The Beginning of the End

I think Penelope is trying to wean. She is only interested in nursing in the mornings. The rest of the time she is too busy or gets easily distracted and doesn't focus on drinking her milkies. This has caused me many mixed emotions. Part of me is really excited to have my body to myself again, to be able to wear regular bras, and not have to dress with easy access to the goods in mind. The other part is really sad this part of motherhood is almost over. Mega sad face. 

I nursed Beatrice for 15 months. I planned to go longer, but the time was right to wean. It made me sad for a second because I loved having that connection with my firstborn, but I was a few months pregnant with Penelope at the time and knew it wouldn't be long before I would be nursing another baby.

Penelope came soon enough and we began our nursing journey. Feeding her has been such an easier and more enjoyable experience than my first go around. It is probably because I know what I'm doing and have way more faith in my body's ability to nourish my girl, but also, she's just a better nurser. Where Beatrice took her time and fidgeted, Penelope gets the job done. We never had an awkward learning stage, she never bit me, she doesn't try to undress me in public to get at the goods. Nursing her has been a real joy. I enjoyed nursing Beatrice too, but it has been a completely different experience this time around. 

I'm not sure how much longer Penelope and I will continue to breast feed. I have a feeling it won't be very much longer. I am proud of the work my body has done to feed my girls, proud of the wear and tear its endured, and proud of the commitment I made and kept to nurse for the first full year of their lives. I'm a little sad it's almost over, but mostly glad we made it to a year without any hiccups along the way. I sure am going to miss these snuggles though. Mega, mega sad face.

Ho Ho Ho, Penelope Is Here

Guess what I'm doing right now. It involves an uncomfortable hospital room recliner, sore boob-parts, and a teeny baby. Give up? It's pretty special really. I'm nursing our new baby girl, Penelope Leigh.

I had our baby last night! Say hello.

I went into labor early Tuesday morning. Contractions started coming regularly around 6am. I labored at home all morning while JD ran last minute errands and my sister in law watched Beatrice. Since I was 2 days past my due date, I had an ultrasound scheduled for noon to check on the baby's size, fluid levels, and overall well-being inside my uterus. The contractions were stronger, but not increasing in intervals so I kept my appointment. Baby was measuring right on track at 40 weeks and doing great, thank God.

My family has a history of huge babies - 12 pounders - so my OB was not thrilled with leaving this baby in for much longer. Because of my strong desire to labor and deliver naturally and med-free, I spent the greater portion of the past week praying fervently to go into labor on my own. Induction scared me and JD and I had decided that as long as the baby was not in danger, we would not agree to it. Thankfully, God decided that Tuesday was an excellent day to have a baby. So we did!

At my appointment, I was dilated to 3 cms when my doctor checked me. She said that by the way I was breathing through the contractions and able to talk immediately after them, I was not ready to go to the hospital and have the baby until later that night. That was the weird thing about this labor: I managed the contractions so differently than I did with Beatrice. I breathed and groaned through them instead of tensing up my body and holding my breathe. It really helped. I felt great after each grueling labor pain. I found that breathing and focusing on what was happening to my body was surprisingly helpful and made the contractions so much more manageable. I handled the pain completely differently and had a really great recovery period in between the contractions. To everyone that witnessed my first childbirth experience, this time probably seemed like false labor.

After the ultrasound appointment, JD and I headed home to eat. I had some toast and ice water. The contractions started picking up so we packed the last of our bags and headed to the hospital around 3:30. I was admitted and dilated to 5 cms. I was so tired and really wanted to sleep, but with contractions coming every 2 minutes or so, that wasn't possible. I really started wondering why natural childbirth was so important to me. Sleep seemed like the better option at that point. But my wonderful husband and nurse encouraged me to keep going according to my birth plan. Stupid birth plan. So I did.

I quickly progressed. From 4 o'clock to 6, I advanced from 5 cms to 8. The OB on call came in to talk about breaking my water. I agreed and that's when the party started. The sucky, terrible pain party that take you to a place of no turning back. Contractions come at you every 30 seconds or so and birth is imminent. There is no relief from the pain and you better get your head in the game if it's not already because it's almost time to expel a human from your loins. Don't go to that party if you can help it.  

Within an hour I was ready to push. Throughout the entire labor, I groaned and made a ho ho ho sound. Every couple of ho ho hos, JD would chime in with a "Merry Christmas." He's funny, that guy. As soon as I felt the urge to push, all ho ho hoing ceased and I became a savage animal-woman. I raged from deep within my belly to GET THE BABY OUT. I was not kind about it, I did not wait to be told to push, I decided that I had had enough of laboring this baby and it was time to GET HER OUT. And that would have been fine with everyone except the bed wasn't ready. While the nurses scrambled to prepare the bed and the biohazard bags, I began pushing out the baby on my side with nothing but everyone's shoes under my now disassembled bed. I regret to announce that no one's shoes made it, not even mine. They all got slimed. With uterine guts, blood, and poop. Let's just leave it at that...

I somehow managed to get on my back and after 7 minutes of pushing, Penelope Leigh's tiny little body came out of me. Pushing her was hard and painful. I remember feeling lots of pressure with Beatrice's exit from my body, but this time I felt stinging, burning pain. Like I was ripping from the front to back. Thankfully, it only felt like that. I didn't rip anything. Thank you Lord Jesus. I like my loins the way they are, intact and not mangled by people coming out of them.

She came out and I shouted, "Thank you Jesus, it's over!!!!" I promise you, that is probably the best gift of natural childbirth: the second that baby emerges, the pain stops. Instantly. It is awesome. And of course, there is the baby!

Penelope got to stay in our room for over an hour before the nursery folks took her for measurements and a bath. I nursed her right away and spent the next moments kissing her tiny face and introducing myself to her. JD and I were the only ones in the delivery room and it was such a special time for us. We loved having the time afterwards to ooh and ahh over our newest baby girl, just the 2 of us. Soon everyone arrived and took turns holding her and congratulating us. We are blessed.

It has been a whirlwind few days. JD has been staying at home with Beatrice at night while I stay at the hospital alone with Penelope. They come during the day and stay with us, but I am so ready to be home with my big girl, the new big sister.

Penelope is my petite baby weighing in at 8 lbs 4 oz. She is 20 3/4" long. She is tiny and precious and wonderfully made.

Once again, recovery has been a breeze. I am pretty sore in the pelvic bone region, but my doctor says that is normal for second pregnancies. I had a lot of pain in my pelvic bone during the last 20 weeks of pregnancy so the pain is no real surprise, just unwanted. Otherwise, I feel great and happy and blessed. I love my babies.

Everyone keeps asking me if this birth was better or worse than my first. I can't really say. It was definitely quicker and I handled the pain so much better this time, but I didn't feel the same sense of accomplishment as I did after having Beatrice med-free. This time felt like less of a personal thing and more of a necessary process. Also, with Beatrice I relied so much on my faith and God's strength to get me through. I relied on Him in a different way with Penelope's birth. There was more faith in the fact that He would bring Penelope naturally without an induction than His ability to not let me die like I thought I would with Beatrice. I knew I would live this time, and thankfully, I did. And tomorrow I get to go home and live with 2 beautiful little girls and their wonderful daddy. Life is good and God is really, really great. Now if you'll excuse me, an itty bitty girl needs her milk for the bazillionth time tonight.

Done

I nursed my baby toddler for the last time this morning. I didn't know it at the time, but after coming to terms that she's just not that into it anymore, today I decided to be done.

This has been a very emotional decision for me. When I went to my first OB appointment at 5 weeks, my doctor told me to stop nursing. There are mixed opinions, but certain studies suggest that breast feeding while pregnant can cause preterm labor and other complications. I'm not sure where I stand on this debate because I've read valid points on both sides of the argument. But the thought of trying to wean while I was about to give birth only to have to start the whole shebang over again with baby #2 didn't sound appealing. And Beatrice was ready. So I have been weaning. And crying and crying.

I cried because as long as I've been a mommy, I've been nursing. It is apart of our relationship, our bond. I wondered how she would react to stopping and that made me cry. Thinking of her begging me for boovies while I denied her the only milk she's ever known was almost too much to bear. But as I dropped feedings, I realized that she didn't even notice. She was over it. And that made me cry most of all.

This morning I got up and greeted my smiling baby toddler standing in her crib. I took her to the changing table to change her diaper wondering if she would ask for boovies. She did and I was relieved. So much of me is not ready to let go of this with her. We rocked and nursed for approximately 1 minute. And she was done. She slid off of my lap and asked for her snack. With my boovies still out and about I asked if she wanted more milkies and she said no while shaking her head back and forth. She was done.

So that's it I suppose. It would be kind of gross to keep forcing my boovies on her if she's not into it anymore. I'm okay with that, I think. It's just hard and sad to end that chapter that we both began together 15 months ago without so much as a goodbye. Just a no. "No more boovies, mommy. Sheesh." JD makes fun of me when I cry. When I explained that I have no baby to nurse anymore he said that in about 6 more months I will have another and I get to start all over again. He's right. It's not easy though. I don't know how to be a mommy that doesn't nurse. I guess I will just have to learn. And cry.

I'm Going On Strike (Maybe)

I always planned to nurse Beatrice for a year, but once we approached her first birthday, I decided that we would keep going. Partly because of flu season, but mostly because I don't know how to wean her. Beatrice is addicted to milk. She goes crazycakes for milkies. Nursing her has never been a sweet, relaxing thing for either of us. She attacks me with her claws hands and foams at the mouth to get to my milkies. She wiggles and climbs. She pinches and bites. She goes back and forth from each side about 30 times a minute. And it has always been this way. Nursing her is like wrestling a baby alligator. I think. I mean, I have never actually wrestled a baby alligator but from what I've seen on T.V., that is exactly what nursing Beatrice is like. 

For one reason or another, I have always dreaded our nursing sessions. In the beginning, it hurt and took forever to feed her. I was glued to the couch with her glued to me. She attacked me like a little nurse shark. Now, it is the attacking and demanding that is unbearable. I always said that I would wean before my child was old enough to ask for it. Well, she doesn't ask for it, she demands it. She tugs at my clothes until I give in. She even knows how to unhook the front panel on my nursing bra so she can access the milkies anytime. I used to lock them safely away in my bra and say, "all gone." But now she knows better. Stinker. 


After almost busting my lip tonight on her wild, bucking head, I think I'm ready to think about weaning. I kept telling her to settle down but the more I tried to wrangle her, the more she bit and pinched me. Truth be told, I'm scared. She is vicious for the milkies and I know she will fight me for them no matter how much I refuse. She's cute too. It's like her secret weapon. I always give in to that cute, vicious stinker. I know that this behavior is only going to get worse the older (and stronger) she gets. So I am seriously considering weaning.

This is all Beatrice's fault. I was prepared to nurse forever. Not forever forever. But at least until she was 18 months old. I have told Beatrice from the beginning to stop attacking Mommy because not all mommies let their babies drink their milkies. She has never believed me. Tonight I told her that she would have to drink cow's milk if she didn't stop slapping me. She mooed at me. Hmmph. I will show her. I mean, if all of my nursing analogies involve predatory animals instead of cuddly ones, I think it's time to close shop on this milk factory.

This is after the milk attack. She needed 5 babies to sleep with tonight. Thank God Baa-Baa, Turtle, Bunny, Seahorse, and Bobo Monkey were there. 

Unthinkables

So the unthinkable has happened. I am sick. I caught JD's beast of a cold and I feel like crap. Beatrice's party is tomorrow and I can't be sick. I didn't make plans to be sick so this has really thrown a wrench into everything. I've been speaking my health into existence (Romans 4:17) and gargling with hot salt water. Wanna know when you're officially a grown up? When you gargle hot salt water without your mom forcing you to do so. Which, by the way is my least favorite thing to do. But when you nurse a baby, you cannot take anything that contains antihistamines or your milk dries up. And wouldn't you know, cold meds are chock full of them. So it's hot salt water and positive speech for me. And a teensy bit of whining. I should've seen the sickness coming. I have been mixing things up all week and rearranging our days for appointments that never existed. I was certain that I had a hair appointment on Wednesday and switched around all of today for a 2 o'clock pediatrician appointment that is not until next week. My brain needs health to operate at full capacity apparently. 

So the party is tomorrow and most everything is completed. Did I mention that we have changed everything about the party? It's no longer at the park, we are having it here with immediate family only. We are serving chili, cider and cake. The 3 Cs of perfect fall party making. The other unthinkable thing? It's actually cold. The high today and tomorrow is in the 50s so our menu will be perfect. However, the downside is Beatrice has her 1 year pictures tomorrow morning. Outside. And all of her dresses and outfits are short sleeved. Will y'all think that I'm a bad mother if I don't make her wear a sweater? Or shoes? Because I'm just warning you now, you will probably see pictures of a 1 year old bare foot and in short sleeves in the cold. I can't ruin 1 year old photos with sweaters and shoes. Don't judge me...


Something unthinkable happened yesterday. 2 somethings, actually. Beatrice had her first (and second) waffle fry from Chick-Fil-A and had pizza for dinner. I have refrained from giving her any junk food her entire life but I figure with all of the cake she is about to eat this weekend, I might as well introduce her to fried, greasy goodness while she has the chance. Plus I'm sick and cooking is not happening right now. She loved it (of course) but she equally loved the lima beans I offered her in attempt to not feel so guilty for feeding my child crap all day.

The last and most unthinkable thing? I think I might love the cat again. He's been sleeping with me on the nights that JD is not here. Plus he seems so concerned with my health, it is kind of sweet. But don't tell JD. I will never hear the end of it. I guess the only other unthinkable things I can think of happening are that the party goes off without a hitch, I wake up feeling better and Beatrice doesn't catch the cold that is attacking my throat and chest right now. PRAY FOR US!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Somebody Tell Him Already

When I was a little girl, I thought my dad had my brothers and my mom had me. It made perfect sense to me that girls came from girls and boys came from boys. Everyone got here via belly button. No one corrected me. I'm not sure when or how I learned how babies get here, but I'm proud to say that now I know :)

I am watching my 9 year old brother 2 days a week this summer. He doesn't know how I feed Beatrice. When I nurse her, he wants to know where the bottle is. I always nurse under a cover and rarely in front of anyone but JD. I have begged my mom to just tell him how I feed her. Chances are, he will just laugh and think it is hilarious. But at least he would know. 

Today I had to nurse her in the exam room at the doctor's office. Cole was in the room playing games on my phone. When he realized that I was feeding her, he asked once again where the bottle was and why I had to feed her covered up. I don't lie so this always puts me in an awkward position. I told him that she can feed herself (answer to where the bottle was) and she gets distracted (answer to why she was under the cover). Both truthful answers, but not quite the full story.

I am all for preserving the innocence of children, but my 3 year old niece knows how I feed the baby. My sister in law nursed my nephew. I'm not saying tell him about the birds and the bees yet, but the poor guy can't figure out where the bottle is and we are running out of truthful explanations. Somebody needs to tell him already.

I asked JD if he wondered where babies came from or about breast feeding when he was a kid and he said no. "Boys don't think about stuff like that, Aly." Oh. Was I the only little girl trying to figure this stuff out? Maybe Cole is better off not knowing all of the details. Maybe he doesn't really care where the bottle is and maybe I'm the only one feeling weird about it. I do know one thing for sure: I will not be telling him anything more than I already have. I'll leave the details for my mom. And if I know her like I do, Cole will never find that bottle.

Vintage Aly for your viewing pleasure

Nurse Shark

I am a planner. I love to research and make a plan well in advance for most things that I do. When we were engaged, I read over 20 books on marriage (no joke). Plus, I enrolled us in numerous premarital counseling sessions and Bible studies at our church. During my pregnancy, I was reading 4 pregnancy books at the same time in addition to the multiple websites I consulted on a regular basis. We hit up 3 parenting classes at the hospital and at church. I like to know what I'm getting myself into and have a plan of action (or many options to a plan, hence getting so much information from many different sources).

So why I never read a book on breast feeding or sought out any information on the subject baffles me. I thought it would be pretty cut and dry. Offer baby a boob and baby would eat from said boob. Sounded easy enough to me.

Nursing my baby was the thing I could not wait to do while I was pregnant. I wanted to experience nursing more than anything. Please tell me I'm not the only one who "breast fed" my baby dolls when I was a little girl. When she arrived, I asked JD to get everyone out of the room so I could nurse. I let my mom watch the entire birth but letting her watch me nurse seemed too personal. Beatrice latched on right away and nursed like a pro. The nurses told me to feed her every 2 hours. I took this to mean every 2 hours, no later or sooner. We went home and my breast feeding journey began.

I heeded the nurses' advice and fed her every 2 hours. Never later, never sooner. This is why I should have read a book; newborns can feed several times in an hour. It's how you build your milk supply. It never occurred to me to feed her more than what I was told. The more alert she got, the more aggressive she became with nursing. And there's a good chance she might have been starving........mothering doesn't always come naturally to me.

I was told that nursing my baby would be the most beautiful bonding experience of my life. She would sweetly nuzzle into me and stroke my face while staring into my eyes. Um, that would have been really nice. My child came at me like a shark in a feeding frenzy.

 

I call her my little nurse shark. She would attack me, grabbing and pinching anywhere that her little hands could grab and diving face first with her head going side to side on my boob, all the while her legs were kicking up a storm. This frightened me, to say the least. This wasn't what my mommy friends described their nursing experiences to be like.

I had to have JD "assist" me with the crazy attack latch on. I've never really told anyone in detail this before. I am partly ashamed that I couldn't handle my newborn on my own and a wee bit scared of the reaction others would give. JD would have to restrain Beatrice's hands and direct her head toward the target while I held her wiggly body still. Yes, you read that correctly. It took 2 grown adults to breast feed a 9 pound infant. Every time. If Beatrice ate, it took JD and me to position her.

I was afraid of my little shark. I never knew a baby had such strength and gumption. No one told me nursing would be like this. She continued to shark attack me during all feedings. We shortened it and now just say she's sharking me. I was so embarrassed that my husband had to help me feed her. I was afraid that he thought I was a big fat failure. This was supposed to come naturally. I was suppose to be able to handle a baby. I considered swaddling her for all feedings but that seemed a little extreme.

In addition to the shark attacks, she nursed for an hour each session. And with her eating every 2 hours, ALL I DID WAS NURSE. Needless to say, I hated nursing the first 2 months. I never told anyone because I didn't want anyone to think I was a failure. Seriously, what is up with mommy guilt? I have felt guilt over the dumbest things since having Beatrice. All I can think of is Romans 8:1: "There is no condemnation for those in Christ Jesus." I'm convinced mommy guilt is not from God. I wanted to quit nursing but hung on because everyone said that it gets easier after the first few months.

I remember the day Beatrice ate a full feeding in under 15 minutes. It was more nerve racking than anything because I didn't think she got enough and we had to be somewhere. And this mama loathes nursing in public. But she kept eating for less and less time each session. Now we're at about 5 - 7 minutes. It has made nursing so much easier. Instead of feeling like all I do is nurse, I feel like there is so much more to our days together.

Now nursing is effortless and easy. Beatrice and I are both so good at it, we can do it in the dark without hands (or reinforcements). I rarely get sharked anymore. Sometimes she gets aggressive in the mornings, but it's rare. I still hate nursing in public, but for the most part it is going great and I'm glad I stuck with it. I am more than halfway to my goal of going for a year. That feels pretty good.

I always tell my friends who don't have children that nursing is hard work. I don't want anyone to have false illusions of what it can be like. I want to keep it real. And for all of those mamas that have nursed a baby no matter how long, major kudos. It is really hard not to have your body to yourself for any amount of time. I often joke with JD that I cannot wait to have my body belong to me again. For 9 months I shared it with Beatrice, and now for the duration of our time nursing I continue to share it with her.

Nursing is one of the most rewarding experiences, just like I suspected it would be. But I was not prepared for how difficult it is in the beginning and how much of a sacrifice it is. Part of me cannot wait to be done. But when Beatrice rubs my face or blows bubbles while nursing, I know I will miss these times when they're gone. So I am going to enjoy the last few months nursing my little shark. And I know that if she gets crazy, JD's got my back.

It totally looks like JD is nursing her in this photo, hehe.