Qualifying Done

It's been almost a year since I published anything here. In the meantime, I've gone through two (2!) acquisitions, seen friends through several weddings, mourned the loss of a family member, traveled to France, and camped in the mountains. Margie started school, and Will and I both started new jobs. Lots of change. It's telling, I think, that my last blog post was a tentative declaration of the end of pumping - after a very busy year with no blogging, I've finally come back to this space to tentatively declare the end of nursing.

It's funny to feel like "done" needs a qualification. I'm constantly finding myself saying that "I think" we're done with nursing, though if I'm honest with myself, I don't intend to nurse Margie again. Which...wow. I've never typed that or said it out loud definitively. It stings a little. It brings tears to my eyes to think that she will never nurse again, but that's the likely truth.

I had always said that when she could ask for it in complete sentences, I would be ready to wean her. And if that hadn't happened yet, I'd revisit our nursing situation around her 2nd birthday (which, ahem, is in 2 days). Even though she's had sentences for a few months, she was still saying "leche mama" or "want milk" when she wanted to nurse...which...technically, not sentences. I told myself we had a little while longer. But a couple of weeks ago, she said "want milk" and I asked if she wanted me to get some milk in a cup. She looked me straight in the eye and said, in perfect deadpan, "want milk from mommy's nipple."

That about froze me in my tracks. No question about it; this girl knew how to ask for exactly what she wanted. Nothing like the phrase "milk from mommy's nipple" (which she then used several more times over a few days) to make you question just how free spirited (or something) you are -- I'm not sure what it was about that phrase specifically, but for me, that moment was the confirmation I needed that it was time for us to stop.

But I was scared. Nursing was so hard at first, and it had become such a special way for us to bond, something no one else could do for her. I've been afraid that if I choose to wean her, I'm giving up my one superpower or something. There was also the timing (a convenient cover for my emotional reasons not to wean). I knew that while we're not trying to get pregnant right now, I didn't want to nurse while pregnant, and I didn't want trying to get pregnant to be the reason I stop nursing. I didn't want to wean her before our vacations, or immediately before starting school -- but now that we're a few weeks into school and back from all our travels, the timing felt right. So I waited until it seemed like Margie was ready...which...when she's asking so directly, I felt she was. And I was, too (mostly). We have other ways to bond now, and I'm less worried about my baby not connecting with me (or whatever those complicated feelings belie).

I was really nervous about instigating it myself; I'd hoped she would just gradually lose interest. But she didn't -- not on on her own, anyway. Nursing first thing in the morning and right before bed was our routine, and I think we were both attached to it. Luckily, it only took a small change in our routine (literally, I asked her if she wanted a "story with mommy before stories with daddy" instead of "milk with mommy before stories with daddy" and she happily obliged), but we only had one hard meltdown with hysterical sobs for "milk from mommy's nipple", which happened in the middle of the night when I wouldn't have nursed her anyway (I held back tears while I told her we weren't going to have milk, but that I would rock her). I feel extremely lucky that she's taken to weaning so well. It's been pretty easy for us, as far as routines and navigating changes go. We still have lovely snuggles when we read before bed, and in the morning while "daddy's in da shower! washin' da hair! washin' da tummy! washin' da tushie hahahahahahahaha". She's still super mommy-obsessed, to the point where there are times when I hide in the other room (if she's happily playing and hasn't seen me yet) or plan things where she'll have daddy time without me. It's still great. She's a big kid, but she's still my baby.

It's been pretty rough on my hormones, as expected. It's been about a week since we last nursed, or maybe a little more. Strangely, I can't remember exactly when we last nursed. I think it was before work, on Monday or Tuesday of last week. I guess I'm kind of glad to not know. I didn't want a big dramatic "this is the last time!" nursing session. That would have been too hard for me. I probably would have sobbed through the whole thing and after. It's better this way, probably for both of us. But it's still a little weird. I guess I can have that breastmilk "pearl" necklace made now, as a way to mark the passage of time. I think I care less about it than I did, but I have the frozen milk and I've already paid for it, so I may as well.

Oh yeah, the hormones. The ups and downs have been intense the last few days. Which makes sense, since the body takes a few days to adjust to changes in the nursing routine. My chest sometimes feels tight and heavy, and I can't tell if that's milk trying to letdown and then not letting down, or if it's just hormones raging through my veins, just under the surface, ready to make me cry or dance at the drop of a hat. I notice that I get really, really sad whenever my supply changes (like previous times when Margie would drop a nursing session) - several days of tiny nothing comments sending me into an intense need for solitude and tears. It passes, and I assume this will pass as well. I've heard the end of nursing can wreak havoc on your system; as bad as postpartum depression and PMS and pregnancy mood swings all rolled into one. I'm steeling myself, a bit. Bracing myself for some low lows.

I'm looking forward to the hormones to settle down, and maybe I'll buy myself some new bras in a few weeks (months?) when my breasts return to whatever size they're going to be. And for now I'll just ride the waves as best I can. I don't know that I'll ever be jumping with glee, congratulating myself for being done with nursing (why is it that everyone's response to weaning news is "CONGRATULATIONS!!!" like that's the only/obvious way to feel about it?), but I guess I can be happy for the experience we had, and find ways to be not just comfortable, but glad to be moving on to the next parenting milestones.

Would love to hear other stories of weaning, and life post-nursing, from anyone who wants to share.

And here we are

It's been almost two weeks since my last post, when I was determining whether The End Of Pumping was upon me. I haven't pumped in two weeks. I'm done. I think I can safely bring the pump home from work, do a final sterilization of all the parts, and put it in storage until a potential future someday where I'll need it again.

So I'm not pumping anymore. My body seems to have adjusted. It feels sort of anticlimactic, to be honest, but I'm glad to have the time back in my day, and I don't feel as sad as I thought I would about the fact that I'm not producing milk for Margie while I'm at work.

She's nursing a bit less now, we're down to 3 times (morning, a usually-short session after work, and bedtime) as well as whatever happens overnight. Which...has been 1 or nothing lately. We've had an interesting week with sleep, so I'll just share.

• Sunday night (first night back home after a few nights away, where sleep was a little wonky): about 45 min of on and off crying (Will went in for one check)
• Monday night: about an hour of on and off crying, 1-2am (my going in for a check made it worse, Will going in made it better)
• Tuesday night: SHE SLEPT THROUGH THE NIGHT. 8:15pm-7:20am. Without waking up. If you're keeping track, that's three nights in a row with no nursing overnight.
• Wednesday night: One wakeup at 4am; I nursed her, though we probably could have done cry-it-out.
• Thursday night: Nursed at 2:30am, Will rocked her back down at 5:45 after what we think was a nightmare. The air quality is really bad right now because of huge fires, and our throats and noses are dry, so we're trying to be a little more responsive to resolving her upsets.

But sleep is about a million times better than it was. Bedtime is a breeze of delightful reading and cuddles. There will always be something that comes in to mess with sleep, be it smoky air or emerging teeth or a handful of new words. But I feel like the default has improved; the baseline has risen. Things are getting better. And even though most nights are still a little wakeful, I got 8 hours of sleep in a row for the first time in over a year and a half. 

First Day?

Here I am in Week 3 of Weaning From The Pump. And I think...I am not pumping today? Am I done now? Like, forever?

Last week, I pumped once a day, for 30 minutes. Monday and Tuesday, I was all full and tingly feeling by 1pm (aka pump o'clock). Wednesday and Friday (I'm home on Thursdays and don't pump) I didn't get tingly by 1pm, but I pumped at that time anyway. I got between 3-4oz in that 30min session all four days. Great. Enough for a bottle, and it looks like my body has adjusted to the new schedule (it takes 2-3 days for the milk production to adjust to a change in schedule), despite nursing more than usual overnight last week.

And now it's today. I was going to pump for 15 minutes Mon-Wed this week (we're traveling Thurs-Fri) and then consider myself done. Taper the end out slowly and gently. But things have been getting busy at work today, and I hadn't been getting the "full and tinglies" so I just haven't done it. But now it's 3pm, and I'm starting to feel the tingles...and yet I think I'm going to try to hold out another 2.5 hours and just nurse at home. I don't want to go through the hassle of setting up and tearing down the pump situation if I don't have to. It's time for Margie to learn to drink non-breastmilk anyway, so if I don't come home with a bottle she'll either have thawed milk from the freezer or soy milk tomorrow.

It's really strange to not pump. You spend so much time thinking and worrying and calculating how much time you're pumping and ounces you're producing -- for months, I've been obsessed with these numbers. And now, I'm just choosing not to pump. Because even though I know that I could go into the pumping room and crank out a 3-4oz bottle (hi, full breasts!), that's not the goal. My goal is not to pump enough for tomorrow's bottle. My goal is to not pump at all. For her to have a bottle or cup of soy milk and for my boobs to stop producing milk between the hours of 8:30am-5:30pm. I keep telling myself this, because it feels somehow wasteful to not bring home a bottle when I could - the milk is just sitting there, filling up, waiting to be emptied and I'm just letting it sit, teaching my body to stop making it.

Even on weekends, recently, it seems that Margie is less interested in nursing during those "business" hours. Maybe we're somehow telepathically syncing up. She's not super interested in nursing - there's too much to see and do - and my body is adapting. Timed well with the pumping-weaning, maybe it's a coincidence, or maybe it's Just Time.

I'm trying to ride the wave and let this happen as it happens and not get too emotional about it. But between the "is this the right thing? what should I do?" and the "my baaaaaby is a toddddler and she doesn't neeeed meeeee the same waaaaaay" feelings...there's a lot going on.

But today might be the first day I don't pump. So that's a thing.

1,367 Words About Pumping and Weaning

When I first started pumping, I had an oversupply of milk. For a long time, I was one of those people who had an abundance of milk; the joyful burden of leaking breasts and spraying milk all over the room. It was funny, but it was comforting, knowing I didn't have the supply struggles of so many new moms. It was a luxury I was grateful to have. Over time, as I was pumping more often than I was nursing during the day, I went from often pumping in excess to pumping "just enough" for the next day. In my three pumping sessions per day, I would pump the requisite 16, then 12, then 8 ounces - my body somehow knowing to adjust output based on what my baby needed. It felt something like magical, and I tried to trust my body to make what my baby needed. I felt lucky, and #blessed and all that. And my body has continued to keep up with Margie's needs, even though that means now I'm barely getting 3-4oz per day. "It's ok; that's all she needs," I tell myself, though it's hard to reconcile.

It's not a problem; it's a natural phase. My baby is almost one. Eating solid foods. Not requiring as much breastmilk in her diet. And my body knew this, though my heart didn't want to accept it. My baby is growing up. I would come home from work to find she hadn't finished her second bottle; she'd only consumed 6 ounces while I was away, and now I had to feed her from a bottle instead of from the breast to avoid wasting precious pumped milk. But even though this change was happening, and I could see in front of me what she was drinking, coming home from work with "only" 6 ounces of milk felt like a failure. And over the next few weeks, I started coming home with 5, or 4. Occasionally 7, for reasons I don't really understand, but blame on hormones. I'm grateful that my body has been able to give me this experience, even if I don't fully understand the "magic"-seeming parts of it.

And now that I'm producing just enough for one bottle, and she's old enough to have cow's or non-dairy milk in a bottle, I've decided to start weaning myself off of pumping. She will likely still nurse in the morning and before bed, and she is still waking to nurse at least once overnight, and often more than that. But during the day, she doesn't need the one 4 ounce bottle I've been pumping three times a day to bring home to her. It's time for me to give myself a break, and release myself from the routine of pumping.

I had an epiphany in therapy recently: one of the reasons I've kept up with pumping for so long is that it feels like something I am doing for my daughter, even though I'm away from her all day at work. The milk I bring home is a gift I've made for her each day. While I'm away for 9 hours, I'm still spending 90 minutes thinking of her, working for her, producing for her. It feels like a kindness, a motherliness, something that tugs at the most biologically basic need inside me to provide for her. And I didn't want to sever that connection.

A friend told me that when it's time to stop pumping, "you'll just know." But I couldn't decide when to start weaning off the pump, and I was losing my mind going around in circles about it - clearly I didn't "just know". So I just decided to keep on keeping on, three times a day, until I "knew" I was ready. And last week, I knew.

It's not that simple, of course. It's not easy to just stop cold turkey. I am a person who is apparently quite sensitive to changes in my hormone levels -- when Margie consolidated her afternoon bottle and post-work nursing session into one, I started having hot flashes and hormonal mood swings. I've heard that it's best to be gentle on your body if you can, dropping one pumping session per week until you're down to zero. I had planned on this week being the last of 3x/day, and dropping to 2x/day next week, and so on, but a delayed work meeting schedule meant that I had an accidental 2x/day on Monday, so I just took it as a sign to start now. I wasn't in the office Tuesday or Thursday, so this week hasn't been a full pumping week, but I figured I might as well rip off the emotional bandaid anyway.

It's weird to only pump twice a day. When I clean up after the second session, I have to remind myself to clean all the way up and not just stick things back in the fridge until next time. When I'm pumping for the second time, I have to accept that that's all I'm getting for the day - I won't squeeze another ounce or so out of a third session. I have to remember to get the bottles at the end of the day, since my final session isn't immediately followed by my leaving the office anymore. It's not a big deal, and I recognize the privilege of even being in this position, but it's still taking emotional and mental energy to sort out.

So today is Friday. My last day of pumping twice a day. Next week it'll just be one session, midday, assuming my breasts can handle that (I assume they can, since I very rarely even have full-feeling breasts, much less engorgement, anymore). I've barely taking home 3-4 oz per day so far, and I'm guessing that next week will be even less. And that's ok - that's kind of the point. When we run out of 4oz bottles in the fridge, we'll move on to the 3oz bottles. There are some 3oz bags in the freezer. We can supplement with cow's milk or soy milk, or nothing, says her pediatrician, as long as she's still eating dairy (and this girl loves cheese in all forms, so no problem there). After next week, when we run out of milk in the freezer, we'll be done with breastmilk in bottles.

I'm feeling an odd combination of relief and freedom and sadness. I don't even want to imagine how it will feel to be done with breastfeeding altogether, but I'm not ready for that yet, and thankfully, neither is Margie as far as I can tell. I'll be glad to be done with the "brain weasels" of counting ounces and timing how long bottles have been out or thawed or frozen or not. It will be nice not to have my work day broken up by my dates with the machine. I'll miss catching up on Netflix or just looking at baby pictures.

When I enter the pumping room (which is great; it's lovely; I designed it - I'm very lucky), I sigh at the effort of getting myself set up. Locking the door. Closing the blinds. Taking off my shirt. Putting on the strapless pumping bra. Attaching the pump parts. Etc etc etc. repeat in reverse at the end. I'm definitely ready to be done. But when the letdown starts, and I'm watching videos of my baby while watching little drops fall into the bottles, I think it's not that bad (thanks, oxytocin) and feel twinges of sadness about this part of my life ending. I've been doing it for almost 10 months now. That's a lot. It feels like a lot. And yet, I can't believe it's almost over.

But it's time. I suppose I'll report back when I'm officially done pumping. It feels like I should have some sort of ceremony or celebration on my last day, or at least tell my officemates that the pumping room is no longer being used. But I feel a little too melancholy and not quite celebratory enough for that. Guess I'll blame the hormones.


I'd love to hear your pumping and weaning stories below, if you want to share them!

The Glamorous Life of a (This) Working Mom

I don't know what happened last night. There's a lot running through my head this morning, and rather than send a flood of eleventyfive tweets, I figured I'd write a blog post. It's been a while, anyway.

Sometimes, I feel like I'm Having it All. I'm crushing it at work, my side hustle is churning along smoothly, the baby is sleeping in regular, 4-hour chunks throughout the night, and my jeans fit comfortably.

Most of the time, I look at Having it All Me, and I don't even believe that those things have ever happened independently, much less all at once. I feel barely coherent at work, I go days without responding to side hustle emails (much less working on projects), Margie's awake every hour needing to be nursed or held and rocked back to sleep, and my jeans are too tight. I think you can guess what kind of time it is today. I'm two cups of coffee and a green tea in, and it's only 2:30, and I don't know how I'm going to make it through the rest of the afternoon and evening.

This was *hilarious* to me at 8:45 this morning.

Sleep has eluded us for a few nights now, but the whole sleep training thing is sort of out the window because of The Trifecta: Teething (#4 is large and in charge and right under the gum), Developmental Changes (crawling and pulling herself to standing), and Probable Illness (Will and I both have sore throats). Last night was epically rough, returning to the world of The Thunderdome (aka having a newborn), where she would only sleep if being held. I think there may have been one stretch of 2-3 hours of sleep in a row, but honestly, I can't remember. I barely stumbled to work and stayed awake all day, and now it's almost 4:30 and I'm finally finishing this blog post while pumping.

I made it through the work day, and somehow I'll make it through tonight, because that's what has to happen, and that's how this works. But man. I have two more long work days ahead of me, and we're going camping this weekend, and I am praying to St. Swaddlesnooze that Margie starts sleeping again.

I'm always full of questions and research and trying to Figure Things Out -- trying to find a reason for the behavior change because understanding why might help us turn things around. But lately, I'm trying to lean into the chaos. To throw my arms in the air and just ride the wave, because what else can I do? Babies are gonna baby. And there might be different or better ways to do things, but all I can do is take it one day at a time and hope that I don't look back in years and think I was an idiot. Or even I do, I hope I can be kind to my sleep-deprived past self and realize that I was just doing my best to survive Thunderdome.

33

Last night, Margie gave me the sweetest birthday gift of all: nearly 7 hours of uninterrupted sleep. She's started occasionally dropping her midnight feeding, which means that she sleeps from around 8pm to 4:30am before needing to eat. Now, she was hungry (so hungry) when she woke up at 4:45, but eventually that will stretch longer and longer, I'm told, and she'll just wake up ravenous at her normal 7:30am wakeup time :)  I fully expect her to wake up at midnight to eat tonight, which is fine. I'm following her lead and (somehow) cherishing these little middle of the night moments we spend together. But if her lead means that she starts sleeping longer? Ok by me. And if we plateau here, and eventually I need to sleep more, and we have to train her not to eat overnight? We'll deal with that then. For now, it's manageable, and I'm hopeful that the fact that she's done this twice in the last week is a sign of change to come. Wow, it's easy to get sidetracked by baby sleep talk.

Anyway. I turned 33 today. And I'm feeling more like giving back than anything else. It's a real shit time for our country, and I realize how lucky I am to be relatively sheltered from the mess. It's a position of privilege, to be able to look at it, read about it, and go back to my little life where not much has changed. I am very, very lucky. Hashtag blessed.

Between Planned Parenthood, supporting refugee families, rides to support the environment, and friends dealing with unexpected medical expenses (how is it acceptable in this country that people have to crowdfund their cancer treatments?!), opportunities to help are definitely out there. And I'm trying to make a dent wherever I can. If you can, I urge you to as well. Disqus (where I work) gives the option for employee birthdays to have an edible/drinkable item to share with the office, or a donation to the cause of your choice. This year, I put my birthday funds towards Planned Parenthood.

It's just little things - I still have a family to look out for, and I'm not about to win any philanthropist of the year awards or anything...but it's nice to reflect on what I have and am able to provide for my family, and give something to people who aren't so lucky. Giving is a luxury I'm glad I have.

Give to yourself. Give to others. Do what you can. <3

One Year

One year ago today, my dad died. So did Prince, and my family quietly mourned our own loss amidst the swirling grief of the world. As did the families of all the other people who passed on April 21, 2016. Our grief is not special. Our grief is not unique. But it is our grief.

One year ago today, for the first time, we felt external movement from the baby growing inside me. I'm sure many other people felt their unborn children move, too. Our joy and excitement were not unique or special or different, but of course, to us...to me, it was. I wrote about it here.

This morning, I forgot to light the Yartzeit candle for my dad before I left the house. I was late for work, and in the rush to get extra baby snuggles and still get out the door, I left the candle sitting on top of the fridge. I knew I should have put it on the counter last night, where I'd be sure to see it this morning, but I didn't. My brain has a hard time remembering things, which I hear is perfectly normal. It's hard to not be hurt by my forgetfulness sometimes, though I remind myself that these things happen. That it's ok. That it's not really a big deal. And it is ok, and it's not significant in the grand scheme of the world, and my dad would not likely be offended by my slip. But still. We'll light it when I get home from work, and it'll burn for 24 hours, and we'll remember my dad, as we remember him always.

There are good days and hard days, and life with a baby certainly provides a number of distractions I hadn't even imagined. Some days I forget, and I reach for my phone to call my dad, but those days are fewer and farther between. I think I'm starting to learn.

Healing is a tough thing. Reconciling living your new life with remembering your old one. I've been doing a lot of that lately, with the grief over my dad and the challenges of motherhood. Eventually it's not your "new life" anymore, it's just your life. It just is.

I'm about the same age as Margie in this picture, and I still have that satin Paramount jacket my dad is wearing. It's a trip, as my dad would say, to think about the passage of time, and to think that I was once this small, and he was once this young, and here we are today. It just is. And we just are.

Bun Maternity

While I have recently taken most of my pre-pregnancy clothes out of storage, and thankfully, much of it still fits, there's still this ever-constant issue of what shirts to wear. I look at every shirt with my "can I nurse in this?" glasses on, which means some of my favorite shirts and dresses are just out of the picture for a while more. Make way for flowy tops that are easy to lift, or low-neck wraps that won't get stretched out when pulled to the side! Lots of cardigans and zip-up hoodies in my life for that easy-access front, for sure.

I recently became familiar with a company called Bun Maternity...and their super cute nursing hoodie. I'd seen it around the internet, in my Facebook feed, on the mommy blogs...and I wanted to try it for myself. When they offered to ship me one for review, I was super excited! And it did not disappoint.

I love how it comes low enough to cover my bum!

It's just fitted enough to be cute, not frumpy, and its front panels are a cute alternative to the standard front-flap nursing top. My husband didn't even realize it was a nursing shirt - he just thought it was a hip, artistic sweatshirt :)  It's warm but not too heavy, and the fabric is super soft.

The easy-access front is great for nursing in cooler weather (side note: this was taken in February - she already seems so small in this picture!). And while I don't care much about nursing modesty, if you are someone who does, I think you'll like the modesty it provides. 

I typically wear a size 12/14 in tops, and the XL fits me great, even after going through the wash (on cold) and dryer (on low) (that's how I wash everything). I also tried their Nursing Tank Top (the XL is a tad too big on me) and the Long Sleeve Cross Top Nursing Maxi Dress (looked kind of frumpy on me, but I think it would look awesome on someone who isn't so high-waisted), but this hoodie is by far the best thing of theirs I've tried. I'm considering buying one in another color, just to have two.

I'm embarrassed that it took me so long to write this post, but not embarrassed at how much I love this hoodie. Seriously.

Full disclosure: Bun Maternity sent me a few items for free to try and review, but did not ask for a specific type of review. My opinions are my own.

Sleep Training: One and a Half Weeks In

Well here we are, one week into the official world of Sleep Training.

Night 1
Night 2

The other nights have gone like so:
Night 3: Asleep within seconds. Fussed herself to sleep a couple times overnight. Fed only at 5:30am.
Night 4: Asleep after 4 minutes of crying. Fussed herself to sleep a couple times overnight. Fed at 1am and 5:30am.
Night 5: Asleep after 30 minutes of crying (it was awful). I have officially forgotten how many times she woke up overnight to eat. I think it was once.
Night 6: Asleep within seconds. Fussed herself to sleep a couple times I think. Fed at 12:30am and 6:15am.

The next few nights were similar - falling asleep easily and quickly with zero to minimal fuss. Last night (night 11 if you're keeping track), she was wide awake in her crib for at least 5 minutes, maybe longer, quietly looking around before falling asleep. She woke to eat around 1:30am, and then...woke up at 4am. It was too soon for her to be hungry, so we thought we'd try to do the intervals, but she just got louder and louder. Will thought something might be wrong, so we checked her physical needs -- diaper: dry, gas: not apparent; pain: possibly teething. She was pulling on her ear a lot, so we thought maybe it was teething pain. At around 4:30am, maybe 4:45, I honestly have no idea, we gave her some ibuprofen. Back to the intervals. By 5:30am, I was ready to give up. She'd been sleeping or quiet-like-sleeping for a maximum of 10 minutes, but usually only 2-3 minutes, for an hour and a half. I threw in the towel and nursed her to sleep. She slept until her usual 7:30am wakeup time. It was the first time we'd needed to do intervals in the middle-of-the-night/early-morning, and it did not go well. Oy. Hopefully that was just an April Fool's joke (she's still figuring out what a "joke" is, I suppose) and tonight will be better.

We've had slight variances to her bedtime routine over the last week or so, and are figuring out what works and what doesn't. I'm tempted to log this all in an app or a spreadsheet and really be able to analyze the data...or I could just roll with it. Which I think is the better thing for my sanity. Try to let go. Try to learn but not control the uncontrollable. I don't think I could handle more tracking anyway.

The biggest news for us is that we're doing no arms swaddled now - she's in a sleep sack, which we started with the swaddle "wings" around her chest. It was hot the other night, so we tried a sack without wings, and she's been doing fine in that. From now on, it'll just be in the zip up sleep sacks, or just pajamas if it's warm enough, I suppose. No more swaddled arms, no more hands-as-weapons.

Relatedly (I think), I'm struggling with my supply - I was always a "more than enough" person, and now I'm becoming a "just enough" person, at least where pumping is concerned. It's stressful to pump at work and not get enough for the next day. Stress decreases supply, so it's a vicious cycle. I'm trying to relax, to drink more water, eat more oatmeal...and I'm back to pumping three times a day at work (I had gone down to two and had been getting the same output). Margie seems to get plenty to eat straight from the tap, so I've thought it could be an issue with the pump, but it doesn't seem like anything is wrong with it. Might just need to re-train my body to pump.

We're trying to sleep train for naps now, which means she's somewhere between crying for half an hour before we give up the nap and sleeping for an hour in her crib (so far, just for Lorena). Usually if she nurses I can get her to nap for half an hour.

Baby sleep is vexing. I'm surrounded by people who are in the same boat, so it can sometimes feel like the only topic there is to talk about, at all. It's hard and it's exhausting walking the line between "do whatever it takes to get some sleep for everyone" and "try to make some progress to get her sleeping independently".

But that's where we are. We know she can do it. We know there will be setbacks. We know there will be more heartbreakingly painful cries. We know there will be more nights of uninterrupted sleep. But man, it's tough.

Sleep Training: Night 2

You may recall (since I just wrote about it yesterday) that we've started sleep training.

I was pretty nervous about Night 2, because I'd heard that the second night can sometimes be harder than the first, and also Will was going to be leaving right after bedtime to play in a hockey game. He'd be there for the initial put down (assuming it took <30 min like Night 1 had) and then gone for a few hours, and I was worried about being alone and her waking up crying. I wanted to take a shower, and I wanted to get some sleep, but mostly I wanted to not be alone to do the crying intervals. We'd tried this method for her evening nap and it failed miserably. We'd been told that if after 30 min it's not working, to end the nap and wait until the next time, so we stopped trying. She stopped crying and was her usual joyous self. But I was nervous about bedtime.

At about 8:15pm, after getting her all ready for bed, I nursed her - she fell asleep within 15 minutes like she usually does, but woke a bit when I stood up to put her in her crib (I was trying to wake her a little so I would put her down sleepy but not asleep). Good! This is what we want! She started crying as soon as I set her down, which was to be expected. I patted her, shushed her, kissed her goodnight and told her I loved her, and then I walked out to the sounds of her crying. I texted a friend that we were off to a loud start on night 2, and I whimpered to Will (who was in the bathroom getting ready to leave) that she was crying. I braced myself for a rough evening.

I went out into the living room to bury my head in my parent-friend chat groups...and, my friends, she cried for literally 2 minutes and fell asleep. I didn't believe it, and when Will left and was all "she's asleep! woo hoo! amazing baby!" I was skeptical. I believe I meekly shrugged and said, "maybe, we'll see." He left. And she stayed asleep. I had a glass of wine and some chocolate. I watched some Netflix. After over an hour, I was (mostly) convinced that she was out, and I took a shower (with the monitor in full view). I washed the pump parts. I was practically high off the 2+ hours of sleeping baby, and wasn't tired, so I watched some more Netflix. Around 11:30, Will was home and I finally got in bed.

At 11:40, I heard a little yelp from her room, and it made my heart stop for a second. Will was in the shower, and I just laid there, listening, not sure what to expect. She fussed quietly for 10 minutes but didn't cry, so I didn't go in her room (them's the rules). And then she was asleep again. At 4am, I heard some quiet fussing, but it lasted about 5 seconds - long enough for me to think, "Wow! It's 4am! She's probably hungry. Maybe I'll get up and feed her--oh wait she's asleep again." I thought about pumping, but decided to opt for more sleep. Same thing happened at 6am. And then she woke up for real at 7:30 (her normal wakeup time).

I did not enter her room between 8:30pm and 7:30am and she slept and slept and woke up happy and hungry (she ate for 10 min vs her usual 6). It's bittersweet. Last night was the first night of her entire life that I haven't fed her overnight. A part of me is sad about that, about her not needing me as much. I was just starting to like our little middle of the night nursing sessions (when they happened twice a night, anyway). I'm worried that my milk supply will drop if I'm not feeding her at night anymore. I missed her last night, and the 30 minutes we spent together nursing and playing while I got dressed before I left for work felt very short. But on the other hand, I didn't stumble out of bed and fall asleep in the glider while nursing at 2am. And tonight, maybe I'll even go to bed before midnight.

And of course, this could be a fluke. It's only been two days. By no means do I think we've wrapped this up. If this holds, it's been the luckiest, easiest sleep training ever. We may have a bad night tonight, or in a few nights. And surely we will in the future if she's sick or teething or going through some other development thing. She napped poorly (only two 30 min naps) the last two days, so maybe she was just extra tired. Maybe she'll nap well today and sleep less well (though I hear sleep begets sleep). But it's a good sign regardless, knowing she can do it. And knowing she can do it makes it easier to handle the crying. Not easy, of course, but easier.

This post was long, yes, I know. And maybe only interesting to me (and maybe not even to me). But I'm in "document it all" mode so that I don't forget. Here's a baby.

happy and awake and playing on our bed while I get dressed

Sleep Training: One Night In

We are one night in to sleep training (something had to change).

We spoke with the Kaiser Health Education sleep specialist, and she gave us some really great support. We talked about Margie's current patterns and our needs and wants. We talked about what I feel ready for and what I don't. We talked a lot. And we came up with a plan that incorporates it all.

Here's what we decided:

• We're not night weaning yet. I'm just not ready to give up nursing Margie to sleep (my baaaaaaby I want her to neeeeeeed me) (yes this feels selfish but it is what it is), and she is still getting a decent amount of calories overnight. I'm ok with two night feedings, and I know she can go 4 hours between night feedings (biologically, she could go all night). She will likely drop one of these night feedings on her own, and at that point, I'll support that and go with it. But I don't want to force the issue yet.
• We are doing a modified version of crying it out. It's an "intervals" approach. I think this is technically Ferber.
• Nurse her to sleep, but try to put her down drowsy and awake. Ideally, after I nurse her, I pass her along to Will so he can put her down. The goal here is for her to not be asleep in our arms - to get used to falling asleep in her crib, so that when she wakes up she isn't surprised not to be in our arms, and she knows she's safe to go back to sleep. This really resonated with me. It's a concept that makes sense.
• If she starts fussing, let her fuss.
• If fussing turns into crying, let her cry for 3 minutes. Then send Will in (as the non-lactating parent, so she doesn't think she's getting fed) to pat her, shush her, and reassure her. Stay in the room for no more than 20-30 seconds and then leave.
• If she keeps crying, let her cry for 5 minutes. Repeat Will going in.
• If she keeps crying, let her cry for 7 minutes. Repeat Will going in.
• If she keeps crying, let her cry for 10 minutes. Repeat Will going in.
• If she keeps crying, let her cry for 10 minutes. Repeat Will going in. Repeat indefinitely.
• Once she falls asleep, if she wakes up and it's been 4+ hours, I'll feed her. If it's been less than 4 hours, and she is fussing, let her fuss. If she starts crying, repeat the 3-5-7-10 intervals.

We started this last night around 8:30pm. By 8:45, we were putting her down, drowsy but awake. She went from fussing to crying in less than 5 minutes...and the crying was rough. She cried these loud screaming cries, guttural and heartbreaking. I cried. A lot. Big, unsuppressable sobs. Poor Will was dealing with a crying baby and a crying wife and I just couldn't stop myself. But he stayed strong, though I know it was hard for him too, and we kept an eye on the clock and stuck to the schedule.

After 3 minutes, she was still crying. He went in, did the shush, and left after 30 seconds. Still crying. After 5 more minutes, she was still crying. He went in, did the shush, and left again. Still crying. During the 7 minute stretch, she seemed to be calming down when Will went in, like she knew he was in there to reassure her. As soon as he left, she started crying really hard. That might have been the worst. But then...she didn't even make it to 10 minutes before falling asleep (I think it was around the 7-8 minute mark). She just...fell asleep. Around 9:15pm. We're talking a total of around 20 minutes of "crying it out." It was horrible. Some of the worst minutes of my life. But then it was over. And she slept.

Just before midnight, we heard her start to fuss, but didn't go into her room (it had been less than 4 hours since she'd eaten). She must have fallen asleep, because she didn't ramp up to crying, and we fell asleep (and I can't sleep while she's crying). At around 1am, she woke up and was fussing a bit. She hadn't eaten since 8:30, so I figured it was time. I fed her, she fell asleep, I put her down, and she slept until 3am. At 3, we heard her start to fuss, didn't go into her room (again, it had been less than 4 hours since she ate), and we all fell asleep. She woke up at 5am, and since it'd been 4 hours, I fed her. She fell asleep, I put her down, and she slept until 8am. She successfully put herself to sleep twice in the night - that's two times when ordinarily I would have gone in and nursed her back to sleep. 

So. More details than you maybe wanted, but I wanted to document this situation. I know it's a pattern of one. And there's no guarantee that tonight will be the same or better. But we're going to try it again, because it seems like she's ready. And knowing that she can do this, and be ok (better than just ok - she was great, her normal happy self today), will (I think) make it easier to do it a second night. We'll see. I might cry the whole time tonight too. If she fusses to crying in the middle of the night instead of self-soothing, I might feel broken again. There's no way to know until we're there.

But for now, I'm glad we started trying. And I'm hopeful for better sleep ahead.

PS my friend Lyz has an excellent new column at Jezebel and her latest piece is very timely.

Let's (Always) Talk About Sleep (LOLSOB)

I'm not coming from a good place as I sit down to write this. I'm not my best self, or even close. I sat down to start writing this over a week ago, when I was about two weeks into a really tough sleep pattern, and thought I might be losing my mind. Then I took a week of maternity leave. Then Margie had a couple of nights of good sleep. I thought I'd delete this draft, and not subject the internet to one more blog post about babies who don't sleep well. I'm not unique, and it's tired material. (har har har) If you're sick of hearing me pitifully weep into the void about baby sleep, please feel free to ignore this blog post.

But then the last three days, we're back to awful sleep. And I barely feel human. I feel like a walking, mumbling, zombie of a person, stumbling around trying to make my brain feel like more than a lump of nothing inside my head. And I have to get these feelings out there, not because I have some sort of unique perspective, but because I need to not just have this cycling in my head. And maybe seeing this will make someone else feel less alone. At the very least, it's not just in my head. Maybe I'll look back on this and laugh someday.

The topic of baby sleep is fraught with controversy. There are more methods of "sleep training" than I care to count, and I can't keep track anyway. The most popular discussions boil down to some version of letting them "cry it out" (aka let them cry themselves to sleep) vs. not (aka getting up and soothing/nursing every time baby wakes up). It's not black and white, but it can seem that way. And it can feel that way. And it's completely overwhelming and I have no idea if it would be less so if I were a fully functioning, not sleep deprived zombie of a person, but that's who I am and that's how it feels.

Up until the last few weeks, I wasn't anti-cry-it-out, but I wasn't in any hurry to do sleep training either. Part of me wasn't sure it would work, part of me didn't really think it was necessary because waking up 2-3x/night was pretty manageable. I didn't want to fix what didn't feel broken, you know? But now I feel like I'm in a different world. After over two weeks of mostly-not-sleeping, we're starting to discuss Sleep Training. We have an appointment with a health educator from our hospital on Wednesday to talk about options. I have a feeling the conversation will go something like, "here are some options, do what you feel comfortable with," which is only mildly helpful, I think. But maybe talking it out with a person will end up being helpful. Maybe we can make some sort of plan.

For context, right now (at ~6.5 months old), a good night of sleep looks like: bed at 8pm, feed at 11:30pm, 1:30am, feed at 4:30am, awake at 7:30am for the day. Eating every three hours or so. Most nights look more like: bed at 8pm, awake a few times between 8-9pm, awake at 11, 1, 3, 5, 7. Occasionally, awake at 11, 12, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7. It's been every 1-2 hours for the last few weeks (with the exception of a couple good days). Sometimes she wakes to eat, sometimes to fart, sometimes just to fuss. Right now, I'm getting up to try to soothe her back to sleep by whatever means necessary. She's rejecting Will in the middle of the night, only seeming to want me, even if she doesn't want to nurse. Once upon a time, she'd have a first stretch of 4-5 hours, and then wake every 2-3 after that. That was fiiiiine. Do that again, Margie!

Last night at 2am, I tried to hold off - I waited in bed when I heard her wake up, to see if she'd soothe herself back to sleep. She wasn't even crying loudly, just whimpering to herself, and it had only been an hour since I'd last fed her. She sounded uncomfortable though; my instinct was that it was likely gas. After 20 minutes, I couldn't take it. It felt unfair to leave her alone in her room, uncomfortable, crying, so I got up and gave her gas drops (simethicone) and nursed her back to sleep. She slept for another hour, followed by two two-hour stretches with nursing in between. Those two hour stretches felt positively luxurious after the one-hour spells. Perspective, eh?

And I know we're lucky. She takes a pacifier (most of the time). She's nursing well, and breastfeeding is going great at this point. She's an otherwise healthy, happy baby. It could be much, much worse, and I know that. And I try to stay grateful for that. But I'm still wracked with guilt and exhaustion and indecision.

We've been advised by a few friends that I should leave for a few days, leave Will home with some bottles, and have him do the sleep training. They say it's easier for both mom and baby if mom is not there. This is one theory. And a part of me agrees. But part of me feels guilty, like I'd be abandoning my baby. I've literally never spent a night away from her. I worry my milk supply will lessen if I'm not feeding her during the night, since I don't feed her while I'm at work either. I worry that we'll lose some of this special connection if I'm breastfeeding less often. I worry that she's waking up to nurse and be comforted by me so often because she misses me, and that we won't be as bonded if I'm not doing that (I know, I know). But I also worry about my own health, and I know I need to sleep. Will says he's ok to do it, but I don't know if I feel ok doing it. I don't know if I feel ok not doing it. Last night I started a sort of meditative listmaking around 3am, where I started thinking of which friends live close by, have an extra bedroom, have no children, and would let me cry on their shoulders as I feel guilty about running away from my baby. I am not mentally capable of handling this right now. Which I guess is the point.

This morning as I left for work, I nearly cried looking at her little round face and touching her soft baby skin. I held back tears on the bus as a friend texted to tell me it was ok. I'm choking back sobs typing this right now. The physical pain of hearing my baby cry and choosing not to pick her up was not something I was prepared for. I didn't expect such agonizing guilt and feelings of helplessness, and I didn't realize I could be so obsessed with sleep - mine or someone else's. It's all I think about and all I talk about. It even takes over my giant running list of "emotional labor" type to-dos I'm always wrestling with. It's torture.

I'm still not sure what we'll decide to do. Sometimes I think sleep training sounds and will feel cruel both for me and for her. Sometimes I think it will teach her necessary independence and we'll all sleep better and be better for it. There is no overall right answer, and I don't even know if there's a right answer for our family. And what if we do it, and it doesn't even work?


So. Sleep. Does your baby do it? How? When? What did you do to help it? How did you decide? Let's talk about it.

6

Margie is 6 months old today, and I'm full of feelings. Rather than try to eloquently and poetically describe my current mental state, I thought I'd share some recent highlights and lowlights.

Last night, we ate dinner as a family. Margie sat at the table with us in her booster seat/high chair and mashed some banana and avocado around, occasionally eating some of it, while we ate our full meals. It was pretty magical.

Last night, she also decided that 1-3am was the perfect time to be awake and playing, unless she was being held and rocked to sleep. Ok, perhaps "decided" isn't the right word, but that's what happened. This happens on occasion and I don't understand it. But either we hold/rock her, or watch her play in her crib (leaving the room results in tears that lead to meltdowns).

Right now, we're in a very mama-heavy phase. It's beautiful and sweet and I feel so loved and needed by this not-so-little creature. It's wild to see her developing emotions and feelings and needs that she expresses with her eyes and her limbs. This weekend she was particularly clingy, contentedly spending hours sitting in my lap, arm draped around my neck or side. She's not feeling well (teething! but no teeth yet!) and that's translated into what I'm sure if she had words would be "mama mama mama". It's exhausting, but her tiny chubby hands are so sweet when they reach out for me that I just scoop her up and snuggle her sweet baby smell.

The mama-heavy phase, of course, translates into nighttime, and she's only content to be nursed (or occasionally rocked) to sleep by me. The Dad Tricks that used to work are no longer sufficient: it's mama or nothing. And the teething means we're up a lot to nurse. I try not to mind it, and generally I don't mind it. I remind myself that there's only this relatively short period in her life when she'll need me in this specific way, and there's something kind of awesome about this time. But it's also very difficult and exhausting.

Did I mention I'm tired?

We hosted our first play date this weekend - we were going to go to the park but rain cancelled those plans, so we invited our friends and babies over for an all day open house style play date. Generally, folks came in two shifts, and it was super fun to hang out with parents and babies...and we had an excuse to get the house in order. It's *finally* getting to a place that doesn't give me anxiety, so that's a pleasant side effect.

In terms of baby things, lil Marge is sitting like a champ. She loves to sit and play with her toys, and has started reaching for things without toppling over. She also loves to stand up, and practice walking - I call it the Godzilla Stomp. She doesn't really roll consistently yet, though she's rolled from back to front a couple of random times. I'm a little scared she's going to skip straight to walking. She's starting to enjoy bathtime - she splashes her hands around and it's very, very cute.

I can't believe this little nugget has already been out in the world for 6 months. Our lives without her seem both so distant and like they weren't all that long ago. I can still recall the ease of babyless life, and sometimes I do miss the ability to just hop in the car and go, or to grab tickets to a show last-minute. I'm tired from the pumping and the wakeful nights and from being stretched too thin. And I don't really like the cliche of "it's so hard but it's so worth it"...even though it's true. I love this little bug and if I keep writing about her I'll start to cry. Can I still blame postpartum hormones?

At 6 months, I can see glimmers of how life might return to something that feels like normal. Not the normal we had before, but also not the normal of newborn life. I can see the light that looks like more predictability with sleep schedules (oh, we're not there yet, don't worry) and getting into routines for our family. I can see how this eventually becomes less like survival and more like living.

Pumping Mama: My Lansinoh Smartpump and Me

As I sit at my desk at work, rehydrating with tea (wait, is tea actually dehydrating?) after pumping, snacking on dry Cheerios like I did as a toddler, I can't help but...wait, what was the rest of that thought? I have no idea. Because I have severe Mom Brain. I need this 15 minute writing break to refocus the thinking parts of my brain before I dive back into work. I thought pumping would provide much needed breaks in my day to rest and recharge (ha!) but it turns out, pumping is draining. Literally and figuratively. I don't leave my pumping sessions feeling rejuvenated and ready for action. I'm often tired and...well, like I said, drained.

I'm using a Lansinoh Smartpump at work, which I generally love. I used the Medela Pump In Style Advanced once and exactly once - the Lansinoh is simpler to use and I find the flanges more comfortable. I was initially excited about the Smartpump because of its tracking features - it has an app that connects to the pump via bluetooth so you can log how long your pumping sessions are and what your output is, among other things. And for the first few months, I found that super useful. Now, however, as I've been pumping for about two months, I find that manually logging my ounces is more trouble than its worth, and I don't track anything else baby-related anymore. I'm not super concerned with tracking output over time because it's relatively stable, and I know how much I'm pumping because it says so right there on the bottle. As long as I fill those bottles over the course of the day, I don't care quite as much how much I get in each session.

Pumping at Work, Working While Pumping
Awkward photos are my specialty.

Pros:

• Super easy to use. The digital display makes keeping track of time, pumping strength, and "style" super easy, and the buttons to adjust are great. I hated the Medela's knob-style adjusters, and I felt like I could never get the pressure and speed quite right. I like the different pumping styles, and find it very easy to match one of their pre-set sucking patterns to how my baby typically nurses.
• The flanges are comfortable. I'm kind of in between sizes with the Medela ones, but the Lansinoh ones fit me great.
• Pretty quiet. Our conference room walls are pretty thin, and I'm told that it can't be heard in the room next to me.
• It's a pretty compact little system (the cooler bag it comes with is large enough to hold 4 bottles, and ice pack, and all the pumping parts in a ziplock bag). I can fit the aforementioned cooler bag full of gear, the pump itself, and my hands free pumping bra in the small tote bag that Lansinoh provided. It's a bit more discreet than the Pump in Style backpack for sure, if that's something you care about (I don't), and I find it easier to carry than a backpack, or at least more convenient to carry.
• My baby likes the Lansinoh mOmma bottles, so it's convenient to pump directly into the bottles she's going to drink from. The wide mouth makes them easy to clean as well.

Cons:

• Lots of parts. The Medela is a little more universal; there are substitute parts made by third parties that reduce the number of individual pieces you have to wash. The Lansinoh pump isn't difficult or complicated, but there are 5 separate pieces to wash (times 2) and it would be nice if there was an all-in-one type solution.
• The rubbery part on the flanges sometimes catch drops of milk that I wish would flow down into the tube/bottle. When I take the flanges off, it's a little bit of a delicate balancing act to try to catch those drops (even though it's only a drop or two, every drop counts, right?) that stick to the rubbery lip.
• The ice pack it comes with is a standard crappy little ice pack. I prefer the contoured hard pack that came with the Medela, so I use that one in my Lansinoh cooler bag (which is a better size than the Medela cooler bag).

Neutrals:

• I honestly don't find the "smart" elements of the pump to be that useful. If it automatically tracked the quantity of milk I was pumping, that might be better, though I don't know of any pump currently on the market that does that (perhaps the Willow, when it comes out?). The additional step of manually entering my #oz isn't useful enough to justify the extra couple of minutes...especially since the app asks for the quantity in ounces, and the bottle has more ml lines than oz lines, so I end up having to Google conversions to get the amount right when I'm in between whole ounces. The app allows you to track diapers and breastfeeding and bottles and growth and more...and I just find that I don't have the bandwidth to care about so much tracking. For folks who are super into data though, it would be useful to have all your baby-related tracking in one app.

Overall, I like this pump enough that I'm considering selling my Medela and all its accessories and buying an extra Lansinoh pump to keep at work (though I probably wouldn't get the "smart" one unless the price was the same, because eh), just so I don't have to unplug and replug every day. One less thing to carry back and forth, one less thing to do. The Lansinoh Smartpump retails for $174.98 on Amazon (vs $109.99 for the regular double electric pump), so it's competitively priced, as far as I'm concerned. I have a Medela hand pump as well, which I'm considering replacing with a Lansinoh hand pump, just to have uniformity with my bottles - baby is bottle agnostic, but it's kind of a pain to go back and forth and it would be simpler to just have one system to use.


Do you pump at work or at home? Do you have multiple systems or brand uniformity? What kind of pump do you have and why do you like it? Does pumping melt your brain or is it just me? Is it the pumping or the sleep deprivation? Or both? This too shall pass, right?



full disclosure: I received the Lansinoh Smart Pump for free in exchange for this review. All thoughts and opinions are my own; they did not request a positive review or in any way influence this review.

Oh hey.

I'm alive.

It's amazing how little time I've found to blog lately, but with the rush of returning to work plus the holiday season, time has been somewhat limited.

As I ease back into working (both full time at Disqus and still dedicating part time hours to OrgOrg), I'm finding myself in front of a computer more often, which means more stolen moments at lunchtime or while pumping to blog. So you'll probably see more of me around here again soon.

Motherhood is full of very high highs and some low lows...sleep deprivation is a very real torture, and while I kind of enjoy the middle of the night feedings, for their special bonding time (especially since I'm not breastfeeding all day while at work), waking up 3x/night to feed a baby is exhausting (even if Will gets up to give her a pacifier because I know she's not actually hungry; I still wake up).
We have a great nanny who watches her while we're at work, and I stress about pumping enough milk to get through each day since we haven't tried formula yet, but I'm trying to relax about it. We think she's teething, which will be a whole new ballgame...and I'm just hoping we don't get hit with a major sleep regression (waking up every hour instead of every 2-3 makes a huge difference!). I stress that she's not sleeping enough, that we should be sleep training her, that she doesn't nap well, that I can't get her to nap...there's always something new to worry about. I hear that's just Babies.

I feel like my brain is only partially functional at this point, and I'd like to feel more functional. More like myself, I say, but I don't really even know what that means. I'm in bed by 9:30 most nights, because I try to go to bed when I put Margie to bed to maximize sleep potential. That means the house is an explosion of stuff (hello, two weeks of traveling) and Will and I don't do much hanging out alone (except for the occasional "late night" TV binge, until 10:30pm or so), but this is all a phase, I hear. I'm trying to enjoy the minutes and not wish they'd pass more quickly, as much as I can.

In the meantime, I've been testing out my Lansinoh Smart Pump (review coming soon) and some cute nursing clothes from Bun Maternity (review coming soon), and trying to maintain some modicum of sanity in the few hours I have home and awake with this little nugget of joy before we all go to bed exhausted each night. Her round little smiling face makes up for a lot :)

More changes. More feelings.

As the days of my parental leave dwindle away, I can't help but feel loads of feelings. Mostly guilt. Some regret. Some hysterical joy when I make Margie giggle or she just wants mama snuggles. But let's go back to the guilt and regret, shall we?

I feel guilty that I'm going back to work after only 12 weeks home with her, when I have 6 more weeks of paid leave left to use. I can use it within the next year, but why not use it all at the beginning? It's a choice I made, and stand behind (when I'm not getting emotional about leaving my baby for 9 hours a day). I love the work I do, and I am looking forward to being back at work. Heck, it's two meals a day where I'll get to sit and eat! I'll probably gain 10 pounds in the first month. I might even get to nap on the bus. But truly, I'm proud to work at Disqus, and I'm looking forward to getting back to business. But I'm sad that that means being away from Margie.

I feel guilty that there's a part of me that's looking forward to not being a stay at home mom. I used to think I wanted that; I thought I'd make a good SAHM and that I'd enjoy it. And I do. I just think I'd do better at 100% Mom Time if I could do that but *also* have a nanny or sitter a few hours a day. It's a long day to be home alone with the baby, and it's really hard. Like, way harder than I thought it would be. And with the whole not-napping-well-anymore thing, being at work might just feel like an escape. And I feel guilty about wanting that escape, and I'll probably feel guilty if I enjoy being gone.

I regret the things I haven't done. I had all these ideas that while on maternity leave, I'd send thank you cards and get the house in order (and keep it that way) and cook fun meals and take walks to visit Will at work and go to baby yoga and music and swim classes. I've done none of those things. I have been busy. So busy. My new parent support groups keep me sane, and I get out of the house every day to at least take a walk. But I haven't made it as far as Will's work (30 min walk from our house). I haven't done a single baby yoga class. I haven't made it to Aquatech baby swim time. I went to one music class because a friend canceled last minute and we were available to take her spot. This morning, we went to an art event to make some handmade gifts. It's not like I've done nothing. But the house is still a mess (my hospital bag is still sitting on the floor full of magazines and books I never read). I can count on one hand the number of times I've cooked anything. Caring for an infant is way more time consuming than I had imagined.

Anyway, I know this is all normal and I know I'll be full of feelings for a while longer. I'm taking a couple weeks off for our holiday travel, and I may take some time off in January or February as well. So I won't lose those 6 weeks I have left. I will make use of them eventually. And I know there will be time for fun things on the weekends, and I'll have a few hours in the evenings with Margie before bed. But man, this is hard. For now, I guess I just have to soak up the time I have and buy stock in Kleenex.

Sleepy snuggles after a long day of art workshop and mom group

Transitions.

As I type this, Margie is napping in her crib. This is not something she does for me; only for the nanny. Oh yeah, the nanny. I never thought I would be a person who hired a nanny; nannies are for celebrities and rich people, right? I thought so. But when Margie was about 9 weeks old, I realized that I was losing my mind a little bit, and I needed someone to watch her for a few hours once or twice a week so that I could write, or do laundry, or take care of myself a little bit. Plus, the thought of going back to work eventually, and going instantly from 24/7 Mom to Working Mom was scaring me a bit, and I thought having someone watch her for a bit might ease the transition. I found a great nanny who was available and affordable and she's been coming 1 day a week for a few weeks now, and it's great. She takes Margie to the park, and plays with her, and they get along swimmingly. Fatima, you are wonderful. And because we can't get into any of the local day cares (protip: listen when people tell you that you need to get on wait lists before the baby is born. make the time to check them out while you're pregnant. just do it.), it looks like we will be full-time nanny people when I go back to work. We're hoping to do a nanny share both to defray costs and to have some built in baby socialization, but yeah. We'll have someone caring for our baby while we're at work, and doing some cooking and cleaning as well. Which feels very bougie, but is actually more affordable than most day cares, and is certainly more convenient. I see a lot of value in both options, but here we are.

Anyway, today I'm treating Fatima Day as if I am working; practicing pumping throughout the day as if I was at work, and having her give Margie bottles, instead of me feeding on demand while I'm home and just giving a bottle if they go out. It's difficult emotionally - more difficult than I imagined it would be, I think. Knowing my baby is here in our (not-large) house and that I'm not taking care of her. Knowing that someone's giving her a bottle when I'm right here, and then pumping the milk out instead of feeding her myself...I didn't expect to be affected so much by this. 

Relatedly, I've been having trouble getting Margie to nap during the day. She'll only nap in a few specific circumstances: 

1. If she's just eaten and she falls asleep in my lap (and I let her continue sleeping in my lap)
2. If we're on a walk and she's in the stroller or strapped to me in a carrier (and she was tired when we started out)
3. If we're on a long car drive (above 30mph and she was tired when we started)
4. If Fatima puts her down for a nap in her crib

The concept of a Regular Schedule For Naps during the day, where I put her down and she falls asleep for a few hours, seems crazy. I know that at 12 weeks, she's still a bit young for that anyway, but it's still something to aspire to someday. If I try to put her down during the daytime, she wakes right up and cries until I pick her up. But I know she's capable of it because she does it for Fatima! And she goes down easily at night. Maddening.

Here's a fun little anecdote for you: This morning, Fatima fed Margie a bottle, put her in the swing for a few minutes, and then picked up the getting-sleepy baby and put her down in her crib. After a very short amount of fussing, Margie was out. I started pumping, and when I walked into the kitchen (which is connected to the nursery) to put the milk in the fridge, Margie started making little noises in her sleep like she was going to wake up. Fatima said "she smells your milk and she wants to be with mama." I put the milk away and left the room to get dressed and she's been out ever since. She napped for an hour.

So maybe it's good that I'm going back to work. Margie will actually nap during the day, and maybe a nanny can help her establish a regular routine of some sort. But it's strange, during this time, being home and not taking care of her. Listening to someone else soothe her as she cries (which, to be honest, can be both a tremendous relief and completely heartbreaking). Starting to turn my mind to working again, to writing, and thinking, and having conversations that aren't about babies. I am practicing to be gone.

I'm grateful to have had as much time as I've had (with a few weeks saved up for later), and for the opportunity to transition back slowly. I know how lucky I am to be where I am professionally, and knowing that I have a supportive company environment to go back to makes this easier. But not easy. And the guilt that I feel about looking forward to leaving and going to work (I'll get to eat! Twice a day! With both hands!) mingles with the sadness I feel that I won't be with her every day. It's been a special and unique time, and I can't believe it's already been nearly three months.

I look down as I type and see the small scar on my wrist from where I picked at the scab from my IV when I was in labor. I'm sure there's a metaphor here about how she'll always be with me even when I'm away, and of course I'm tearing up as I write this. I'm sure I'll cry a lot over the next few weeks, as I've cried for months from the combination of hormones and responsibility and love and exhaustion. Motherhood is no joke. Parenthood is no joke. I could write a whole lot more about the struggle to balance caregiving and career, and maybe I will. But for now, I'm going to run an errand, do some prep work for OrgOrg, and start putting the house back in order after a whirlwind Thanksgiving while a lovely and loving woman named Fatima takes Margie to the park.

Olive the fun

Ok, that title was a pretty bad pun. I'll just blame mom brain and move on. I'm sorry.

This week, I was invited to attend a cooking class and dinner hosted by Lindsay Olives. I was able to bring a +1, and left my husband home with the baby while I enjoyed a night out on the town in San Francisco...the first time I've gone for a night out with a friend since she was born! Woo hoo, livin large and home by 10!

The event was seriously fun, and I ate so many olives. I mean so many. So. Many. Olives. I love olives. Black ones, green ones, stuffed ones...ever since I was a little girl sticking black olives on my fingers at Sunday brunch at my grandparents' house, I've been fond of these low-calorie, high-sodium delights.

This particular event was to promote their new "Party Picks" - pre-skewered olives, ready for a martini or charcuterie tray. They come in a ton of different varieties from olive stuffed to spicy to "vegetable" (aka onion and pickle), and they are quite convenient in addition to being tasty. Lindsay Olives didn't ask me to write a blog post covering the event, but it was so fun and their team did such a great job, and the olives were so good that I thought I'd share.

Dina selects an olive skewer for her martini 

The "antipasto caesar salad" we made.
It was very good.

Smoked salmon spread on toast.
This might have been my favorite recipe.

Marjorie Louise: A Birth Story

It's taken me a few weeks to get it together to write down Marjorie's birth story. I'm not even sure I'll get it all down right now before she wakes up and needs to eat*, but I figure I might as well start typing. The first two weeks of her little life have been a roller coaster, and I'll write about that another time. For now, I want to get the story of her birth out of my head and onto "paper". Edit: It's long.

I was due on August 29, but I always felt like she was going to be a September baby. I'm not sure why, maybe it's that "motherly intuition" or something. Maybe it was wishful thinking, since I kept feeling like I just wasn't quite ready to be done being pregnant. I had it in my head that it would be funny to go into labor on Labor Day, so I kind of had that as my target for a while.

On Sunday, September 4, I was having regular contractions, but they were about 30 minutes apart. They weren't super strong, more like a bigger Braxton Hicks. Noticeable, but not too painful. This went on all. day. long. We took a walk, and got an order of the "labor-inducing" pesto from our local Italian restaurant. The owners had been telling me to eat it for weeks, but I demurred until I was ready, just in case it worked. Um, it worked. Within an hour or so, I was having full-on contractions.

Pregnant Pesto Produces Possibilities

From around 10pm until midnight, I contracted painfully but easily, every 10-15 minutes. Around midnight, we decided to try to go to bed, for a change of scenery. The contractions were still around 10 minutes apart, nowhere near the 4 minutes apart required to go to the hospital, but they were strong. In bed, I woke up with each contraction, checking the clock to see if they were getting closer, "shit, only 8 minutes." "7 minutes that time!" "ugh, 9 minutes." Time passed slowly and quickly, the beginning of this whole "longest shortest time" of parenting, I'm just now realizing.

Around 1:15am, as I finished a pair of close-ish contractions, I thought it might be good to change positions, so I told Will that I felt good enough to get up and go back to the living room. I stood up and felt liquid dripping down my leg. "Ooh, I think that could be my water breaking!" Sure enough, I went to the bathroom and my underwear was soaked. We called the hospital, who told me to put on a pad, wait an hour, and if the pad was soaked, to call back. So wait we did. And soaked it was. We called back around 2:30am, and they said we could come in.

One last picture leaving the house pre-baby, arms full of pillows.

By 3am we were on the road to the hospital (turns out, packing the car took longer than we thought, plus I was still having contractions) and taking ironic photos in the lobby between contractions.

"Take the picture! Take the picture!"
The super fashionable
pajamas-to-hospital look.

We were checked in and in our room in Triage around 3:30 or so, and contractions sucked while laying reclined in the hospital bed. Turns out, reclining is not the ideal position for unmedicated contractions. I got monitored and measured, and was only 3cm dilated. Thank god my water had broken, or I would not have been allowed to come to the hospital in the first place, much less be admitted. I remember the nurse checking out my vitals, and me just asking how soon I could get the epidural. So much for "I want to labor as long as possible without it, but trust me when I say I want it" -- I wanted it at 1:30am at home, and I wanted it now. I threw up quite a bit from the contractions, which was super fun. I threw up again at some point, was it right before the epidural? Might have been. It's a little hazy. It felt like we waited in Triage forever.

By 5am, I was moved into my sweet sweet labor and delivery room (hello, Kaiser Oakland, your facilities are amazing) and getting an epidural. I was nervous, not because of the needle, but because the anesthesiologist said I would need to remain completely still, even through a contraction, while she was placing it. Will and our nurse Bharti basically held me down as I hunched over at the edge of the bed, and I somehow powered through with very still, deep breathing. I think it took less than the 5 minutes the anesthesiologist said it would take, and contractions were definitely easier in the hunched-forward position, than in the reclined position I was in in Triage. But I also tapped into some sort of tunnel vision for a second, just focusing on the pressure Will and Bharti put on my knees as I hunkered down to breathe for a second. It was exhausting, and that was just one contraction. I never felt more confident in my decision to go for the drugs.

Happy girl with an epidural that has kicked in.

From about 6am until about 9pm or so, I labored so damn peacefully it was ridiculous. I was dilating slowly, which meant I could snack on grapes and peanut butter pretzels to my heart's content (they said I could eat normal food until 5-6cm), and I found the nature videos and spa music available on the TV to be quite soothing. I was in pure, blissed out heaven. I took naps, and hung out with our awesome nurse Bryanna, and was just more relaxed than I've been in a very long time. It's been a busy, stressful and traumatic year so far, and I don't know if I can truly explain how lovely it felt to just be free and relaxed, no discomfort mentally or physically. I hadn't really even pieced that together until today, over two weeks later, that one of the reasons I was ready to be done feeling everything was because I'd been feeling so much for so long. I just wanted to relax. And man. It was so relaxing. You guys, I can't even tell you how awesome this epidural was, but I hope the picture above says enough.

Anyway, by around 9pm I was only at 6cm, and had developed a small fever. The baby's heart rate was slightly elevated, so they wanted to give me Pitocin to speed things along a bit. My only concern was whether my pain would increase, because up until this point, I felt a mild pressure during most contractions, but zero pain. And some contractions had passed without my feeling anything. I didn't really want that to change. I was told that I could get extra doses of the epidural (extra beyond the little bump up doses I could administer to myself every 15 minutes, that is - referred to as "an extra shot of Jaeger at the end of your night at the bar") if needed, but that the Pitocin would make the contractions stronger and closer. Fine. 

They were right, the contractions sped up and intensified. And joy of joys, my sciatica returned. Now I was starting to get uncomfortable -- the sciatica meant that I couldn't really get comfortable even between contractions, and our friend/doula Jenny and Will were giving me massages, and it was the closest we came to doing any of the techniques we learned in all of our classes (aside from the couple of hours pre-hospital). I was ready for that bonus epidural now, thankyouverymuch! Meanwhile, Will was pretty anxious about my fever and the baby's heart rate, so he went to the bathroom after talking to the nurses (who assured him that I and the baby were ok). But by the time he came out, I'd been checked and was fully dilated. I asked if it was too late for the extra epidural, but our nurse Kate said I wouldn't need it at this point. I could start pushing, and she thought that I'd be ok. 

Sidenote: Kate was awesome. Bryanna selected her to take over when her shift ended at 4pm, and as we'd been Bryanna's only patients (apparently not everyone goes into labor on Labor Day?), she wanted us to be taken care of. Apparently we are fun people to labor with. Bryanna was fantastic, and Kate was an excellent replacement. We love them both very much and grew quite attached.

It was about 11:15pm at this point, and Kate's shift ended at midnight. I wanted to get this baby out in time for Kate to help deliver her, and so did Kate. I was surprised at how easy pushing was for the first hour or so. I remember saying something like, "If this is all that pushing is? Dude, this is going to be a piece of cake." and I remember getting laughed at. But the first hour was really not bad at all, thankyouepidural. Kate's shift was set to end, but she took a little longer to finish her charting, and then asked her replacement nurse if it was ok for her to come in and help out. I'm so glad Kaiser allows nurses to do this, and that the replacement nurse wasn't offended or didn't feel like Kate was stepping on her toes...because I don't know if I could have gotten through the end of that pushing without her. I mean, I would have gotten through it. Sure. But Kate was just the perfect cheerleader - while everyone else (nurse, Will, Jenny, and eventually the doctor) was down at my legs, Kate was up in my ear, with encouraging and sometimes hilarious sentiments to help me along. As she later said, "Sometimes you don't need people yelling at your vagina. Sometimes you need someone up by your head." So true, Kate. So true.

Will kept shouting that he saw the baby's head, and I kept looking in the provided mirror to see if I could see anything, but I couldn't, so I just kept pushing along. Pushing was tiring, but not painful, so on we went. Until she started crowning. I got to reach down and touch her head (slimy, totally weird), and finally she started staying put between contractions (instead of her head going back inside like a prairie dog in a hole). Shit was getting real. The nurses said they wanted to wait until the last possible minute to call in the doctor, since when they do that, a whole mess of people come in - the residents (Kaiser is a teaching hospital, which I love) and the doctor and midwife and a NICU nurse and probably some other people. I think it was like 6 new people in addition to our cozy little team of 4. 

When they felt like it was almost time, the crew came in...and then the baby crowned forever. I literally saw a resident checking her phone. Apparently Margie was an "epic crowner". The doctor, bless her, was not one for trying fast and furious methods for getting the baby out (and Kaiser doesn't do routine episiotomies), instead favoring perineal massage and some sort of oil I can't remember, to stretch me out slowly. It was as painful as it sounds. When she said she was going to apply the oil to help stretch things out, I would cringe in anticipation of the stinging and burning...but it was generally over pretty quickly and at this point I just wanted to keep pushing. I looked up into the mirror at one point and saw a big round head, coming out of what was apparently my vagina. Totally cool and weird and something I will probably never forget.

I pushed 3-4 times per contraction, wanting to push over and over until she was out already. Having a baby stuck in your vaginal canal is sort of unpleasant, though she was riding it out like a champ, with steady blood pressure and a calm heartbeat. But at this point, I was ready to push her the heck out. We had several rounds of "this is it, we'll get her out on the next one!" and at one point I had to clarify whether they meant this one push or this one contraction (because girl's gotta set her expectations properly), but eventually, one of the pushes was indeed the final push. I didn't know it would be the last one until I opened my eyes and suddenly there was a baby coming towards my face. I didn't really feel a big sense of release when she came out - I just heard some shouts and exclamations and baby cries while my eyes were still squeezed shut from pushing...and then there she was. I hope I'll never forget the feeling of opening my eyes and seeing this squirmy baby coming towards me. It was intense, and I think I may have just said "oh shit oh shit" over and over until and even after I was holding her. This slimy, wiggly little person was on my chest being patted dry and covered in a blanket. I didn't realize until later that she'd had her first big poop-splosion all over me immediately after coming out. Off to a solid start, kiddo. Nice work! :)

Delivering the placenta was way cooler than I expected. I didn't feel a big release when Margie came out, but I definitely did when I delivered the placenta. It was one big push, and then a whoosh and suddenly I felt empty. It was amazing, and I was shocked at how suddenly done I felt. Like, oh. The delivery is over. I'm empty now. And we got to thoroughly examine the placenta before we left the delivery room - placentas are really cool, you guys. I highly recommend looking at yours up close if you have the opportunity. We took pictures, but they're not on my camera and I don't have them yet. But if you want to see them, well, I can probably share them eventually.

The next few hours are a blur - skin to skin for an hour while they checked her vitals, which I barely noticed. Crying and looking around in a daze. Seeing the look on Will's face as he looked at his daughter, who I'd come to know inside my belly, but who somehow still felt totally new, familiar and strange all at once.

I cry every time I look at this picture.

We were moved pretty quickly, by about 3am, into our postpartum room (apparently a lot of people go into labor in the middle of the night after Labor Day and they needed the room). I was still pretty shell shocked from the whole thing, to be honest, and it was hard for me to adjust to this new world where this little creature who just came out of my body was our daughter. This was our child, holy shit. I wasn't really prepared for the hormone shift - I don't think anyone can really prepare you for what that feels like. But for the first few hours, I didn't really feel connected. It may have been the epidural wearing off (though I didn't have any problems feeling connected while on the epidural all day), or it may have just been the standard trauma of a relatively easy birth, but it took me a few hours to come back down to Earth and feel like I could actualize what had just happened. I felt empty, literally, but I also felt confused and shocked and not totally sure what I was supposed to do. People kept asking what her name was, and I still wasn't sure. I wanted it to be Marjorie Louise, but I wasn't 100% sure that it was right. I didn't quite know her yet. And it felt like it was suddenly all up to me, and I wanted to be sure. And suddenly I wasn't sure of anything. We had a kid? Is that what just happened? I'm not pregnant anymore? That's the baby that was inside me? That one, right next to me in the little crib? Is ours now? And my body is a wreck, and did we remember to tell our families that she was born? A blur, I tell you.

"She's here. This is our baby. Can you believe it?"

But after a few hours, things started settling down. We notified our families, who had been up worried all night, and eventually decided on her name. I ate a little and drank some deliciously cold water, and actually got some sleep. The nurses came in to administer painkillers and check our vitals and help us with diapers and swaddles and breastfeeding. Everyone took such good care of us that I didn't want to leave. We were lucky to get a "bonus" night; because she was born after midnight, that first night didn't count towards our "2-nights post birth" allowance. And I was so glad to take all three nights.

I won't go into epic detail about the amazing care Kaiser Oakland gave us, but I will say that it was wonderful. Margie was born at 12:59am on Tuesday, and we checked out on Thursday afternoon, and in between we had fantastic round the clock care from great nurses and doctors and midwives and pediatricians and food service and janitorial and a photographer and pretty much everyone was just great. The food was plentiful and tasty, the room was comfortable, and we just got to chill out and start getting used to being parents. Nothing can really prepare you for the time when you leave the hospital and take the baby home and realize that uhhhh now this is your life, but man did Kaiser prepare us as best as they could. Except that nobody helped us with the car seat, which I felt was A) not very nice, I was terrified trying to do it for the first time, and B) unsafe, and they probably should make sure you're not lying when you say that yes, you have one in your car bye bye now.

Happy and cozy in our hospital nest.

Right now, as the adorable Margie Lou is crying her little eyes out for no discernable reason, I kind of wish we could go back to the hospital and the care of that cozy little room. But we're parents now, and we'll figure it out. I have plenty more to say about postpartum hormones and adjusting to life as a mom, but that's another long post for another day. 

Me and my lil buddy this morning, very tired
after not so great sleep and a fussy morning.

Will is back to work now, and the days are hard but mostly good. The nights are harder, because psychologically as adults we think we're supposed to sleep at night, and newborn babies don't quite get that concept. But we're working on it, and right now I'm listening to Will try to soothe our crying baby in the other room as I try to recall all the details of her birth before they're lost to the sands of mommy brain. I can't believe she's already 2.5 weeks old. Time has already flown by - her birth seems both infinitely far in the distant past, and like it was just a few days ago. 

If you've written your birth story down, please do share the link in the comments. Or just share in the comments, if you haven't written it down elsewhere. I'd love to read about other people's experiences, now that I'm on the other side. <3

*it took me 2 writing sessions to get it all out, and I only finished in two thanks to Will making dinner and snuggling Margie so I could write. Thanks, Will.


Edit: One thing I forgot to mention was the catheter (thanks, Meldemy for reminding me!) -- I had been totally freaked out by the idea of a catheter, which is a requirement when you have an epidural. Turns out, you don't feel it being put in, and it's really no big deal. And then you don't have to get up to pee. They take it out before you start pushing, and before we went to postpartum, the nurse re-inserted it to empty my bladder for me (thanks! did not know this was a thing you could do manually!) since it was full, and in her words, "I place a lot more catheters than the postpartum nurses. Trust me, you'd rather have me do it now while your epidural is still going than have them do it once you're settled over there." She was right. It was no big deal.