Breastpump Haikus

So I'm enjoying being a stay at home mom so far. I keep pretty busy, though it doesn't seem like I get anything done lol....just sit on the couch and nurse. Since this is pretty mindless activity, I have to entertain myself somehow--today it's been composing haikus to my breastpump. Weird? Yes. But it's fun. I was inspired by my birth board online--every now and then they have a thread of haikus on one topic or another. Anyway, here are mine. Enjoy!

Oh breastpump, my pump,
You suck at sucking. Output?
Just one lousy ounce.

I pump little milk.
If I were a dairy cow,
Hello slaughterhouse.

I'm Baaaack...........

After almost 2 months of silence, I've emerged from the dark and scary place that is the postpartum period. My husband and I are finally able to get 3-4 hours of consecutive sleep twice a night, so the sleep deprivation stage has greatly improved. I also have recovered pretty well from my C-section--only a little residual tenderness and numbness, and I've been told those sensations can last awhile. No biggie.

My beautiful daughter, Sophia, was born on Sept. 20 and is doing well. She is absolutely the cutest and best baby ever, even when she's being a pill. My pride in her is enormous. I can't even be polite when people tell me she's cute; instead of just saying thank you, I enthusiastically agree that she is adorable! I wonder if that annoys anyone--if it does, oh well; I can't help it. She really is wonderful and I love her to pieces. Sophie is not always the easiest baby--gas issues have made her colicky--but then she'll smile, or coo, or just lay her head on my shoulder, and my heart just melts.

It is great that the gas issue has eased a bit, however. It really was pretty bad when she was 3-4 weeks old. That seems a lot longer than just a few weeks ago, lol. Her ceaseless crying every night brought me to tears at least once a day myself! However, once the pediatrician told us it was normal, Vic and I relaxed: not just because she was essentially ok, but also because then we knew we weren't doing anything wrong and we all just had to ride it out. Fortunately, she started to improve long before we really expected it, which has been great for her--and us too, of course.

So, as I mentioned, I ended up needing a C-section. Before giving birth, I was death on C-sections and determined to avoid one. Well, that just worked out great. During labor, particularly after I received an epidural, Sophie's heartrate kept dropping with contractions, and my blood pressure became dangerously low. We found out later that Sophie was at an angle, with her head essentially pointed towards my hip instead of down towards the birth canal. So, even though the doctor tried about a million different things to change the situation, a C-section was pretty much inevitable. Vic told me later it was pretty scary for him--everything got very medical very fast, and he was worried. I was scared too, both for myself and for Sophie, but I didn't have to look at myself hooked up to tons of machines and wearing an oxygen mask, so it makes for a different perspective.

The surgery itself wasn't too bad. I was a bit freaked, but so high that it didn't really matter lol. The recovery was also easier than I had expected--I'd always heard how difficult a C-section recovery is, but you know, I didn't have any issues, and avoided many difficulties women who have vaginal deliveries deal with. It was pretty easy--didn't have to push, for instance--and even if I have the option for vaginal births in the future, I'm not certain I'll take it. I still have some regrets about the C-section though. When I watch baby shows on TV and see the women give birth vaginally, I am a bit jealous that I missed out on being able to do that. It's hard to feel like a "real woman" when you can't even give birth vaginally, something women are biologically supposed to be able to do.

In any case, however, I have Sophie now and that's what's important. It's still a little strange to think of myself as a parent, though it feels more natural to me than it used to. And apparently, becoming a parent means doing things completely differently than you envisioned before giving birth. For instance, I never planned on cosleeping--I felt it was unsafe and unnecessary. WRONG. The three of us sleep a million times better if Sophie is either in bed with us, or in the cosleeper bassinet we just built (we feel it's safer) that is on my side of the bed. Although the pack n play is only a few feet away from the bed, apparently that is too far for Sophie--she only really sleeps well in close proximity, either on our chests or with our hands resting on her. After the gas issue resolves and she can sleep better, we hope she won't need us so near and we can move her back to the pack n play, and then eventually to the crib in her own room, but for now, this works for us. Man, have I had to eat my words on this one--but, you gotta do what you gotta do to survive, that's for sure. Oh, and that prior post complaining about always having to hold the neighbor's baby when I babysit? Guess who ALWAYS holds her baby? Yeah, color me hypocrite. However, I know Sophie needs me and she's too young to spoil at this point. In general, though, I've just found that as I develop my parenting style, I'm much more into attachment parenting than I ever expected to be. It's so weird.

So anyway, bit of a rambling blog entry. But hey, at least it's a new entry, right? And having marginally more free time than I've had lately, I hope inspiration continues to strike and my blog doesn't die the slow death I just rescued it from.

Spider Dreams

I've got to stop having scary spider dreams! If not for my own sake, for Vic's. A couple years ago, I scared ten years off his life by waking up screaming in the dead of night after a spider dream. If only that was the worst that's happened...

Last night around 2 am, I was looking over at him and saw a spider crawling over the top of his head and down his forehead. It was large but with a small body, like a daddy long legs, but as I watched in horror, I saw it get even larger. So, being a good wife, I overcame my instinctive fear and quickly took action by grabbing the blanket and hitting him over the head with it to kill the spider before it could harm him.

From Vic's point of view, I imagine it was disconcerting to wake up to his wife beating him up for no apparent reason. I turned on the light, looking around for the spider while he asked me what the hell I was doing. I quickly explained but there was no live spider, not even a corpse, to back up my story. We finally determined that it must have been a dream, but it still took me awhile to really convince myself enough to lie back down among the bedding and go back to sleep.

Pretty soon, Vic's going to put his foot down and start sleeping separately, I know it. I can't say I'd blame him, as the consequences of my scary spider dreams seem to be escalating for him.

The clock is ticking down...

I'm in my 38th week and have been playing the waiting game for the past couple weeks. I am ready to meet the baby, and to not be pregnant anymore! I am apprehensive about the upcoming life changes, and kinda wish I could have a couple days to just sleep and relax between pregnancy and taking care of a baby, but I am also increasingly excited to meet Sophia.

I find myself getting a bit short-tempered lately, a state probably brought on by hormones, the suspense of waiting, and the tendency of people to ask me "So have you had that baby yet?" and "How ARE you?" every day. I'm still good at smiling and answering politely but I can feel the strain! Vic has even commented on it as he is asked the same questions at work. The first thoughts that tend to pop into our heads are generally along the lines of "Yes, we had the baby and didn't tell anyone!" (especially when it's his MOM who asks) and "Still freakin pregnant, how do you think I am?" My impatience is pretty sad when I'm still a week and a half from my due date, but it doesn't help when everyone else reminds me daily that I'm still waiting. Vic has said that maybe he should start making stuff up, just to give a different answer when asked how I am. It's either that or discuss dilation and mucus plug status, both of which are a bit TMI for most people :b

Anyway, I am excited to see Sophia. It will be nice to be able to meet her, see her, and make sure she's ok. She scared me a bit this past week by reducing movement, and it's not like I can do a visual check on her. It'd be pretty sweet if I could--pregnant women need an abdominal window with a light, like an oven! The doctor said she was fine but sent me to labor & delivery at the hospital for a nonstress test, where they monitored her heart rate and my contractions for about 40 minutes, and of course everything was fine. I was a bit embarrassed at even being there and told the nurse I was mostly there for my own peace of mind, to which she very kindly replied that it was a great reason to come in :) So that was nice. It was pretty exciting being at L&D too, and a lot more comfortable than it will be in the near future lol. I saw a girl checking in due to labor who was in my childbirth education class. She was eerily calm. It's not that I expected her to be constantly screaming or anything, but she did not visibly show any contractions in the five minutes or so that I saw her. I hope I have her calm when it's my time, but knowing myself, I doubt it.

Speaking of contractions, prodromal labor sucks. I've been contracting on and off for over 2 weeks now and in the past week they've definitely gotten more intense. They still aren't terribly painful or anything, but they are uncomfortable, annoying, and increase the suspense of waiting. Last night I woke up at 2:30 am due to a contraction that stretched all the way around my lower front, hips, and back. Then I couldn't fall back asleep because I was having more of them--still far apart, but more frequent than in the past. Just about the time I was getting excited, however, they grew further apart again--so frustrating! I was awake until about 5 am anyway though. I spent part of the time running through the few last minute items I'd like to accomplish before she shows up, and the rest of the time just trying to get back to sleep. Sleep has been frequently interrupted for the past several months but this week, insomnia is definitely getting worse. Yesterday I woke up at 5 am and couldn't get back to sleep. So the difficulty sleeping doesn't help me remain patient with these contractions. I know they are helping me progress, but it is a very slooooow process.

I may be pregnant, but I'm not made of freakin' glass!

Yesterday Vic's grandfather was giving me crap....he only speaks Spanish, but I got the gist of it. He was upset because I had the effrontery to stand on a chair while pregnant and he thought I would fall and injure myself and/or the baby. Now, I get that he was just concerned, but it pissed me off. I told him in my crappy broken Spanish that I was being careful and it was fine. (As an FYI, the chair was very sturdy, my feet were flat on it the entire time, and I was paying close attention to my balance as I cleaned the bookshelf.)

So two minutes later, I'm off the chair but he comes back to tell me once again I shouldn't do stuff like that. Once again, I tell him it's fine! I didn't have the vocabulary to fully express my feelings but I'm sure the angry, impatient look on my face tipped him off.

Then, yesterday evening when Vic's mom calls him, she starts telling him what happened and that I need to be more careful. I knew this would happen! No incident is too small for drama, with people pushing in where they don't need to. Vic has already listened to me grumble about this incident, and is on my side (or at least so he tells me) so he just starts telling her "Bye" on the phone. This is apparently his way of telling her he doesn't agree and doesn't want to discuss the topic at hand.

Of course, this call just pissed me off a second time and he had to listen to me rant about everything all over again....though I could tell he wasn't really listening to my repeated vent--just "uh huh"ing at appropriate moments :b

Next time I see his mom, no doubt I will hear about it for a third time. And I will go off! It'll make her mad, but I do not care. After 9 months, I am just soooo tired of being treated like I am a child, too stupid to be able to make decisions about what is safe for myself and my daughter and what is not. I'm pregnant, not broken!

Stupidity and S***

Last night I thought my head was going to explode.

It started off innocently enough, with an experiment in roasting a whole chicken. That process, while easy enough, set off a chain reaction of events, the first of which was getting tomato sauce on my white shirt. Last week it was ink on the same damn shirt....so I'm learning a lot about stain removal lol. Anyway, I changed clothes, pretreated the shirt, and threw it in the washer.

As the washer is running, Vic and I hear some odd gurgling in pipes and a few other strange noises. The gurgling appeared to be coming from the kitchen sink pipes, but there was nothing there. We also checked the washer hoses and they were fine too. So, we shrugged it off.

Fast forward about half an hour. I happen to walk into the master bathroom and find the toilet bowl full of water....and stuff (the smelly kind). Water is also on the floor. YAY! I immediately retreat from the stench, to the other toilet in the guest bathroom, where I find the toilet full of water and possibly urine. Great. Just great.

Now, perhaps we should have seen this coming. After all, the toilet in our master bathroom has been acting up for a couple months--not always flushing fully, even for just urine. But, blithely assuming all would be well and that eventually we would just pour some Rid-X down the toilet, we procrastinated and that worked out about as well as it usually does.

Vic calls the septic service, which apparently has an after-hours message service, so we have to wait for a call back. In the meantime, I pull the chicken out of the oven and set it on top of the stove. Being the genius I am, I attempt to take the metal lid off the roasting pan.....with my bare hands! Hastily replacing the lid, I yell in shocked surprise. I mean, who would've thought a metal handle would get hot after being in the oven for 90 minutes? Vic asks what's wrong and I have to confess my idiocy. I don't know where the hell my brain went. As my fingers begin to stiffen (they don't hurt much....yet), I decide to open the carrots and put them in the microwave before bothering to run my hand under cold water.....yet another genius move. After all, why NOT delay first aid? Now I am essentially one handed. Either my hand is soaking in water or (once I remember we have them) sitting on an ice pack for the remainder of the evening.

Vic's parents show up--to help, ostensibly, but really just to listen to our septic story and further distract us as we finish cooking. However, by now, I have to pee....which, being 9 months pregnant, is never a remote concern. I ask Vic to drive me to his grandfather's house so I can use the toilet, leaving his parents at our house without so much as telling them we are leaving. He and I walk outside, and right then, the septic service calls back. So he stands there, talking on the phone, while I am shifting from foot to foot, and blowing on my burnt fingers, which are stinging like mad due to lack of cold water (I hadn't yet remembered the ice packs). So I'm making faces like "let's get in the DAMN CAR!!!" and Vic, who is just trying to concentrate on the phone call, is waving me off with a harassed look on his face. This did not go over well, to say the least. Finally he gets in the car and drives me over to the other house while still talking on the phone. Aaaahhhh....sweet relief!

After we return to the house (septic guy will arrive in an hour), Vic talks to his parents for awhile as I sit inside and nurse my hand. Finally, he comes inside and says he excused himself. Translation: he told them to go away. We decide we might as well eat the food we cooked. Vic carves the chicken on a cutting board. Tomato sauce is EVERYWHERE...it's the recipe's fault, he says. Can we clean it up? Not easily, as we can't run any water! So we use several trees in paper towel form to mop up the tomato sauce and clean the counter, which would stain otherwise.

It's now about an hour after we finished cooking, so thank god for microwaves!! Vic ends up cutting up my meat for me, since I can't use my left hand and it's not quite tender enough for just a fork. Poor guy--as if he isn't stressed enough, I require dinner service :b

The septic guy arrives in due course, pumps the tank, which wasn't full, btw, and cleans out the portion of the main line that he can reach with the hose he has on hand. He tells us if we have any more issues, it's a clog further up in the main line and we'll have to call a plumber. After then relieving us of $250, he's on his way.

Clean up time. I had just cleaned the bathrooms the DAY BEFORE. Grrrrr.....but at least it made it quick and easy to wipe down the toilets, tubs, and mop the floors. Not fun, but easy. By now, I have to use the bathroom again (I'd already taken a 2nd trip to his grandfather's house), but thankfully, we have the joy of working toilets again! This is a convenience you never fully appreciate until it's gone.

After doing my business, I flush the master bath toilet....and it doesn't fully flush. Just like it'd been doing the past few months. So, while the immediate crisis is past, the problem is not resolved!! I have been able to run the washing machine without incident, but I know it's just a matter of time before I lose my toilets again.

Today, after much research, Vic has decided he will rent an electric sewer eel so he can clear the clog himself. I have grave reservations, but if it works, at least we won't have to pay a plumber! And if it doesn't, I'll have inspiration for another post ;)

New Blog

So, I just found a new blog to follow in my free time...it's about a woman's attempt to breastfeed her child. It's a pretty niche audience, I admit, but I'm in that niche, so it works out :) I am very nervous about breastfeeding my baby and I hope by reading her stories, I can a) relate and b) see how she overcomes the challenges that can arise.

Should you happen to be interested, you can find her on my blog list further down on this page, with the apt title of Milk Machine.