Feast of St. Henry, and Anne is nursing again...

...and yes, I'm happy about it. :) She's only nursing 1-2 times per day, but I'm happy to continue on for the time being. I feel much less like I may burst into tears at any time today. Success.

Today is the feast of St. Henry, and this year I wanted to start celebrating the kids' patron saint feast days as something special. We planned to make a special dessert with Hank today. Unfortunately, I forgot to buy the ingredients at the store, and also forgot until I got to work that St. Henry day is in fact today.

*Mother of the Year*

Sigh. But I'll make a big deal about it tonight, and we can make the dessert this weekend. St. Anne's feast is the 26th of July (I believe) so we can make a cake then. Not that Anne will notice, but Hank will.

Does anybody else celebrate saint feasts? What sorts of things do you do?

Anne is weaning

*sniff*

*sniff*

She hasn't nursed since yesterday morning, and I feel like I may cry. She'll be 14 months old next week so I know that it's perfectly fine for her to wean now. I would keep nursing her, this is her choice to not nurse anymore. I've met her needs and it's been a wonderful bonding experience for us.

So why do I feel so miserable?

Tiffany. Remember the engorgement, the super full and uncomfortable feeling that resulted from not nursing for even a few hours? It's nice to not have to worry about that anymore, right? Anne is so much more independent now. I have so much more freedom now. This is good, right?

*sniff*

My love/hate relationship with pumping about to come to an end again...

This will be a short post since I picked up Anne's cold and am feeling decidedly less than 100% today. I will say that she's been sleeping through the night like a champ, but the morning wake up call of 5:45 am is still leaving me very, very tired, especially when sick. We're just hanging in there the best we can.

I'm feeling all vulnerable because her birthday is coming up, and in a few short days, I'll stop pumping. I'll continue to nurse her when I'm with her, but when I'm not, we switch to cow's milk at 1 year. Given that this is an issue relating to my babies, I'm all overly emotional about the whole thing.

I mean, on the one hand, I hate dragging my pump to work everyday. I'm already loaded down with my usual work and purse supplies, and the pump is another large bag to add to the mix. I also have to carve time out of my day to pump, and while that isn't a huge deal, it still can be a headache on some days. My milk supply is already down a ton anyway just due to her solids intake, and so my pumping is now down to once per day. I don't get uncomfortably full anymore. So, it's time. Plus, I still get my cuddly nursing time with her.

But on the other hand...I can't help it, it makes me sad. It's yet another milestone on the road to my baby growing up. And yes, that's a good thing, but it's difficult in it's own way. Due to my age, I don't know that we'll have another baby. And so even though my childbearing years are not yet over and we remain open to possibilities, there is more of a sense of finality this time, like "this could be it." And that elicits an outpouring of emotion.

I remember Mother Angelica once saying "Nothing lasts forever, Honey." Not in this world, at least. We can never get too comfortable or take things for granted, because they could change in the blink of an eye. I have two healthy children and I need to focus on the positives in my life rather than getting teary about things that have come and gone. But it's hard. Change is hard.

I remember so fondly this exact time last year, in the days and weeks leading up to Anne's birth. So special and exciting. Things are different this year, but I'm also (a) getting more sleep, and (b) not feeling gigantic. I guess that's good. :)

I just want to go home and sip tea now. *whines*

My interview on pumping...

A blogger friend of mine asked me to do an interview for her recently about working outside the home and pumping for my babies. Part 1 is posted today. :) I feel all important...

Crazy day

I'm pretty exhausted. We've been having some long nights with a teething Anne, who decided the other night (when I set her down to change my *sodden* sleep shirt from her drool) that she'd like to play with her toys at 2 am rather than sleep. Mike has had some orientation sessions that he's had to go to at the college he'll be adjuncting at in the spring, and so I've had both (often cranky) children by myself in the evenings. And today I forgot to re-freeze the special ice pack that I have for my pump cooler, so I have reduced myself to chilling the milk I pumped today in the *work refrigerator out in the common break room*. I tucked it as far back as I could, but it's right behind someone's yogurt, I feel really bad.

Some days are just like this, I suppose.

We lived through the concert, and Christmas knitting reaches a fevered pitch

We made it through the Christmas concert alive. We got both children to the church in one piece (Anne crying, Henry saying he was nervous). Anne flirted with the people in the pew behind us for a time, and then began fussing just as the concert was starting. After guzzling 4 ounces of pumped milk, she fussed some more before falling asleep. Hank went up for his big moment of glory, singing "Sweetly Slumber" with his class, which I have to admit, wasn't the best Christmas song I've ever heard. But certainly, the children singing it were adorable. Anne slept for the remainder of the concert, and Hank looked pink-cheeked. When we left, Hank felt relieved in the car while Anne howled all the way home. Mike got Hank into bed and I nursed Anne down. Thankfully, both went to sleep with a minimum of fuss.

After that, Mike and I both settled in happily with drinks to chat and watch some tv together. I pulled my latest gift sock out, and I could see Mike giving it the evil eye. I know that he teasingly thinks that my affections have transferred from their rightful place with him to my knitting.

"Oh, do you want to move down here..."

"I'M ON A DEADLINE."

Which, you know, I am. But I compromised by working on my sock for a bit and then putting it away for some quality cuddling time. My husband is very cute.

Totally unrelated to the above, but it was on my mind (I do this a lot), I thought I'd write just a short spell on breastfeeding. Anne will be 7 months old on Sunday, and I haven't written about it in awhile, so I thought it would be worthwhile. We're still very much nursing. She does get 1 solid "meal" per day, since she was 5 months old or so. It's either a fruit or vegetable. And she likes them, for the most part. She nurses the rest of the time, or is fed pumped milk by her daddy during the day.

With Henry, I loved nursing. I never considered quitting prior to a year, and was happy to go to 18 months if he had kept going. He ended up weaning around 15 months. I was devastated when he did so. With Anne? It's a bit different. :) I do also love nursing her, but she's a LOT more difficult to nurse than her brother. Read: PAINFUL. I've had cracked and bleeding nipples with her, and soreness I never experienced with Henry. Her current thing is to push against me with her hand and pull in the opposite direction with her mouth as she nurses. As you can imagine, this is a great big OW. I feel like I'm wrestling with her a lot as she nurses. Although I enjoy the closeness I share with her, and I'll be honest, breastfeeding is actually *easier* than formula feeding since you don't have to mix anything (and you wash a lot less bottles), and certainly cheaper, I'm just not enjoying it the way I did last time. She's also still a spit up machine when she nurses, whereas when she takes a bottle, nary a bit of spittle in sight.

I set my original goal at 6 months, and we've surpassed that. My new goal is 8 months. I'll re-evaluate then. I'll go monthly at that point. But I can tell, I'm getting ready to wean her. Breastfeeding should be mutually desired, and right now, it's not so much a warm and fuzzy on my end. Pumping is also wearing thin. I have to pump twice a day at work, and it's a bit of a production. It's not terrible, and I would never consider not breastfeeding at all (no judging, I just want to breastfeed my babies for at least 6 months) but I'm ready to cut her loose.

She's terribly, terribly cute though.

Success!

Yesterday, as I tucked in my ugly bra straps for the 20th time, I decided that I'd had enough. I'M DONE WITH YOU, YOU EVIL UGLY BRA.

So my knitting friends and I had a lengthy discussion about bras over lunch (yes, this is what happens when women get to talking), and armed with a few suggestions of places to look, I headed excitedly back to my computer. And I found THE MECCA.

I checked out a site called Fig Leaves. It's a UK based lingerie company. They carry bras in sizes that you cannot find in regular retail stores, so women who wear cup sizes larger than a D, and/or have a small back size will find a wonderful selection here. They also carry bras for women who have had a mastectomy. But guess what else they have? A special maternity/nursing section with PRETTY BRAS. PRETTY!!! I mean, nursing bras in colors other than white and black. Pink, purple, I was nearly delirious with excitement and anticipation.

As you can imagine, some of them are a bit spendy. But honestly, they are not more expensive than the ugly ones I got at my local lactation center after I had Hank. They are about on par with those. And they're infinitely more attractive. AND, they had a pretty good selection of sale bras. Despite their being based in the UK, shipping to the US is a very reasonable $4.95. I was sold.

I ended up selecting a very practical nude colored bra for $15. Yes, $15! And it apparently won some kind of parenting magazine award for comfort and ease of use. It has thin, widely spaces straps, no underwire, padded cups, and looks more than halfway decent. And in the exciting news of the afternoon, I ordered a NAVY AND WHITE POLKA DOT WITH RED RIBBON bra as my second selection. That was my splurge, but it was on sale for only $27. With the sale bras, you have to be sure they have your size. I *really* wanted the pink and white polka dots, but they were out of my size, and the purple and white polka dots was full price at $39. Honestly, that's still not THAT bad, since like I mentioned, it's comparable to Miss Ugly that lives in my underwear drawer. But I liked the navy one just as well, so I went with the cheaper price tag. And it came with a free pair of matching underwear.

The whole shebang, with shipping, came to $47. I'm super thrilled. I placed the order late yesterday afternoon, and it's already shipped. I cannot wait for them to get here. And yes, I'll post an update about how I like them after they arrive. :)

The foibles of nursing mothers

I won't belabor, but I figured enough women out there would relate to this that I'd dedicate a short post to it. That's what this blog is all about. :) Serving up Too Much Information on a regular basis...

Anyway, today's installment is devoted to my undergarments. You see, when I nursed Henry (for over a year) I had a major problem with clogged milk ducts. Nothing makes you feel like a dairy cow more than thinking about ones "milk ducts", believe me. It's very unpleasant, and it HURTS like a very, very bad word. You get a very tender, hard spot and nothing relieves it except for the baby nursing and clearing it. I had *dozens* of clogged ducts when nursing Henry, and the pump only cleared them 1 time. The others, I had to wait it out until I got home to nurse him.

At first I thought it was related to my milk supply changing when I returned to work after delivering Henry (and consequently pumping), but eventually the lactation consultant I met with told me that it was my bra. You see, I am very uncomfortable wearing a bra with no underwire. Let's just say that I'm not the most endowed of all women, and that I like a little liftage support, ok? B cup bras just look ridiculous with no underwire.

And so I was wearing nursing bras with underwires. The lactation consultant tsked me with a furrowed brow. Apparently underwire can cause clogged ducts, and I had to replace my nursing bras right away.

As if I didn't already *hate* nursing bras. I do, I really hate them. I'm going to just say it: they're ugly. Just because we're nursing a baby doesn't mean we want to feel unappealing and undesirable. I really think Victoria's Secret needs to make nursing bras. Maybe we'd like our husbands to think of something other than the functional aspect of that part of our anatomy when they look at us, kwim?

So anyway, I crankily bought 2 nursing bras sans underwire, one nude and one black, and although they fit well, I still hated them. AND the clogged ducts persisted, although not quite as frequently. It was a real problem until I weaned Henry.

Now, with Anne, everything is totally different. 5 months and nary a clog to behold. So, I got complacent.

Yesterday, I wore a regular bra. Sweet, sweet regular bra! My nursing bras just have such thick straps that they're always showing and I couldn't take it anymore. In my regular bra, I had nice thin straps that stayed inside my shirt, I didn't have to worry about my (sorry, I have to say it) nipples showing through without those shifty little breast pads stuffed in there, I had just 2 dainty hooks to worry about in the back, and the whole shebang was attractive and delicate. I just figured I'd arrange it craftily when I went to pump, no worries.

Until the later part of the afternoon. After I pumped for the second time, I ran to the ATM to get some cash. My arm bumped against my side when I walked, and I thought,

"Ouch. Gee, that hurt."

I was in denial, so I let it go. Suddenly, I noticed that that side hurt even when nothing was touching it.

"Gosh, something sure feels tender on that side."

Pretty soon I was discreetly trying to feel myself up as I walked.

"Crap."

The verdict was in. I had a clogged duct. No more regular bras for me. :(

I had to suffer until I got both kids home whereupon I nursed Anne immediately on that side. The clog was gone in minutes.

So I think I have to break down and spend yet more money on something I hate, but it has to be done. I see that Walmart.com has some for a cheap price. *frowny face* The ones I have just aren't working. I want something less conspicuous (thinner straps) and it would be nice if they had actual cups that aren't paper thin. Does anybody have any recommendations that won't cost a fortune?

A sign that I really do need more sleep...

Even though sleep has slightly improved in our house (emphasis on the *slightly*) I'm even more tired than usual. I think it's that my body has once again gotten a taste for what it feels like to get actual rest and is now demanding even more. Yesterday in particular I was really dragging.

Around 10:15 am I was already starting to feel frantic. I had a reference shift at 11 am, and I needed to pump, have a bite to eat and get myself ready to be over in another building at the reference desk.

I was fielding a few phone calls and so set my breastpump up since I didn't want to run out of time. Once I got off the phone, I hooked myself up and started the milk flowing. I don't usually eat when I pump (that just seems odd to me somehow) but I was desperate yesterday, so I had a snack while I pumped. Otherwise I get really hungry by the end of the reference shift.

Finally, my milk was exhausted so I shut the pump off. I start to hurriedly unhook myself and glance up. What do I see?

My office door.

It's open.Now granted, it wasn't OPEN! It was closed, but it was not fully shut and locked. It was ajar. And that means that an overzealous student could open it fully after an abbreviated knock, which is not out of the realm of possibilities. I could have died right then and there.

I unhooked my tubing and hustled over to shut it and lock it. In all of my years of pumping, I've never done that. I'm usually much more self aware than this.

It was mortifying.

Great...

I think Anne is showing signs of early teething. Why is it that my kids do these unpleasant things so ridiculously early? Henry had a tooth by around 5 or 6 months, and it was misery. I mean, I know they have to get them eventually, but it seemed like he teethed and drooled for about 2 straight years.

Here are the signs: she's drooling. She's been a little extra fussy, and in a different way than previously. She's sucking on her fists a lot. Her spit up has been real mucousy (sorry for that extra bit of information). And my sore nipples. I read that sore nipples with babies that have already been nursing for awhile can result from a changed latch when gum pain starts. Wonderful. My nipples are feeling a bit better, by the way, thanks to the lanolin and the shield. Just in case you were wondering.

I swear it, I wish they were just born with teeth. Like Bella's freakish baby in the Twilight series. Whenever I say that, everyone always replies, "well, you wouldn't want to be breastfeeding if that were the case!" Which, while well intentioned, is actually untrue. :) If you breastfeed for a year or longer, chances are you're nursing your baby who has teeth. I did with Henry, for quite a long time. It doesn't interfere with their latch, and their teeth don't touch your nipple. They may accidentally bite you (or they may never do this, Henry didn't) but if you de-latch them, they'll quickly learn that doing this makes the milk go away, and the problem won't persist. So again, I maintain, why can't babies just be born with teeth and save us all this misery?

I think I should submit a formal petition to God for this design change.

Updates abound

Ok, so, we have Anne's naps, fun with yarn, and my nipples. Where to start, where to start...

Yesterday, I got Anne to nap in her crib for about 20 minutes. This was definitely a highlight. She loves to kick around watching her mobile in there while she's awake and I need my hands free for a short time. But sleep in there? Pshaw! Never. She still sleeps at night in our room in her bassinette, and I plan to keep her in there until she's about 4 months. We've got a good nighttime routine going; she goes to bed between 7 and 8 pm, and we're loving it. (She gets up on a usual night 2 times between then and 6 am. So, she's doing very well). I get to knit at night, read, and chat with Mike. I don't want to mess with the routine until we absolutely have to, when she's older and more over her gas issues, since the bassinette is inclined while the crib is, of course, flat. Plus, while she's still getting up twice a night, it's wonderful to have her right next to me. I don't even have to get out of bed to nurse and burb her. How I dread making the cold walk down the hall to the nursery once she sleeps in her own room.

So, today, I pushed the issue again. At first, she was very resistant, as always. She'll doze off in my arms, but the instant her butt hits the crib mattress, she's not only awake, but screaming. Finally, I realized the problem. She keeps startling herself. You would think this would have been obvious to me much earlier, since all babies have this startle reflex. You would think. But with 2 small children, my brain is operating at *maybe* 40% capacity at all times. And that's when my thought process is uninterrupted. When Henry is around, I'm down to about 25%.

Anyway, it's the summer, and there's no a/c in her bedroom, so on some days it's too warm to swaddle her in the middle of the day, but today it's pretty nice. So I swaddled her. She's been up there napping for over an hour.

*angels sing*

I really want her to get used to that being a "sleep place," so that hopefully the autumn transition to the crib all the time isn't so painful. For all of us.

So that's that. What's next? Oh yes, yarn! Well, I felted for the first time yesterday. I will devote a whole post to this in the next few days, complete with pictures. I'm waiting for my creation to dry right now, and need to put the finishing touches on today. Keep your eye out for that one. :) But also, my ball winder came yesterday, and Mike and I tested it out last night.

Oh, such bliss! I got my hank of merino wool/silk and placed it over Mike's outstretched hands. The ball winder itself is very easy to put together and use, I highly recommend it. Knitpicks. They're wonderful. It was tremendously fun, although I had the funner job, no doubt about it. Mike had to go through some contortions to keep the yarn moving and eventually had to take a break due to shoulder soreness. :) And towards the end, things fell apart a bit. Well, Anne woke up, that didn't help. I went upstairs and picked her up, and she burbed and spit up all over me. By time I got back down, Mike had developed a knot. It was towards the end of the hank, and he suggested we just cut it off, which I didn't even consider. This is silk; we're untangling the knot.

It only took a few minutes, and voila! I had a beautiful center-pull ball of yarn. I've started my scarf, and I'm perfectly thrilled with it. But I think I'm asking for a real swift for Christmas. :)

And then of course, my breastfeeding woes. I know you were just waiting to hear more personal details about my nipples. At Cam's suggestion (thanks Cam!) I checked out nipple shields. I had heard of them, but didn't really know much about them. They're thin silicone-ish shields that you place over your nipple while the baby nurses. This way, your nipple doesn't take as much abuse and can heal, but the baby is still getting milk. I went to Target yesterday with Henry (while Mike gave Anne a bottle of pumped milk, giving my breasts a break) and found a nipple shield for $7.50. I snapped it up. The only quandry was the size indicators on the package; are my nipples small or medium sized? I had never thought about it before. That decision made, I brought it home and tried it out.

Anne, of course, was pretty skeptical at first. She didn't seem to be a fan, but once she latched on it was fine. And what sweet relief! No contemplation of a shot of whiskey prior to latch-on. It was getting bad there on my right breast. I'm hoping that with a few days of use, my nipples will heal and I won't have to use it anymore. We'll see.

So, that's the latest in my world. I go back to work in about 2 and a half weeks, and needless to say, this is causing a lot of mixed emotions within me. I'll post about that more at length coming up here. I miss my work friends, especially my knitting girls, and I'll be so glad to see them again, but it's tearing me up to leave Mike and the kids at home. I'm happy to know that Anne will be home with Mike the majority of the time. She'll only be in daycare 2 days a week. And if Mike doesn't find a full-time job soon, she'll be home with him 5 days a week. We'll see. I'm feeling a tad anxious about everything, but not nearly as bad as I would have expected out of the level of Type A personality that I have. I know that God has a plan for us, and that something will work out. Somehow.

This post will have the word "breast" in it a lot...

So consider yourself warned. :)

Anne will be 11 weeks old tomorrow (!) and after a rough go at the outset, breastfeeding (and pumping) went along swimmingly for the past little while. All of a sudden, though, I remember why breastfeeding can be a challenge even for experienced nursing moms.

NIPPLES. I suppose I should have put a warning about that word too, in the title. Henry, though a poor sleeper and an extremely fussy baby, was a champion nurser. He did it well right from the outset, and I never had a problem aside from a clogged milk duct issue that persisted when I went back to work and my supply changed due to all the pumping. All this through about 15 months. I never even thought about formula. And I would have happily continued nursing longer if he had wanted to, but he weaned right around 15 months.

And then there's Anne. I call her my little barracuda. She's a much more demanding nurser, and my nipples are taking a beating. I noticed a few days ago that I was starting to dread nursing her on my right breast, and would brace myself whenever she latched on. I don't think we have thrush. I don't see any white patches in her mouth. I think I've just gotten lazy with her latch, and my nipples developed a soreness. I've been applying Lansinoh Lanolin religiously, and hoping that it gets better.

Right now, I'm looking to 6 months. I think that's a good and realistic goal. If we make it there, then I'll look to the year mark. I know that around 6 months, nursing gets infinitely easier with the introduction of solids, so if I make it that far, I'm pretty sure I'll make it to the full year again. But baby steps. I'm not putting pressure on myself this time.

I'm just thinking of my poor right nipple. There was some...BLOOD today. *cries* I'm very squeamish. Seeing my own blood makes me woozy, and all this despite two births. I just can't slough that off.

Anyway, if you have any advice aside from watching her latch and using the lanolin, let me know. I'm hoping we can move past this within the next few days.

In other nursing news, my Udder Cover continues to please. I used it in the middle of the mall the other day, the true test. Reading my last issue of Fit Pregnancy over breakfast the other morning, I saw an ad for a competing product called a "Hooter Hider." Now, doesn't that just seem unnecessary? They couldn't come up with a more couth name? When I showed it to Mike, he made a few comments about other potential irreverant name combinations, one in which both words started with a "B" and another more vulgar one in which the name starts with "T's." It was pretty funny, actually.

Onward, nursing soldiers...

Nursing under the cover of darkness

Not so long ago, I wrote a post about a trip to Babies R Us with my mom in which I scoffed at nursing covers as ridiculous and completely unnecessary. Well, sometimes a dose of humility smacks you right in the face. :)

For whatever reason, Anne completely detests nursing under a blanket. She wriggles and tries to bat it off. Meanwhile, I'm struggling to even bare my breast under the thing, holding on to it with my teeth. Getting her latched is yet another production. When she inevitably delatches and needs to burp immediately lest she explode, I've nearly flashed the whole room at least a dozen times.

So eventually, I just started pumping and bringing bottles with me whenever I was going to be with the baby in public. It's just so much easier, and my pump is awesome. (Medela Pump in Style Original, for the record).

In the mean time, my mom ordered me something called an Udder Cover. I scoffed at first, yes I did. It was backordered for a while, so didn't arrive until this week. I tried it today, and I have to say, I'm now a believer.

It's very simple, and those of you with sewing skills (I'm thinking of a few of you in particular :) ) will be able to make one of these lickety split. It's just a pretty piece of fabric that extends from your neck to about your waist, and is nice and wide. It's a light cotton, so not all hot like most baby blankets. The little piece that goes around your neck has one of those metal clasps that you can adjust, you don't have to tie it. Thus, you can get it in a spot you like and then leave it, slipping it quickly over your head when you need to use it. The collar has some kind of thin rigid thing in it, so that you can peek down and look at the baby whenever you need to. Baby delatches? Mine does, constantly. You can relatch them without having to perform a physical act of acrobatic proportions.

And that's it! But the beauty of it is that you can pop it on, and then discreetly pull down your top and nursing bra, and *then* get the baby underneath to latch; you have both of your hands free to work with and you are covered the whole time. I tried it out today while my dad was in the room and it worked like a dream.

I now sheepishly revoke my scorn of all nursing covers. This one is particularly nice. I can't remember the one I tried in Babies R Us, but I really did hate it. The thing went to, like, my *knees* and you had to tie it in place. *purses lips* It and I did not see eye to eye.

The Udder Cover that I chose is called "Laila," and is pink and ivory. I kind of love it.

Funerals, and oddly, a pumping tie-in

My grandfather's funeral was yesterday. My grandparents are no longer Catholic, so there was no Mass of Christian Burial. But they remain devout Christians, and so their pastor came to the funeral home to perform a funeral service. I much prefer the solace and beauty of the Catholic liturgy, but of course, not everyone is like me. And the service was very heartfelt and lovely.

My grandfather was a World War II veteran, and so he was buried with military honors. The honor guard was at the cemetery. They played Taps, and performed an awesome ceremony to fold the flag that had been draped on his coffin, and then present it to my grandmother. It was quite something to see.

Throughout the wake and funeral, I had the normal concerns of any breastfeeding mother: engorgement. We left both children with Mike's parents, so I was constantly filling with milk that wasn't being regularly tapped by my hungry newborn.

At the funeral home for the wake on Thursday it was no trouble. I approached the funeral director tentatively, my pump strapped to my shoulder.

"Excuse me? I have an odd request. I have a newborn, and so I have my breastpump with me..."

"Oh! OF COURSE."

I was immediately escorted to a private locked room with an outlet and comfortable chairs. It was bliss.

Yesterday at the funeral, things were a little dicier. I had no opportunity to pump until after the cemetery, when we went to a local restaurant for a luncheon following the ceremony. When I approached a woman who worked at the restaurant, pump in hand, with the same request, she gave me a cross-eyed look.

"What? No. We have nothing. Try the ladies room."

Well, my pump has no battery pack, and thus requires an outlet. My pointing out that the only outlet in the ladies room was right out in the open, in the common area, did not sway her. I had to either pump there, or live with a heck of a lot of milk in my breasts.

For the first time ever in my years of pumping, I had to suck it up and pump in public. To say the least, it was awkward. Now granted, it was only ladies in the ladies room, but still. I don't usually expose myself from the waist up in the ladies room. I didn't like it, and I was so tense, my milk wouldn't let down for awhile. My mom gave me her raincoat that I could drape over me a bit, but I still felt very conspicuous in the middle of the ladies room with tubes coming out from under my handmade shroud. It was a bit freakish.

Luckily, everyone that came in must have immediately summed up my plight and ignored me to ease my discomfort. The only interested customer was a little 4 year old boy who came in with his mom. Oh well. What could I do?

Baby steps, and pumping for success

The other day, I achieved a milestone: I did errands alone with Anne. Now, if we had added Henry to the mix, I think I would have deserved a medal, but I'll settle for this victory right now.

I got her into her car seat, lugged the stroller out into the trunk (no small feat, the thing is nearly as big as I am) and out we set for *3* different stores. Babies R Us, the Salvation Army, and the lactation store.

Upon arriving at the Salvation Army, I wrestled the stroller out of the trunk, got Anne snapped in, and wheeled into the building. In a move that impressed me greatly, I found a flowy thing that I can use as my belly dance costume cover-up for $2.99. Score. I made the naive mistake of continuing to browse after finding my prey, and Anne promptly proceeded to wail. I quickly made my way to the register, and in my fluster, nearly forgot my bag of purchases as I tried to squeeze the stroller containing the wailing baby out of the door, but I persevered. I was sweating a bit as I snapped Anne back into her car seat (glamorous) and hauled the stroller back into the trunk, but I made it out alive.

Then I went to Babies R Us, which is cake with a baby, since everyone there is either hugely pregnant and uncomfortable enough to not really notice your screaming baby, or toting their own screaming baby or melting down toddler. Kindred spirits. I needed a few nursing supplies and some bibs for Anne. I have never seen a baby spit up with the degree of intensity and difficulty that Anne achieves. We are never without a flotilla of soon-to-be-saturated burb rags in every room in the house. But I digress. I fetched the stuff and headed out on my way without a single wail.

My final stop was the lactation store, where I was in search of a hands-free pumping device. I'd been dreading the dusting off of my breast pump, since pumping is, well, a bit of a pain in the ass. But I have an awesome pump, a Medela Pump in Style Original, which I acquired while nursing Henry. I took it out for a test run the day before, and the thing still runs like a champ. It's the Honda of breast pumps. But I have no hands-free device, and this time, I knew that I needed one. It's no fun sitting there for 10-15 minutes while balancing those ridiculous looking cones in one hand and trying to turn the pages of your book with the other. Upon arrival, I hauled Anne's car seat tote out and dragged her in. The lactation lady immediatly knew what I was talking about and whipped out this bustier thing that you stick the breast horns into and voila! Hands-free pumping. Unfortunately, such bliss costs $40, but it was totally worth it. I can email and read now while pumping.

I got back home, all aglow. I haven't had to wrangle a newborn in many years, and I feared that I'd lost my touch. Xanadu.

A tale of much spit-up

Well, as I'm sure you could tell from Friday's post, I wasn't in the best of spirits going into the weekend. And unfortunately, the weekend bore up that early prediction. It was a rough one.

We had two really bad nights in a row, and I was in that sleep deprived newborn haze of seeing pacifers and burb rags strewn over every available surface in my house and walking around with dried spit-up covering my blouse and in my hair. In our "TMI alert" for the day, my nipples were killing me and I felt teary and trapped. Saturday night was particularly bad. The baby was extra fussy and seemed in some clear discomfort and was up every 20-30 minutes throughout the night. I was a basket case by Sunday morning.

Yesterday, I had an epiphany: I think Anne has, to some degree, acid reflux. The sheer volume that she spits up is comparable only to a geyser. I did a little research, and come to find out, *all* newborns have some acid reflux. Their esophoguses are immature and they all spit up for the first 6 to 12 months of their lives. Anne's might be a bit more advanced than some, so I considered calling the pediatrician. But I read a bit about home remedies, and apparently if you incline them after eating, and while sleeping, this can help. I did that yesterday, and lo and behold, we had an excellent night last night and a much better day today.

Last night, I was able to put Anne down by 8:30 pm, and she slept for 4.5 hours. That's the most sleep I've gotten since she was born. After that, she slept for 3 hours, and then was up at 6 am for the morning to nurse again. That's excellent for a newborn.

This morning, I feel like a new woman. Getting some rest does wonders for ones physical and emotional health. We decided to observe her for at least a few more days before calling the pediatrician. She hasn't spit up nearly so much today, and I credit the inclining after feeding. Her bassinette is also slightly inclined, and that must be why she prefers to sleep in there. Side lying nursing is a total disaster for her. She gets all kicky and archy, and seems to have a hard time breathing well in that position, so I never feed her in that position anymore. I always have to sit up to nurse her.

So, I'm feeling better. I've also taken a gigantic amount of pressure off of myself with breastfeeding. With Hank, I never used formula. I didn't even know how to mix it until about a week ago. Feeding Anne has been so much more of a production, and my emotions (and poor, poor nipples) have taken a real beating. We've given her a few bottles of formula, and I feel SO much better knowing the pressure isn't always on me to feed her, sore nipples and all. A little formula isn't going to hurt her, and I'm just feeling BETTER.

I know supplementing can affect my milk supply, but, well. This time, I have a different perspective. My mental and physical health is not less important than Anne being exclusively breastfed. She's getting plenty of breastmilk (she's gained nearly 2 pounds since she's been born, up past 9 lbs, little chunker!) and receiving the nutrition that she needs. That's all that is important.

So, this morning, I'm feeling grateful for the hope that I feel today. That everything is going to be ok.