You know whats great about today?

Nine months of pregnancy and two months and two days post baby, I finally fit into my favorite jeans!!

Boobies

So I spent this weekend being a "single mom".

The husband went to Atlanta on Saturday morning and ran in their half marathon yesterday and is making his way home as we speak.

Why did I let him do this? Because he enjoys it and it makes him happy and its only once a year. It was also relatively inexpensive as he stayed with a friend and really only paid for airfare and food. And of course I now have something to hold over his head when he bitches and moans that I want to go out. So that's that.

I did okay on my own. Michael and I grocery shopped and tried to nap and did other weekend stuff. Saturday afternoon we went down to Bubbie and Poppie's house and they hung out with Michael while I went out for dinner with my brother, sister and her boyfriend. Sunday afternoon we went to Grammie's and hung out and had dinner.

And while I'm glad that my husband went and did his run and had a good weekend, I am desperately waiting for him to get home. I know some people love their alone time and love to just be with them self, but I feel like it took L and I a really long time to find each other and I don't want to not be together. Everyone needs their alone time and I'm good with some alone time, but, you know.

So it seems we have a very smart and opinionated little man on our hands. As previously discussed, Michael and I didn't ease into breast feeding as smoothly as some. It has been rocky and somewhat (very) frustrating for all involved. One day last week Michael randomly decided that he was not going to nurse. Screamed and wouldn't go near my boob. He'd take the breast milk from a bottle, but not from me. I was reassured to know he was eating, but was emotional about the fact that he wouldn't nurse. We kept trying and about 8 hours later he was back at the boob. He's been nursing since, but fighting it, making it a quite stressful situation for us both. Last night he was up every two hours to eat. By 6am we were both exhausted, my boobs hurt, he wouldn't latch on and was clearly very hungry. So at 7am I defrosted some milk as fast as I could, threw it in a bottle, sat down and he chowed. And as he gulped down the milk, he looked me in the eye and we both kind of went "Ahhh". Nipple confusion? My son isn't confused. He is smart and opinionated and knows what he wants. When this first started last week I was torn. Part of me felt guilty because I was able to produce milk and breastfeed but really didn't want to and this was really what I wanted all along. But part of me was really, really upset and emotional about the fact that he didn't want his meals from me anymore. I've never been in love with breastfeeding, but I cried and cried when he first refused me. But this morning when he *literally* turned his nose at my boob, and we had that epiphany moment with the bottle, I really felt okay with it all. As I read on a mommy blog that I follow ~ Formula won't kill your kid, and breast milk won't make him fly. My son was breast feed for 8 full weeks and had his first bottle of formula this morning. I'll continue to pump for as long as I can, so that way he can still get breast milk, but we'll start introducing formula as well. And you know what? I don't feel like a bad mother.

Spring is in the air

Remember when I was so excited that it was snowing? Yea, I'm so done with the snow.
I was so happy to see this today. Spring is on its way, bringing all kinds of warmth, life, newness and love.

Also. I had been looking for a Uconn garden for forever and finally found this one today. I didn't know cost twenty bucks until I got to the register. Boo hiss that it was twenty bucks, but I am excited that I finally found it.

Updates

Good thing this laundry was clean when Rex rolled around in it...

The blog is back. Tell your friends.

Update~ Breastfeeding is still mad hard. However, pumping is a gift from above. I pump in the morning after I feed Michael and I get two good bottles that go into the freezer. We are building up a great supply. When I first started pumping and giving Michael the bottle I really loved it. I found it so much easier to bond with him in that moment, as crazy as that might sound to people who love the breastfeeding experience. I found it so much more enjoyable to sit with him and interact with him. No worries of latching on or pain or keeping him latched on or pain or pain. So I thought I would give him breast milk in a bottle exclusively and just pump, pump, pump. Turns out that's possible, but very unrealistic if you plan to do anything other than pump. So we have the milk in the freezer on reserve. I can rest assured that I can leave the house for more than two and a half hours at a time. L can feed him when he wants, and he's awesome about getting up with him during the night on the weekends. I can defrost some bottles if we are going out for the day and not have to worry about taking Michael into another room to nurse when we are in the middle of doing something social. I still nurse him ninety percent of the time but, I like knowing that I have it as an option.

Michael's got a bit of a cold. Two nights ago, L and I got absolutely no sleep. We laid in bed and listened to him fight with his nose to breathe. He's been congested pretty much since we brought him home from the hospital. I had called the doctor's office a few times, and the nurses assured me that it was normal fluid from when he was on the inside and from being born and it would work itself out. Now he's nearly seven weeks old and not only was it not getting better, but it seemed to be getting worse. And after that awful night of sleep and a little bit of a cough, I said enough is enough and I called the doctor for him to be seen. Basically he's got a cold. Unfortunately, there's little you can do about it because he's so young. We elevated his mattress and turned on the humidifier and try to suck out the snot. Last night's sleep was better than the night before and hopefully it was continue to get better. In the meantime, he's still happy and cute as a bean.

This tsunami stuff is terrible. The news footage of the water coming in is incredible. I can't imagine the fear and sadness those people are feeling. And here we are in Connecticut worried about some rain...

The blog is back. Tell your friends.

Mad hard, yo.

Here's something no one tells you, or at least no one told me. Breastfeeding is hard. Or as my sister would say, Breastfeeding is mad hard, yo.

No one told me this. You would think if nature intended this and it is natural and all that jazz, that it would not be difficult. But it is. Mad difficult, yo.

Getting him to latch on was hard. So hard that now, three and a half weeks later, we are just getting the hang of it without the use of plastic thingys that aide him in latching on.

Certainly I know that he is indeed getting what he needs, because at his two week check up where they look for them to be back at their birth weight, my Beaner was a half pound bigger than he was at birth.

And its not even the mechanics of breastfeeding that is hard. Waking up every three hours at night is hard. Being bound to your child every two to three hours during the day is hard. Knowing that your husband wishes he could help and more actively participate is hard. Telling him there is absolutely nothing he can do, is hard.

And then when you are ready to pump, there's bottles. Holy crap there's a lot of different kinds of bottles. And they not cheap, yo. Which one will he like? Which one is most "real"?

Now, all of that said, I wouldn't not breastfeed. As I've been told on many occasions, I'm very lucky that I'm able to breastfeed exclusively. And I know that "breast is best", as they say. It is natural, nothing is manufactured, nothing can be exactly reproduced.

My son is breastfeed, and I am glad for that and know that he will, probably, benefit from it. I'm just saying its hard. Mad hard.

Poop

L went back to work today, so Michael, Rex, Penny and I slept and watched TV and we changed a lot of diapers. (By *we* here I really mean me) We also pee on the wall (only once!!), drank a lot of milk and did a lot of pooping. (By *we* here I really mean Michael) But then there's this, so its okay.

Yesterday I:

drove my car for the first time in nearly two weeks.

had *real* sushi for the first time in nearly nine months. (Yummm Alaska roll)

went to Stew Leonard's for the first time in nearly three weeks.

fed my baby nine times.

slept for four and a half hours at one time. (cause my kid's cool like that)

changed my son's outfit four times because his pee can penetrate through just about anything.

stroked his hand as he clutched my finger while he ate each of those nine times.

still, nearly two weeks later, tried to grasp that this is my son. I am his mother.

I still don't think it has sunk in.