I've read several posts and gotten a few emails about weaning lately. Seems that the girls who stuck with the breastfeeding are thinking about putting the kibosh on the boob.
I stopped nursing when I just couldn't do it any more. I was going back to work and Jake wouldn't take my milk from a bottle, I felt sick, I looked awful, I had a backache, a headache, and I was exhausted being tired and hungry and thirsty. Until he was three months old, Jake ate every two hours for about an hour. This gave me 12 hours a day to try to get some sleep and get things done around the house. I managed to get a shower each day, blog about something as a form of therapy, and sometimes I'd even get a room or two cleaned. But this wasn't good enough. I wanted to be the best New Temporarily Staying At Home Breastfeeding Mom ever. I wanted to have a sparkly house, supper on the table for Dave each night, I wanted to go to the park and walk around town and meet new and exciting MommyFriends. I wanted to shop for each day's food at the Italian Market and wear pearls and an apron and set my hair and wear heels to pull the casserole out of the oven. It didn't happen. I couldn't get off the couch on the roughest days, and I didn't even bother with a shirt most days. I prayed for my maternity leave to end quickly and quietly. That didn't happen either. I sat in that damn house for twelve weeks and lived off of peanut butter, cheese, canned beans, frozen vegetables, and milk during the day and pizza at night. I couldn't really go anywhere, and when I did I was reduced to squirting breast milk in public toilets and alleyways the entire time.
When I decided to wean, I felt terrible. I was cheating. I felt that I wasn't strong enough to be a good mother, that I wasn't doing what I knew to be best for my son. I went so low as to sneak in some nursing when no one was watching, and once lied to some friends who were visiting and said that I had to get something out of my closet when I really snatched Jake out of his crib and let him nurse one last time while they were downstairs opening a bottle of wine and setting the table for dinner. The way I felt when I was nursing Jake was like my drug. I didn't want to quit and risk breaking that bond. They say that simply feeding a child creates a bond no matter how you do it, and I'll admit that it is super cute when you are bottle feeding a baby and he looks right into your eyes, but it is nothing like the bond created by breastfeeding. You are the sole provider of nourishment for your child, and the one thing that baby knows in the whole wide world is that his mother is the only person who can keep him alive. It's almost like being pregnant but you get to hold your baby and look at him. I don't doubt that there is a very strong mother-child bond with formula feeders, but you've got nothing like that.
Formula feeding isn't easy either, but it is easier. I knew that my friends who didn't breastfeed were tired and just as frustrated with their lives, but they had some freedom. Someone else could feed the baby, and they could go out to dinner or to Target without having to excuse themselves and their engorged breasts if someone else's kid cried. Dad could take a turn getting up with the brat and they could sleep for a night. But I thought that if life was going to be rough anyway, I may as well do it right even if that meant a lack of sleep and one more call to the pizza shop and one less trip to the store. New babies can kinda suck, and you're lying if you say that yours didn't. It's okay. It doesn't mean you don't love them, it just means you don't love what they require.
I now know that there are one million tiny ways that I will bond with Jake. I sat on the kitchen floor with him last week and we shared a pear. I get to introduce him to all sorts of new foods and new people and new places and new things, and he trusts that they are all good and safe and beneficial to his well-being. And I make sure that they are. Last night he was crying in the middle of the night so I took him to the sliding glass door and showed him what a snowstorm looks like when the porch light is on. He loved it so much that he touched my nose and said "eep". It's one of our favorite games. I pull him into bed with us in the morning and he tries to pry my eyes open while he shoves his pinkies up my nose after he finishes his bottle. He gets to play with my old teddy bears and I get to steal his when he sleeps over at someone else's house. We do this thing where I tap all on the car windows and make a funny face as I walk around to the driver's side when he is strapped in the backseat. He laughs and waves every time. We feed each other Cheerios. He eats my pizza crusts. I eat Dave's in turn. I hold out my hands and Jake does his little baby run to wherever I am so he can hug me and giggle into my armpit. Every night before bed I sit him up on the rail of his crib and he puts his arms around me and I count to one hundred. If I stop counting, Jake picks up by cooing until I start again. Every day we find something new to share.
And my boobs aren't huge.
1.31.2007
1.18.2007
personal growth
For those keeping track, Jake is 29.5 inches long (down to the 75th percentile from the 80th one month ago.) and weighed in at 19 pounds 14 ounces, but I think it is more like 19.5 pounds because he ate like a pig before his appointment. We'll go with nineteen fourteen because that puts him up to the 25th percentile.
Jake did really well on public trans (23 bus, baby! Servicing citizens from South Philly to Chestnut Hill and back again), and he got a kick out of the snow. He managed a few more steps this afternoon, but kind of pussed out when he took a header onto the hardwood floors. Maybe tomorrow.
Jake did really well on public trans (23 bus, baby! Servicing citizens from South Philly to Chestnut Hill and back again), and he got a kick out of the snow. He managed a few more steps this afternoon, but kind of pussed out when he took a header onto the hardwood floors. Maybe tomorrow.
1.17.2007
10.0
Today is the ten month mark in the ongoing Life with Jake saga. I am ready to admit that you were right when you told me that things do get better. Months one through three were hellish, four through six promising, and seven through nine were practically fun. Jake is doing tons of stuff and is enjoyable to be around, his antics are entertaining and he is so excited about the things he can do that it is hard not to point and laugh.
Jake pulls himself up to stand and then stands and stands and stands with no hands for awhile. Sometimes he gets so excited that he starts jumping and then he falls. And we laugh. Then he laughs. And does it again.
He has figured out how to sit down from standing or lying down without doing a floor routine worthy of Olympic gold.
He runs all over the house with his walker, and figured out how to twist to reach stuff on the floor without pulling a hammy. When the floors are clean we let him free-range, and he has figured out doors and drawers and shelves and the space between the cushions but he hasn't noticed the stairs yet. This is good. To baby-proof all we need to do is put our junk on the stairs, but this has created somewhat of a falling hazard for all who try to get to the bathroom. There are bags and shoes and mail and pens and wallets and coins and clean clothes and and and other stuff that really belongs up in a room from stair number three to about eight or nine, ten on a bad day. You would think that each time one of us would go up we would take an armload of stuff up with us, but no.
Jake is happy in his playpen, as long as we look at him every forty seconds and say 'look at you, big boy!' or 'I see you, monkey!'.
He doesn't get to watch much television, but we sometimes stick him in front of Sesame Street because it is an hour long. He watches a little, plays a little, then watches a little more while we do grown up stuff like making out or making dinner.
Speaking of dinner, Jake has eaten almost every type of fruit and veggie available in this town. This week we will be adding parsnips and lychee. No seriously, I'm not kidding. He loves Cheerios (which are all over the house) and eats baby oatmeal and his pastina every day at some point. No Atkins in our house, thank you. I mix the pastina with plain yogurt and either cheddar cheese or mozzarella and sometimes tomato paste, and yesterday for the first time I threw some fish in there. I haven't fed him any meat, so it was a big day for him. Someday when he is older and making decisions for himself he can try pork, beef, and chicken but for now I'm keeping him off the livestock. Or deadstock, as it would be by the time it reached the table. Jake eats plenty of beans for protein and good digestive health. I heard somewhere they are good for your heart, too. I bought a food processor that I will use to soften some of the really hard food and mush up soup for him, but I'm really trying to get him on as much normal stuff as possible. I'd say that he can just eat what we eat but there is no way. Last night we had chili, and the night before that I had a Hershey bar and Red Bull for dinner, and Dave had a nap. Then we both had a little bit of apple almond stuffing and one of Jake's string cheeses. We aren't much of dinner people. Jake is still drinking the Enfamil, and takes about 22 ounces per day. In a couple months we will switch him to milk but he seems happy with formula so we aren't in a rush. Plus, milk isn't chock full of vitamins and minerals so I feel better with the formula.
Jake struggles with the sippy cup, and we struggle to make it happen. I now understand those children who drink out of a bottle even when they have the skills to show you how many fingers old they are. Luckily Jake abandoned the rarely-used pacifier at two or three months and he seems to have forgotten about his thumb too.
Jake sleeps where ever he falls, but prefers his crib at night. He goes down around nine and wakes up between six and seven. He has a little bear in there, but he just pushes it out of the way if I try to get him to cuddle with it. I can't figure out if he has a favorite toy, but he really likes the Ernie puppet that I tickle him with, and he loves the little glittery fish from a box of toys that his Grandma and Grandpa Arrowsmith bought him for Christmas. He carries it around in his hand (or in his teeth when he is busy climbing or crawling) and pokes it at things before he touches them with his hand. He's kind of like a swashbuckler in that way.
The daycare is working out terrifically, and Jake seems to be the darling of the bunch. I often walk in on the other parents playing with him while their own brat is putting on its coat and the other babies look on from their designated play station. They have walkers and play mats and play pens and all sorts of toys that are set up around the living room. The lady clearly loves him, and he clearly loves the lady. She is working on waving hello and goodbye and clapping with him, two things that Jake could care less about. I know that separation anxiety might kick in any day now, but it sure is nice having a very social baby. I could leave him with you and he would be as happy as he would be with me. Until I come in the room, and he will want nothing to do with you because I'm the best. And Dave is second best. But you are definitely third, maybe fourth.
We try to get at least one book a day in, but sometimes that doesn't work out. Jake prefers the Baby Einstein board books and I favor the Dr. Seuss ones. We can get through four or five pages before the book goes in the mouth or gets kicked from behind.
The cats have a love/hate relationship with Jake. They love the leftover food, hate the pinching and tail-pulling. He does really well with the dog at daycare, who doesn't mind being mauled.
Jake does well in the car, but is quickly outgrowing his rear-facing position in the new big boy seat. His legs are cramped up so he usually raises them up on the seat back or spreads his legs wide so that his knees aren't bent. I guess we'll have to turn him around when we can at either 20 pounds or one year. He gets a little bit testy in there since he has to sit like a fetus, but safety first, comfort second.
And work third, and since I'm safe and comfortable, I should probably go and do some work.
Jake pulls himself up to stand and then stands and stands and stands with no hands for awhile. Sometimes he gets so excited that he starts jumping and then he falls. And we laugh. Then he laughs. And does it again.
He has figured out how to sit down from standing or lying down without doing a floor routine worthy of Olympic gold.
He runs all over the house with his walker, and figured out how to twist to reach stuff on the floor without pulling a hammy. When the floors are clean we let him free-range, and he has figured out doors and drawers and shelves and the space between the cushions but he hasn't noticed the stairs yet. This is good. To baby-proof all we need to do is put our junk on the stairs, but this has created somewhat of a falling hazard for all who try to get to the bathroom. There are bags and shoes and mail and pens and wallets and coins and clean clothes and and and other stuff that really belongs up in a room from stair number three to about eight or nine, ten on a bad day. You would think that each time one of us would go up we would take an armload of stuff up with us, but no.
Jake is happy in his playpen, as long as we look at him every forty seconds and say 'look at you, big boy!' or 'I see you, monkey!'.
He doesn't get to watch much television, but we sometimes stick him in front of Sesame Street because it is an hour long. He watches a little, plays a little, then watches a little more while we do grown up stuff like making out or making dinner.
Speaking of dinner, Jake has eaten almost every type of fruit and veggie available in this town. This week we will be adding parsnips and lychee. No seriously, I'm not kidding. He loves Cheerios (which are all over the house) and eats baby oatmeal and his pastina every day at some point. No Atkins in our house, thank you. I mix the pastina with plain yogurt and either cheddar cheese or mozzarella and sometimes tomato paste, and yesterday for the first time I threw some fish in there. I haven't fed him any meat, so it was a big day for him. Someday when he is older and making decisions for himself he can try pork, beef, and chicken but for now I'm keeping him off the livestock. Or deadstock, as it would be by the time it reached the table. Jake eats plenty of beans for protein and good digestive health. I heard somewhere they are good for your heart, too. I bought a food processor that I will use to soften some of the really hard food and mush up soup for him, but I'm really trying to get him on as much normal stuff as possible. I'd say that he can just eat what we eat but there is no way. Last night we had chili, and the night before that I had a Hershey bar and Red Bull for dinner, and Dave had a nap. Then we both had a little bit of apple almond stuffing and one of Jake's string cheeses. We aren't much of dinner people. Jake is still drinking the Enfamil, and takes about 22 ounces per day. In a couple months we will switch him to milk but he seems happy with formula so we aren't in a rush. Plus, milk isn't chock full of vitamins and minerals so I feel better with the formula.
Jake struggles with the sippy cup, and we struggle to make it happen. I now understand those children who drink out of a bottle even when they have the skills to show you how many fingers old they are. Luckily Jake abandoned the rarely-used pacifier at two or three months and he seems to have forgotten about his thumb too.
Jake sleeps where ever he falls, but prefers his crib at night. He goes down around nine and wakes up between six and seven. He has a little bear in there, but he just pushes it out of the way if I try to get him to cuddle with it. I can't figure out if he has a favorite toy, but he really likes the Ernie puppet that I tickle him with, and he loves the little glittery fish from a box of toys that his Grandma and Grandpa Arrowsmith bought him for Christmas. He carries it around in his hand (or in his teeth when he is busy climbing or crawling) and pokes it at things before he touches them with his hand. He's kind of like a swashbuckler in that way.
The daycare is working out terrifically, and Jake seems to be the darling of the bunch. I often walk in on the other parents playing with him while their own brat is putting on its coat and the other babies look on from their designated play station. They have walkers and play mats and play pens and all sorts of toys that are set up around the living room. The lady clearly loves him, and he clearly loves the lady. She is working on waving hello and goodbye and clapping with him, two things that Jake could care less about. I know that separation anxiety might kick in any day now, but it sure is nice having a very social baby. I could leave him with you and he would be as happy as he would be with me. Until I come in the room, and he will want nothing to do with you because I'm the best. And Dave is second best. But you are definitely third, maybe fourth.
We try to get at least one book a day in, but sometimes that doesn't work out. Jake prefers the Baby Einstein board books and I favor the Dr. Seuss ones. We can get through four or five pages before the book goes in the mouth or gets kicked from behind.
The cats have a love/hate relationship with Jake. They love the leftover food, hate the pinching and tail-pulling. He does really well with the dog at daycare, who doesn't mind being mauled.
Jake does well in the car, but is quickly outgrowing his rear-facing position in the new big boy seat. His legs are cramped up so he usually raises them up on the seat back or spreads his legs wide so that his knees aren't bent. I guess we'll have to turn him around when we can at either 20 pounds or one year. He gets a little bit testy in there since he has to sit like a fetus, but safety first, comfort second.
And work third, and since I'm safe and comfortable, I should probably go and do some work.
1.13.2007
screaming me!me!
I have recently been criticized by some of my nearest and dearest because there isn't a whole lot of baby talk these days. So, to please the masses I'm posting that Jake's third tooth, the upper left front one, poked through Thursday. And he can stand now, which is terribly exciting for him. Jake seems to be a normal little boy doing normal little boy things. You'll get the big ten month update in a few days, but I have to warn you that there isn't anything witty or hilarious to tell you about the going-ons here at the Casa M. Life is almost (gulp) status quo. Run-of-the-mill, even. I feel like I may as well be living in Middle America. Typing that just made me shudder.
I grocery shop each week now, which is a big step. A big step to where, I'm not sure. I wash dishes every day and get up at 6.30am without an alarm. My dirty laundry doesn't pile up much but I have heaps of clean stuff waiting to be put away or put on, whichever comes first. I don't shower everyday and when I do I use plain old Dial soap. I buy in bulk now. My bath towels are from BJ's, just like Jake's formula. I forget to feed the cats and skip the gym sometimes. I drink pots and pots of coffee and eat canned soup. Right out of the can. I keep my poor nose to the proverbial grindstone, and it doesn't make for much of a good story.Unlike post-partum hormonal adventures and puke fountains, which provided tons and tons of blogfodder, the mid-winter blahs and fiscal mid-year deadlines just make for a good reason to nap.
I grocery shop each week now, which is a big step. A big step to where, I'm not sure. I wash dishes every day and get up at 6.30am without an alarm. My dirty laundry doesn't pile up much but I have heaps of clean stuff waiting to be put away or put on, whichever comes first. I don't shower everyday and when I do I use plain old Dial soap. I buy in bulk now. My bath towels are from BJ's, just like Jake's formula. I forget to feed the cats and skip the gym sometimes. I drink pots and pots of coffee and eat canned soup. Right out of the can. I keep my poor nose to the proverbial grindstone, and it doesn't make for much of a good story.Unlike post-partum hormonal adventures and puke fountains, which provided tons and tons of blogfodder, the mid-winter blahs and fiscal mid-year deadlines just make for a good reason to nap.
1.01.2007
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