Overheard

Overhead at girls’ cottage weekend:

“Please pass the giant plate of meat.”

“Seriously, my life has been a porno movie.”

“Red or white sangria?”

“I tried to do that but it hurt too much so I stopped.”

“Did you tweet that?”

“I’m not so into 69. It’s like patting your head and rubbing your tummy.”

“I hope Sandra ‘forgot’ her pants again!”

“Spanking? Oh, it’s wonderful!”

I have a lot more, but I’m afraid of what whack jobs the google will bring.

Ladies, I love you, and miss you aleady. Give me a memento: add your favourites quotes in the comments!

Smile

This makes me happy.

Better Now

Sherwood is 3 weeks! I can’t believe it. We’re starting to get a little bit back to normal now. Because my physical recovery went so well I was on a high for the first week or so. But when that wore off, and the hormones (and sleep deprivation) kicked in, I was a bit of an emotional mess for a few days. I’d forgotten about the baby blues, but they seem to be inevitable.

The nursing is going a lot better, and I successfully nursed him in public for the first time yesterday. He’s having a crazy growth spurt right now—he’s nursed for the entire evening for the last several days. I’m serious. We’re talking about 6 pm to 10 or 11 pm each night. But he’s only getting up once or twice during the night, so I won’t complain.

Something else I find hard about nursing is the fact that it’s all on me. I hate the fact that I can’t even go to a movie, or out for a drink (do you know how badly I want to go for a drink on a patio before the summer is over?) For the past few days we’ve been trying to get him to take a bottle of pumped milk. I’ve left the room, we’ve tried when he’s hungry, middle of feeding, end of feeding, while rocking. We’ve tried several different nipples. He’s not interested. Any other suggestions? When do you think is the optimal time to introduce the bottle? My midwife says it’s OK to start now, but I’m curious to know when other have had success.

The good thing is that I can now nurse and read at the same time! I’ve read about 4 books in the past week—I’ll post on them as soon as I can. I can also tweet on my iTouch. I fuck up a lot though, and do random tweets that make no sense, so please disregard those. I can retweet with one touch, so I’m doing lots of those. I still type terrible slow on the iTouch, so if my replies seem terse, please forgive me.

A few people have asked about Cakes. She’s doing well, but I’m feeling terribly guilty about not spending much time with her. I’ll write more about her soon. I’ll post a pic of the two of them once I get a good one. Every one I’ve taken so far has someone with their eyes closed!

That’s all for now. I still need to nap, shower, eat and answer email before the little man wakes.

Labour of Love

Update: Thanks so much for your supportive comments; they really helped a lot. I'm so thankful I've kept up this blog now that I need it the most.

We're doing much better again since I posted this. He's back to eating every 2-3 hours, and the engorgment is better. I've learned that I really need to be rested and relaxed, and sit in the right chair. Cakes is away again until tomorrow night, and it's quieter around here. My iTouch is saving my sanity--now that some of the nursing sessions are marathon, I'm getting good at scrolling through tweets and blogs. Once I can nurse and hold a book at the same time, we'll be all set!

My initial jubilation is wearing a little thin. Though we’re doing infinitely better than last time, I’m amazed at just how fucking hard breastfeeding is. Day 1 was heartbreaking, waiting for milk to come in. Day 2 and 3 were horrible, with ridiculous engorgement (the poor boy was terrified at the sight of two torpedoes staring him in the face. Day 4 and 5 (when I posted below) were euphoric, with the two of us finally hitting our stride. Then, day 6 the little dude ATE ALL DAY. Seriously, out of 24 hours, I think he nursed about 20. I was trembling with exhaustion.

The last couple days have been really frustrating. After his gorge fest, he spent most of the next day sleeping, just rising for short little snacks, leaving me engorged again (I had to get out the breast pump). While he was latching on right away, now he’s fighting and squirming at each feed before he finally settles down. He grabs handfuls of my breast with his little claws, and kicks and screams. A 4 AM feeding took an hour and a half, with him only nursing for about 20 minutes of that time. It seriously makes me want to stab myself in the eye. I’ve tried pumping a few minutes before the feed, to make sure the milk is flowing. I’ve tried pumping for 10 minutes before the feed in case the flow is coming too fast. I’m really getting tired.

So, my friends, I need your comforting words. Tell me it was hard for you too, and it gets easier (when?) Remind me how rewarding breastfeeding can be. Any advice?

The Story

Update: Day 6 and we're already back to birth weight! I'm thrilled.

We're still doing great--I’m pinching myself. After our rough first months with Cakes, I’ve always felt cheated on the early motherhood experience, particularly not being able to nurse. Sherwood and I had a couple of difficult nights (first waiting for milk to come in, then battling terrible engorgement) but now nursing is going really well. I’m still awkward as hell, but it gets better each day and I’m thrilled with the connection I feel to my son.

Now, to the promised birth story:

1030 Finish watching two episodes of Nurse Jackie (so good!) and contractions start.
1130 Contractions 15 minutes apart. Been down this path the week before, so resist urge to get overly excited, and try to sleep (has anyone actually been able to sleep in early labour?)
1200 Give up on trying to sleep and goof off on Facebook and Twitter in bed. Try to resist urge to tweet about contractions in case it’s another false alarm.
0200 For fucks sakes, contractions still 15 minutes apart.
0330 Still 15 minutes dammit, but give in and tweet. Call McHotty at the hall and ask him to come home.
0400 Get in the Jacuzzi. Within minutes contractions 12 minutes apart. Then 10. Then 6.
0500 Call midwife. Contractions 6 minutes apart, but only a minute long and I can talk through them. Decide to wait.
0515 Ow, ow, ow, ow.
0600 Howling. McHotty calls midwife. Says we’ll be at the hospital in 15 minutes, meet us there.
0620 Takes me 20 minutes to get down all the stairs to the car. Hazard lights blinking, race to the hospital passing cars, running lights.
0630 Arrive at hospital entrance and stagger into lobber while McHotty parks. Start wailing in lobby, and coffee lady gets me into wheelchair. McHotty finds me and starts sprinting.
0635 Go up wrong elevator and get lost. Ear-splitting howls alert nurses who direct us to the right wing.
0638 Find midwife and sprint to delivery room. Push, push. OMFG. Beg for pain relief and they look at me like I’m crazy. Baby’s heart rate drops, so the doctor comes in and yells at me to push properly.
0650 Get into some kind of crazy determination zone and push for all I am worth. Everything falls away, pain disappears, and out he comes.

Under the wonderful ministrations of my midwives (I really can’t speak highly enough about them) I was feeling good by 10 am and they sent us home. Wild, no? After spending so many days in the hospital when Cakes was born, it is so lovely to recover at home this time. Sherwood and I are set up on our third floor with our own bathroom and deck. McHotty is keeping me set up with great food and lots of TLC. The midwives have been here almost every day. It really, really couldn’t be better. Here’s hoping we stay the course.