Involuntary Co-Sleep Ninja

From day 1 at home from the hospital, LittleMan has slept on me, next to me, in our bed. Of course, I've read and heard about all of the dangers of co sleeping. Even Ansel's pediatrician strongly advised against it. However, he sleeps when he's next to me. I know that it's just an excuse; he would be "safer" sleeping in his own bed, waking up every 10-30 minutes, cold because babies shouldn't sleep with blankets or pillows, and alone, completely alone. 

He starts out in his bassinet, which is now getting to be a little cramped since he's getting older and bigger. The only reason why we haven't transitioned him into his own room is because it's on the opposite end of the house and on the first floor where our room is the second floor. I don't feel comfortable having him that far away just yet. We will be finding better housing once our lease ends here. But, between 7 and 8pm, he nurses to sleep or nurses and we rock him to sleep, and put him in the bassinet upstairs. Somewhere between 9 and 11pm he begins to wake. Now we've tried rocking him back to sleep, changing his diaper, everything but nurse, to get him comfortable and back to sleep in the bassinet. However, as soon as we lay him down, he's wide awake, ready for action, talking up a storm. For about 30 minutes we play the fall back asleep then wide awake game. 

That's when he gets in our bed. Throughout the night we wrestle and dance in periodic spurts as to keep him asleep, head away from pillows and blankets, not laying inbetween Cody and I as to make sure Cody doesn't crush him (Cody sleeps like a toddler, all over the place), and usually feet in my gut. He likes to kick me in the stomach when he starts waking up. 

While I was pregnant, we came across the following diagram. I never thought it could be so true.

"The Dog House" is a reoccurring position. I feel so bad for Cody, sometimes.

As for now, we will continue to co sleep. I'm not going to lie, I do enjoy it, probably as much as I love breastfeeding; but I know we will try to change things in the near future. 

BFing your LOL

Breastfeeding. Something I never wanted to do. I always wanted to have children, but the thought of something, someone latched onto my body, feasting... All I could think of was baby parasite, with teeth like a shark, draining my body of all life like a vampire . However, during my last trimester, I couldn't be more excited to breastfeed, provide my child with food made from MY BODY, give him a better chance at a strong immune system (and for free I might add).

So last night/early this morning, while attached to my baby vampire parasite, I saw that my sister had commented on my last blog post, telling me to keep writing (it has been a few months). Naturally, all I could think about was boob milk. 

Breastfeeding, or in the world of mother friendly forums, blogs, and chats, BFing. There's simply BFing, or at first glance could be Barfing; BFing your LO (little one), or Barfing your Lungs Out, or Barfing your Laugh Off, or Barfing your LOL; and EBF (exclusively BF'd or ExpressedMilk Breastfed, I'm not sure), or Exorcism Barfing. Now if that's not confusing enough with all the letter abbreviations, I'm pretty sure I've incorrectly made up what each one means and there's a ton more: LC, DD, LD, etc, etc.

So beginning at 3am, we start the Barfing and continue on a 1.5-2 hour rotation till around 8pm. Parasite.

You know you're tired when you change the words of Michael Jackson from "Beat It" to "Boob It" or make up catch phrases such as "when in doubt, boob it out".

Sorry to be blunt, but: One of my boobs is consistently and significantly larger than the other. My breasts are now what I call "Gorilla Titties", the shape isn't perky and round anymore. My nipples stay puffy. If I sleep on my stomach, I wake up in a puddle of milk. And for some reason, HobbyHubby still wants to see them all the time, probably because I've banned him from touching them (it makes my milk "let down" and I begin dripping like a faucet). 

But all is well and for a good cause, right? And who knew they made teas and cookies and supplements to help promote healthy lactation. I tried to get Cody to taste the tea, which is AWESOME, but he wouldn't, claiming that he didn't want to start lactating. I died laughing. It doesn't quite work that way. 

It's been 4 months and we are still going strong, even with me working part time. I've even cooked while Barfing my LOL. I understand why so many women give up after the first week or two; it hurt! Blistering, sore, poor nipples. But once past the first few weeks it turns into something quite magical. Here's to the next 8 months! Cheers!

Identity Crisis

I feel as though I've lost myself. As every mom has told me, life before baby is a big blur. I've dealt with depression since I was fourteen; so postpardom depression has been a realistic threat with life after pregnancy. So far, I've felt proud not giving into any thoughts of unwanted sadness.

The proud thoughts are slowly dissipating. The "high on baby" feeling starting disappearing once I returned to work. 

Don't get me wrong, I absolutely love and adore my LittleMan and motherhood. But what about life outside of baby? I am now 24/7 a mom, caretaker of a new life who cannot take care of themselves alone. 

The high is going away. But I don't want it to. The only time I feel as though I don't have to be SuperMom is when I'm taking a shower (when I get one). So no wonder I've wanted to start smoking cigarettes again. It's difficult. If I'm smoking, there's no way LittleMan can be near me, secondhand smoke and all. But I don't want to be a smoker again. So what do I do?

I've lost myself, my sense of self. I am a mother. I work to provide for my son, with help from HobbyHubby. I take care of my son. My life is my son. I love it; but what else? 

I've tried to start painting again but it's difficult to find unerrupted time. 

So the next step is date nights. Physical intimacy has been an issue. Shit hurts, it's uncomfortable. I had a second degree tear from birthing a 9 pound baby, could've been worse (my friend is mother superior compared to me). So we hang out, maybe drink some with friends. It's nice, but the whole time I'm missing LittleMan. 

I want him all the time and want space too. I'm finding a balance.

His pediatrician has helped me realize how great everything is. I'm a breast feeding champ. Let me reiterate, IM A FUCKING BREASTFEEDING CHAMP! He's growing tremendously. Gained 3 pounds and grew 3 inches by his 2 month appointment.

My dad, someone I've subconsciously always needed approval from, has repeatedly told me how proud he is of me and how I'm a great mom. It makes me want to cry when he says these things. It lifts me up like nothing else.

Cody also repeatedly thanks me for feeding Ansel, for taking care of him, helping with diaper changes (Cody doesn't like the poopy ones, but I don't know what father would), cooking dinner, paying bills on time (well trying to).

So why do I feel lost? Maybe I just need a slap in the face. I love my son, I love being a mother, I love my family, I'm in love with HobbyHubby (and welcome the thought of marriage, as we are not yet wed), I'm in love with Ansel. For the first time in my post adolescent life, I do not think of harming myself, I look for and avoid dangerous situations (potential car accidents, suspicious persons, etc, stranger danger). I never want to die, I never want to leave LittleMan. 

So what are these empty feelings? Where do they come from?

I guess the only thing I can do is stay busy, keep loving my family and myself. Find old and new hobbies. Stay healthy, keep breastfeeding. I do love breastfeeding. And if I get sad, get help. I'm not ashamed of seeking help, I know better than that.

Oh Snap, Baby Clothes

Whoever designs baby clothes needs to retire or be exiled from planet earth. Yes, they are absolutely adorable, especially the girls' clothes. Bows, hearts, "pretty like mommy", little muddy puppies, silly monkeys, "handsome like daddy", cartooned farm equipment, and so on. The cuteness goes on and on. 

But where is the ease of changing your baby's clothes? Onsies are my favorite for LittleMan. They're the easiest thing to put him in. A boat neck top that's easy to it over his head and fast and only three snaps to put together. 

However, what's with all the snaps on other clothes? It doesn't make it any easier or faster to change him. I've counted at least twelve snaps on one of his pajama coverall outfits. TWELVE! How is that easy? You can get arthritis or carpel tunnel from all those buttons. And forget about quiet nighttime diaper changes. When you pull apart each button, it shakes the baby and makes a loud noise, waking him up. 

Zippers are key. LittleMan has a pajama coverall that zips all the way up. Genius! It's easy. Just put his limbs in the appropriate places and zip up. No twelve button snaps to give you arthritis and the zipper won't jerk the outfit and wake him up. Why are zippers not as popular as snaps?! I understand you want to make it difficult for the baby to undo their clothes themselves, but that's where one snap comes in handy; there is a flap of fabric that reaches over the zippers slider and snaps down. 

More zippers now! Make it easier for mom and dads everywhere. 

Today We Begin A New Journey

On Halloween this year Cody noticed that LittleMan had a swollen mass on the side of his neck. We thought it could be a swollen lymph node (the size of a golf ball) and called his doctor. The next day at his appointment she informed me that he was not sick at all, it was congenital muscular torticollis, a shortened/pulled muscle in his neck that happened while he was in the womb.

 So, LittleMan holds his head crooked. Could you imagine viewing the world crooked? Well I guess he doesn't mind since that's what he's used to. He couldn't really see for awhile after birth, anyways, to understand what's considered normal. But when the torticollis is "fixed" (that is if physical therapy can fix him or if he responds to it) is his world going to turn upside down? Or, I suppose to him, it would then be crooked. 

Today we began physical therapy. It terrified me. So I can rip his skin if I pull too much? Yes. So I have to push down on his face to stretch the muscle? Yes. If you don't "air out" the short side, he can grow mildew and fungus on his skin? Yes. WTF?

The therapist showed me a few stretches to do after every diaper change (I guess that way you can't forget) and directions on the aspects of everyday infant life, like sleep, play, and feeding. I was so overwhelmed that I honestly keep confusing myself at every task. Hold which shoulder down and turn his neck which way? 

A 45 minute appointment once a week for at least the first five weeks. Every two to three weeks once he shows significant improvement. He tilts at a 25 degree angle. Under 5 degrees is the long term goal. If not corrected, he could have mobility issues his whole life; his neck, turning his head, his shoulder and arm... Scoliosis... Thank you insurance, but man the copay is going to get expensive. 

I know that after a few days of practice it will be easier. But until then, the easier, I will stay confused, a little panicked, and emotional. Of course I'll wait to be a wreck when I am out of his sight. I don't want to make him a nervous wreck. 

Family Group Message

WARNING- some indecency and profanity

A few members of my family and I are in a continuing group message, sending each other funny pictures, videos, and memes. Here's a taste of what the convo looks like. Enjoy.

Dad-

Me- I want to start doing that

Dad-

Me- where's her lipstick?

Dad-

Becca- I went to public school, therefore I don't get it...

Paul-

SANK YOU like thank you but sank you Pearl Harbor Becca. Get it, get it? The Japanese sunk our battleships at Pearl Harbor

Becca- ohhhhh, had nothing to do with being public schooled, just me being super slow

Paul- super slow AND super pretty

Dad-

Me- were you holding out and needed to send them all at once?

Dad- when I check Facebook I find these gems

Paul-

Dad-

Becca- oh my

Dad-

Me- yep

Dad-

Dad- tomorrow is world toilet day

Paul-

Dad- now that's funny

The wisdom of Jack

Becca- heh heh

Paul-

Dad- good one Paul

Paul- we find some gems

Becca- http://youtu.be/ZlATOHGj9EY

OMG watch this now http://youtu.be/wva3qypGPvA

Dad- 

Me- bahaha

Paul- 

Dad-

Me- girls don't fart, they fluff

Dad- well way to go Fluffy... Ever heard a unicorn laugh? Sounds just like farting

Stranger Danger

It's inevitable with a baby, you will be stopped by perfect strangers in order for them to force you to show off your little one. Of course being a new mom, I want everyone to look, see what I've produced, see how awesome he is. However, it's somewhat inconvenient when strangers come up to someone with a baby and stop them from walking in or out of a store to ask a million questions about the little tyke. I don't think it's "nice" when I'm trying to get out of a store because I know I have roughly 15 minutes before LittleMan wakes up and realizes he's hungry or needs to pee and someone stops to ask me meaningless questions about us when they'll never see us again. Maybe I'm just a cold-hearted bitch. I understand that when the family is out in public, some people (mostly older women) will stop to look at our baby. I look at others babies and children and smile from afar all the time, kids are cute. Why can't everyone just do this? Sometimes I feel as though these strangers are just trying to take my child. Why else would you ask about his gender, age, immunizations, sleep patterns, diapering, and breast or bottle feeding? Favorite restaurant, video game, ammo, or grill? I understand newly pregnant first moms trying to figure out what everyone else is doing, but these are not the strangers asking the questions. Maybe the strangers want to see what everyone's doing with their babies in order to quietly judge their parenting skills. They'll have thoughts such as "you don't use baby powder? Are you an idiot? His legs will fall off if you don't" or "what do you mean you don't bathe him in the kitchen sink? That's where you're supposed to wash babies".

What if these onlookers upon the questionnaire didn't like what they heard? What if someone asked me how old my little guy was and I replied "I don't know, I found him this morning" or "beats me, who cares". How would they respond? Would it stop the nationwide epidemic of nosey people? Or land me in jail because they're not sure if I've kidnapped the baby or I'm just the wicked witch of the east (Get it? East coast?). I'm tired of the creepy individuals that act like they might try to eat him up because he's so cute, literally. Or like I mentioned above, the ones who are obviously trying to steal him.

Here's just a few instances where Cody or I felt completely uncomfortable, aggravated, or weirded out.

Publix employee with lipstick on her teeth and a Santa hat on stops me literally half way through our exit of the automatic door. Mind you I was a little irritable at the moment which by no means was her doing, but I kept a smile on my face as to not seem rude.

Publix- oh, you have one too (referring to the woman and toddler in front of me that she apparently had finally stopped talking to)

Me- yep

Publix- how old? 

Me- 6 weeks

Publix- name?

Me- Ansel

Publix- Hansel? (hesitating and a little confused)

Me- yep, why not? (trying to smile and slowly inch the buggy forward to leave)

Publix- boy or girl?

Me- boy (well his names Hansel and not Gretel, right?) 

Publix- oh how cute, well thank you for coming to see us and we shall see you soon. 

(Ok, that was really nice)

Cody and I at the Target guest services desk trying to do an exchange. All of a sudden I turn to look out of my peripheral to see Ansel in his car seat on top of the cart and a woman is literally 2 inches in front of him staring. I hesitantly smile at her. Cody sees this and turns to see the woman.

Cody- woah, you came out of nowhere.

Woman- (just smiles at us and Ansel)

Cody- ok then

Woman- (still silently smiling at us)

Me- hi

Woman- (I think her mouth is frozen, but now I won't let her break eye contact with me in order to hopefully creep her out as I move to herd her away)

Again at Target, I am pushing Ansel and the cart away from the registers when I hear the women who was in line behind me with her husband run up to my left side (like I've stolen something and she's security) in what I'd like to call my blind spot. 

Woman- so much hair (what most say when they see him)

Me- yep

Woman- our daughter had hair like that when she was born and he reminded us of her. She's grown now and... (Ok) ...he's precious.

Me- thank you

Yesterday walking through downtown Thomasville with my sister, Ansel strapped in a harness against my chest, and an older gentleman we walk up towards begins:

Man- whatcha got? (Moving to my side, a little in my bubble, and leaning down towards my chest, pretty much staring at it.)

Me- a boy

Man- I love babies. How old?

Me- (I never stop moving in a circle around him) 6 weeks 

Man- who has the dark hair in the family?

Me- (my hair is currently almost colored black and I doubt he realizes it's fake) the...

Sister- the father (now she's getting annoyed and by now we walking away and having him talk to our backs)

Man- (says a bunch of stuff)... I love babies

Me- trying to steal my child

Sister- "whatcha got?" HIV