Sunday, February 8, 2015

I quit!

Around January 16th, Camm and I had this conversation:

  • Me: Oh, Camm! Isn't everything just going so well right now? 
  • Camm: Yeah, things are just fine.
  • Me: No, I mean, really well. The girls are just doing everything right. Work is going perfectly, everything is just great.
  • Camm: um, yeah, I guess so.
  • Me: I mean, I can't believe how well things are going.
  • Camm: You stopped nursing a week ago. That's the only difference.

It wasn't until he pointed it out to me that I realized he was right. Life actually wasn't going that much better - in fact Ivory had been growing her molars and hadn't slept all week. The only difference was me. I wasn't a hormonal basket-case of PPD anymore. It had only been a week since I'd quit giving Ivory the boob, and it had felt like the best week of my life. It's now been a month--and it feels like the best month of my life. I didn't realize I was in the trenches of PPD until I got out of it. Sure, I knew I was stressed. I knew I cried a lot. But I thought I was stressed because I have two little girls, two part time jobs, responsibilities at church, and blah blah blah. I didn't know that if you took the PPD out of it, my life would seem fabulous.

A few weeks ago that Similac commercial went viral with a message to stop the mommy wars.

Then there was a backlash from the lactation gurus saying that it was perpetuating a myth that bottles are as good as boobs and making people feel guilty for speaking their mind when they know that boobs are best.

I know breastmilk is healthier (why else would I have nursed her?).

That being said, I'm with the Similac commercial. Everyone needs to do what's best for their family.

Nursing is great for lots of women who love it. I know that many women love the extra bond with their breastfeeding child. I think that's great!

On the other hand, I don't think it's really necessary for me to be crying all the time. I don't even think that's best for my kids. With both kids I immediately felt better emotionally within days of quitting. I don't think that's a coincidence.

So rather than making everyone do what we think is best, stop the mommy wars!

"This topic of judging others could actually be taught in a two-word sermon. When it comes to hating, gossiping, ignoring, ridiculing, holding grudges, or wanting to cause harm, please apply the following: Stop it! It’s that simple. We simply have to stop judging others and replace judgmental thoughts and feelings with a heart full of love for God and His children."--Dieter F. Uchtdorf

PS--Here are some other posts I've had on the topic:
This one was written a few months ago
This one is a humorous post from after I quit nursing Ruby

Wednesday, October 22, 2014

8 months and 10 days

Happy 8 months and 10 days to my sweet Ivory girl!

Readers may wonder what's so significant about 8 months and 10 days. Well, unlike everyone in my facebook newsfeed (who dutifully mark each month of their babies' lives with a sweet picture of them wearing special, clean shirts that state the number of months they are old), I haven't had time to think about her month birthdays, let alone take a picture. So 8 months and 10 days it is. Oh, except that I took this picture a few days ago, or weeks ago, or possibly months ago I guess--I didn't write down the date.

But here goes my attempt to make it up to her:

Ivory Stats at 8 months and 10 days

Weight: Not sure, but I think I am getting tendinitis in my wrist if that's any indication.

Height: Not sure again, but her pants seem to fit fine in the waist and the length--something that her big sister has never experienced as her poor big sister will be wearing high waters for the rest of her life

Hair: 1 of them is 3'', the rest are 1''.

Favorite food: Time Magazine

Second Favorite food: Wood chips at the park

(I think both of those are healthy, right?)

Favorite activity: Watching her sister's swimming lessons. She sits on the side of the pool waving her arms up and down in utter excitement. Can't wait for her own lessons.

Sleep Schedule: Better than some kids, but still exhausting to her mom.

Enjoys finger paint (note, this is not that she enjoys finger painting, she enjoys finger paint--as in she stuck a bunch in her mouth today while Ruby and I were trying to include her and she was happy as could be about it).

Sense of humor: Fantastic (She thinks I'm hilarious.)

Tricks: loves rolling, sitting, playing with toys, tasting toys, tasting any food or anything, knocking over blocks, and tickles.

Other Trick: Can crawl. OK, that might be an exaggeration, I mean: Can Army crawl. OK, that might be another slight exaggeration as I can't imagine any Army recruiters calling the house any time soon. She can slither forward on her belly at a rate of 3''/hour. Not bad, huh? I'm actually happy as it means Ivory normally stays generally where she was left.

Cuteness ranking: #1 Cutest baby in the world

Couldn't be happier to have such a sweet girl (well, unless of course, she were sleeping just a little bit more). Seriously, though, I love her cuddles, her laughs and giggles, the joy she's brought to our family. I love the way she and Ruby are developing their relationship. I love her sense of humor. I love her little personality and I'm so happy that I am blessed to be her mom.

Friday, October 10, 2014


I don’t like breastfeeding.

I figure by starting off the blog post that way, super-duper breastfeeding advocates can just stop reading and we can avoid a huge slew of negative comments about my poor mothering skills below (not that I ever have very many comments on any post anyway).

When I was pregnant with Ruby (now 3) I was sick. Typing the word “sick” doesn’t do justice to how I felt. My schedule consisted of grad school and working and puking in between. I’ll spare you the details, but just know that I was sick.

Though I was sick, my pregnancy was a perfectly healthy pregnancy. Baby developed just fine and there were no complications. I’d try to convince myself that I was glad we were “healthy”, but it was hard to remember that when I felt anything but healthy.

I couldn’t wait to have my body back. I wanted to be able to run and swim without throwing up. I wanted to feel normal again. I wanted to be hormonally stable. I felt like those 9 months would never end.

Sometimes (or a lot of the time) I would think about what was on the other side of the 9 months. I knew I’d have my Ruby girl, I knew I’d get to bond with her, I knew I’d get to experience what it is like to love my daughter and I was excited. On the other hand, I was dreading breastfeeding. I knew that though I wouldn’t be puking my guts out, I wouldn’t have my body back to normal for a long time.

I attended two different breastfeeding classes where they filled my brain with information about how much better breastmilk is than formula and gave lists of rules about what I should do to make sure I keep up my milk supply. I read books and articles about what I was supposed to do. Rather than helping me prepare and be at ease, I would come home from classes full of anxiety and worrying about every little thing. I was stressed, to put it lightly.

Months passed and the day finally came where I held my little Ruby girl. I did get to bond with her, I did get to experience what loving a little girl is like, and it was exciting! I started breastfeeding fairly seamlessly. Yes, there were all the normal trials about getting used to it and the nipples hurting. (There were also the abnormal trials like finding out I have a 3rd lactating nipple—but that’s a story for another time.) I nursed Ruby regularly. And my stress levels were continually on the rise. I kept trying to think of all the things that I’d learned in the classes and books and tried to make sure I did everything right. I kept reminding myself I had to do it for at least a year because that’s what a good mom does. And I drove myself crazy.

When I started school and work again at 2 months, I started introducing formula. By 4 months she was completely weaned. And I felt fantastic. I had the flexibility I needed for my work/school schedule. I continued bonding just fine with the little one. I felt like my relationship with my husband was much better. In essence, I replaced breastmilk with a happy mom.

Three years later Ruby rarely if ever gets sick and is plenty smart. I've never regretted that decision.

The week before Ruby’s 2nd birthday I found out I was pregnant with Ivory. Again, I had a healthy baby inside me but felt sick. This time I didn’t feel as sick, but it was still hard. It was easier mentally to think clearly as I’d gone through it all before.

I decided to do everything differently in regards to breastfeeding this time around. I would read no books, attend no classes and hardly think about it. I would breastfeed for 1 day and at the end of that day I would decide if I wanted to do it the next day. That was my only goal: 1 day.

I finished that day and did it the next day and the next. Ivory’s now 8 months and I’m still doing it—day by day.

I feel like I’ve learned quite a bit through my two different nursing experiences and I’d like to outline them here. Some positive about nursing and some negative:
  • ·         Nursing really has gotten easier as the baby gets older. She latches quicker, drinks faster, and (for someone like me who doesn’t like my boobs in the open) nursing discreetly is easier.
  • ·         Since I have another kid, nursing is logistically easier because I don’t have bottles in my already full-of-dirty-dishes sink; I don’t have to remember bottles/formula in addition to the diapers, wipes, crackers, toys, and books on our walks to the park; and when I stumble out of bed in the night to get to Ivory’s crib, I don’t have to make a bottle in the dark.
  • ·         Ivory’s still not sleeping through the night. I know that many 8 month olds aren’t. I read blogs about how babies shouldn’t be expected to. I also know this might not have to do with breastmilk. The truth is, though, Ruby was sleeping through the night long before 8 months and that made life so much easier. Knowing I could get a full night’s sleep every night did wonders for my mental health that I’m definitely lacking now.
  • ·         I don’t feel any more bonded to Ivory than I did to Ruby. I love both of them. I don’t think that breastfeeding has made any difference on that.
  • ·         Figuring out my work schedule is really hard. Pumping isn’t convenient or comfortable or fun. I do it, but I don’t like it.
  • ·         When I read blogs or talk to moms who absolutely love it, I can’t relate at all. I do not feel like it is my calling in life. I also don’t feel like every mother should do it. I quit with Ruby because I felt like having a happy mom was more important than her diet. I still think I was right.

 I’m glad I can do it. I’m glad that I’m healthy, that my baby is healthy and that we can do it. I do not think any mother should ever feel guilty for not breastfeeding for any reason. I’m still nursing Ivory one day at a time and we’ll see where it takes us. I don't know how long it lasts. I know though that you will not see me nursing my daughter on the cover of Time or even hear me gush about how much I love it. I just don't really like it all that much (and I know by saying that I'm still opening myself up to that slew of negative comments on my mothering skills if you breastfeeding advocates made it this far).

BTW: here's a humorous post I wrote shortly after I quit nursing Ruby:
Ivory girl

Tuesday, September 2, 2014

Snip bits from an average Tuesday

I looked over at the phone hook--where normally rests our cordless landline. In its place was a hot pink and purple felt phone that jingles when you shake it. I guess Ruby decided her phone needed a charge more.

I told Ruby her picture was beautiful. She smiled and said, "Thanks!"
Curiosity struck as I wondered what "thanks" could mean to a three year old aspiring artist.
"Ruby, what does 'thanks' mean?" I asked.
"It means we love each other."
She's right. That is true gratitude.

Eight minutes into my first ever HIIT workout, I heard the baby cry from her crib. I've never been so happy to hear a cry from her precious mouth. Maybe I'll try HIIT tomorrow.

Tuesday, March 4, 2014

Our Functional Landlord

Our landlord is a fix-it sort of man. He always gets the job done in the most functional, efficient way possible. Unfortunately, his interior design skills could use some work.

When we first moved in we had a nice fireplace in our living room.

"Don't use the fireplace," our landlord warned, "because it really loses more heat than it makes. In fact, before winter I'll buy some doors to put on it to keep the cold out."

I pictured something like this:

Winter rolled around and he came over. "I just didn't like any of the doors I saw--I don't think they'd really keep the heat in. So I just made something."

This is what he made:

Functional? Yes. 
Beautiful? Well, that's debatable.

Recently our toilet was leaking. He looked at it and said, "Oh, it's just sweating because the temperature inside is colder than the room temperature. I just need to insulate it."

Here's his fix:

I thought INsulation was supposed to go on the INside. 

Functional? Yes. 
Beautiful? Well, I don't think that's even debatable.

Someday we'll own our very own house and can fix things how we want to fix them, right?

Saturday, January 4, 2014

Baby Ivory's due date is 5 weeks from today!

35 weeks pregnant with Ruby

35 weeks pregnant with Ivory

Is it any wonder that my body hurts so much more this time around?

Monday, December 30, 2013

2013: How did it turn out? A list of excuses...

A year ago I posted my New Year's Resolutions for 2013 here. I just read through the list and I pretty much failed on each one of them... 
So rather than be upset about it, I think I'll just post my list of excuses here.
My resolutions will be in gray and my excuses will be in red:

January – Make it through the whole month without slipping on the snow. If successful, this may be the only January of my life to have succeeded in that (not counting the two Januarys I spent in South America).

Actually, I can't remember whether or not I did. So we'll say that I made it through the month--at least one resolution was off to a good start.

February – Act like a 26 year old. I’ll be nearing my late twenties, and ought to start acting like it.

As I reread this goal I actually was just stumped, "What does a 26 year old even act like anyway?" So, naturally I did what everyone does when they need the answer to a question--I googled "What does a 26 year old act like?" The first link were the Yahoo answers--most of which said 26 year olds should begin looking for a marriage partner. Um, I guess I already did that. So I can't very well do that now. Does that mean I'm acting like a 30 year old? 

March – Pinch at least 5 people on St. Patrick’s Day. I’ve always wanted to pinch random strangers I see in the store who don’t have green. This year, I’m going to do it.

I guess since I'm too much of an adult, I wasn't going to do something so embarrassing.

April – Plan at least three amazing April Fool’s pranks (friends/family: beware!)

Rather than fooling anyone, I was the fool (you can read about that here, I don't really want to remember the details again right now).

May – There will still be snow. My goal will be to set a cap on how much I can complain about it: No more than four times per day.

I FULLY completed this resolution! In fact I didn't complain about the snow once! (We'll keep it a secret that I moved to Eugene before May and there was no snow here at all)

June – Celebrate Camm’s birthday . . . something comes up every year so I miss it (like I have a baby, or am in a different state, or a different country)

I was throwing up instead. Happy pregnancy!

July – Take Ruby swimming every day. Don’t forget to get it on video so that when she’s in the Olympics in 19 years they can have it play during the commercials.

uh, same excuse as above: throwing up instead of swimming every day. Oh well, there's always next year, right?

August – Eat a Pronto Pup at the Tillamook County Fair (haven’t tasted the goodness since 2007 – way too long).

This is getting repetitive--but throwing up again. Didn't even make it to the fair.

September – Figure out something academic-ish to start since I won’t be starting school.

Maybe I'll count my 6 month review at my job for this one...? Probably pushing that too much.

October – Plan my Halloween costume more than two hours ahead of time (this will be a first).

Does planning Ruby's a week or two ahead of time count? If so, I completed this one...if not I'll use the excuse that I was busy being a mom.

November – Embrace my consumerist-American heritage and join in Black Friday (just to see what it’s like).

I slept in and hung out at my cousins' cabin all day. Why engage in consumerism when you can be lazy, relax and eat leftovers?

December – Celebrate Festivus (somehow we missed it this year).

Missed it again. Forgot to invite anybody. Pregnancy brain is the excuse, I guess?

How did I do? Are my excuses good enough?