The Breastfeeding Story

Before Styx was born I was not in love with the idea of breastfeeding. I have no problem with other people doing it. I don’t even care if they don’t cover up. I just can’t bear the thought of doing it myself, even in my own home, in private. I don’t know why I have this issue, but I think I probably would’ve gotten over it if it had worked out with Styx.
About three months before I had my baby I bought an Avent manual pump. It had bottles, nipples, a sterilizer, a bottle brush, everything I could possibly need. I had also picked out which electric pump I was going to buy if I still found breastfeeding gross after the baby was born. My backup plan was to pump and feed it to her in a bottle.

The day Styx was born she did not eat. She was not interested. It was too much work. She wouldn’t latch on very well because she was sleepy, and after two sucks she gave up. Breastfeeding is hard work for a baby, apparently. Or maybe she was unusually lazy, but she would not try hard enough to get anything out.

My lactation consultant at the hospital was horrible. She billed the insurance for three consultations. The first time she determined that the baby was going to work for it when she got hungry enough and instructed me to pump every three hours. She brought me a pump. The second time she came in and said “oh she’s asleep, I’ll come back later” (ummm.. she was awake for like, an hour that first day- good luck finding a day old baby awake), the third time she came in and said “my shift is over now, but your regular nurse can help you try to figure it out”.

My nurse was great, any and all progress made was 100% due to her hard work. She brought me a nipple shield, and Styx happened to be a bit hungry and latched on. She sucked twice and nothing happened, so we started putting tiny bits of sugar water in her mouth so she’d get some quick rewards for her efforts. It worked. She sucked some more. She did get something out of my breast. It was pretty exciting, and I wasn’t grossed out at all. I talked to my sister in law who was there about how not repulsive it was and that I was almost excited about the possibility of breastfeeding.

It didn’t work again.

There were tubes of formula, and a curvy syringe, and putting a tiny tube through the nipple shield to fill up the nipple part, so she’d get the idea that sucking results in food. Well.. she just sucked until the formula in the shield ran out, then stopped until we filled it up again. The nurse wanted me to keep trying, she was more vested in my breastfeeding than I was. We kept trying, every two hours. They told me by the time I was done with one tube (2 oz) of formula, she’ll get it and I’d be home free.

It didn’t work.

We came home, I started using my pump as planned, she started drinking expressed milk. I stopped trying the tube thing, it was impossible to do with two hands (I’d always had four before) and David had a horrible flu at the time, so he was staying away from Styx. My mom wasn’t here yet. I pumped every two hours for six weeks. Then I pumped every three hours until she was two months old. Then I pumped only as much as she’d just drunk, and my milk started to go away. You have to overstimulate when you’re exclusively pumping, otherwise you just doesn’t make as much.

By this point I was so tired of this plan. Styx was picky about the taste of it, I couldn’t drink milk, eat broccoli, nuts, etc. Sometimes she liked it, sometimes she didn’t. I was tied to my pump, I couldn’t venture too far from it because I had to be back in after two/three hours.

I finally called another lactation consultant and asked if it was possible to teach a two month old to breastfeed. One that had never done it successfully before. She was optimistic, so we tried. I built my supply back up again (which wasn’t hard to do, but it was hard to find the time. Styx has never been content to do nothing when she’s awake) and we started trying with a nipple shield. At this point, Styx didn’t even get the concept that a breast was something to suck on, she just looked at me with big eyes wondering what that was. Through all of this, I knew I have to find a solution soon because I was about to fail my tax class and I was stressed out of my mind.

We tried at home some more. We did it in small increments, so she wouldn’t think of it as a chore. We did it for a little bit at a time, and when she made progress we got really excited. Before she got tired of it, we’d give her a bottle. She still had the instant gratification problem, but she was doing well. She had the latch right, she sucked, she didn’t seem to hate it.

It worked! The second or third day she latched on and she got some milk for a bit. It was maybe 45 seconds, while David was at work. I called him and excitedly announced that it was working! Hooray for us!

It never worked again.

We kept trying for about a week. Then I just pumped a bit more and finally canned the whole project. I had so much extra milk from when I was over producing that I still have quite a lot in my freezer. I now haven’t pumped for three weeks, and she gets alternating bottles of Similac and breastmilk. She seems to like the formula better, the little rotter. She makes faces when I offer her breastmilk, probably because it tastes different.

I gave away my electric pump to my dear visiting teaching companion today. And I’m happy about it. I have a formula-fed baby and it seems that she was determined to be so from the beginning.

Next up: The Finding the Right Formula saga.

My Hero (sigh…)!!

My mother in law decided about a year ago that she was going to put in a shed in the backyard to store some extra stuff that no longer fits in the house. These are mostly papers and things she hasn’t gone through from her mother’s house. She died about two years ago and there was a lot of stuff, so it’s quite the project. That was a year ago.

She finally convinced my father in law to do it and Dave went to work on it a couple of weeks ago. Of course, putting in a shed is a lot more work than just buying one at Home Depot, apparently. I didn’t know this, but you have to relocate sandboxes, move sprinkler pipes/heads, pour a concrete base (and while you’re at it, why not make a little patio, says Mother in Law? Ok… here we go..)

This project has been going on for a couple of weeks. Yesterday David took me outside to show me his progress and he complained about how “the peach tree looks sad”. I wondered why, and then he pointed out that he was instructed to remove the tree from the yard to make room for the shed or patio, or something equally unimportant.

Yes, you heard that right. My husband. MY. HUSBAND. KILLED. A. TREE.

I will not stand for this. It is my duty to speak up for those that cannot speak for themselves, like trees, small animals, and occasionally animal-shaped pinatas. (Interesting story, are you interested? I will relate it.) I declared that we would not just let the peach tree die and even though it was already out of the ground, we would replant it and try our best to keep it alive. David looked at me with that look on his face… the one he gets when he thinks I’m being unreasonable, but he knows that I will not change my mind.

He told me he’d fought for the tree. He said he’d told his dad it was murder (way to go Dave!) and that we should relocate it. But there really are lots of tress in the yard already and we didn’t have room. I thought we should plant it in the backyard of a house that’s been for sale for about two years. It’d make the house prettier and the owners wouldn’t notice for months… we could take care of it ourselves since it’s two houses away. It was depressing and the tree did not want to live there. After that we took a giant garbage can from my sister in law’s house (with permission) and were going to put the tree in there until next year, when we would hopefully have a better home for it. It was a terrible option, but David had already asked the neighbors that were home if they would take it. (See? He’s a good guy.)

We have some neighbors who are pretty great. We saw them drive up and I instantly knew they would take the tree. We ran to their house and asked them, and they did! They took the tree in that very instant. When I told them that my husband had murdered a peach tree they were appalled. Let’s call them JS and LS. JS and Dave dug a hole and had the tree in there within about 15 minutes of accepting it. The little tree was out of the ground for a while, but it just seemed like it wanted to live. It doesn’t have very good chances, but we had to try. LS gave me full visitation rights and said I didn’t even have to wait until they were home to visit. She’s a pretty awesome neighbor.

And the hero of the title is my husband, because even though he murdered a tree, he did help make it right in a very speedy manner. And he didn’t call me crazy.

Now That I Am Free…

… I have a lot to do.

My class, my incredibly difficult and tormenting tax class.. is over. RIP. I don’t know how well I did, but I’m so happy it’s over. The last few days have been terrible, not because I don’t like the material (although taxes is my least favorite part of the my major) but because it’s difficult, and Styx has been babysat a lot.

My mother in law had her for about two hours every day for about two weeks. My sister in law had her for three hours yesterday. And all last week David worked part time so he could come home and take care of her usually not in the house.

The problem is that if she’s in the house I can hear her. I can hear everything going on, and I want to just go and do whatever she’s asking for. Or I can tell that she’s about to throw a tantrum but other people can’t. (Her “I’m about to scream” squeak sounds a lot like her “I’m happy” squeak–> yes, she squeaks, it’s adorable). When she’s not in the house I miss her. Is that abnormal? It seems like it is, at least around here.

Anyway, so now that I’m free I have to do lots of things.

1- wash my kitchen floor
2- clean the bathroom (I don’t have to tell you how long it’s been. You can’t make me.)
3- get a haircut
4- use that spa package that Dave got me for my birthday in November.
5- get Styx a passport
6- send my brother the package that’s been waiting for three weeks.
7- call the airline and apply my $1,000 credit from last year to this year’s Ireland trip.
8- go visiting teaching
9- prepare my primary lesson *I’m a substitute yay!*
10- schedule a checkup for my camry.

Numbers 1 and 2 are of course going to get done first, although I should probably worry more about numbers 9 and 10. Oh well.

Diaper Dude

A couple of days ago David went to the grocery story with Styx because I was busy doing homework. They just had to leave the house, so I sent them to get a giant bag of shredded cheese from Costco. That got rid of them for two hours, by the way. I have no idea what they did, but they came home with only a bag of cheese, so I’m not gonna ask.

Anyway, he refused to take my diaper bag. Even though my diaper bag is just a black purse, he did not want to carry it around because he was afraid of looking like a girl. I explained that it’s socially acceptable for a man with a baby to carry a purse. Everyone knows what’s inside, it’s OK. He decided he would instead fill his pockets with everything he needed.

He put a diaper and wipes in his back pocket, a ziplock bag with two scoops of formula in his other back pocket, a bottle with 4 oz of water in his right pocket and a binky in his left pocket. Off he went with the baby.

When he came back it was a huge mess. The diaper was all squished from him sitting on it while driving. The formula was… gooey.. and almost dough-like. He didn’t put the cap on the bottle right, so it leaked all over his pants and you can imagine what it looked like. It was terrifying. I asked him if going around like that was more acceptable than carrying a purse and he answered in the affirmative.

Now, just because he has no shame does not mean I don’t. So I bought him a diaper dude (I picked one like that except without the dragon on the pocket). I gave it to him today because I have more homework to do and I needed both of them (baby and dad) out of the house. I also got him formula container, with dividers for three pre-measured servings so he doesn’t have to mess around with scoops. I packed the bag for him with two diapers, wipes, a toy, a water bottle (for a drink and for formula-making), a bottle, etc.

He was so excited he let me take a picture of him. And when I told him that supposedly Brad Pitt has one (even though I can’t find a picture of him with it, after approximately 45 seconds of looking) he gave me his best Blue Steel look for the camera. And I’d upload that picture, but I really should be doing the homework I promised I would do.

The bag is pretty awesome. I want one for myself, but at $54 a pop, it’s probably OK for me to continue looking like a girl.

Parenting Styles

Before I had my baby I did not set out to do any kind of parenting. I did not read books on parenting, like I did pregnancy, because I just didn’t feel like I needed to. I didn’t know anything about being pregnant, but I knew just about everything about babies. I had extensive experience taking care of newborns (even twin newborns) so I wasn’t scared at all. I had decided that I would do what came naturally to me, what I’d seen work with other babies, and what I saw my mom do, even though I didn’t see much because I was still only 9 years old when my sister was born.

Not too long ago, I was reading up on parenting styles and I saw that what we do is apparently called “attachment parenting”. We do every single one of the things that identify it, except breastfeeding. The story about not breastfeeding is a long one, and incidentally one that I should document here, but let’s just say that Styx is not interested in breastfeeding.

Most people who identify with attachment parenting also do things like co sleeping (which we sometimes do), babywearing (almost always), natural birth (which I was planning on, but had an induction instead), homeschooling (no way in a million years, I am not qualified to teach anyone anything), anti-circumcision (I am completely against it, my husband is for it. Thank goodness we did not have a boy), organic foods (we do it better: food from our own garden), anti-vaccination (we’re pro-vaccinations), natural health (absolutely), etc.

The attachment parenting doctrine is based on following your child’s cues and responding to him/her in the way that works for you both. The thing is, I didn’t know there was another way. I am now going to have to read up on other parenting styles, to see the differences, but I don’t plan to change what I do. I like the idea of listening to the baby and letting her have a say in things. I like that after only three months she knows that when the light comes on in her bedroom, I’m coming to get her so she can stop crying. She only ever cries to tell me something, and then stops.

I am not saying that this is the key to a happy baby, but it’s working out for me, and I’m enjoying almost every minute of it. Sometimes I just want to run and hide, but I knew I would…

 

Love On, Sister

I love it when people talk about “loving on” babies/small kids. Of course it refers to giving them kisses and squishes and stuff like that, but I like it when people say it like that. It’s like, taking something as abstract as love and spilling it all over the baby, so there’s no doubt in his/her mind about it.

At our house we have three different kinds of “lovin’ on”. We call them mamaLove, daddyLove and babyLove.

mamaLove is the most requested one, closely followed by daddyLove. Whenever Styx wants to play, snuggle, or just feel nice and loved she gets one of these. Since Dave works all day and I just sit here doing homework while she sleeps, mamaLove is more frequent. babyLove is what I sometimes want. Sometimes, when we’re playing with rings, or practicing grasping/rolling over, a mommy wants some hugs. babyLove is essentially the same as mamaLove, but initiated by me.

I’ve seen David requesting babyLove, too, but only once. I’m sure it happens when I’m not looking. I am a total sucker for babyLove, it’s great stuff. I’ve expanded to include my nephew DK in babyLove and even though I’m sure he was shocked the first time, I happen to know he thoroughly enjoyed it the last time I had him.

On a somewhat related note, the title of this post reminds me of those bears on PBS… Berenstain Bears. The ones that call each other Mama, Papa, Sister & Brother, and the townspeople call them that, too, like they’re their given names. You’re telling me that when Papa was born his parents actually named him that? Can you picture that? “Oh, we were planning to name him Stewart, but he totally looks like a Papa” (?!)  What if he never had children? And when Brother was born, they named him Brother?!? What if they didn’t have another cub? Or if the next cub was also a boy? Were they going to call both of them Brother? Were they going to amend their names to Older Brother and Little Brother? That’s just poor planning.

Also, is this show even on any more, or is it an old rant from someone who doesn’t babysit many TV watching age kids any more?

Exception No. 2

I usually do not post pictures of myself, and especially my baby. However, she’s so stinking cute that I’m making a second exception. The first one, here, was a picture taken in the hospital when she was just a few hours old. She was adorable then, and she’s more adorable now, if that’s possible.

Without further ado, here is my beautiful little Styx:

A Beautiful Schedule

Camila’s baby has a schedule!! YAY!!

This was totally self-imposed, too. I did not nothing about it. She decided to do this, and once I figured it out, I encouraged it.

Starting in the morning, this is what we do:

8ish- still drowsy, hungry but wants to sleep more. 2 oz milk*

10:30 AM- I wake her up, change her diaper and give her 5 oz of milk. *

12ish- takes an impromptu 20 min. nap.

1pm- I change her diaper, wrap her in blanket and rock her to sleep. she’s usually asleep by 1:15pm

—– THIS IS A GLORIOUS THREE HOUR NAP THAT MAKES IT POSSIBLE FOR MOMMY TO DO HOMEWORK——-

4:15pm- I wake her up, change her diaper and give her 4 oz of milk. *

From here on, she does a variety of things. She’s awake for a long time, but sneaks in a few 20-30 min. naps. Around 9-10 she gets a bath and we start trying to get her to sleep for the night. We give her a 6 oz bottle * , but sometimes she drinks more or less. This bottle is nice and warm (as opposed to the rest of them, which are about room-temperatureish. She’s not picky.) She doesn’t ever fall asleep for good until about midnight or later, but we’re working on this. I’m sure it’s because she doesn’t actually wake up until 10 am and because she takes late naps. I don’t care, I’m not going to stop her from napping as much as she needs to. She’s a delightful baby when she gets enough sleep, and somewhat of a demon when she does not.

Every Sunday this schedule gets screwed up because we go to church at 9 am, so she has to wake up earlier, but we get back on track by Tuesday. I’m hoping that when I’m done with my class I’ll be able to change her bedtime from midnight to at least 10 pm and I’ll get her up for the day at 8ish, with the rest of the family. I love her three hour afternoon nap, especially for the summer, since she hates the Utah heat. (And it’s only June- she’s gonna hate July-August!)

She’s pretty delightful with this arrangement, because she gets all the sleep she needs. I read somewhere that she needs at least 16 hours, and once I started making sure she got it, she was a lot less irritable. She still has opinions, as she should.

* These amounts are offered to her, if she wants more she gets more, if she doesn’t want it all, we don’t force it on her. Also, sometimes she asks for a drink at other times especially if it’s hot and we’ve been out. She gets thirsty, I’m guessing.

The Seventh Day

I love Sundays, they are such a nice refuge from the rest of the week when I’m stressed. I like going to church (even though it’s a struggle to get out the door before 9 am, and not because of the baby, I have always hated mornings) and I like coming home and not have anything stressful or undesirable to do.

On Sundays, we stay home most of the time. Sometimes we go places, if we have someone to visit, or a great need for a walk around the neighborhood. But most of the time we just play, write emails to my far-away relatives and chat with Dave’s parents/family nearby. Today I have managed to not obsess over my class too much, even though I am still freaking out about it –> this is a great accomplishment.

Styx is fighting hard to sit up, I kid you not, imaginary audience. She’s 2.5 months old. 10 weeks. She can hold her head up, she can sit in her Bumbo seat and right now, while lounging on her Boppy pillow (we do have lots of accessories, don’t we) she is actually doing crunches trying to sit up. She makes frustrated noises until Dave or I sit her up. I think unless she slows down with the physical development she’ll be crawling in a couple of months. I’m so not ready for crawling. The house is very much not baby proofed yet, I expected to have a long while.

I can’t spend much time writing, Miss Baby wants to sit up again.

 

Tax Trouble

Yes, I have filed my income taxes in a timely fashion, and I do not owe the IRS any money (thank goodness) but I am up to my ears in tax problems.

I am taking a tax class (required for my long-awaited B.S. of Accounting) and it is so. stinking. hard. And I have just a few weeks to get it all done. I have until June 18th. And did I mention that I just started this week because the bookstore was out of books so I had to order it online? And did I mention that I have a very small baby who makes great demands on my time? And that my husband’s company is going through a particularly busy time as they sell a lot of their assets so he comes home late everyday and works Saturdays? And that we’ve had random relatives showing up to visit and there are some more coming next week??!?!?

Wow. I’m tired. I’m tired out of my mind, and I shouldn’t even be writing this because I need to get back to my homework.

Thank goodness Styx has started sleeping through the night (as long as she sleeps with me, which I’m fine with at this point in time) and taking a nice three hour nap during the day. Also, her eating is starting to be less frequent and there are a lot of news about her development, but they’ll have to wait until June 19.