Posts Tagged ‘ newborn ’

Fia Friday: She Has a Trike!!

Friday, June 29th, 2012

Phil surprised us with bikes and a trike! Fia is so excited. She loves her watermelon helmet (I know, it’s not on correctly in this picture).

He got bikes for himself and for me, and a bike seat for Fia on his. So we have all sorts of new things. The other day he took Fia on his bike and I pushed Emmett in the jogging stroller next to them. I feel like we’re getting this whole thing down as a family of four.

She loves her helmet. Even in the morning while still in her pj’s!

Emmett likes things on his head too. Namely, his first straw hat! My god, this boy is all smiles. He laughs and coos constantly now.  I’m about to wonder if he’s the baby Jesus incarnate! He is sooooo good.

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Fia Friday: All About Emmett

Friday, June 15th, 2012

My little guy. What can I say. I gush. I swoon. I am madly in love. We always say to them, “My two kids.” Fia now says, “Mommy, hold you. Your two kids.”  I swoop them into my arms.

Through tears, I wrote this week about how fast they grow up. Through frustration, I wrote about how little time I feel I have. Both are issues I think most of you can relate to.  Some days are better than others.  There is no solution other than to try and be in the moment as much–and as best–as you can.

I noticed Emmett’s feet the other day. The bottoms of them have little X’s. He also has a crease on his big toes. I wonder what a palm reader would say? Maybe he’s destined for greatness? Or, to just be happy. Because I swear, I don’t know how The Divine did it, but the universe gave me the world’s most perfect baby boy. Happy, lively, full of spirit. I love to suck on his toes. He likes to suck on my chin. He is delicious. So today is all about Em.

 Look at that Tooshie!

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Now for the Positive Boob Comments

Saturday, May 12th, 2012

Ah, the boob. Between the Time Magazine story and my blog, I’m now actually sick of my breasts. In light of that, I thought I should post some of the positive comments from my controversial post (ie: Why The Boob Rocks).

In all seriousness, I got to thinking that while I’m opinionated, I also like to consider myself fair. And in my rebuttal post, (My Boobs Are Taking a Hit. Ouch!) I only singled out the negative comments. My hypnotherapist would be disappointed.

Here are some of my favorites from you guys.

(#1) Breastfeeding rocks !! It helps and makes things easier & it goes even better if you have a husband that helps out & don’t see it as a job but as team work!  I love my Boobs & Husband!

(#2) It forced me to stop and sit down, rest and think. That was priceless for my sanity. Now that I have #2, same story.

(#3) I’m breastfeeding #4 and feel exactly the same way as the author. Sometimes I feel like it’s the only one on one time I get with him! So I AM going to enjoy nursing him, even if that means my three other boys have to learn patience and my husband has to get up to make breakfast.

(#4) Thank you for this article. My husband and I are trying for baby #2 and this helps me to put everything in perspective. I was worried that I would drown in extra childcare duties but maybe it won’t be so bad after all! LOL. And I SO miss nursing. Excited to continue with the next child.

What’s funny is my blog became a huge debate on a) how the husband should or shouldn’t help and b) my selfishness in pushing for my husband to help/wanting to have alone time with my infant and c) breastfeeding while having a glass of wine.

Alcohol is always a controversial topic when it comes to the boob. You already know where I stand. But here are a few more commenters who feel the same as I do. And let’s all be grateful we live in a country where we CAN speak our minds, as opposed to a place like, say, Iran (where I would clearly be dead by now). So cheers ladies!

(#5) While pregnant at a nursing class at NY Presbyterian Hospital in NYC I happily learned–As long as you don’t pass out, drinking while nursing is fine! Breasts are filters. Placentas are sieves. Drink Up!

(#6) Omg ladies, get a grip! Yes sometimes the toddler has to run amok a bit while I nurse #2 but he hasn’t burnt the house down or eaten the dog yet. A glass of wine isn’t going to hurt anyone- moms and docs around the world agree. This is my life too- but husband travels so I do a lot of juggling. It was meant to be funny- not as a “everyone do as I do or you’re a failure”! Lighten up!

(#7) Get a grip ladies! I found the humor in this article, so should you all. My husband was deployed for the first 8 months of our daughter’s life and I’m finally getting a 36 hour break while he takes her to a family wedding and I stay home. Am I selfish? Probably. Am I ecstatic that I’m finally getting a break? Hell yes. I also have a drink while or before or even after I breast feed my daughter (yes we are still breast feeding at 13 months) and she is perfectly healthy, happy, and active. Relax, have a glass of wine yourself, and find the humor.

(#8) Geez girls some of us seem to have our negativity hats on today.Instead of thinking she’s being selfish try thinking she’s teaching her daughter to be more patient, more self soothing and self sufficient (skills she’ll need as she get older) as for her husband…let’s see…ummm…she’s letting him be a dad! Raising kids is frustrating even for us Mom’s and 80% of the time someones not going to step in for us and take over as she clearly says she does for her husband. If this was a piece written by a father who admitted he took a little quite time every day under the guise of doing something else (honestly do you think their “guy stuff” is all work and no play? My husband has admitted it’s not and he does some of it to get away from the kids too). Your comments would be quite different and I’m pretty sure the word selfish wouldn’t have been uttered.

(#9) Being a mom IS a JOB. Regardless is he works or not, he should help. That’s the problem with a lot of dads, they thing they can just push the children off on the mothers because most women fall into that “oh well my husband works” crap. Even if moms do work the men still get a get-out-of-jail-free card simply because they’re men. Did any of you ever think that…hmmm…before baby #2 she did spend time with child #1 and now she wants to give baby #2 as much as attention as she can to bond with it more while giving the dad and their daughter time to bond? Didn’t you read where she said while her husband goes back to sleep she plays with THEM (being BOTH her children). And drinking ONE GLASS of wine is harmless!

(#10) How dare you call her a “Lazy mom” just because she likes spending one-on-one time with her children, and yes she may be getting a break but she is still bonding with her new child while giving dad and daughter a chance to bond.

(#11) Last feeding happens, then wine time! Best time of the night.

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Paci? No Paci? Surprise: The Rules Are Changing. Again.

Tuesday, May 1st, 2012

I’ve never bought into the whole nipple confusion thing. Maybe it’s because my babies latched on immediately to both bottle and boob (this, following a sea of drugs from labor and c-sections). And perhaps I’m bitter from the natural community scaring me senseless as I went into labor with Fia. Tales of drugs, pacifiers and bottles were all the ways your baby wouldn’t latch on, despite scientific evidence to the contrary (at least with labor drugs, like the epidural). This week I got a slight chuckle out of the latest study: pacifiers actually promote breastfeeding. Ha!

Before I get too smug, I will echo what my fellow blogger, Berit wrote in her post on this (click here to read her blog): Rules are forever changing–and yes, it is maddening! Each study seems to contradict another one, which contradicts another one, until it comes back full circle and negates them all. So I won’t smirk…yet. What I will say (and echoing Berit again) is to go with your mom gut. Here’s why:

If I had listened to the nipple confusion thing, Phil would have never given Emmett or Fia a bottle for the first 6 weeks. It would have been all me, all the time. I would have been frustrated and completely tethered. I have mom friends who have been tethered for the first year because they didn’t introduce a bottle those first few weeks. By the time it was “right” to introduce one, it was too late. The babies refused and only took the boob. I think that can lead to some of us moms (uh-em…myself…thus hypnotherapy) becoming martyrs about having to “do it all.” In this day and age, with dads pulling almost equal weight (ha!), let them into the world of feeding.

Phil and I decided he’d give a bottle because it would be good bonding time. It’s his ritual to give the last bottle before bedtime, as I slip away and get a jump start on my sleep. Neither of us would give that up for anything. He loves it. As do I. And I’m sure it helps the babies know their dad even more.

What’s funny about the no-pacifier-now-maybe-debunked-theory is that for both my births, the nurses passed them out like candy at a parade. It was like Flying Nurses–they’d breeze through, chucking them into cribs. Okay, not really. But the paci’s were everywhere. Then, inevitably, a lactation consultant would come in and give me the nipple confusion spiel. Since Fia’s birth left me feeling like I had been hit by a bus, I was too confused to care. With Emmett, I chose to ignore.  We’ve all been better off for it. In fact, I am trying to get Emmett more addicted to his pacifier. Fia sucked on hers like a lollipop. Still does at nap time. She’ll go to PA (Pacifiers Anonymous) soon. Emmett on the other hand tends to suck for a bit, then spit it out. Come on baby, you got addictive genes in this family. Use them!

To put the entire feeding and soothing process (NO PACIFIERS!) on the mom not only becomes exhausting, but I think it can also rob a Dad or other loved ones of special moments they might not get otherwise. Not to mention the risk of the baby refusing everything but the boob.

So I take “observational” studies like this with a grain of salt. Like Berit, I am going with my instinct. It has served me well thus far.

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Company=Chaos=Low Milk Supply

Wednesday, April 18th, 2012

A Rare Moment of Quiet

I got up a few nights ago to pump (Phil does the late night feed). Nothing came out. I was alarmed. I can typically get 5 oz in a matter of minutes. But I knew deep down what was happening. My body was giving me an ultimatum. Slow down or else…

For weeks I’ve been running myself ragged.  Actually, ever since before Emmett was born.  I’ve been catering to company and overbooking everything from play dates to mom dates.

I woke up today and realized Emmett is almost three months old. He’s my last baby. I want to enjoy him, to soak in and savor his existence.

I’ve been so concerned with Fia not feeling my attention shift and so overwhelmed by the constant stream of guests, that I haven’t been taking proper care of myself–mentally, emotionally, or physically. Or him. I have missed feeds (he is given a bottle if I’m not around) and it doesn’t help that I hate pumping–partially due to my boob wound. It tends to open back up if I’m on the pump too long.

What it comes down to is this: I have basically blown off the most basic needs of my newborn and put everyone else–including myself–ahead of him. I’m not proud.

It’s tricky because on the one hand, you love your friends and family. I want them to meet the babes and I want to spend quality time with them. But let’s face it, even if people are here to “help,” there is a level of “entertaining” involved: cooking meals, cleaning up, showing the sights, etc.  I want to be a gracious host. But at what expense? With a new baby, I can barely pull off a routine as it is.

I know a lot of life is running errands, grocery shopping, and yes, having loved ones visit. But when our last round of visitors left, I exhaled for the first time in ages. Company=work.  No matter who it is. Inevitably any semblance of a schedule goes out the window.

Tell me I’m not alone in this quandary.

Looking back at the past 6 months, I also realize how exhausted I am from moving our family across the country when hugely pregnant and setting up a life for us in LA– also when hugely pregnant. Then…I had a baby. Yes, a baby! That small, earth-shattering event that rocks your world.

Oh, and it was a C-section, with some recovery involved–but I blew that off too. I was dust-busting my floors two days out of the hospital because I couldn’t take the mess. As a result, I kept bleeding. A friend finally gave me a similar ultimatum that my boobs did: if you don’t stay off your feet, you will not heal. It’s that simple. I finally listened.

Now I’m listening again. And luckily, the body forgives.

For the past two days I have relaxed, meditated and breathed. I have been drinking Mother’s Milk tea constantly. I’ve gotten our feedings back on track and have spent some serene, quiet moments with my sweet son. I have kissed, smelled and nuzzled him like a mama cat.

As I type, he is sleeping next to me. He peeps and coos and smiles as he dreams. He is joy.

Forgive me baby boy. I’m back now. And our “Inn” on Ames Street is CLOSED until further notice.

 

 

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