To get to this point in my life, my heart had to break in half. Twice.
I had to have a D&C to remove dead embryonic tissue from my uterus. Twice.
I spent most of my third pregnancy terrified that it would end without a healthy baby. When I wasn’t worrying about that, I was throwing up.
I fall more in love with him every day.
Yes, it was worth it.
I am even considering doing it all over again eventually, which, although I am still a cynical bitch regarding all things pregnancy, I think is the ultimate gesture of optimism.
I know you have just been dying to know what my Facebook friend’s lastest update is.
Here you go:
“ok, so the kiddo is smaller than a grain of rice here but… c’mon… have you seen a cuter piece of rice?!”
She still has the u/s photo as her profile picture. Again, who the heck posts u/s pictures in a public formum when their “kiddo” is only only the size of a grain of rice?
She is really pissing me off. I can’t unfriend her, though, because I can’t look away.
Besides, other bloggers can talk about (proto-) baby #2, and my life is just not that interesting right now.
My bewbies, apparently, are evil. E.V.I.L.
Baby S decided yesterday that he was done with them. It is really warm here, so I just assumed it was the heat and maybe the closeness of nursing was annoying (even though we hold him in our arms when we give him a bottle, too). I would lift up my shirt to nurse and he would turn his head and close his mouth, but I thought maybe when it cooled off, he would be more willing. So, I pumped and he happily drank from a bottle.
This morning when I went in to nurse him, he took one look at my bewbie and started screaming. I had no idea what was wrong. I thought maybe I smelled bad or I had gotten something on me, so I gave up, pumped, and then took a shower and tried again. Same reaction. We did not have a biting incident or anything traumatic; my bewbies are just suddenly terrifying.
This afternoon, post-shower and in a perfectly cool room, I again tried to nurse him but he again turned his head to the side and clamped his mouth shut. He will happily snuggle with me while he sucks his thumb and he will also happily take a bottle of breastmilk, so this is either the famed “nursing strike” or he just self-weaned.
If this is it, or was it, I will still pump for another few months to ensure he is still getting breastmilk. It is easier to just nurse, but if I must pump, I must pump.
I have two conflicting emotions: one, my feelings are very hurt that my bewbies are suddenly so offensive; second, I am relieved that I don’t have to initiate the weaning process.
I will try again in a few days, just to see if it really is a “nursing strike,” but my gut tells me that our nursing days are over.
My Facebook “friend” — Ms. Fertile Myrtle — just joined this Facebook group:
“Smacking Stupid People in the Face So Hard They Might Get Smarter.”
I fucking kid you not.
Oh, and I deleted my congratulatory note to her.
There is a new FB update: they found a heartbeat.
“OH BABY!! the kiddo has a heartbeat! Amazing… my husband and I have accomplished what millions and millions of people before us have… and it’s still a miracle!”
She changed her profile picture to the ultrasound photo. It’s still so early that the yolk sac is double the size of the “baby.”
It is taking every ounce of self-control that I have not to write, “I sure hope it keeps on beating because it would really suck to have to announce to 161 people via Facebook that the heart stopped at week 9.”
I know, I am such a bitter bitch.
I have an acquaintance, actually a friend of an ex-friend, who I am “friends” with on Facebook.
She posted an update a few weeks ago that she was “officially ‘in the family way.'” I was genuinely excited for her and wrote her a little congratulatory note. I was impressed she got pregnant the very first month because they had only begun trying in February.
Well, she had gotten pregnant quickly, but not as quickly as I had assumed. I assumed that she announced it on Facebook when she was into the second trimester.
Today her status update read: ” ________ is really excited to find out if the lima bean has a heartbeat yet…”
She posted on FB that she was pregnant the same day she got a positive pregnancy test. She had not even seen the heartbeat. She was not even a few weeks along, let alone into the second trimester.
I hope that everything is okay, I really do, but … well, if you are reading this, you know why I hesitate. Even I was not that naive before my first miscarriage.
Her friends are already planning her baby shower and all the cute gifts they are going to get her, yada, yada, yada. I think she is a fool, but maybe that is just my bitter cynicism.
Me to my CNM: “Uh, yeah, I was wondering if I could get a thyroid cascade done this week?”
CNM: “Are you symptomatic?”
Me: “Well, my carpal tunnel is acting up and I am tired, but I am mostly asking because I just got on the scale and I have gained almost 30 lbs. while breastfeeding.”
CNM: “Wow. . . . Yes, I will have the orders ready for you at the lab tomorrow morning.”
Anesthesiologist to the nurse, while preparing for my epidural: “Can you turn down the pitocin so I can insert the needle between contractions?
Nurse: “She doesn’t have a pitocin drip.”
Anesthesiologist: “Really? Wow. This is all natural?”
Anesthesiologist: “Wow. Um, well, we are going to have to do this during a contraction because they are just coming one right after another.”
Nurse: “And she is only 3 cm.”
NOTE TO SELF: It is never good to hear an anaesthesiologist say “wow.”
Baby S is 9 months, 2 weeks, and 6 days old. (We have a ticker on his blog; I am not actually that anal retentive).
I am still breastfeeding and plan to continue until he is at least a year.
It is my gift to him. As I mentioned before, the risk of developing colitis is cut by up to 75% if one is breastfed for 12 months. We are only nursing 3-4 times a day, so it is really not so bad anymore in terms of time commitment.
Except for one thing: the weight gain.
When Baby S was born I weighted 181 lbs. I got on the scale this week and weighed 209 lbs. HOLY FRACK!
I was never hungry when I was pregnant but breastfeeding makes me hungry all the time. I eat almost everything put in front of me, even my veggies. It is an even more intense hunger that when I was on Prednisone (steroids for treating colitis) and my CNM told me just to listen to my body as it is determined to make high-quality breastmilk. She also pointed out that I did not eat well at all while pregnant, so my body is just trying to replenish lost nutrients.
But almost 30 lbs of weight gain while breastfeeding?
I joined a gym this week because if the apetite is going to be like this, something else has got to change. I had to go out again and buy more “fat” clothes. I read somewhere — and I am too lazy to go find it again — that 22% of women gain more than 15 lbs. while breastfeeding. I was never told this. It would not stopped me from breastfeeding, but it would have made me feel like less of a freak.