Black Eye

Well, it’s official. I have had my first mommy accident. Cheeks started crawling. One night she took a look at the bag of Doritos and off she went. You give her a target and she’s gone! So the next morning we get up and take part in our normal morning routine. However, this mommy forgot one key element. Crawling. I forgot she could crawl. Thinking back I could slap myself for it. Honest mistakes don’t feel good at all. So I monitor her. We play all day. We have a productive day. Until dinner. I plop her down with all her fun toys and walk away for five seconds to stir our Jambalaya. And then bam. She starts crying. I run. My heart drops out of my butt. I look her up and down for boo boos. My mind races from her breaking her skull to literally poking an eye out. I latch her onto my breast and notice the bruise forming. Right at the corner of her eye. It looks like fancy make up. Cheeks crawled to the coffee table. Pulled herself up. And bonked her eye. Once we both stop crying the playing begins again. And bam. Face first into her walker. I don’t freak out this time. But she definitely felt the pain. Lessons learned. Let the parenting begin. If I know myself, and hubby at all, then I know we created a clumsy whirlwind of destruction. I’m not sure I’m ready for this!

Breastfeeding Sucks

Yeah. It’s true. Breastfeeding sucks. It blows. At the same time it’s a beautiful thing. Why doesn’t anyone talk about how hard it is? It’s a struggle. For some, daily. There are so many roadblocks, and obstacles that breastfeeding women deal with. Mastitis. Blocked Ducts. Milk blisters. Over supply. Low supply. No supply issue, but stressing about it. Lack of poopie diapers. Too many poopie diapers. Not enough wet diapers. Too many wet diapers. Not enough sleep. Too much sleep. You name it, a breastfeeding mother goes through it. We worry about poop, almost obsessively. Don’t even get us started on sleep. Why do we worry about this? It’s bullshit. In the midst of all our worry, somehow we forget to look down and stare in awe at the little miracle our bodies created. And then there is the anxiety that goes with being tethered to your couch, all day. The fear that comes with leaving the house. The fear of being criticized for nursing our children in public. So here is a brief list of things I wish I knew before starting off with my breastfeeding journey. It goes as follows.

-It hurts. Like really hurts. Like tear inducing pain.

-You get super hungry and thirsty while nursing. Stock up on snacks.

-The hormones flow freely while nursing. Do not be alarmed if you soak your baby in tears at one point or another.

-You will be annoyed by the slow motion way your partner changes the diapers you worry so much about, it will pass.

-The stares you think you get while nursing in public don’t matter, what matters is that beautiful baby in your arms.

-Mastitis knocks you on your ass. For weeks. Once the fever is gone the exhaustion sets in, good luck getting out of bed.

-You will fall asleep while nursing, get used to it.

-Once the overwhelming milk supply has regulated itself, you will worry about your supply. Don’t. Stress causes low supply.

-Don’t worry about not showering, it’s over rated.

-You’re going to sweat. A lot. Like a lot a lot. And smell. A lot. A lot a lot.

-Your baby is going to eat. A lot. And use you as a sucking mechanism. A lot. It’s fine.

-Trust your body. And baby. It’s hard. But your instincts will rarely be wrong.

-Cosleeping. It’s easy for nighttime nursing. You get more sleep. Baby gets more sleep. Do it safely. Don’t worry.

-Don’t research everything.

-Have fun. Treasure it. It flys by.

Love you guys! Enjoy your day!

Cheers

Inner Harbor

We had a wonderful day with our visiting family today! We went to Inner Harbor, about twenty minutes from our home. We walked around, bathing in the sunshine. We enjoyed Ripley’s Believe It Or Not. We nursed in public. We wore our daughter. She smiled. Giggled. Played. Not a tear was shed. I hope you enjoyed your Saturday!

Cheers

Life As We Know It

To those of you who don’t know me personally, I am a young mother. I am 21 years old. I am a married woman. I have been married almost 2 years. I have a daughter. Almost 5 months old. I am stubborn. Painfully so. My husband is in the Army. We live on base. It’s a huge transition. A different world here. We are located in Maryland. We are here for an undetermined amount of time. Since we moved here a month ago so much has changed. I have become a better version of myself. I have become a crazier version of myself. I started a blog. Letting my feelings bleed out onto paper. Almost 1000 views later I’m giddy about each new view. Reaching almost ten countries. The opportunities seem to be flowing in. Gathering information on the midwives from The Farm for interviewing them! Possibly scheduling a visit. Talking to a huge inspiration of mine. Abby, The Badass Breastfeeder. Starting to blog for The Boob Group. I’m trying to balance this with my life. It’s hard. But I’m figuring it out. Life as we know it is over. We are starting fresh!

Cheers

Amber’s Story

This is another wonderful fan share! What a powerful story of persevering through many obstacles! You are an inspiration! You are warrior mama! I hope you enjoy!
Cheers

I’ll share mine. I’m 29 and a mother of three. Out of my three kids, my youngest daughter (4mo now) is the only one I’ve been able to breast feed with any measured success. With my son (the oldest -he’s 5), I dried up before I even got started, and no one could tell me why. Three weeks post partum and BAM, no milk. Just done. With my middle child (she’s 2), I was DETERMINED to breast feed. But she didn’t latch well… and I had to have an emergency c-sections, so I didn’t get the chance to hold her for nearly 6 hours after delivery. But I was going to do it, damnit. So I did, I used the nipple covers, I bled, I scabbed, I bled more, I cried, I pleaded, I winced, I thought that I wouldn’t ever get feeling back, I even started to dread it. THEN I started to dry up just 4 weeks post partum. SO I pumped, and pumped and pumped .. 20 minutes after every feeding … teas. supplements. constant blog reading. tips. tricks. lactation consultants (and still they told me that there wasn’t any reason.. but she was SCREAMING after each feeding because she was hungry). I didn’t leave the house. so at 8 weeks I just couldn’t make any more come out, so I dried up again. When baby #3 graced us, I again had to have an emergency c-section, but when it came to nursing I said “if I can, I can.. if I can’t, then I can’t.” … and here we are 4 months and counting. She latches well, she coos, she smiles, we snuggle, I nurse when we’re out, when we’re at friends, we co-slept for the first 3 months, and now she sleeps through the night like a miracle. When I’m not having a good day, I supplement her, but I almost never need to more than one feeding. I don’t let where I am stop me, because I’m thankful that my body is letting me feed my daughter. The moral of my story? Take care of yourself and be honest about what you are able to handle. If it’s not working, then change it, but don’t let misconceptions guide your path. It took me three babies to get it right – but I am so glad I didn’t give up!

-Amber Lynn Wyatt-

Crunchy Daddy Love

Snuggles with Daddy

Sarah’s Story

This was a comment in response to my F is for Fabulous blog post. I found it so well written, and inspiring that I couldn’t help but ask if I could post it here. What a wonderful story! You go mama! You are a warrior!
Cheers

I’ll go ahead and share my most recent ‘I’m a failure’ moment to prove that it still happens, even after you’ve been nursing for a good while. I’ve been nursing my son for 19 months now. He is a wonderful little boy, and I love him so much it often brings me to tears. In October, I found out I was pregnant again. I had just gotten to the point where I was really comfortable and confident in my decision to breastfeed full-term (I hate the term ‘extended breastfeeding.’ It makes it sound like it isn’t normal.) It didn’t bother me anymore that people thought what I was doing was strange, or wrong, or damaging my child. I knew deep down that what I was doing was the right thing to do, and I felt really good about it.

Suddenly, at about 13 weeks, I began to dislike nursing. Then a few days after that, I hated it. I really, really hated it. It was terrible. Every time he latched, within a few minutes, my skin would start to crawl and I would get really angry at him. If you can imagine the feeling in your head from nails on a chalkboard as a physical sensation surging through your entire body, that’s kind of what it feels like. I felt so guilty. I was so angry at my little baby boy for what seemed like absolutely no reason. There were a few times I even got the urge to rip him off the breast and throw him across the room. It got to the point where I was even questioning if I really loved him as much as I thought I did. I felt so guilty, and I had no idea what was wrong with me. It was terribly depressing. It felt like this wonderful, close, unbreakable bond I had with him was falling apart before my eyes.

At about 18 weeks, I happened upon a page on Facebook called ‘nursing aversion,’ a term I had never heard before. But it seemed like a perfect description of what I was experiencing, so I clicked on it. It turns out that what I’m going through with nursing is perfectly normal. Many pregnant and tandem nursing mothers experience it. It is nothing more than a perfectly natural instinct that drives mothers to wean their older child before the new baby arrives. And almost instantly, the ‘why don’t I love my baby anymore’ guilt disappeared. Just knowing that there was nothing wrong with me has helped so much in handling the bad feelings I get while nursing.

Basically, my point is that the mothering journey is far from perfect. But letting the lack of perfection interfere with the joys of motherhood doesn’t help whatever issue is presenting itself at that particular point in the journey. Even when some things make us feel like failures, there are so many other things to be proud of. Even though I hated nursing, I still let him nurse. And he was still my happy little boy. And if I had focused on that just a little more, and given myself a little more credit, I could have avoided the entire crisis.

-Sarah E Schnittger-

F is for Fabulous

I’m four, almost five months into our breastfeeding journey. I thought it would be easy by now. Less overwhelming. I wouldn’t get touched out. My breasts wouldn’t ache. My nipples wouldn’t be sore. I would have a schedule. My daughter would sleep in her own bed. I was wrong. I am touched out. I am overwhelmed. I am tired. My breasts ache. My breasts tingle painfully with every letdown. I get nervous each time I NIP. I’m not sure why. I do it every time we go out. In fact I’ve last track of just how many times I’ve nursed Hattie in public! I’m one of the lucky ones. I’ve not yet had a negative experience while nursing Hattie out and about.that being said, I haven’t really had a positive experience either. I haven’t really had much of an experience at all. Don’t get me wrong, I have had the occasional negative comment from friends and family. But never an attack while nursing. Never a compliment while nursing. I’m not that upset either. I know that not everyone I encounter is so passionate about this. I didn’t think I would be so passionate about this. I am all about boobs. And babies. Babies and boobs. At the same time, my boobs have never been more normal to me. I’ve never had such a sense of purpose. I’ve never been so comfortable with my breasts. They mean something. They feed my baby. I have a purpose. A dream. I am finally going to persevere, use my stubbornness as a positive thing.

Of my many obstacles with breastfeeding I have found one of the biggest to be myself. I doubt myself too much. At every turning point I question my decisions. I wish I could know for certain that the decisions I’m making in regards to my daughter are the right ones. I wish for perfection. I fear screwing her up. I want to set my daughter up for success. During my moments of doubt I realize that it’s not about her. It’s about me.

It’s my fears to become the f word. A failure. I guess if you look at it that way I fail at pretty much everything. I fail to find a good balance between mommy hood and being a wife. I fail to clean. I fail to do laundry. I fail at keeping my composure. I fail at balancing my home life with my advocacy. I fail as a mother. As a wife. And as a friend. I fail daily.

But on the flip side I don’t. If I just change my focus slightly I don’t see a failure at all. I see a champion. A warrior. A person stitched together by imperfection trying her best. I see a mother enthrall end by her child. Not wanting to miss a thing. I see a wife trying to love and support her husband. I see a friend being forgetful. Making honest mistakes. And compensating for them with love.

I see a woman on the floor, trying for hours to make her baby laugh. I see a woman cautiously pulling out her breast, to offer it to her hungry child. I see a first aid kit. I see a comedian. I see a chef. I see a woman of many hats, looking ridiculous while balancing it all. I see a shapeshifter. I see myself. I see you. I see my friend. I see my mother. My grandmother. Aunt. Cousin. Sister. Myself

I try to balance it all. But the thing is….I am all of these things at once. Trying to balance makes me fall. I will not say fail or failure again. Don’t look at that side of the spectrum. Look at your baby, your husband. Love them unconditionally.

Love yourself.

Forgive yourself.

Release yourself.

Give in.

Live naturally.

Cheers

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L is for Love

The scariest moment I have ever gone through as a mother happened today. Nakey Hattie baby wiggled, and slid off the bed after her bath. Luckily I was right there to catch her moments before she would have landed on a pillow. A pillow that was on the ground for days that the hubs and I kept meaning to pick up. Thank God for small miracles. Hattie is safe, snuggled in my arms, where she belongs. I’m safe, survived my mini heart attack. I marvel at the power of my love for her. I would move mountains for her. No matter what I will be there for her. And I definitely won’t let her wiggle off the bed.