My Old Foe, the Pump

I've been nursing my baby for over five months now. This is a big deal for me considering we almost didn't make it five days.

It comes as a relief that pretty soon he's going to be eating solids regularly. We have started him on a few foods occasionally, and most recently a little oatmeal almost every day. I still nurse him before any foods so he can get the "good stuff" first. But in a few short weeks, these foods will give him additional vitamins and nutrients in addition to my milk. I feel like I'm off the hook a little.

You see, the amount of breast milk I've pumped has always been a "thing". It's a source of constant anxiety for me, made even worse because our daycare provider kept asking for more. I was afraid of getting to a point where I couldn't pump enough to keep up with him. And what's the worse that could happen -- formula makes up the amount I can't provide? That's not a big deal (to a normal, non-crazy person).

I talked before about where I pump at work. I had several people comment that it was so unfair I had to pump in a closet while sitting on the floor. I completely disagree. Knowing the state of breast feeding, I'm extremely lucky to have an out of the way place that's not a bathroom. It was my choice to sit on the floor because in all honesty, the room was kind of cramped and it was sort of awkward to have a chair and not have a table where I could set my pump.

The other day, our secretary cleaned out the closet and when I went in later, she'd rolled in a chair, a table and a radio for me. She made a new "Do Not Disturb" sign for the door and put all my magazines in a cute wicker basket. It really moved me that she took the time to do it, knowing how much breast feeding means to me.

My new digs.

Here's where I spill my deep, dark secret, a secret I'm sure I share with any mother who either works or is exclusively pumping: I hate my pump.

I mean, I sort of dig it. It's the Caddy of pumps. I was excited when I got it because I thought, "hooray! No more worries about milk!"

Until his bottles started increasing. Until I realized it's pretty difficult to pump at work every 3 hours. Until I saw that piddly 3 oz bottle after 15 minutes of pumping and that little voice in my head said, "You can't keep up."

I'm getting resentful of that pump. I hate that I have to be connected to it so much. I hate all the cords to plug in, the parts I have to wash. I hate that after my baby goes to bed, I have to drag out that beast and pump instead of doing things I enjoy doing. I hate having to carry it in every day, or remembering to stick the cord in the bag, or making sure the bottle cooler has frozen.

On the other hand, when I make the bottles at night with milk I've pumped, I feel very proud of myself for keeping it up.

I'm not planning on giving it up. My goal is one year and then I'll probably have to since I think I'm only legally entitled to all those breaks for one year. I'm OK with that, too. The pump is a necessary evil in my life, and I'll keep doing battle with my old foe until he's weaned.

It's a labor of love, but I won't be sad to see that pump go back into the closet.

What's your labor of love? What do you resent, but love at the same time?

Oh, hey, by the way, I did a review of a nursing cover called Baby Bond over at my friend Laurie's blog (Steals & Deals for Kids). She's giving away a cover! check it out!

Operation Sleep Like a Baby

Dear Baby Blogworthy,
This past few months has been fun, hasn't it? We've done so many fun things together as a family. We've visited Downtown Disney, got strawberry-fied at the Strawberry Festival, smelled the stinky animals at the zoo, walked around Gainesville for babies.

You know what else has been fun? The five-month sleepover we've been having! It's great! Remember that time you would only sleep for 1 hour at a time? How about the month you slept in your carseat because you wouldn't sit anywhere else? Oh, we've had a blast, especially around five AM. Let's see....you've been in your swaddle blanket for about four of these five months, and I re-swaddle you about three times every night, so that means I've tightened up your sleep sack 360 times! Wow, it only feels like 250!

All good things must come to an end. It's better you start learning that now before you have too many disappointments in life. That's why it's time for you to mosey along to your own room.

Listen, Baby Blogworthy, we basically spent the better part of six months getting that room ready for you. It has everything a baby could need: darkness; white noise; a small nightlight; a soft, cozy crib. A FAN. You know, Mommy never had a fan growing up. Just color yourself spoiled.

Basically, Mommy wants her room back. She wants to get ready for bed without tiptoeing around your basinette. She wants to read in bed with the light on. She wants to watch a few minutes of TV before she hits the hay. She wants to be able to say goodnight to Daddy without having to SHHH him for being too loud. She wants to sleep at night without hearing you thrash around, trying to stick your toes in your mouth in your sleep.

No, no, no. Just stop it right now with the big, sad eyes. It's for your own good. I'm sure you'll sleep much better without Daddy snoring three feet away from you.

On second thought, maybe I'll move to your room, too.

I also think it's time for you to think about maybe possibly considering a move outside your swaddle blanket. What do you say? I mean, as much as I'd enjoy another 100 re-swaddles, I just have this gut feeling that you'd really enjoy sprawling out and rolling around. I mean, really, you're missing 10 or more hours of putting your feet in your mouth. Those toes won't suck themselves.

And say! While we're on the subject, hows about reverting back to the way you slept about three weeks ago? You know, all, go to bed at 8:30, wake up at 5 to nurse, go back to sleep until I wake you up for the day. Those were good times! Why do you want to get up every three hours and scream at me? Is it because I'm so beautiful? I bet it is. Don't worry, Mommy will be beautiful in the morning, too. In fact, I'm going out a limb here, but I might even be MORE beautiful when it's not 1 am!

So your take aways are: sleep in your own crib, without a swaddle, for several hours un-interrupted. Operation Sleep Like a Baby is commencing. Ready? GO!

Love,

Mommy

So this is where y'all come in. I need to wean him off his swaddle and help him soothe himself to sleep when he wakes up. I've tried soothing him without picking him up to try and "coach" him to put himself back to sleep, but he just gets hysterical and makes it worse. I'm worried the longer this goes on, the harder it will be to break the habit. And I feel like maybe he's playing me a tiny bit.

Please no judgys here, just want to know WWTID (what would the internet do)?

3.) What is going on in the bedroom? Describe a memorable sleeper.

The Fat Lip

When Baby Blogworthy was born, I called him my little sleep terrorist. As much as I'd anticipated life with a baby, as many books as I'd read and A Baby Storys I watched, I was pretty unprepared for the reality of having a newborn.

Sometimes it seemed like it was me against Them. And Them included pretty much everyone in my house.

Not in a cruel way, you understand.  The baby was so unpredictable, the hours so wonky, my time asleep so few and far between, it was hard to find a balance and to work together as a team. Between the baby's crying, my husband's work schedule and basketball practices/games, I was close to losing it many a time. I felt like everybody else got him when he was sleeping peacefully and I got to tend to him when he was screaming his head off or wide awake at 3 am.

After awhile, when life slowed down, my Hub and I started working together. Then it was us against him.

Us against blowout diapers.

Us against a baby who refused to sleep in his bassinet.

Us against the huge mountain of baby laundry that seems to accumulate magically.

It got even better after I went back to work. One time I came home and Hub had done 4 loads of laundry (included baby laundry) and put it all away. And the baby was happy and sleeping and snuggly when I got in. HUSBAND FTW.

Every once and awhile we have some team building exercises that include laughing at our baby. I'm talking about stuff like, giggling when Baby Blogworthy farts or making him dance to I Like Big Butts.

We also like to laugh at Fat Lip.

Fat Lip is the look babies give you when they have been surprised and are displeased by said surprise. Here is a typical chain of events the lead to a Fat Lip:

• Baby is happy and smiling
• Something scares baby (Hubby making a weird face, for instance)
• Bottom lip starts to curl out slowly
• Eyes squeeze together
• Scream blows out of those little lungs
• Tears may form

It feels like slow motion as you watch the whole thing unfurl. Hubby describes Fat Lip as the following:


"The Fat Lip Cry: There is no do-over. You can't take it back, the damage is already done. Once you get the fat lip, you can't turn it back into a smile. You can't reverse it. What I'm saying is that you're basically a goner because all H breaks loose."

And while it should make us really sad for him, which is his ultimate goal I'm sure, it really just makes us laugh hysterically. I mean, we still say "It's OK sweetie, Daddy is being silly", we just laugh, too. It makes us feel like we're winning the war against baby-ness, even though we're actually losing this particular battle.

Watch out for Fat Lip. It will sneak up on you when you least expect it!