Saturday night, we went to a friend's wedding and I had about three drinks. I've always been taught that, as a nursing mother, I had to "Pump and dump" meaning that I could drink as much alcohol as I wanted to but then I'd have to go home and pump all of the milk from my breasts, and dump it down the drain. So that's what I did at one in the morning. Then, on Sunday morning, I decided to research the rules to see if I needed to "Pump and dump" again, just to be safe. To my complete surprise I learned that I didn't even have to dump the TEN OUNCES that I pumped last night! According to several articles I read by reputable sources on the Internet (here, here, and here), it isn't necessary to dump breastmilk unless it is within two to three hours of having an alcoholic beverage when you will be feeding your child or you are still feeling the effects of the alcohol. The alcohol doesn't stay in your milk but instead, gets worked out of your system just like it gets processed out of your blood. Once you sober up, the milk is sober too and no longer a threat to your baby. You only need to pump and dump if you are engorged and need to expel the milk for relief before you have sobered up and your body has had time to process the alcohol from the milk. If only someone would have told me that in the wee hours of the morning. Better to be safe than sorry, and better to be educated about it than not.
Now when my mom asks me what I learned at school today, I'll have a great answer. What? I'm not in school and she doesn't do that anymore? Maybe I had more to drink than I thought... Oh well.
Moral of the story: If you have a few alcoholic drinks, make sure you wait two or three hours, or sober up, before you pump or feed the baby to be sure there isn't any alcohol leftover in your milk. No need to dump.
Showing posts with label Nursing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Nursing. Show all posts
Monday, October 25, 2010
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
The Crusty Popeye
Ada was a Popeye baby. She tended to have one eye open and one eye closed as she watched what was going on around her.
I'm happy to report that Iain is the same way, but his Popeye look is due to a clogged tear duct, which I frequently call a clogged milk duct which is a much more painful condition and clearly not associated with one's eye. I must have nursing on the brain. His clogged tear duct goo tends to seal his eye shut. I've been trying to cure it with a warm washcloth and by massaging the inner and outer corners of his eye. My lactation consultant suggested putting breastmilk in his eye since it has antibiotic healing properties so I've tried that as well. Some days it is better, some days it's worse. It has since migrated to his other eye now so he alternates Popeye faces. Either way, he has a drippy, yellow goo on his face, but he's still really cute so I'll just keep doing what I'm doing and hoping that the ducts will unclog themselves in time.
Moral of the story: Babies get goo, bumps, marks, spots and the like. Most will pass on their own given time so do just that... give them time and don't mess with them.
I'm happy to report that Iain is the same way, but his Popeye look is due to a clogged tear duct, which I frequently call a clogged milk duct which is a much more painful condition and clearly not associated with one's eye. I must have nursing on the brain. His clogged tear duct goo tends to seal his eye shut. I've been trying to cure it with a warm washcloth and by massaging the inner and outer corners of his eye. My lactation consultant suggested putting breastmilk in his eye since it has antibiotic healing properties so I've tried that as well. Some days it is better, some days it's worse. It has since migrated to his other eye now so he alternates Popeye faces. Either way, he has a drippy, yellow goo on his face, but he's still really cute so I'll just keep doing what I'm doing and hoping that the ducts will unclog themselves in time.
Moral of the story: Babies get goo, bumps, marks, spots and the like. Most will pass on their own given time so do just that... give them time and don't mess with them.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Secrets of the Second Child
Through all of my research before having Ada, I learned a lot about having a baby and what to expect. Once she was here, I realized there was a lot that people don't tell you about having a baby that I really would have liked to know. Now that we have a second child, I really wish I would have found out a few things beforehand so I could have better prepared myself, at least mentally.
For instance:
You do hear that labor tends to be faster with the second child. That's at least a nice bonus assuming you aren't the exception to that rule. You don't hear that labor and delivery might be more traumatic this time since the novelty of the first child has worn off and you're more grounded in reality instead of off in la la land.
No one told me I'd have to train my daughter to use her inside voice so as not to constantly wake the baby. We're working on that now.
Even if you think you are settled into a good routine and have a handle on parenthood, having a second child shakes everything up and dumps it upside down. You're sense of control all goes out the window and you have to start over. That cheaper by the dozen theory might be true if you ever make it to a dozen. For just two, the idea that it is more of the same is complete crap.
You'll meet new moms again, but you'll connect best with those who also have a second child since the first-time moms still have that deer-in-the-headlights look about them.
If you nursed your first child, depending on how long it's been since you last nursed (in my case, a year and a half), you'll likely have forgotten the proper techniques and should refresh your memory or ask the nurses for pointers before assuming it's like riding a bike and having your newborn damage your nipples. This tip could have saved me two weeks of toe-curling pain.
I didn't know that, if you nurse again, you're chest is likely to get even bigger than before and your original nursing bras won't fit. And if they do, they'll be so stretched out from the first time that they don't offer all that much support. Be forewarned that if you share this knowledge with your husband, he may keep knocking you up solely to see just how big they can get.
If you are nursing, you'll likely produce more milk and leak way more than you ever did the first time. Your milk might also let down as soon as your older child cries since your nursing instincts can't always tell which child is crying, they just respond.
You make a lot of mom friends with the first child so that they will all cook you dinner when the second child arrives since you won't have time to cook, or do much of anything for that matter.
If someone is kind enough to send you flowers with their congratulations and well wishes, the flowers won't last as long as they did with your first child since you'll likely neglect to devote the proper time to care for them as you are sure to be more distracted.
With the first child, you are clueless and want your relatives to stay to help as long as they can--for the most part anyway. With the second, they assume you know what you are doing and don't need them as much when in reality, you probably need them even more. You just don't know it yet.
And the real reasons you take less photos of subsequent children isn't that you love them less or that the novelty of a new baby has worn off. It's likely because you don't have time to pick up the camera, you don't have a third hand to hold it with, mommy brain makes you forget it, or you don't have any more room in the diaper bag to take it with you when you go out. Not to mention the fact that, in order to take a picture, you have to get both kids to sit still long enough to focus the shot and snap the shutter or hope that your older child doesn't run away while you pose the baby on a blanket in the shade for his photo shoot.
Moral of the story: You can't prepare for everything so try to stay calm and do your best.
For instance:
You do hear that labor tends to be faster with the second child. That's at least a nice bonus assuming you aren't the exception to that rule. You don't hear that labor and delivery might be more traumatic this time since the novelty of the first child has worn off and you're more grounded in reality instead of off in la la land.
No one told me I'd have to train my daughter to use her inside voice so as not to constantly wake the baby. We're working on that now.
Even if you think you are settled into a good routine and have a handle on parenthood, having a second child shakes everything up and dumps it upside down. You're sense of control all goes out the window and you have to start over. That cheaper by the dozen theory might be true if you ever make it to a dozen. For just two, the idea that it is more of the same is complete crap.
You'll meet new moms again, but you'll connect best with those who also have a second child since the first-time moms still have that deer-in-the-headlights look about them.
If you nursed your first child, depending on how long it's been since you last nursed (in my case, a year and a half), you'll likely have forgotten the proper techniques and should refresh your memory or ask the nurses for pointers before assuming it's like riding a bike and having your newborn damage your nipples. This tip could have saved me two weeks of toe-curling pain.
I didn't know that, if you nurse again, you're chest is likely to get even bigger than before and your original nursing bras won't fit. And if they do, they'll be so stretched out from the first time that they don't offer all that much support. Be forewarned that if you share this knowledge with your husband, he may keep knocking you up solely to see just how big they can get.
If you are nursing, you'll likely produce more milk and leak way more than you ever did the first time. Your milk might also let down as soon as your older child cries since your nursing instincts can't always tell which child is crying, they just respond.
You make a lot of mom friends with the first child so that they will all cook you dinner when the second child arrives since you won't have time to cook, or do much of anything for that matter.
If someone is kind enough to send you flowers with their congratulations and well wishes, the flowers won't last as long as they did with your first child since you'll likely neglect to devote the proper time to care for them as you are sure to be more distracted.
With the first child, you are clueless and want your relatives to stay to help as long as they can--for the most part anyway. With the second, they assume you know what you are doing and don't need them as much when in reality, you probably need them even more. You just don't know it yet.
And the real reasons you take less photos of subsequent children isn't that you love them less or that the novelty of a new baby has worn off. It's likely because you don't have time to pick up the camera, you don't have a third hand to hold it with, mommy brain makes you forget it, or you don't have any more room in the diaper bag to take it with you when you go out. Not to mention the fact that, in order to take a picture, you have to get both kids to sit still long enough to focus the shot and snap the shutter or hope that your older child doesn't run away while you pose the baby on a blanket in the shade for his photo shoot.
Moral of the story: You can't prepare for everything so try to stay calm and do your best.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Pregnancy = Crazy
Recently, an old friend and his wife became pregnant. Shortly thereafter, he realized I write about motherhood and pregnancy and asked me to write a message to his wife imploring her to not act crazy toward him while her hormones are raging during pregnancy.
To my friend I say: Sorry bud, no chance of that ever happening.
Instead, my advice to expectant fathers goes like this:
Now that she is pregnant, your wife will be emotional, crazy, forgetful, moody, exhausted, needy, insecure, unsure of herself, exhausted, clumsy, forgetful, (see I'm already repeating myself as I type and I'm not doing it on purpose) and a million other emotions will take her prisoner for the next nine months. Once the baby is here, it could get better, but chances are that it will get worse first. Especially if she decides to nurse the baby as nursing mommy brain really turns to mush.
Some key phrases you as a husband should quickly incorporate into your daily conversations with your wife include:
I love you. (That should already be there but just in case it isn't and I really have to start at square one, it made the list.)
You're the most beautiful woman in the world. (ditto)
I love your changing body.
You are not fat. You're body is making room for the baby and some things are going to be more flattering than others. We just have to find something that flatters your new figure.
Everything is going to be just fine.
You're going to be a wonderful mother.
Slow down, relax, incubate.
Can I get you anything? (water, backrub, footrub, heating pad, foot rest, you're favorite mac and cheese from down the street that you crave)
If it is supportive and reassuring, it should be on this list. You get my point.
You're wife's body is going through an incredible transformation. Most men I know could not handle pregnancy, and if they could, it wouldn't be any better than we women handle it.
Pregnancy is not easy.
Just think about it. We try not to get pregnant for years until we are "ready" (whatever that means). Then we try to get pregnant and worry that we won't be able to. If it doesn't come naturally, there are layers of issues that come with that. If it does come naturally, we're still told not to count our chickens before they are hatched since the miscarriage rate is so high. Then we are bombarded with what to eat and not eat, how to exercise to stay in shape but not overexert ourselves and stress the baby. We have to go to doctor appointment after doctor appointment to get poked and prodded and weighed and measured. We take blood tests to screen for potential birth defects and have to nervously await the results. We then go in for ultrasounds to find out the sex of the baby, or not, and again make sure everything is in it's place. We hear horror stories about preemies, SIDS, postpartum depression and all that can go wrong with a pregnancy, not to mention how every mom we meet will volunteer her awful labor and delivery story just to prove that she's done something incredible, thereby scaring the pee out of us, literally -- because our bladders can now only hold so much and we have to go to the bathroom every five minutes.
And then there are the foods that we crave and the foods that we find repulsive. Our doctors are telling us to gain weight or not to gain too much weight when all we want to do is eat, or not eat.
And we sometimes have morning sickness or feel queasy, we get heartburn and other ailments. We, near the end of pregnancy, can barely walk/get off the couch/tie our shoes. Not to mention the leg cramps in the middle of the night, wild and crazy dreams and nights of restless sleep.
And do I even have to mention feeling fat and unattractive and worrying that we are no longer sexy in our husband's eyes? Or the fact that our wardrobe doesn't fit and we have to buy new things to wear, but we don't want to spend money on ourselves since we are saving up for the expense of having a baby. Then nothing fits once the baby is here and our body is completely changed, so we again need a new wardrobe, and have to dip into baby's savings.
Add to that the fact that you may or may not be working and have to decide if you are going back to work or not, and how you're going to make ends meet when you sit down with the family budget. Can you say stressful?
On top of that, you must consider that the baby is going to need a name and everyone has an opinion on what you should or shouldn't name the baby. Maybe there is family pressure to honor your twice removed great great uncle Elvis even though it totally doesn't sound good with your last name or his initials spell out something that he'll clearly be made fun of for his entire childhood. Can you live with that decision?
And what if you are having twins? It might be a two-for-one deal to some, but it terrifies the rest of us completely.
Briefly, let's chat about post-pregnancy. She'll doubt her mothering skills. She'll wonder if she should nurse, maybe feel like she's failed if she is unable to nurse (which she hasn't failed...sometimes it's just not meant to be and you need to be supportive of all of her choices.) Your friends may change now that you have a child and your social life might just go MIA for awhile. (Not everyone wants to talk poopy diapers over dinner you know.) Your sex life as you know it is over for at least 6 weeks until you get her doctor's clearance. And then who has time for sex? And how hot are you when you have spit up all over your shirt? Just you wait and see.
Then she'll wonder if doing sign language is good for the baby, if the baby is developing on schedule, if his height and weight percentile are okay, if he is getting enough milk, if she should vaccinate the baby (YES, but do your own research to form that opinion), and if she should get a nanny or enroll in daycare. Her mother and your mother will be all over her parenting skills, and that advice my fall on thankful, or insulted ears. (Don't get me wrong, Dad may be in charge of many of the decisions, but that's still pretty rare and to those fathers, I feel your pain.)
I mean, seriously, you want me to be on your side and suggest your wife go easy on you? No chance in hell buddy. Not a chance.
Now go give her a hug and tell her she's the most beautiful woman in the world.
Moral of the story: Having babies is not for the weak or unstable. It is a daunting process on an emotional roller coaster that will change your world forever. Be supportive of one another, prepare as best you can, and know that it won't be easy, but it sure is rewarding.
To my friend I say: Sorry bud, no chance of that ever happening.
Instead, my advice to expectant fathers goes like this:
Now that she is pregnant, your wife will be emotional, crazy, forgetful, moody, exhausted, needy, insecure, unsure of herself, exhausted, clumsy, forgetful, (see I'm already repeating myself as I type and I'm not doing it on purpose) and a million other emotions will take her prisoner for the next nine months. Once the baby is here, it could get better, but chances are that it will get worse first. Especially if she decides to nurse the baby as nursing mommy brain really turns to mush.
Some key phrases you as a husband should quickly incorporate into your daily conversations with your wife include:
I love you. (That should already be there but just in case it isn't and I really have to start at square one, it made the list.)
You're the most beautiful woman in the world. (ditto)
I love your changing body.
You are not fat. You're body is making room for the baby and some things are going to be more flattering than others. We just have to find something that flatters your new figure.
Everything is going to be just fine.
You're going to be a wonderful mother.
Slow down, relax, incubate.
Can I get you anything? (water, backrub, footrub, heating pad, foot rest, you're favorite mac and cheese from down the street that you crave)
If it is supportive and reassuring, it should be on this list. You get my point.
You're wife's body is going through an incredible transformation. Most men I know could not handle pregnancy, and if they could, it wouldn't be any better than we women handle it.
Pregnancy is not easy.
Just think about it. We try not to get pregnant for years until we are "ready" (whatever that means). Then we try to get pregnant and worry that we won't be able to. If it doesn't come naturally, there are layers of issues that come with that. If it does come naturally, we're still told not to count our chickens before they are hatched since the miscarriage rate is so high. Then we are bombarded with what to eat and not eat, how to exercise to stay in shape but not overexert ourselves and stress the baby. We have to go to doctor appointment after doctor appointment to get poked and prodded and weighed and measured. We take blood tests to screen for potential birth defects and have to nervously await the results. We then go in for ultrasounds to find out the sex of the baby, or not, and again make sure everything is in it's place. We hear horror stories about preemies, SIDS, postpartum depression and all that can go wrong with a pregnancy, not to mention how every mom we meet will volunteer her awful labor and delivery story just to prove that she's done something incredible, thereby scaring the pee out of us, literally -- because our bladders can now only hold so much and we have to go to the bathroom every five minutes.
And then there are the foods that we crave and the foods that we find repulsive. Our doctors are telling us to gain weight or not to gain too much weight when all we want to do is eat, or not eat.
And we sometimes have morning sickness or feel queasy, we get heartburn and other ailments. We, near the end of pregnancy, can barely walk/get off the couch/tie our shoes. Not to mention the leg cramps in the middle of the night, wild and crazy dreams and nights of restless sleep.
And do I even have to mention feeling fat and unattractive and worrying that we are no longer sexy in our husband's eyes? Or the fact that our wardrobe doesn't fit and we have to buy new things to wear, but we don't want to spend money on ourselves since we are saving up for the expense of having a baby. Then nothing fits once the baby is here and our body is completely changed, so we again need a new wardrobe, and have to dip into baby's savings.
Add to that the fact that you may or may not be working and have to decide if you are going back to work or not, and how you're going to make ends meet when you sit down with the family budget. Can you say stressful?
On top of that, you must consider that the baby is going to need a name and everyone has an opinion on what you should or shouldn't name the baby. Maybe there is family pressure to honor your twice removed great great uncle Elvis even though it totally doesn't sound good with your last name or his initials spell out something that he'll clearly be made fun of for his entire childhood. Can you live with that decision?
And what if you are having twins? It might be a two-for-one deal to some, but it terrifies the rest of us completely.
Briefly, let's chat about post-pregnancy. She'll doubt her mothering skills. She'll wonder if she should nurse, maybe feel like she's failed if she is unable to nurse (which she hasn't failed...sometimes it's just not meant to be and you need to be supportive of all of her choices.) Your friends may change now that you have a child and your social life might just go MIA for awhile. (Not everyone wants to talk poopy diapers over dinner you know.) Your sex life as you know it is over for at least 6 weeks until you get her doctor's clearance. And then who has time for sex? And how hot are you when you have spit up all over your shirt? Just you wait and see.
Then she'll wonder if doing sign language is good for the baby, if the baby is developing on schedule, if his height and weight percentile are okay, if he is getting enough milk, if she should vaccinate the baby (YES, but do your own research to form that opinion), and if she should get a nanny or enroll in daycare. Her mother and your mother will be all over her parenting skills, and that advice my fall on thankful, or insulted ears. (Don't get me wrong, Dad may be in charge of many of the decisions, but that's still pretty rare and to those fathers, I feel your pain.)
I mean, seriously, you want me to be on your side and suggest your wife go easy on you? No chance in hell buddy. Not a chance.
Now go give her a hug and tell her she's the most beautiful woman in the world.
Moral of the story: Having babies is not for the weak or unstable. It is a daunting process on an emotional roller coaster that will change your world forever. Be supportive of one another, prepare as best you can, and know that it won't be easy, but it sure is rewarding.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Me, On a Soapbox
Here's one thing that really gets to me, and I think I've mentioned it before.
People who are disrespectful to nursing mothers.
If you are one of them and think nursing in public is wrong, please read this so you can be a bit more open-minded and educated on the subject.
Nursing your child is natural. It's normal. It's not gross or disgusting or something that needs to be done in a closed room. Men should love public nursing since they might get to see a glimpse of part of a sliver of a boob. Woohoo. Hello? Who doesn't like boobs? Am I right?
Come on people. We saw more boob from Janet Jackson at the Superbowl than you'll ever see from a woman nursing in public. How long will it take for times to change on this issue?
My first beef is regarding an article I read recently about a woman nursing in a park in Logan Square, a neighborhood here in Chicago. Some woman, a mother of two girls mind you, went by and said the nursing woman was disgusting, a disgrace, indecent and she was going to call the police. The nursing woman of course encouraged her to do so knowing that she has every right to nurse in public and not be arrested for indecent exposure. It's not like her breasts are flapping in the wind people. Thankfully, that woman got media coverage and arranged a "nurse-in" where she had about 30 moms meet at the park the next day to openly nurse their babies. Take that stupid woman who's against public nursing. And my your daughters not have to deal with people like you once they procreate. Here's to a better, more accepting world for them.
And my second beef is concerning a good friend of mine. A family friend and a bridesmaid in my wedding. She's a young mother at 20. She has a job at Wendy's to pay the bills while going to school and managing a newborn. She has grand plans to marry her boyfriend once they are on solid financial ground in a few years but college comes first. (At least this setup is becoming more acceptable in society.) So here she is. A new mom. New to nursing. New to her rights. Her boss at Wendy's has told her that she can't work more than a 3 hour shift in a 24 hour period, supposedly so that she can go home to nurse for the other 21 hours of the day, and she is not allowed to pump on Wendy's property. Not at all. Not in the bathroom. Not in her car in the parking lot. Not anywhere. Not ever.
I'm doing everything in my power not to call La Leche for her (since those are my only facts and they'll need more details), and I've implored her to contact them on her own because this is just outrageous to me that a new mom can be treated this way. But REALLY? I hope that someone who really knows the laws as they apply to nursing mothers can explain to me how any company can legally do that to a new mom. Obviously she started looking for a new job and found something temporary at a local orchard for the fall. But REALLY? Deep down I'm hoping she calls La Leche and they send over some high powered attorney that just throws Wendy's to the ground and stops on their head repeatedly. Ada and I will surely be there for moral support when it happens. A place like Wendy's must be governed by FMLA rules and there is no way that a restaurant can really claim that it's unsanitary to nurse on the premises. If that's the case, someone really needs to straighten this out.
If anything more develops on this, I'll keep you posted.
Moral of the story: Nursing mothers deserve way more respect and rights than we have right now. You can help by simply being a supportive friend.
People who are disrespectful to nursing mothers.
If you are one of them and think nursing in public is wrong, please read this so you can be a bit more open-minded and educated on the subject.
Nursing your child is natural. It's normal. It's not gross or disgusting or something that needs to be done in a closed room. Men should love public nursing since they might get to see a glimpse of part of a sliver of a boob. Woohoo. Hello? Who doesn't like boobs? Am I right?
Come on people. We saw more boob from Janet Jackson at the Superbowl than you'll ever see from a woman nursing in public. How long will it take for times to change on this issue?
My first beef is regarding an article I read recently about a woman nursing in a park in Logan Square, a neighborhood here in Chicago. Some woman, a mother of two girls mind you, went by and said the nursing woman was disgusting, a disgrace, indecent and she was going to call the police. The nursing woman of course encouraged her to do so knowing that she has every right to nurse in public and not be arrested for indecent exposure. It's not like her breasts are flapping in the wind people. Thankfully, that woman got media coverage and arranged a "nurse-in" where she had about 30 moms meet at the park the next day to openly nurse their babies. Take that stupid woman who's against public nursing. And my your daughters not have to deal with people like you once they procreate. Here's to a better, more accepting world for them.
And my second beef is concerning a good friend of mine. A family friend and a bridesmaid in my wedding. She's a young mother at 20. She has a job at Wendy's to pay the bills while going to school and managing a newborn. She has grand plans to marry her boyfriend once they are on solid financial ground in a few years but college comes first. (At least this setup is becoming more acceptable in society.) So here she is. A new mom. New to nursing. New to her rights. Her boss at Wendy's has told her that she can't work more than a 3 hour shift in a 24 hour period, supposedly so that she can go home to nurse for the other 21 hours of the day, and she is not allowed to pump on Wendy's property. Not at all. Not in the bathroom. Not in her car in the parking lot. Not anywhere. Not ever.
I'm doing everything in my power not to call La Leche for her (since those are my only facts and they'll need more details), and I've implored her to contact them on her own because this is just outrageous to me that a new mom can be treated this way. But REALLY? I hope that someone who really knows the laws as they apply to nursing mothers can explain to me how any company can legally do that to a new mom. Obviously she started looking for a new job and found something temporary at a local orchard for the fall. But REALLY? Deep down I'm hoping she calls La Leche and they send over some high powered attorney that just throws Wendy's to the ground and stops on their head repeatedly. Ada and I will surely be there for moral support when it happens. A place like Wendy's must be governed by FMLA rules and there is no way that a restaurant can really claim that it's unsanitary to nurse on the premises. If that's the case, someone really needs to straighten this out.
If anything more develops on this, I'll keep you posted.
Moral of the story: Nursing mothers deserve way more respect and rights than we have right now. You can help by simply being a supportive friend.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Successful Formula!
It worked. Believe it or not--I still have trouble believing it--it worked. Ada is now drinking 100% formula. She graduated from the half and half mix to all formula and it rocks. I nurse her whenever I feel like it. She drinks formula whenever I think she didn't get enough breastmilk. She's happy. I'm happy. Life is beautiful.
I don't have to pump anymore--which by the way is AWESOME! It is so much easier to travel with her and I think I'm getting more sleep now that I'm not up 20 minutes extra each night pumping. I feel like I'm washing less bottles but really it's probably more bottles and less pump stuff. What a relief. And, driving with her is easier too as I can easily whip up a bottle whenever we need it. Very nice. No complaints here. I made it over 10 months strictly nursing and it was a huge sacrifice but worth it. And now I feel great with a little bit of both. She'll be on whole cow's milk soon enough.
Too bad she's back to teething again. Poor little thing. She has 4 teeth and this past few days has been awful with her drooling and screaming and not napping and waking up during the night. And Tylenol isn't even helping. Ug. But, like all things thus far, we'll get through it.
Oh, and I'm also so excited since now that Ada is drinking formula, we can send her to grandma's house for the weekend and not have to worry about if she has enough milk. Perfect for the holidays coming up since we have a few parties to attend and really just don't want to dole out a million dollars for babysitters.
Moral of the story: Weaning your child isn't the worst thing on earth as some people might suggest. It's actually quite freeing, and helps you see how much you've dedicated to your child if you did nurse them. Kinda rewarding.
I don't have to pump anymore--which by the way is AWESOME! It is so much easier to travel with her and I think I'm getting more sleep now that I'm not up 20 minutes extra each night pumping. I feel like I'm washing less bottles but really it's probably more bottles and less pump stuff. What a relief. And, driving with her is easier too as I can easily whip up a bottle whenever we need it. Very nice. No complaints here. I made it over 10 months strictly nursing and it was a huge sacrifice but worth it. And now I feel great with a little bit of both. She'll be on whole cow's milk soon enough.
Too bad she's back to teething again. Poor little thing. She has 4 teeth and this past few days has been awful with her drooling and screaming and not napping and waking up during the night. And Tylenol isn't even helping. Ug. But, like all things thus far, we'll get through it.
Oh, and I'm also so excited since now that Ada is drinking formula, we can send her to grandma's house for the weekend and not have to worry about if she has enough milk. Perfect for the holidays coming up since we have a few parties to attend and really just don't want to dole out a million dollars for babysitters.
Moral of the story: Weaning your child isn't the worst thing on earth as some people might suggest. It's actually quite freeing, and helps you see how much you've dedicated to your child if you did nurse them. Kinda rewarding.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Dealing with a nursing mother
Nursing mothers are a delicate species. There are rumors that the women from La Leche are a bit hard core, some might say crazy, but I'd describe them more as passionate about nursing. Breastmilk, as I've covered before, is insanely good for your child. It has tons of benefits, nursing is a major bonding experience, and it's way cheaper than formula. Nursing, as an experience, changes a mother. I must admit, I was temporarily insane for a few hours last week when I thought I might have to stop nursing abruptly. It happens to the best of us. Now let me give the rest of the world a little bit of insight into the mind of a nursing mother and how best not to set them off.
When I became pregnant, I was hopeful that nursing would take, I'd be able to produce enough milk, Ada would latch on, it wouldn't be too painful, yadda yadda. There are a ton of issues that go into the decision to nurse. It is a very personal choice, and one that is highly influenced by spouses, a woman's workplace, friends, peers. And in the US, it isn't as popular or widely accepted as it is in foreign countries since somewhere someone decided that potentially seeing a little boob exposed in public was a bad thing -- definitely wasn't a man making that decision.
Lucky for me, Ada took to nursing and it turns out I have good boobs. Which was shocking since everyone made fun of me for being small busted as a teenager and I've been a bit self conscious ever since then. Now I'm a temporary C cup and don't know what to do with them. But I digress...
If you know someone who is nursing, the first rule is to be supportive of her decision. If you are uncomfortable with her whipping out the boob in your presence, you can mention it to her in private or leave the room when she is feeding. Chances of you seeing actual boob are not likely, and if you do, consider it a free scene from an R rated movie and get over it. It's part of the miracle of life. You'll understand one day when you have kids and if you don't, then you're weird.
Second rule is not to ever suggest that she switch to formula unless it is something she really wants to do and your position is one of saying, "don't worry that you have to supplement with formula/stop nursing. Babies are brought up on formula all of the time and it doesn't make you a bad mom. The fact that you tried nursing is more than a lot of people and something you can be proud of." This follows rule number one by being supportive.
Rule number three is never suggest to a nursing mother that she stop nursing and bottle feed the breastmilk to the baby in order to break the mother/child bond so it is easier for others to take care of the baby. That's just stupid. Babies need their mothers. It is their time together and I don't believe you can spoil your child by nursing them.
Rule four, don't ever suggest a mother supplement formula for breastmilk in order to make the baby less gassy once they are a few months old. The baby should adjust to the mother's milk after about a month so if they are gassy, it isn't likely due to what the mom is eating.
Rule five, if you aren't an expert on nursing, or haven't at the very least experienced it yourself, don't ever tell a nursing mother what to do. Just don't.
Rule six, don't ever tell a mother they need to go to the bathroom to breastfeed unless you are going to provide them with a comfortable chair and sanitary conditions for them to nurse privately. No one should be banished to a dirty public restroom in order to not disturb the other patrons. That's crap.
Rule seven, be sensitive to a woman who is weaning her child off the boob. It is a very emotional time. I've got it in my head that I will nurse Ada for about a year. That seems to be a common goal for moms. Some make it a few weeks, some go for six months, I'm shooting for a year since that is when she can switch to whole cow's milk. Mooo. One of my main motivations is that I don't want to pay for formula since it is so expensive. The other reason, which I realized only after my milk supply was threatened, is that I really like our time spent nursing because I have an excuse to cuddle with Ada. And if someone else is holding her, I have an excuse to take her back anytime I want because "she needs to nurse". It's great.
Rule eight, encourage your workplace and stores you shop at to be mom friendly and provide amenities for nursing moms. It's difficult enough to nurse but even worse when you have to try to find somewhere you feel you can whip out your boob in order to get your kid to stop screaming in public. Just adjusting to motherhood is tough but once you add nursing, you're on a whole new level in the game of life.
I will say that mother's shouldn't nurse their children to sleep, or should at least try not to since it can be bad for their teeth in the long run and they can get ear infections too. But it is easier said than done and takes time to change that habit.
And a mini lesson in milk production. Even though your doctor/lactation consultant/friend's-mother's-grandfather's-dog-that-has-since-passed-away-and-been-reincarnated-as-a-fairy-godmother says that you can go on a birth control with estrogen, even if it is localized like the nuva ring, there is still a good chance it will decrease your milk production, especially if you are thin. And stress can dramatically lower your milk production. And when your child starts solids, your milk supply will drop. So when you start nursing, it is best if you can pump a little each day to store in the freezer for when/if your milk supply dwindles. And if it does, don't worry. It can, and likely will, come back. In my case, I thought I was done for since I only had 3 oz left. But then I stayed home with Ada for a day and nursed, pumped like crazy, de-stressed a bit, got off the estrogen birth control and things have been much better. And it really helps to reduce stress if you just go out and buy a formula you'd be willing to give your child mixed with some breastmilk in case you ever run out. Then you know that even if things go poorly with your supply, your child won't starve to death for lack of milk, even if it is formula -- which isn't a four letter word mind you. It's just really expensive. :)
And as an afterthought to all of this, be sure you have friends who have nursed that you can ask all kinds of questions. I asked several friends what to do the other day and I got three completely different answers. It was a great way for me to realize that it is my choice whether or not I nurse, for how long, how often, etc. One friend said "stop nursing if it is too much work, too stressful, not enjoyable, etc." Another said, "Don't worry, you can get your milk production back up. You don't have to give up yet if you don't want to, but it is okay if you do." And yet another said, "You can always do a combo of nursing and supplement your milk with formula until you decide to stop nursing or continue full force. Some women only nurse once or twice a day for months and give their babies formula or cow's milk for the rest of their feedings." All of which was great advice and made me feel that I didn't have to make a drastic decision to stop nursing right away.
Moral of the story: Don't mess with a nursing momma, be supportive of the ones you know, and never give them advice unless you know what you're talking about.
Monday, June 9, 2008
Happy Birthday Mom
My first birthday as a Mom is here. What a day filled with emotion. Some good, some bad. But overall, a day for reflection. Being a Monday, I didn't go in to work. Being the day after we threw a birthday BBQ at our house, I had a lot of work to do.
Pre-mommyhood, birthday parties were about going out to the clubs and getting crazy with friends -- or in our case, having our 30 closest friends come over for a crazy night in. It has typically been a day for me to get wild and free and be silly. This year however, I feel things have changed a bit. They didn't necessarily have to, but they did. Instead of a house party into the wee hours, I opted for a daytime BBQ and was in bed at 9. Instead of a small array of chocolate martinis, I had a few glasses of water... and several desserts. And instead of me being the subject of the photos, Ada took center stage. I don't think there are any photos of me at my birthday party. Granted, I also decided to do a shared birthday party with Ada since she'll be 6 months in about a week. (I'll have to blog on my belief that birthdays should not be overshadowed by holidays and I can set whatever traditions I want since the majority of Americans can't tell you why we celebrate most of the holidays we do... but I'll get to that.) So things changed a bit, but in a good way.
The party was a blast. It was great to see so many friends come out to celebrate. I ate some fabulous desserts and got to spend a little time with a lot of good friends. I think it was similar to a wedding or baby shower where there are so many people and you are the host, or just the one person everyone has in common, so everyone needs you to make decisions -- do we need more meat? do you want me to get more ice? should we put out more cupcakes? But it is a challenge to host your birthday party when you are busy playing mommy at the same time. I am blessed to have a child that doesn't mind strangers and can be held by many, and passed around pretty well, but I'm also still nursing so there were a few times during the party that I had to disappear into the nursery to try to get Ada to sleep. It's tough greeting your guests as they come in and leave when you're exposing your left boob. Maybe that would have made the party even more wild and crazy though-- I hadn't thought of that...
But that was yesterday. Not my actual birthday but the day before my birthday. And today, my actual birthday, I got to wake up to a messy house and a sizable list of mommy duties and chores. But I must say, it beats a day with a hangover hands down.
So in my reflections of turning a year older, I look back on 28 and have hopes for 29. I'm thankful for my girlfriends who took me to lunch and dinner today to celebrate in Rick's absence--he had to work late on my birthday. I'm thankful for my beautiful daughter whom I spent the entire day with and I must say, she took a nice morning nap, didn't fuss much, behaved well at lunch at a restaurant and while on errands, slept in the car and at Aunt Anne's house, ate well, and made a great doorstop as I managed the inner and outer vestibule doors today with the stroller and diaper bag-- venturing out twice. She pooped solid poops today since she started solids--happy birthday mom--and not once, but three times. And she didn't even give me grief about going to bed at 8:15 instead of her usual 6:30-7:30 window.
And, since it is my birthday, she even let me read my favorite stories to her before bed. How lucky am I?
Moral of the story: A lot of things change when you have a baby, but they aren't all bad. Sure you see friends globetrotting and spending lavishly on frivolous things, but I have a baby. And I wouldn't change that for the world. Her smile just before she went to bed tonight was worth every tough moment I've had these last 6 months, and I'd do it again in a heartbeat.
Pre-mommyhood, birthday parties were about going out to the clubs and getting crazy with friends -- or in our case, having our 30 closest friends come over for a crazy night in. It has typically been a day for me to get wild and free and be silly. This year however, I feel things have changed a bit. They didn't necessarily have to, but they did. Instead of a house party into the wee hours, I opted for a daytime BBQ and was in bed at 9. Instead of a small array of chocolate martinis, I had a few glasses of water... and several desserts. And instead of me being the subject of the photos, Ada took center stage. I don't think there are any photos of me at my birthday party. Granted, I also decided to do a shared birthday party with Ada since she'll be 6 months in about a week. (I'll have to blog on my belief that birthdays should not be overshadowed by holidays and I can set whatever traditions I want since the majority of Americans can't tell you why we celebrate most of the holidays we do... but I'll get to that.) So things changed a bit, but in a good way.
The party was a blast. It was great to see so many friends come out to celebrate. I ate some fabulous desserts and got to spend a little time with a lot of good friends. I think it was similar to a wedding or baby shower where there are so many people and you are the host, or just the one person everyone has in common, so everyone needs you to make decisions -- do we need more meat? do you want me to get more ice? should we put out more cupcakes? But it is a challenge to host your birthday party when you are busy playing mommy at the same time. I am blessed to have a child that doesn't mind strangers and can be held by many, and passed around pretty well, but I'm also still nursing so there were a few times during the party that I had to disappear into the nursery to try to get Ada to sleep. It's tough greeting your guests as they come in and leave when you're exposing your left boob. Maybe that would have made the party even more wild and crazy though-- I hadn't thought of that...
But that was yesterday. Not my actual birthday but the day before my birthday. And today, my actual birthday, I got to wake up to a messy house and a sizable list of mommy duties and chores. But I must say, it beats a day with a hangover hands down.
So in my reflections of turning a year older, I look back on 28 and have hopes for 29. I'm thankful for my girlfriends who took me to lunch and dinner today to celebrate in Rick's absence--he had to work late on my birthday. I'm thankful for my beautiful daughter whom I spent the entire day with and I must say, she took a nice morning nap, didn't fuss much, behaved well at lunch at a restaurant and while on errands, slept in the car and at Aunt Anne's house, ate well, and made a great doorstop as I managed the inner and outer vestibule doors today with the stroller and diaper bag-- venturing out twice. She pooped solid poops today since she started solids--happy birthday mom--and not once, but three times. And she didn't even give me grief about going to bed at 8:15 instead of her usual 6:30-7:30 window.
And, since it is my birthday, she even let me read my favorite stories to her before bed. How lucky am I?
Moral of the story: A lot of things change when you have a baby, but they aren't all bad. Sure you see friends globetrotting and spending lavishly on frivolous things, but I have a baby. And I wouldn't change that for the world. Her smile just before she went to bed tonight was worth every tough moment I've had these last 6 months, and I'd do it again in a heartbeat.
Friday, April 25, 2008
The Art of Pumping
For those of you who don't know much about nursing, it seems to have changed quite a bit since my mom's generation experienced it. Back in the day (when my parents were walking to school uphill both ways barefoot in the snow as the story goes) they didn't have electric breast pumps, and probably not even electricity -- okay, just kidding about that part -- but they had to pump manually. And breastfeeding wasn't encouraged back then because someone decided (probably someone in marketing no less) that formula was better for babies. The list of benefits from nursing is quite impressive and includes passing antibodies from mom to baby to help boost baby's immune system. It is also a great way to bond and gives you a major advantage over dad since he can't compete with your huge knockers. He can just envy them and dream of getting a turn someday.
Now, of course, times have changed and I've heard there is actually a law that gives every infant the right to breastmilk. There are breastmilk donors and breastmilk banks even. With the increase in the popularity of nursing and society slowly starting to accept public breastfeeding, I decided I'd give it a try. And I'm not sure how many of you have seen the price for a can of formula these days, but nursing your baby saves some serious cash.
Knowing the difference in how breastfeeding was perceived from when I was born to today, you can imagine my mom's surprise when I arrived home from the hospital and ran around topless for a few days. After having just been through labor, all concerns for privacy were out the window and I really didn't care who saw me naked. And when you first try to breastfeed you realize that it isn't easy and it isn't for everyone. Some people have an easier time of it. Some babies just don't want to cooperate. I was lucky that it came easily to me and Ada took to it right away. But it was still very painful in the beginning and tearful at times. As you can probably imagine.
For those of you considering nursing, I highly recommend you give it a try and request a consultation with a lactation consultant while you're at the hospital. They can really help get you started. There is also a book called The Nursing Mother's Companion: Revised Edition
that is a good reference. And be sure to have some Medela Tender Care Lanolin
on hand for when your nipples get sore. The truth hurts and so do your nipples for the first few weeks. But if you can get the baby to latch on correctly from the get go, you'll have a much better chance of lasting through those painful times. The first week is the most important as that is when your body produces "liquid gold" which is colostrum - a thicker milk that has all the yummy good stuff baby needs to stay healthy. And if you can make it through the first month, you're in the clear for the most part. But be sure to ask for help and get the number of someone who has done it or your local La Leche group or a breastfeeding consultant because you need someone to cry to when the going gets rough.
And just remember, it does get better (for most people, not everyone). By three or four months the pain is gone and you can't wait for baby to feed because you're bursting with milk and need the release.
As far as milk production goes, my mother was again surprise that contrary to popular belief, little boobs can produce as much as big boobs and for once in our lifetime, size doesn't really matter. Unless you're my husband who just thinks breastfeeding is the coolest since I am frequently flashing boob around the house and I've increased a few cup sizes along the way. Lucky guy.
As for my single friends, who come to hang out at my house and get a glimpse of baby Ada, I've shocked most of them as I either latch Ada on a boob or have to pump when she's asleep. I try to be respectful and not flash too much skin but sometimes that is easier said than done. I know I have amazed many a friend while pumping since it is such a foreign concept for most. One night at knitting club I hooked up my pump and quickly was compared to a milk cow. The pumping action intrigued some while freaking the crap out of others. It can be a great form of birth control too as being milked isn't high on one's list of things to do in life.
And many a friend, and even cousin Ted, have noted that the rhythmic noise the pump makes sounds like the pump is saying something. I mostly hear "find a penny. find a penny." but it says something different to everyone. Cousin Ted heard something more like "gotta pee. gotta pee." I guess it all depends on what you're concerned about subconsciously.
So to the point of this whole entry, the art of pumping is just that. An art. Many of my friends have been amazed at how much I can accomplish while pumping but what they don't realize is that I have found this nifty little gadget that makes my pump hands-free. Easy Expression Hands Free Bustier Nursing Bra
. It is a tube top with a zipper up the front and a hole cut out for each nipple. (Sexy I know. Austin Powers should be envious. Yeah, baby!) This gadget holds the "funnels", as I call them, to your chest so that you don't have to. It is quite comfortable and really adds to my productivity. Just this week I amazed myself by pumping in the bathroom while putting on my make-up. It was a lot easier than I though and has taken multi-tasking to a whole new level.
We'll see how this art form continues as I face two new challenges. One is Ada getting teeth and how that will effect my comfort level in the coming months. The other being a need to pump while out and about in the city while Ada is at daycare. Supposedly Nordstroms on Michigan Ave has a mommy room I can use to pump if I'm ever in that area. I've only had to pump while out and about once thus far and I did so before getting a one hour massage so they gave me access to the massage room beforehand. I can only imagine how difficult it can be for working mothers who don't have facilities specifically for nursing. I know first hand how frustrating and disgusting it is to nurse Ada while standing in a dingy bathroom that is anything but mom-friendly. Inhaling the smell of the nasty bathroom air freshener with every breath as you try not to touch any cootie covered surfaces. All while averting your eyes from focusing on the nasty partial toilet seat and hoping your back doesn't give out as you stand holding your rapidly growing child in your arms for anywhere from ten minutes to an hour as the little one drinks from the fountain of mom.
Moral of the story: Nursing is a great experience that is not for everyone, plan ahead to find nursing-friendly locations when you are out and about, and splurge on the hands-free gadget or make one of your own as it really is a fabulous thing.
Now, of course, times have changed and I've heard there is actually a law that gives every infant the right to breastmilk. There are breastmilk donors and breastmilk banks even. With the increase in the popularity of nursing and society slowly starting to accept public breastfeeding, I decided I'd give it a try. And I'm not sure how many of you have seen the price for a can of formula these days, but nursing your baby saves some serious cash.
Knowing the difference in how breastfeeding was perceived from when I was born to today, you can imagine my mom's surprise when I arrived home from the hospital and ran around topless for a few days. After having just been through labor, all concerns for privacy were out the window and I really didn't care who saw me naked. And when you first try to breastfeed you realize that it isn't easy and it isn't for everyone. Some people have an easier time of it. Some babies just don't want to cooperate. I was lucky that it came easily to me and Ada took to it right away. But it was still very painful in the beginning and tearful at times. As you can probably imagine.
For those of you considering nursing, I highly recommend you give it a try and request a consultation with a lactation consultant while you're at the hospital. They can really help get you started. There is also a book called The Nursing Mother's Companion: Revised Edition
that is a good reference. And be sure to have some Medela Tender Care Lanolin on hand for when your nipples get sore. The truth hurts and so do your nipples for the first few weeks. But if you can get the baby to latch on correctly from the get go, you'll have a much better chance of lasting through those painful times. The first week is the most important as that is when your body produces "liquid gold" which is colostrum - a thicker milk that has all the yummy good stuff baby needs to stay healthy. And if you can make it through the first month, you're in the clear for the most part. But be sure to ask for help and get the number of someone who has done it or your local La Leche group or a breastfeeding consultant because you need someone to cry to when the going gets rough.And just remember, it does get better (for most people, not everyone). By three or four months the pain is gone and you can't wait for baby to feed because you're bursting with milk and need the release.
As far as milk production goes, my mother was again surprise that contrary to popular belief, little boobs can produce as much as big boobs and for once in our lifetime, size doesn't really matter. Unless you're my husband who just thinks breastfeeding is the coolest since I am frequently flashing boob around the house and I've increased a few cup sizes along the way. Lucky guy.
As for my single friends, who come to hang out at my house and get a glimpse of baby Ada, I've shocked most of them as I either latch Ada on a boob or have to pump when she's asleep. I try to be respectful and not flash too much skin but sometimes that is easier said than done. I know I have amazed many a friend while pumping since it is such a foreign concept for most. One night at knitting club I hooked up my pump and quickly was compared to a milk cow. The pumping action intrigued some while freaking the crap out of others. It can be a great form of birth control too as being milked isn't high on one's list of things to do in life.
And many a friend, and even cousin Ted, have noted that the rhythmic noise the pump makes sounds like the pump is saying something. I mostly hear "find a penny. find a penny." but it says something different to everyone. Cousin Ted heard something more like "gotta pee. gotta pee." I guess it all depends on what you're concerned about subconsciously.
So to the point of this whole entry, the art of pumping is just that. An art. Many of my friends have been amazed at how much I can accomplish while pumping but what they don't realize is that I have found this nifty little gadget that makes my pump hands-free. Easy Expression Hands Free Bustier Nursing Bra
. It is a tube top with a zipper up the front and a hole cut out for each nipple. (Sexy I know. Austin Powers should be envious. Yeah, baby!) This gadget holds the "funnels", as I call them, to your chest so that you don't have to. It is quite comfortable and really adds to my productivity. Just this week I amazed myself by pumping in the bathroom while putting on my make-up. It was a lot easier than I though and has taken multi-tasking to a whole new level.We'll see how this art form continues as I face two new challenges. One is Ada getting teeth and how that will effect my comfort level in the coming months. The other being a need to pump while out and about in the city while Ada is at daycare. Supposedly Nordstroms on Michigan Ave has a mommy room I can use to pump if I'm ever in that area. I've only had to pump while out and about once thus far and I did so before getting a one hour massage so they gave me access to the massage room beforehand. I can only imagine how difficult it can be for working mothers who don't have facilities specifically for nursing. I know first hand how frustrating and disgusting it is to nurse Ada while standing in a dingy bathroom that is anything but mom-friendly. Inhaling the smell of the nasty bathroom air freshener with every breath as you try not to touch any cootie covered surfaces. All while averting your eyes from focusing on the nasty partial toilet seat and hoping your back doesn't give out as you stand holding your rapidly growing child in your arms for anywhere from ten minutes to an hour as the little one drinks from the fountain of mom.
Moral of the story: Nursing is a great experience that is not for everyone, plan ahead to find nursing-friendly locations when you are out and about, and splurge on the hands-free gadget or make one of your own as it really is a fabulous thing.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Can’t Anybody Just Agree?
Yet another thing I’ve learned in motherhood is that none of the “experts” can agree on anything. It’s kind of like marketing in the way that we marketers can find a way to use the research to prove whatever outcome is in our favor. Pediatrician Recommended might mean that a company paid a pediatrician $100 to say sure, use that lotion. But for some reason, the public believes that if a pediatrician recommended it, it must be good. Who cares if the pediatrician is 90 years old, an alcoholic, and has never even seen the product he is recommending. You just have to use some common sense and your best judgment.
With that said, here are a few things I’ve found that articles, doctors and mothers can’t agree on and the stance I’ve taken on them. Maybe it will help save someone the trouble of trying to find the so-called right answer since it doesn’t exist. Caution: This is probably way too much information for some people (i.e. queasy men) so proceed with caution.
Allergies – Can you eat peanut butter while breastfeeding or not? My answer: Nobody knows. If you don’t have allergies in your family, eat the friggin’ peanut butter. If you are worried about it, don’t. I personally don’t think that the small quantities of peanut butter I eat are going to cause Ada to have peanut allergies. I’ve read studies that support both sides. I put peanut butter on my pancakes this morning and will deal with the consequences.
I do however think that you should avoid giving babies honey for their first year because it can cause botulism which can be deadly. Read more here.
Birth Control – Breastfeeding moms should avoid using birth control with Estrogen because it will lower the mother’s milk supply. My answer: I have recently read mixed reports on this. Most Dr.’s seem to prescribe the mini pill which has no estrogen. That’s great but after a few months it can cause depression, it isn’t as effective as other methods, you have to take the pill within 3 hours of the same time everyday or it loses its effectiveness, among other issues. I’ve recently been told and read that the patch and NuvaRing can be used since they don’t deliver the estrogen via pill so they don’t effect the milk supply as much if at all. My totally worthless and absolutely unprofessional opinion is to use the mini pill or some estrogen free method for the first few months until you get the whole breastfeeding thing under control and you have stockpiled some milk. Then give something else a try if you feel like it.
Breastfeeding will prevent you from getting pregnant. My answer: Not true all the time. It will reduce the chances of you getting pregnant but it isn’t an effect means of birth control. I know two people who have gotten pregnant while nursing. One intentionally, one unintentionally after her Dr. said she wouldn’t get pregnant. One of the not so widely known benefits of nursing is that you don’t necessarily get your period back for a few months, or even years for some people. I guess that isn’t a benefit if you are trying to figure out when you might be ovulating though. Hmmm…
Is there such a thing as nipple confusion? My answer: Maybe in the very beginning. Try to just use the boob to feed your baby in the beginning if they have trouble latching on. Once they get the hang of it, switch between boob and bottle, and have different people feed the baby from the bottle, including mom. My doctor freaked out that I was feeding her with the bottle and breastfeeding but I’ve found that it doesn’t make any difference.
For all of you pregnant women, some doctors still recommend episiotomies. My answer: Don’t let them do it. Studies show that it is better to tear instead of have the Dr. make a cut for vaginal births. Again I’m no expert but my Dr. said she won’t do them unless things get really crazy and that is the only option. The theory is that your body will only tear as much as it needs to and where it needs to but a Dr. might cut more than you need and it would take longer to heal.
Once you have the baby, some doctors will say to clean the area around the umbilical cord with an alcohol wipe. My answer: It will fall off if you do so or not. Babies born in other countries survive just fine without alcohol wipes so do whatever you feel like. It really doesn’t make a difference in my opinion.
Should you give your baby water? My answer: I don’t know but a tiny bit probably won’t hurt. A dietitian told me yes. Give them a little water so that they get used to it but never more than an ounce or two since they will fill their tiny tummies with water and not get the nutrients they need from their milk. My doctor recommends that I don’t give her water as she gets plenty from my milk. I don’t think an ounce here or there will hurt her as long as you pay attention to the fluoride content so you don’t mess up her teeth (even before they come in the fluoride can damage them.) And be sure that she is getting enough milk.
Are gas drops like Mylacon okay for babies? My answer: Heck yeah. They are a lifesaver. Some people think they haven’t been proven to work. Some think they are fine. Ada loves them and they do seem to help relieve her gas.
Do babies get sinus infections? My answer: I don’t know for sure since I’ve had two doctors tell me opposite answers but Ada had green snot coming out of her nose like mad and we put her on amoxicillin and now it is much better. So I’m assuming babies sinuses develop sometime around four months since that’s when the snot appeared. Don’t rule it out I guess is what I’m saying and if baby has green snot, do something about it.
Should I vaccinate my baby? Will it cause autism? My answer: I do believe in vaccinating your children because the benefits strongly outweigh the risks. The whole issue of autism is something that I’m not sure anyone understands. It seems to be related to diet on some level. There is one ingredient in certain vaccines that people think causes it. I’m not sure what that ingredient is but educate yourself and try to avoid vaccines that have that ingredient. Talk to your doctor and learn more about it. I just heard about a family (on Oprah’s Big Give) that has five children who are all on the autism spectrum. That makes me think it is genetic but I’m a marketing major with an MBA. I’m not a doctor or a specialist in this stuff. These are my best guesses on how to parent my kid. Take them or leave them but at least pay attention and educate yourself.
Moral of the story: Try to make educated decisions as best you can when it comes to parenting, your doctor probably doesn’t know everything there is to know about babies and the universe so feel free to double check or get a second opinion and question what they say, and follow your gut because intuition is too powerful to ignore.
With that said, here are a few things I’ve found that articles, doctors and mothers can’t agree on and the stance I’ve taken on them. Maybe it will help save someone the trouble of trying to find the so-called right answer since it doesn’t exist. Caution: This is probably way too much information for some people (i.e. queasy men) so proceed with caution.
Allergies – Can you eat peanut butter while breastfeeding or not? My answer: Nobody knows. If you don’t have allergies in your family, eat the friggin’ peanut butter. If you are worried about it, don’t. I personally don’t think that the small quantities of peanut butter I eat are going to cause Ada to have peanut allergies. I’ve read studies that support both sides. I put peanut butter on my pancakes this morning and will deal with the consequences.
I do however think that you should avoid giving babies honey for their first year because it can cause botulism which can be deadly. Read more here.
Birth Control – Breastfeeding moms should avoid using birth control with Estrogen because it will lower the mother’s milk supply. My answer: I have recently read mixed reports on this. Most Dr.’s seem to prescribe the mini pill which has no estrogen. That’s great but after a few months it can cause depression, it isn’t as effective as other methods, you have to take the pill within 3 hours of the same time everyday or it loses its effectiveness, among other issues. I’ve recently been told and read that the patch and NuvaRing can be used since they don’t deliver the estrogen via pill so they don’t effect the milk supply as much if at all. My totally worthless and absolutely unprofessional opinion is to use the mini pill or some estrogen free method for the first few months until you get the whole breastfeeding thing under control and you have stockpiled some milk. Then give something else a try if you feel like it.
Breastfeeding will prevent you from getting pregnant. My answer: Not true all the time. It will reduce the chances of you getting pregnant but it isn’t an effect means of birth control. I know two people who have gotten pregnant while nursing. One intentionally, one unintentionally after her Dr. said she wouldn’t get pregnant. One of the not so widely known benefits of nursing is that you don’t necessarily get your period back for a few months, or even years for some people. I guess that isn’t a benefit if you are trying to figure out when you might be ovulating though. Hmmm…
Is there such a thing as nipple confusion? My answer: Maybe in the very beginning. Try to just use the boob to feed your baby in the beginning if they have trouble latching on. Once they get the hang of it, switch between boob and bottle, and have different people feed the baby from the bottle, including mom. My doctor freaked out that I was feeding her with the bottle and breastfeeding but I’ve found that it doesn’t make any difference.
For all of you pregnant women, some doctors still recommend episiotomies. My answer: Don’t let them do it. Studies show that it is better to tear instead of have the Dr. make a cut for vaginal births. Again I’m no expert but my Dr. said she won’t do them unless things get really crazy and that is the only option. The theory is that your body will only tear as much as it needs to and where it needs to but a Dr. might cut more than you need and it would take longer to heal.
Once you have the baby, some doctors will say to clean the area around the umbilical cord with an alcohol wipe. My answer: It will fall off if you do so or not. Babies born in other countries survive just fine without alcohol wipes so do whatever you feel like. It really doesn’t make a difference in my opinion.
Should you give your baby water? My answer: I don’t know but a tiny bit probably won’t hurt. A dietitian told me yes. Give them a little water so that they get used to it but never more than an ounce or two since they will fill their tiny tummies with water and not get the nutrients they need from their milk. My doctor recommends that I don’t give her water as she gets plenty from my milk. I don’t think an ounce here or there will hurt her as long as you pay attention to the fluoride content so you don’t mess up her teeth (even before they come in the fluoride can damage them.) And be sure that she is getting enough milk.
Are gas drops like Mylacon okay for babies? My answer: Heck yeah. They are a lifesaver. Some people think they haven’t been proven to work. Some think they are fine. Ada loves them and they do seem to help relieve her gas.
Do babies get sinus infections? My answer: I don’t know for sure since I’ve had two doctors tell me opposite answers but Ada had green snot coming out of her nose like mad and we put her on amoxicillin and now it is much better. So I’m assuming babies sinuses develop sometime around four months since that’s when the snot appeared. Don’t rule it out I guess is what I’m saying and if baby has green snot, do something about it.
Should I vaccinate my baby? Will it cause autism? My answer: I do believe in vaccinating your children because the benefits strongly outweigh the risks. The whole issue of autism is something that I’m not sure anyone understands. It seems to be related to diet on some level. There is one ingredient in certain vaccines that people think causes it. I’m not sure what that ingredient is but educate yourself and try to avoid vaccines that have that ingredient. Talk to your doctor and learn more about it. I just heard about a family (on Oprah’s Big Give) that has five children who are all on the autism spectrum. That makes me think it is genetic but I’m a marketing major with an MBA. I’m not a doctor or a specialist in this stuff. These are my best guesses on how to parent my kid. Take them or leave them but at least pay attention and educate yourself.
Moral of the story: Try to make educated decisions as best you can when it comes to parenting, your doctor probably doesn’t know everything there is to know about babies and the universe so feel free to double check or get a second opinion and question what they say, and follow your gut because intuition is too powerful to ignore.
Saturday, April 5, 2008
08 Rant Renovation
It is widely known that renovation is never easy. So why my husband and I thought it would be a quick and easy project to install a washer/dryer combo unit in our bedroom closet is beyond me. Way beyond me.
This all started when we had Ada and realized, (insert light bulb here), that babies soil everything they touch and thereby increase your amount of laundry dramatically. And to compound the issue, we’re trying to save money and the environment by using cloth diapers(see 07 Advice). So having one baby equals three or four additional loads of laundry each week for us.
My whole reasoning for even putting a washer dryer in our condo unit is that it is better for resale, we’ll get the investment back when we sell our place, and it will be more convenient not having to walk out the back door, down a flight of stairs, unlock the basement door and lug the laundry to the coin machines. My real breaking point was when one washer and one dryer out of the four machines downstairs decided to not work properly but to continue eating my hard earned quarters. Five quarters per load to be exact, then five more for the dryer.
I hit my breaking point quickly. Ada was born mid-December and I made it to Valentine’s Day-- almost two whole months mind you. I researched different machines online and went with an LG WM3431HW that we purchased from Compact Appliance. It’s an expensive piece of equipment, $1,300 after free shipping and the romantic holiday sale. It arrived just three days later, and has since been a conversation piece in our living room and then a night stand draped in plastic in our bedroom.
Our first mistake was to assume we could install hookups in our closet by sprinkling fairy dust in our bedroom. Turns out that in reality it took our friend Martin and my husband a day to bump out the closet wall six inches, several nights of re-mudding the drywall, half a day for the electrician, and a day and a half for the plumber, not to mention all the time it will take my wonderful husband to re-drywall, mud, sand, paint and re-install the closet organization system.
An inch of drywall dust later, (unfortunately they were out of fairy dust), we might have a running washer/dryer Tuesday evening, April 8th. Yes, that is just shy of two months later. Why? Because we thought our friend could do the plumbing, but it turned out to be way too complicated with a cast iron stack in the basement and no access to a vent pipe. Then we made the mistake of believing our plumber when he said he’d get us a quote. After three weeks of nagging him, the quote was $2,500! Ticked off from all that drama we called plumber #2 and he stopped by that day, quoted it on the spot, and is starting one week later for $700 less. Still way more than we expected but what can we do?
So that is the background to the story. Let’s zoom in on the day Plumber #2 came to visit.
April Fool’s Day started out well. Rick called to say that the plumber would be calling sometime today and maybe stop by to give us a quote. Awesome! Finally a responsive plumber. I was still in my pajamas feeding Ada when the plumber, Chuck, called. Mind you this was already my second pair of pajamas since Ada woke up this morning and threw up on me, down my cleavage and all over my pants at her first feeding.
Chuck said he’d come over at 11 to take a look. Fabulous! It’s 10 am and Ada is a bit fussy. I get the wise idea of taking a quick shower before Chuck arrives so I feel human and don’t smell like barf. I put Ada in her bouncy seat --which has no bounce as the batteries are dead and Rick hasn’t had a chance to change them and I don’t have four hands or a clone to do it either. I set it in front of the bathroom door as gather clothes to wear and undress for my shower. She starts screaming the instant I’m naked. Thank goodness I’ve got the blinds closed throughout the house as I now have to pick her up, walk to her room and nurse while naked. A few minutes later we try again. She’s still fussing in her bouncy seat and I jump in the shower. I have fifteen minutes until he gets here and can get ready in three so this is good.
I’m showering when, of course, the phone rings. I quickly shut off the water, grab my towel, run on tip toes past the screaming baby to the kitchen to get the phone, but it’s in the living room. We have 1,000 square feet of condo, two cordless phones and a wall phone and they are all in the living room. What are the chances of that? So I run on tip toes to the living room, soaking the floor along the way. “Amanda, it’s Chuck. I’ll be there in 10 minutes.” “Great. See you then.” I go back to the bathroom, towel off and jump into my clothes while singing to Ada to calm her down. I’m mopping up all of the water I’ve strewn through our condo when the buzzer sounds. It’s been five minutes and he’s here. Ada is fussing as I let him in. I grab her and introduce her as our family mascot. While she screams, I show him the closet.
“Oh, this isn’t good. That’s a problem. Is there a unit below you?” he asks.
“Nope. It’s the basement.” I reply.
“Okay. That’s good. Can I see it?”
“Yep.”
With Ada under my arm, I grab the key and head downstairs.
“Oh, this is better than I thought. If you were on a higher floor this wouldn’t work.”
He proceeds to tell me how he can do it and quotes it out. I thank him and we head out of the basement. Again with Ada in my arms I fumble with the MasterLock for a minute and finally get it to click, no thanks to him.
Back inside he checks out the closet again.
“I’ll have to make a new hole in the wall since the electrical is in the way.”
I laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
“When the original plumber came to give us a quote, the electrician was here and I asked that question specifically and he told me it wouldn’t be a problem. I work with engineers and married an architect so I understand the whole coordinating projects and tried to prevent this. Oh well. It’s just drywall. Rick can fix that.”
“Okay, so we’ll cut the back wall open and put in a vent pipe at 48 inches.”
“Sounds great.” I reply.
He leaves and I call Rick to relay the message. We agree to go ahead with the project.
After calling the plumber to give him the go ahead, I hear a strange thumping noise. I thought maybe it was cell phone interference with the computer speakers but they were turned off. After a few minutes I decide to investigate. Then it dawns on me. As I enter our bedroom I realized that I had tried to put Ada in her swing before I sat her in her bouncy seat. She didn’t care for the swing so I folded it up and put it in our bedroom. I assumed the batteries were dead since it never seemed to swing on its own. To my surprise, there it was, folded up against the bedroom wall and rhythmically knocking it. How about that. The batteries do work!
Now it’s time for lunch. Ada nurses for a bit then goes down for a mini nap. I heat up a baked potato. As soon as the microwave goes off saying it’s done, she wakes up screaming. Hold on potato, I’ll be back. I get her back to sleep long enough to reheat the potato, add cheese, bacon and just as I’m adding the sour cream, she starts screaming again. Will I ever get to eat? I put her back on the boob and eat with my magical mom skills (aka the mysterious third hand).
In all of the chaos of the day, I decided to use a digital microphone to record this crazy line of events so I could blog it. To do so, I needed to get the batteries from the closet under the stair and to top things off, I hit my head on the low ceiling.
Moral of the story: Don’t remodel and think twice before procreating.
This all started when we had Ada and realized, (insert light bulb here), that babies soil everything they touch and thereby increase your amount of laundry dramatically. And to compound the issue, we’re trying to save money and the environment by using cloth diapers(see 07 Advice). So having one baby equals three or four additional loads of laundry each week for us.
My whole reasoning for even putting a washer dryer in our condo unit is that it is better for resale, we’ll get the investment back when we sell our place, and it will be more convenient not having to walk out the back door, down a flight of stairs, unlock the basement door and lug the laundry to the coin machines. My real breaking point was when one washer and one dryer out of the four machines downstairs decided to not work properly but to continue eating my hard earned quarters. Five quarters per load to be exact, then five more for the dryer.
I hit my breaking point quickly. Ada was born mid-December and I made it to Valentine’s Day-- almost two whole months mind you. I researched different machines online and went with an LG WM3431HW that we purchased from Compact Appliance. It’s an expensive piece of equipment, $1,300 after free shipping and the romantic holiday sale. It arrived just three days later, and has since been a conversation piece in our living room and then a night stand draped in plastic in our bedroom.
Our first mistake was to assume we could install hookups in our closet by sprinkling fairy dust in our bedroom. Turns out that in reality it took our friend Martin and my husband a day to bump out the closet wall six inches, several nights of re-mudding the drywall, half a day for the electrician, and a day and a half for the plumber, not to mention all the time it will take my wonderful husband to re-drywall, mud, sand, paint and re-install the closet organization system.
An inch of drywall dust later, (unfortunately they were out of fairy dust), we might have a running washer/dryer Tuesday evening, April 8th. Yes, that is just shy of two months later. Why? Because we thought our friend could do the plumbing, but it turned out to be way too complicated with a cast iron stack in the basement and no access to a vent pipe. Then we made the mistake of believing our plumber when he said he’d get us a quote. After three weeks of nagging him, the quote was $2,500! Ticked off from all that drama we called plumber #2 and he stopped by that day, quoted it on the spot, and is starting one week later for $700 less. Still way more than we expected but what can we do?
So that is the background to the story. Let’s zoom in on the day Plumber #2 came to visit.
April Fool’s Day started out well. Rick called to say that the plumber would be calling sometime today and maybe stop by to give us a quote. Awesome! Finally a responsive plumber. I was still in my pajamas feeding Ada when the plumber, Chuck, called. Mind you this was already my second pair of pajamas since Ada woke up this morning and threw up on me, down my cleavage and all over my pants at her first feeding.
Chuck said he’d come over at 11 to take a look. Fabulous! It’s 10 am and Ada is a bit fussy. I get the wise idea of taking a quick shower before Chuck arrives so I feel human and don’t smell like barf. I put Ada in her bouncy seat --which has no bounce as the batteries are dead and Rick hasn’t had a chance to change them and I don’t have four hands or a clone to do it either. I set it in front of the bathroom door as gather clothes to wear and undress for my shower. She starts screaming the instant I’m naked. Thank goodness I’ve got the blinds closed throughout the house as I now have to pick her up, walk to her room and nurse while naked. A few minutes later we try again. She’s still fussing in her bouncy seat and I jump in the shower. I have fifteen minutes until he gets here and can get ready in three so this is good.
I’m showering when, of course, the phone rings. I quickly shut off the water, grab my towel, run on tip toes past the screaming baby to the kitchen to get the phone, but it’s in the living room. We have 1,000 square feet of condo, two cordless phones and a wall phone and they are all in the living room. What are the chances of that? So I run on tip toes to the living room, soaking the floor along the way. “Amanda, it’s Chuck. I’ll be there in 10 minutes.” “Great. See you then.” I go back to the bathroom, towel off and jump into my clothes while singing to Ada to calm her down. I’m mopping up all of the water I’ve strewn through our condo when the buzzer sounds. It’s been five minutes and he’s here. Ada is fussing as I let him in. I grab her and introduce her as our family mascot. While she screams, I show him the closet.
“Oh, this isn’t good. That’s a problem. Is there a unit below you?” he asks.
“Nope. It’s the basement.” I reply.
“Okay. That’s good. Can I see it?”
“Yep.”
With Ada under my arm, I grab the key and head downstairs.
“Oh, this is better than I thought. If you were on a higher floor this wouldn’t work.”
He proceeds to tell me how he can do it and quotes it out. I thank him and we head out of the basement. Again with Ada in my arms I fumble with the MasterLock for a minute and finally get it to click, no thanks to him.
Back inside he checks out the closet again.
“I’ll have to make a new hole in the wall since the electrical is in the way.”
I laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
“When the original plumber came to give us a quote, the electrician was here and I asked that question specifically and he told me it wouldn’t be a problem. I work with engineers and married an architect so I understand the whole coordinating projects and tried to prevent this. Oh well. It’s just drywall. Rick can fix that.”
“Okay, so we’ll cut the back wall open and put in a vent pipe at 48 inches.”
“Sounds great.” I reply.
He leaves and I call Rick to relay the message. We agree to go ahead with the project.
After calling the plumber to give him the go ahead, I hear a strange thumping noise. I thought maybe it was cell phone interference with the computer speakers but they were turned off. After a few minutes I decide to investigate. Then it dawns on me. As I enter our bedroom I realized that I had tried to put Ada in her swing before I sat her in her bouncy seat. She didn’t care for the swing so I folded it up and put it in our bedroom. I assumed the batteries were dead since it never seemed to swing on its own. To my surprise, there it was, folded up against the bedroom wall and rhythmically knocking it. How about that. The batteries do work!
Now it’s time for lunch. Ada nurses for a bit then goes down for a mini nap. I heat up a baked potato. As soon as the microwave goes off saying it’s done, she wakes up screaming. Hold on potato, I’ll be back. I get her back to sleep long enough to reheat the potato, add cheese, bacon and just as I’m adding the sour cream, she starts screaming again. Will I ever get to eat? I put her back on the boob and eat with my magical mom skills (aka the mysterious third hand).
In all of the chaos of the day, I decided to use a digital microphone to record this crazy line of events so I could blog it. To do so, I needed to get the batteries from the closet under the stair and to top things off, I hit my head on the low ceiling.
Moral of the story: Don’t remodel and think twice before procreating.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
02 Rant Social Security
In another attempt to acquire a social security number for Ada, I decide to venture to the social security office to re-submit the paperwork for overnight processing. After learning about a week ago that there was no record of the paperwork submitted from the hospital when Ada was born, and not being able to go to the social security office early due to the car being frozen to the street (see rant 1), today is the day we venture out.
Strategically, I wait until Ada has had her morning nap and is in a better mood for travel and adventure. She is fed, changed, and seems pretty happy. As with every excursion, I snuggle her into her car seat, pack the diaper bag, bundle up for the cold weather, and drag everything out to the car, through the front door, the inner vestibule door, down the four stairs, through the outer vestibule door, and out to the car which is conveniently located in front of our condo. This time, I got a little lazy and tried to assemble the car seat and stroller in our condo first and then take it out to the car by myself. After almost spilling the baby, stroller, car seat, and diaper bag down the first four stairs, I realized this really is a two person job and was happy to see two nice strangers exiting my building and willing to hold the outer door open for me as I struggled with all of my crap.
Okay. We get into the car. Not that easy of course. I first put the car seat in the back seat and lock it in place, then I stick the diaper bag and the bag with all of the paperwork next to the car seat. Then I shut the door, collapse the stroller and shove it into the trunk, all the while stabbing myself in the thigh with a random stroller wheel part which will form a nice bruise later on. But I digress.
I open the driver’s side door, and yep, she’s screaming. But I think if I get the car moving she’ll calm down. We’re on the road now and she’s doing okay. We make it about half way to the social security office on the north side of the city and she gets really upset. I can soldier on, or pull off to see what’s going on. I pull off and realize she’s hungry. So what if I just fed her before we left. I squeeze into the back seat of my blue Honda Civic and pull out the ever so handy boob. We sit for fifteen minutes as Ada enjoys a mid afternoon snack while people walking by wonder what I could possibly be doing sitting in the back seat of my car in front of Trader Joe’s. After arousing a good deal of suspicion, it’s time to continue toward our goal.
Back on the road, we’re doing well. We get to the social security office and park at a meter since the lot is full. I think an hour will do. How long could this take, really? I got to the trunk, undo the stroller, get the car seat out, grab the diaper bag, struggle with my jacket since I’ve worn too many layers and it is hotter than I expected, and dig deep to find quarters for the meter. It’s one in the afternoon. I have the meter until two. Great.
We get into the social security office, take a number and start waiting. And waiting. We wait for an hour and fifteen minutes to be exact. Ada fusses a bit but overall is doing great. She sleeps while I hold her and do some leisure reading. Final they call out A162. (The woman with A160 was complaining that they wouldn’t call her number and once they finally did, she had fallen asleep in the front row of the waiting area and never woke up when they did call it, so she got skipped.)
Our number was up. I repack Ada into her car seat in the stroller and approach the window with all of my paperwork completed and in order. I hand it to the woman behind the counter who takes her time reviewing it. I explain that the information has already been submitted but that was around December 20, 2007 and I still haven’t received my number even though they said I should expect it in six to eight weeks. This is week eleven and my tax accountant said it’s worth $1,000 for me to get the number and file it with my taxes so I’m a bit anxious to receive her number. The woman behind the counter smirks at me and says, “Her number was issued three days ago. Here it is. Her Social Security Card should be in the mail and you should see it in about a week.”
My jaw drops. The steam whistles from my ears straight out of a cartoon. “Are you serious? I just sat her for an hour and fifteen minutes so you could tell me the number is already issued and I’m wasting my time?” I quickly gathered my things, took a deep cleansing breath, packed up the kid and headed for the door, all the while hoping that I didn’t have a ticket on my car.
I get to the car, ticket free thank goodness. Repack all my crap and the baby into the car and we’re on our way to errand number two. We get about five blocks away and Ada starts screaming. I pull over, go to the back seat and realize this time she is dirty. So I change her on my lap in the very cramped back seat of my blue Honda Civic. Mind you, the car seat is in the middle of the back seat so I am only working with a third of the seat and my feet are sharing space with the diaper bag. And as I am changing her, she pees. Happens every time. Once she’s all cleaned up and re-diapered, I place her back into the car seat and she starts screaming again. Let’s try the boob. I feed her again as the sun beats down on us in the already hot car as sweat starts collecting on the center of my back. After a fifteen minute feeding session, we’re on our way to errand number two, again.
Traffic on Lincoln Avenue is a nightmare. Stop and go, slow, slow, slow. I’m cursing every driver in front of me since, even though I just changed and fed the baby, she’s still not happy. Twenty minutes later, we’re in front of Ada’s new daycare ready to drop off her admission paperwork. There is no street parking so I double park and throw on my hazards. I remove Ada from the car seat thinking it will be easier not to lug that thing around and half-heartedly wrap her in my coat as I approach the daycare. Fortunately for the safety of the kids, this place is like Fort Knox. Unfortunately for me, I can’t contact anyone inside or find anywhere to leave the paperwork that is secure. After three attempts at the buzzer and the back door, I give up and we take a failing grade for errand number two.
Back into the car for errand number three. We’re heading to the doctor’s office to drop off a form they need to fill out for day care regarding Ada’s immunizations. Halfway to the doctor’s office, Ada starts hollering again. So I start hollering back and cursing more drivers to get out of my way and overall just start having my own personal little nervous breakdown. The phone rings. It’s my husband. He makes the mistake of asking me how I’m doing. I explain that I’m having a nervous breakdown, now isn’t a good time to talk and I’ll see him at home later. He wishes me luck and I hang up. We arrive at the doctor’s office. Again, I move to the back seat of the blue Honda Civic to calm Ada again. This time I again try to feed her. She’s had a cold this week and the boob seems to be the best way to calm and comfort her. Poor little thing. After ten minutes, she’s back to a more peaceful state. I relatch the buckles of her car seat and drag her and the paperwork into the doctor’s office. I drop it off at the reception desk and head back out to the car. We get settled in and set off for home. As we pull out of the parking lot, Ada starts in with the screaming again. I take a few more cleansing breaths and drive home as quickly as possible without doing anything too illegal. We finally get home, unload most of our crap as I’ve decided to leave the stroller in the trunk for the night, drag it all through the outer and inner vestibule doors and through the front door into the peaceful place we call home.
Morals of the story: Government systems are to be avoided at all costs, traffic in the city sucks, and don’t try to run errands with a small child recovering from a cold as she is guaranteed to scream the whole time.
ay
Strategically, I wait until Ada has had her morning nap and is in a better mood for travel and adventure. She is fed, changed, and seems pretty happy. As with every excursion, I snuggle her into her car seat, pack the diaper bag, bundle up for the cold weather, and drag everything out to the car, through the front door, the inner vestibule door, down the four stairs, through the outer vestibule door, and out to the car which is conveniently located in front of our condo. This time, I got a little lazy and tried to assemble the car seat and stroller in our condo first and then take it out to the car by myself. After almost spilling the baby, stroller, car seat, and diaper bag down the first four stairs, I realized this really is a two person job and was happy to see two nice strangers exiting my building and willing to hold the outer door open for me as I struggled with all of my crap.
Okay. We get into the car. Not that easy of course. I first put the car seat in the back seat and lock it in place, then I stick the diaper bag and the bag with all of the paperwork next to the car seat. Then I shut the door, collapse the stroller and shove it into the trunk, all the while stabbing myself in the thigh with a random stroller wheel part which will form a nice bruise later on. But I digress.
I open the driver’s side door, and yep, she’s screaming. But I think if I get the car moving she’ll calm down. We’re on the road now and she’s doing okay. We make it about half way to the social security office on the north side of the city and she gets really upset. I can soldier on, or pull off to see what’s going on. I pull off and realize she’s hungry. So what if I just fed her before we left. I squeeze into the back seat of my blue Honda Civic and pull out the ever so handy boob. We sit for fifteen minutes as Ada enjoys a mid afternoon snack while people walking by wonder what I could possibly be doing sitting in the back seat of my car in front of Trader Joe’s. After arousing a good deal of suspicion, it’s time to continue toward our goal.
Back on the road, we’re doing well. We get to the social security office and park at a meter since the lot is full. I think an hour will do. How long could this take, really? I got to the trunk, undo the stroller, get the car seat out, grab the diaper bag, struggle with my jacket since I’ve worn too many layers and it is hotter than I expected, and dig deep to find quarters for the meter. It’s one in the afternoon. I have the meter until two. Great.
We get into the social security office, take a number and start waiting. And waiting. We wait for an hour and fifteen minutes to be exact. Ada fusses a bit but overall is doing great. She sleeps while I hold her and do some leisure reading. Final they call out A162. (The woman with A160 was complaining that they wouldn’t call her number and once they finally did, she had fallen asleep in the front row of the waiting area and never woke up when they did call it, so she got skipped.)
Our number was up. I repack Ada into her car seat in the stroller and approach the window with all of my paperwork completed and in order. I hand it to the woman behind the counter who takes her time reviewing it. I explain that the information has already been submitted but that was around December 20, 2007 and I still haven’t received my number even though they said I should expect it in six to eight weeks. This is week eleven and my tax accountant said it’s worth $1,000 for me to get the number and file it with my taxes so I’m a bit anxious to receive her number. The woman behind the counter smirks at me and says, “Her number was issued three days ago. Here it is. Her Social Security Card should be in the mail and you should see it in about a week.”
My jaw drops. The steam whistles from my ears straight out of a cartoon. “Are you serious? I just sat her for an hour and fifteen minutes so you could tell me the number is already issued and I’m wasting my time?” I quickly gathered my things, took a deep cleansing breath, packed up the kid and headed for the door, all the while hoping that I didn’t have a ticket on my car.
I get to the car, ticket free thank goodness. Repack all my crap and the baby into the car and we’re on our way to errand number two. We get about five blocks away and Ada starts screaming. I pull over, go to the back seat and realize this time she is dirty. So I change her on my lap in the very cramped back seat of my blue Honda Civic. Mind you, the car seat is in the middle of the back seat so I am only working with a third of the seat and my feet are sharing space with the diaper bag. And as I am changing her, she pees. Happens every time. Once she’s all cleaned up and re-diapered, I place her back into the car seat and she starts screaming again. Let’s try the boob. I feed her again as the sun beats down on us in the already hot car as sweat starts collecting on the center of my back. After a fifteen minute feeding session, we’re on our way to errand number two, again.
Traffic on Lincoln Avenue is a nightmare. Stop and go, slow, slow, slow. I’m cursing every driver in front of me since, even though I just changed and fed the baby, she’s still not happy. Twenty minutes later, we’re in front of Ada’s new daycare ready to drop off her admission paperwork. There is no street parking so I double park and throw on my hazards. I remove Ada from the car seat thinking it will be easier not to lug that thing around and half-heartedly wrap her in my coat as I approach the daycare. Fortunately for the safety of the kids, this place is like Fort Knox. Unfortunately for me, I can’t contact anyone inside or find anywhere to leave the paperwork that is secure. After three attempts at the buzzer and the back door, I give up and we take a failing grade for errand number two.
Back into the car for errand number three. We’re heading to the doctor’s office to drop off a form they need to fill out for day care regarding Ada’s immunizations. Halfway to the doctor’s office, Ada starts hollering again. So I start hollering back and cursing more drivers to get out of my way and overall just start having my own personal little nervous breakdown. The phone rings. It’s my husband. He makes the mistake of asking me how I’m doing. I explain that I’m having a nervous breakdown, now isn’t a good time to talk and I’ll see him at home later. He wishes me luck and I hang up. We arrive at the doctor’s office. Again, I move to the back seat of the blue Honda Civic to calm Ada again. This time I again try to feed her. She’s had a cold this week and the boob seems to be the best way to calm and comfort her. Poor little thing. After ten minutes, she’s back to a more peaceful state. I relatch the buckles of her car seat and drag her and the paperwork into the doctor’s office. I drop it off at the reception desk and head back out to the car. We get settled in and set off for home. As we pull out of the parking lot, Ada starts in with the screaming again. I take a few more cleansing breaths and drive home as quickly as possible without doing anything too illegal. We finally get home, unload most of our crap as I’ve decided to leave the stroller in the trunk for the night, drag it all through the outer and inner vestibule doors and through the front door into the peaceful place we call home.
Morals of the story: Government systems are to be avoided at all costs, traffic in the city sucks, and don’t try to run errands with a small child recovering from a cold as she is guaranteed to scream the whole time.
ay
01 Rant Frozen Car
For the first time in motherhood, I have actually thought to myself "now I know why people move to the suburbs."
Why?
A simple errand to the social security office to get Ada's SS card and number became much more than simple today.
After feeding, changing, and dressing her, then securing her into her car seat while she is screaming at me no less, I zip up the bundle me to keep her warm, put a hat on her head, and proceed to gather the paperwork I need to take with me. All of that is relatively normal.
Then I get my hat, gloves, and coat on. I move her out our front door and into the hallway. I realize I have my house sandals on so I quick change into my shoes. She's not screaming at this point so life is alright. In lieu of the cumbersome stroller, I decide to just take the car seat and the Baby Bjorn with a fat suit for the little munchkin to wear since I can't carry her very far in the car seat. That was my first mistake.
With the diaper bag over my shoulder, the Bjorn and fat suit in my left hand, the car seat with baby inside in my right hand, I use my 3rd imaginary hand to open the first vestibule door, then the second. We've made it outside. Big accomplishment.
Then we walk a block and a half to the car since it is parked a bit far. We got home late on Sunday and couldn't park on our street. I arrive at the car, arms throbbing from the pain of carrying a 12 lb baby in a what? 6 lb car seat? I open the back door of the snow covered car (2 inches with a layer of ice underneath), some snow falls into the car. I toss the fat suit, Bjorn, and diaper bag into the car. Then I grab the car seat and baby, walk to the other side of the car, open it, again have snow fall inside, and finagle the kid into the clicky thing. By now she is screaming her little head off. I try to calm her to no avail. Maybe she'll shake it off...
I shut the back door, open the front door, start the car, turn on the defrost, grab the brush and scrapper and get started. I dust off the car and scrape the ice, periodically checking to see if she is still screaming. She is. I take a break and try to calm her. She takes to sucking on my finger for a bit. Then starts screaming again. I think I'll try to get the car moving and maybe that will help. So I finish cleaning off the front windshield and hop in the front seat. She's still screaming.
I put the car in reverse and push the gas. Nothing. I put the car in drive and push the gas. Nothing. Reverse again. Still nothing.
It's 3:06 in the afternoon. I'm 20 minutes from the SS office which closes at 4pm. The car is frozen to it's spot and needs to be dug out. The baby is screaming. I have the start of a scratchy throat and my water that I've carried with me doesn't taste very good.
This is when I give up. I turn off the car, go to the back passenger side, get the diaper bag, the fat suit, the Bjorn, reach for the car seat and of course, the tube of breast milk from the diaper bag falls out and rolls into the gutter. I grab it, put it back in the diaper bag and reach for the car seat again. Then the tube of breast milk falls out, again. This time I grab it, forcefully shove it and the other tube and the baby bottle down deep into the diaper bag, grab the car seat with the baby screaming at me still, set her down in the snow, shut the door, lock the car, and try to ignore the people on the street staring at me with my screaming baby. Then I trek all my crap back to the house, stopping once to catch my breath and shake out my now throbbing arm muscles. I get to the front door, unlock it, push it open with my head this time -- somehow my magical third hand isn't available anymore --and as I march up the 4 stairs the thought of a nice house in the suburbs with a driveway and only one front door comes to me. I shake it off, unlock the second vestibule door, maneuver all of the stuff and the baby inside, open the house door, again shimmy through and of course... Ada is now fast asleep resembling the cutest little angel you've ever seen.
But that's not all. I retrieve the tubes of breastmilk from the bottom of the diaper bag and notice that, yes, of course, they have leaked! This is when I pull out every nasty word in my vocabulary and curse the designers of the bottles at Medela who had the foresight to put "Breastmilk is best" on the side of each little storage tube, but no enough sense to make sure that the bottle doesn't leak the very breastmilk that mothers treat like gold. I mean... what mother on earth would put a breastmilk tube in a diaper bag and want to take it with her without it spilling all over everything?
Moral of the story: Motherhood isn't easy, babies cry, design matters, and the suburbs still suck. No offense.
ay
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