 27 – Your favorite place, in great detail
Day 28 – Something that you miss, in great detail
Day 29 – Your aspirations, in great detail
Day 30 – One last moment, in great detail

12 August 2010

Off My Chest?

I mean this title in not what I say to my cat, constantly. For all the time that I spend reading celebrity gossip (and this is a LARGE part of my day), I some how missed Kim Kardashian's tweets over her breastfeeding squeamishness. Except now, I am reading about it a lot and I might as well throw my 2¢ in with the rest of the world.

I generally have a hate/hate relationship with my breasts. They are "use more than the first four letters of the alphabet" large, they cause a lot of back and neck pain for me, and despite what my husband says, they are not especially attractive. I can't even get nice cleavage out of them because push-up bras fit weird. They basically are good for collecting crumbs and balancing things. Oh, and costing a lot of money for decent bras. Now that I am pregnant, I am also hoping that they will actually prove their worth and be able to feed my baby as well.

I want to make this very, very clear. I am going to breastfeed. I'm going to do it for at least a year and I am going to be successful at it. Why? Because it is free. The added bonus is that it's good for the baby and good for me and maybe I can lose baby weight with it, but I am mostly doing it because my husband and I pretty much are poor. It's the same reason we are cloth diapering. Yes, good for the environment, keeps evil chemicals off my baby's bum, but really? It's cheaper. I am completely willing to admit that a lot of my decisions are motivated by money because it's more important to me to be able to be home with Hieronymus than to have a little convenience in my life.

That said, I am honestly not a fan the whole act of breastfeeding. I'm probably going to lose the two people who actually read this blog by saying this, too. The whole concept bothers me. I'm grossed out by my boobs leaking now; I am not in touch with my mammalian nature AT ALL. It doesn't make me feel all womanly, it makes me feel kind of itchy and sticky. But, I did sign up for this and I will get over it. I'll probably even eventually nurse in public, but that bothers me too. Why? Because I am not comfortable with whipping my unattractive tatas out. But hey, kid's got to eat.

I am lucky enough to live in the part of my city that no one really bats an eye about breastfeeding. At the park, on Saturday, there were a group of mothers breastfeeding and I was definitely the only person who looked twice. Part of that is because I'll be doing it soon, but in another way, I am kind of fascinated by it. And yes, I also tend to stare at over-exposed, Kim Kardashian style cleavage too. Really, I tend to stare at any sort of breasts.

I guess this was a long way of saying that I understand both sides. Kim K. is totally entitled to be squicked out by seeing someone breastfeed, especially since she hasn't done it herself. Her boobs are still completely decorative and enjoyable for her. It's kind of like seeing a cute cow. Yea, we all know where hamburg comes from and someday, that cow could be lunch, but you probably don't think about it every time you look at one. In fact, you probably don't even think about it til you're at the butcher shop saying "Hmm, steak for dinner sounds like an okay plan."

Don't mind me. I have food on the brain again.

Twitter, however, was not really the proper place to discuss her squicked-outness. Thinking it to yourself, talking to your companion about it, fine. That's private and, again, she's totally entitled to feel that way. It's taking it to a public forum that's not a great idea. If I see something that bothers me, I try to ignore it, especially if I realize it's me being weird about it. I'm uncomfortable seeing someone feed their baby? I need to look away. If I can't look away (see: reading celeb gossip), I need to at least have the common sense to know that's my issue and not make comments on it.