Dear A,
I've been thinking about this letter almost every day since your "first year" calendar in our kitchen "expired" at the end of May. And shortly after the thought of writing this letter comes the companion thought that I need to get a journal and continue where the first year calendar left off.
You turned one on May 24th. The night after you had your first real vomit all over your bed (and your jammies and your hair). We watched you the next day to make sure you were feeling better, and as soon as we were assured you were, we packed up and headed out of town, just like we'd been planning for a few months. So, in short, your first birthday was spent on the road. [Sorry you were born on a major traveling holiday weekend, kiddo!]
You are the funniest baby ever! You do silly things every day to make yourself and everyone around you laugh. But your big brother can still get the best belly laughs out of you, hands down.
You are very sensitive, emotionally and physically. One day, I chided you for chewing up a pear and spitting it out the way you do apples (you love pears!) and your little mouth hung open in an 'O' as you shoved that pear back in your mouth and let out a sad, moaning wail. It was devastatingly cute and also kind of sad. Then, we went to your one-year wellness check and Nurse Rachel said they had to get your iron level, which meant a toe prick, but "usually doesn't mean tears". Well, you started crying when she started massaging your toe before the poke. And you cried every time you saw the band-aid after the poke. It was a tough day.
You love to be loved, give love, and be loved again. Your favorite place is still on my chest, usually in the Ergo carrier. You love to hold hands. You love to give kisses. You love to get kisses and be cuddled and just otherwise fawned over.
You also love to smack and wrestle and tackle. It's hard to tell whether you are learning these rough and tumble ways, or if you came with them pre-loaded. Tonight after I dressed you for bed - and was doing the same for your brother - you came up and smacked me on the back. It hurts! You smack Dada in the face when he's resting on the couch. And the other day, rumor has it that you tackled C for some toy you wanted, and you got really mad and went at him, which ended up with both of you in tears and Nana taking you outside to cool off on the curb. Yikes!
You're a baby who knows what you want. Your first (real) words were "uhtat?" (what's that?) and "dat!" (that!). You've gotten good at pointing at what you want and saying "dat!". Or, as you've recently discovered, screaming works too.
You love to scream. Then giggle. Then scream. Then giggle. Repeat.
One of the saddest things about your turning one is that you outgrew being rocked to sleep for naps. Once we transitioned you to your brother's bed for sleeping several months back, you stopped being rocked to sleep for bed soon afterward. But in just these last few weeks, you started fighting being rocked at naptime. I thought you were trying to drop down to one nap a day, but ever since I started laying down with you for naps the way I do with your brother and you for bed, no more fights and still two naps a day! I did get to rock you to sleep at naptime the other day and then yesterday, you wanted to be cuddled on my chest as we both lay on your bed. I savored both times.
The other saddest thing about your turning one is that you've leaned out. You're not as "squishy" anymore. Except your legs. That chunk won't quit! And I love it!
One not-sad thing was quitting pumping (for me, at least; Dada was very sad about it, because he worried you wouldn't have enough to eat). I stopped after you were 11 months old and we subsisted on frozen milk until it was almost gone and then transitioned you to cow's milk. Turns out, whole milk and you don't get along so well. So... you're on 2%. Unless you keep losing weight. Then we'll have to rethink this whole whole-milk thing.
You also LOVE to make messes! Dumping things out and turning things
over is your specialty. You love getting into things. Just today I
cleaned up two messes from you grabbing at and sending brother's plate
or bowl with leftover food off of the table and onto the floor. (He is now under strict orders to take his dishes to the sink after eating.)
You understand a lot more than you can say at this point. You are pretty amazing that way.
Mostly, though, I just want you to know how much I love you! You are so fun to be around and I am trying to enjoy every day with you as my baby. I tell myself every day "there may be another baby (someday), but there is only ONE A!" So, I hug you and cuddle you and kiss your cheeks and squish you as much as you'll let me (which is a lot!)
I love you, Squish. I'm so glad you're mine.
~Mama
6.12.2013
2.05.2013
A Letter to My Secondborn
Dear A,
You are 8 months old now. You weigh almost 22 pounds. You are a big baby with a really big personality. Today, you had your very first rolling-off-the-bed incident. It was very scary for you, but you're doing just fine.
You are crawling (on your belly) all over the place! You are a baby on the move! And you are a funny baby who does things like squint your eyes and belly laugh because you know it'll make everyone around you laugh too.
I want you to know that just because you're the second baby doesn't mean I love you any less. You also co-sleep with us and it's tough sometimes, but we're (mostly) ok with it. And I want you to know that I love all the same things about you that I did the first time around. And I'm So so so very thankful.
And we're really trying to enjoy you while you're little and chubby and lovely and squishy. Today while I was feeding you, I laid my head down on yours so I could stare with you down the barrel of a bottle and look at your stubby baby fingers moving and be in awe of them along with you.
I'm making a herculean effort to take lots of pictures and video of you. Time is going so so way too fast! And it's my job to do what I can to record everything I can!
I'm also making a herculean effort to pump for a full year, even though I fantasize several times a week about quitting and living on what we've got in the freezer. You are worth the work it takes and you're what keeps me going.
Today, while I was feeding you, you grabbed my finger. It made me think of when you did the same thing, just minutes after you were born. I hope that long after the chubbiness has faded from your little hands, you'll still hold mine and be my buddy forever.
I love you so so much!
~Mom
You are 8 months old now. You weigh almost 22 pounds. You are a big baby with a really big personality. Today, you had your very first rolling-off-the-bed incident. It was very scary for you, but you're doing just fine.
You are crawling (on your belly) all over the place! You are a baby on the move! And you are a funny baby who does things like squint your eyes and belly laugh because you know it'll make everyone around you laugh too.
I want you to know that just because you're the second baby doesn't mean I love you any less. You also co-sleep with us and it's tough sometimes, but we're (mostly) ok with it. And I want you to know that I love all the same things about you that I did the first time around. And I'm So so so very thankful.
And we're really trying to enjoy you while you're little and chubby and lovely and squishy. Today while I was feeding you, I laid my head down on yours so I could stare with you down the barrel of a bottle and look at your stubby baby fingers moving and be in awe of them along with you.
I'm making a herculean effort to take lots of pictures and video of you. Time is going so so way too fast! And it's my job to do what I can to record everything I can!
I'm also making a herculean effort to pump for a full year, even though I fantasize several times a week about quitting and living on what we've got in the freezer. You are worth the work it takes and you're what keeps me going.
Today, while I was feeding you, you grabbed my finger. It made me think of when you did the same thing, just minutes after you were born. I hope that long after the chubbiness has faded from your little hands, you'll still hold mine and be my buddy forever.
I love you so so much!
~Mom
1.24.2013
Big Little Baby
I've decided my baby has "fat man in little coat" syndrome.
Hear me out.
Dada puts this baby to sleep almost every night. Momma swoops in and gets the privilege of carrying the sleepy baby to bed, with a boppy little walk to our room and short slow dance in the dark. Then, just before laying him down, my heart starts tapping out a secret code against my chest, hoping for a safe transfer into his chest, heart, being: "I love you. I love you. Oh, how I love you!"
The other night when I laid him down, I lingered at the bedside, my eyes caressing his little baby body. I realized how small he is, really, in the scheme of things. That his big-baby body is really quite small is a realization that surprised me a bit. That his 8 months of life have seemed to be set on fast forward shocks my motherness to its core. But standing there, in the dark, looking him over, I realized something.
This baby seems bigger than he is because he has a HUGE personality.
He insists on near-constant movement and activity. (What two-month old do you know gets chafed on his elbows and legs because he wiggles so much?) He is a maven in the walker, with deft turns and speedy straightaways. He and C play bumper cars, with C in his truck and A in the walker. Then they laugh themselves silly, which is probably one of the greatest sounds a mother can hear.
He's starting to get up on his hands and knees. He has to be switched between tasks because he gets bored easily. He's a baby on-the-go!
He's chooses his words carefully. Right now, he's practicing his "ba" sounds. Mostly, he listens, but when he wants to talk, he makes sure you hear him. We trade screams all the time. I help him practice his pitch. He loves it!
He's cuddly AND he's ticklish. This is really the best combination ever. He's ticklish in all the right places: under his neck, on his sides, upper thighs, and - best of all - on his back. He's got a pretty great attention span for cuddling, all things considered. When he gets bored of being cuddled, though, look out. He immediately starts whipping his head around, looking for things to touch or get into and if nothing can be found, hair is always fun to pull. My hair is ALWAYS in a ponytail for this reason.
He always has a laugh ready for his older brother. The most random stuff makes him laugh too (the Netflix start up screen, for instance?). His laugh is just the best. Tinkling fairies and all that.
Yes. This big baby (20.5 lbs!) seems bigger than he is. . . but mostly because he has this big personality that's just busting at the seams.
And I love him. I love him. Oh, how I love him!
~Nichole
11.27.2012
Baby Face
I am a woman obsessed. Not by choice, mind you. It's because I am a mother. I think.
I lay next to C tonight, reading a library book we've read together at least 15 times, so I know all the parts where I need to be patient so he can count things, and the exact parts that will make him giggle, and the parts that he gets so excited he shouts out in one-word bursts, and the parts that I don't need to read because he will recite them himself.
And at the part about the jelly bean car - the giggly part - I recited the words from memory so I could look over at his face and watch as his eyes creased with laughter, as his mouth opened and emitted a giggle, as his body gave a little wiggle of delight as it lay there next to mine on his bed.
And then, there it was again. That nagging little feeling. That pokey, brain-prodding question of how well it is I actually remember how it is that this little face I love so much grew from a fresh, soft, squishy, chubby newborn face to the slender, beautiful-for-a-boy three year old face of today.
"Do you REALLY remember?" asked that shrew of an inner voice. And then I would desperately try to remember if I remembered the thing I was supposed to remember because I am The Mom. And when I thought I remembered, when I drew up mental images of his newborn face, of his 18-month-old face, that shrew would dash all hope: "Nope! That's from a photo. It's a reflected memory, you twit."
It's that same nagging feeling I have when I look into A's face and will myself to memorize it in its entirety, to make mental bookmarks of this place in our history together so that I can remember what 6 months and 2 days old was like - today - as he sat there in his walker while I cooked dinner and positively beamed at me each and every time I turned my attention his way, entirely thrilled to be exploring the world from a sitting vantage point and on his own steam, fat legs and long feet bumping his body from the ground upward, all the while my inner voice anxiously willing me to remember how his voice trills as he's trying out new sounds and finding his voice.
Then, there's the voice of sanity that creeps in. . . softly, carefully, diplomatically. And She saves me, gives me a Get Out of Jail Free card with a simple "Why this stress?" and gently reminding me "Your memory's not so great anyway, you know. You LIVE in the moment. Give yourself credit for that. Besides, do you remember what M's face has looked like every day from the moment you first met? No? Just a few vivid momentary recollections, then? So, why put this on yourself as a mother?"
Then, I breathe a sigh of relief. For about one second. Then, the obsessed lady turns to the sane lady and says "BUT don't you KNOW that this time goes SO QUICKLY!? DON'T YOU KNOW that one day this will ALL BE GONE!?!? And OH how we'll both MISS IT, you and I. OH how we'll miss it!"
And then?
Then those two ladies cry together a while before going and kissing their babies in their sleep. Then, they pinky swear each other to give even more kisses tomorrow, right before beginning a new day's study of those babies' faces.
~Nichole
I lay next to C tonight, reading a library book we've read together at least 15 times, so I know all the parts where I need to be patient so he can count things, and the exact parts that will make him giggle, and the parts that he gets so excited he shouts out in one-word bursts, and the parts that I don't need to read because he will recite them himself.
And at the part about the jelly bean car - the giggly part - I recited the words from memory so I could look over at his face and watch as his eyes creased with laughter, as his mouth opened and emitted a giggle, as his body gave a little wiggle of delight as it lay there next to mine on his bed.
And then, there it was again. That nagging little feeling. That pokey, brain-prodding question of how well it is I actually remember how it is that this little face I love so much grew from a fresh, soft, squishy, chubby newborn face to the slender, beautiful-for-a-boy three year old face of today.
"Do you REALLY remember?" asked that shrew of an inner voice. And then I would desperately try to remember if I remembered the thing I was supposed to remember because I am The Mom. And when I thought I remembered, when I drew up mental images of his newborn face, of his 18-month-old face, that shrew would dash all hope: "Nope! That's from a photo. It's a reflected memory, you twit."
It's that same nagging feeling I have when I look into A's face and will myself to memorize it in its entirety, to make mental bookmarks of this place in our history together so that I can remember what 6 months and 2 days old was like - today - as he sat there in his walker while I cooked dinner and positively beamed at me each and every time I turned my attention his way, entirely thrilled to be exploring the world from a sitting vantage point and on his own steam, fat legs and long feet bumping his body from the ground upward, all the while my inner voice anxiously willing me to remember how his voice trills as he's trying out new sounds and finding his voice.
Then, there's the voice of sanity that creeps in. . . softly, carefully, diplomatically. And She saves me, gives me a Get Out of Jail Free card with a simple "Why this stress?" and gently reminding me "Your memory's not so great anyway, you know. You LIVE in the moment. Give yourself credit for that. Besides, do you remember what M's face has looked like every day from the moment you first met? No? Just a few vivid momentary recollections, then? So, why put this on yourself as a mother?"
Then, I breathe a sigh of relief. For about one second. Then, the obsessed lady turns to the sane lady and says "BUT don't you KNOW that this time goes SO QUICKLY!? DON'T YOU KNOW that one day this will ALL BE GONE!?!? And OH how we'll both MISS IT, you and I. OH how we'll miss it!"
And then?
Then those two ladies cry together a while before going and kissing their babies in their sleep. Then, they pinky swear each other to give even more kisses tomorrow, right before beginning a new day's study of those babies' faces.
~Nichole
11.09.2012
Three Years. . .
Thanks, you wonderful little dude, for making me a momma 3 years ago! You are amazing - a whole world squished into a skinny, little boy body. I love you!
~Mom
10.18.2012
Mom Zombie
The 4-month regression has become the 4.75 month regression. It ebbs and flows. But mostly
with the flowing. After almost EVERY sleep cycle. {That's every hour and a half, folks!}
It's to the point where I'm PRAYING my kids will sleep. {But then maybe cursing in whispers when they don't?}
And the 2.9 year old? Well. . . well, just last night, for instance, he fell asleep on the livingroom floor at 6:00 {What!? no dinner?}. He refused to be woken up and I dressed him in jammies and carried him to bed at 9:00. He proceeded to be awake from 2:45 to 4:00 this morning, demanding (in a loud let's-wake-everyone-up voice) that I lay with him - and not being very patient about it when I got up to help his brother get back to sleep TWICE.
{Did I mention the middle of the night pee/diaper/bed soak and diaper changes times 2? No?}
And this morning, for the first time in weeks (?), the almost-three-year-old is sleeping in past his normal waking time. So, technically, yes, I guess "sleep begets sleep". Sort of.
Oh it's a zoo!
And I'm head zombie.
The cute pterodactyl screeching of my baby morning bird makes it a little better. His round smiling face makes it a LOT better.
And reading things like this helps me know I'm not to only one who fantasizes about sleep.
And that it's just the way it is. {I apparently just FORGOT.}
My work day's gonna be a looooonnnnggg one today.
QUICK, please tell me I'm not the only one. AND how DO you moms with more than 2 do it????
~Nichole
It's to the point where I'm PRAYING my kids will sleep. {But then maybe cursing in whispers when they don't?}
And the 2.9 year old? Well. . . well, just last night, for instance, he fell asleep on the livingroom floor at 6:00 {What!? no dinner?}. He refused to be woken up and I dressed him in jammies and carried him to bed at 9:00. He proceeded to be awake from 2:45 to 4:00 this morning, demanding (in a loud let's-wake-everyone-up voice) that I lay with him - and not being very patient about it when I got up to help his brother get back to sleep TWICE.
{Did I mention the middle of the night pee/diaper/bed soak and diaper changes times 2? No?}
And this morning, for the first time in weeks (?), the almost-three-year-old is sleeping in past his normal waking time. So, technically, yes, I guess "sleep begets sleep". Sort of.
Oh it's a zoo!
And I'm head zombie.
The cute pterodactyl screeching of my baby morning bird makes it a little better. His round smiling face makes it a LOT better.
And reading things like this helps me know I'm not to only one who fantasizes about sleep.
And that it's just the way it is. {I apparently just FORGOT.}
My work day's gonna be a looooonnnnggg one today.
QUICK, please tell me I'm not the only one. AND how DO you moms with more than 2 do it????
~Nichole
10.03.2012
Sleep Glorious Sleep (We're Not Getting It)
I am having fun with this little bruiser (hello! 17 pounds, 26.5 inches at 4 months!) who is currently sitting next to me wide-eyed and wakeful at a stupid time of morning after a night of almost constant wakefulness. This, after weeks of waking due to teething pains, and I'm starting to go nuts/worry/panic/younameit.
After a night like last night, a mom does one of three things: beats her head against the nearest wall, collapses into a crying heap in the corner, or hits up Google to figure out whether this is the dreaded 4 month sleep regression. . .
I did the latter. Here's what I found: a great article by Clever Father and a possibly even better article by Alexis Dubief.
If this doesn't end in a few weeks, I really will go nuts. Until then, patience dear (sleep-deprived) mother, patience.
~Nichole
After a night like last night, a mom does one of three things: beats her head against the nearest wall, collapses into a crying heap in the corner, or hits up Google to figure out whether this is the dreaded 4 month sleep regression. . .
I did the latter. Here's what I found: a great article by Clever Father and a possibly even better article by Alexis Dubief.
If this doesn't end in a few weeks, I really will go nuts. Until then, patience dear (sleep-deprived) mother, patience.
~Nichole
7.28.2012
The Sum of All Kisses
I was slow dancing the baby to sleep tonight and I looked down at his face and wanted to kiss it and kiss it but I knew that one loose strand of hair would tickle his cheek and wake him up and we'd have to start the dance all over again. . .
So instead, in my head, I did what every mother must do at the end of the day: I asked, silently, "were you kissed enough today? were you hugged enough today? were you loved enough today?" That timeless question that connects us with an ageless line of mothers before us.
My heart feelers reached out to touch the hearts of my children - the one I was slow dancing into sleep and the one I had just laid down to sleep, our heads touching, trading whispers of "I wuv you bery much momma" and "I love you very much my son" - to take their love temperature. And in my mind, I replayed the kisses of the day.
I know I loaded C up with kisses right before bed, and in the quiet moments getting him dressed for bed, but he had to ask me to "put the baby down and hug me!" today. He gets significantly less face time from the momma who used to rush in every morning to rouse him and hold onto him like the world might end in 10 minutes and then I would hug and kiss him into full wakefulness.
And the baby somehow always gets less mom time when Dada's off and C's afoot. He misses me. I'm calmer when I'm with him and he's calmer when he's with me. We were made for each other.
We were ALL made for each other. C has taken to saying "we are family!" when saying his "I wuv" yous. And indeed we are. . .
I am blessed enough to be able to bear witness to these lives - to provide every kiss and hug, to make a mental tally, and write the record in my heart.
And in theirs.
And when all is written, I hope it is complete.
~Nichole
So instead, in my head, I did what every mother must do at the end of the day: I asked, silently, "were you kissed enough today? were you hugged enough today? were you loved enough today?" That timeless question that connects us with an ageless line of mothers before us.
My heart feelers reached out to touch the hearts of my children - the one I was slow dancing into sleep and the one I had just laid down to sleep, our heads touching, trading whispers of "I wuv you bery much momma" and "I love you very much my son" - to take their love temperature. And in my mind, I replayed the kisses of the day.
I know I loaded C up with kisses right before bed, and in the quiet moments getting him dressed for bed, but he had to ask me to "put the baby down and hug me!" today. He gets significantly less face time from the momma who used to rush in every morning to rouse him and hold onto him like the world might end in 10 minutes and then I would hug and kiss him into full wakefulness.
And the baby somehow always gets less mom time when Dada's off and C's afoot. He misses me. I'm calmer when I'm with him and he's calmer when he's with me. We were made for each other.
We were ALL made for each other. C has taken to saying "we are family!" when saying his "I wuv" yous. And indeed we are. . .
I am blessed enough to be able to bear witness to these lives - to provide every kiss and hug, to make a mental tally, and write the record in my heart.
And in theirs.
And when all is written, I hope it is complete.
~Nichole
7.02.2012
The August of My Awakening
Sometimes. . . .
Well sometimes I am just so so tired.
And sometimes. . . .
Sometimes I
remember how lucky I am.
Usually when
I am kissing C’s cheeks at night.
Or inhaling
the newborn baby scent off of A.
Having Baby
A here with us makes me remember all over again what a blessing it all is.
I look at my
sons and when I really allow myself to think on it, I am absolutely mystified.
The fervency with which I love them astounds me sometimes.
But what has
me really, truly awestruck is that I get to be these boys’ mother, to watch their
personalities unfurl themselves right before my very eyes, to stand witness as
the pure, undiluted essences of their beings flourish and fill up their growing
bodies.
Words
stumble and fall weak in the knees, daunted by the task of expressing the
emergence of a body, the rushing forth of spirit, the creation of a whole new
being, and precisely how it is that one becomes a mother.
Yes, the creation
of a body is an extraordinary wonder to be sure, but guiding the development of
these souls?
It is THE
miracle of my life.
~Nichole
6.12.2012
On BFing
Alternate title for this post? "BFing is making me effing crazy!"
Oh the things you learn with your first baby. . .
For instance, I learned that being nonchalant about breastfeeding (i.e. setting in your mind that "I'll just pump, no biggie" while you're pregnant) is not necessarily the best approach. People (including every LC at the hospital) are a strange mixture of aghast and amazed that I pumped exclusively for a full year with C.
This time around, I have been more committed to making breastfeeding work. Then, I had a baby who literally did NOT know how to suck. We had to finger feed him in order to train him the proper way to suck. Going from finger feeding to bottle feeding was a huge triumph, and going from bottle feeding to nursing with a shield was also pretty awesome. (Why oh why didn't I know about shields with C?)
Only, my kid is an inefficient nurser. So, he takes a LONG time to nurse, then doesn't get enough because he quickly tires and falls asleep since he has to work harder at breastfeeding than he does at bottle feeding. So, then he cluster feeds, sometimes every half hour for hours. Which makes me a bit crazy.
Take yesterday, for instance. With C on a field trip to Nana & Tata's house, I took the opportunity to nurse (and hold my baby) as much as I could. Which was pretty much all afternoon. At one point, he nursed for a full hour, then took another ounce and a half by bottle, then still woke up for more within an hour. The babe ate every hour between noon and 5 p.m. At which point I was pretty exhausted, in need of a bonafide nap, and also sort of all what the what?
I sent a dispatch to my friend asking for moral support:
I need some reassurance that it's not awful that I prefer pumping and bottle feeding because I have an inefficient nurser who not only needs a shield to nurse and cluster feeds, but takes FOREVER at the breast . . .
And that wonderfully seasoned mommy of four did what friends do: she reassured me.
Then, something sort of magical happened. I gave up nursing for the day and Baby A started routinely eating 3 ounces every two hours and sleeping in between. (Hello two week-old eating pattern we've been waiting for!)
I'm not giving up! I'm going to try every day and continue to hope he finally "gets it" the way I've heard some babies magically do. In the meantime, I am thankful for a body that remembers how this went last time and has made a fantastic supply in response. (I seriously freeze about 8-12 ounces every day.)
Oh. Also saving my sanity? Besides wonderful in-laws who take my kid? The swing. Hooray for the swing!
~Nichole
Oh the things you learn with your first baby. . .
For instance, I learned that being nonchalant about breastfeeding (i.e. setting in your mind that "I'll just pump, no biggie" while you're pregnant) is not necessarily the best approach. People (including every LC at the hospital) are a strange mixture of aghast and amazed that I pumped exclusively for a full year with C.
This time around, I have been more committed to making breastfeeding work. Then, I had a baby who literally did NOT know how to suck. We had to finger feed him in order to train him the proper way to suck. Going from finger feeding to bottle feeding was a huge triumph, and going from bottle feeding to nursing with a shield was also pretty awesome. (Why oh why didn't I know about shields with C?)
Only, my kid is an inefficient nurser. So, he takes a LONG time to nurse, then doesn't get enough because he quickly tires and falls asleep since he has to work harder at breastfeeding than he does at bottle feeding. So, then he cluster feeds, sometimes every half hour for hours. Which makes me a bit crazy.
Take yesterday, for instance. With C on a field trip to Nana & Tata's house, I took the opportunity to nurse (and hold my baby) as much as I could. Which was pretty much all afternoon. At one point, he nursed for a full hour, then took another ounce and a half by bottle, then still woke up for more within an hour. The babe ate every hour between noon and 5 p.m. At which point I was pretty exhausted, in need of a bonafide nap, and also sort of all what the what?
I sent a dispatch to my friend asking for moral support:
I need some reassurance that it's not awful that I prefer pumping and bottle feeding because I have an inefficient nurser who not only needs a shield to nurse and cluster feeds, but takes FOREVER at the breast . . .
And that wonderfully seasoned mommy of four did what friends do: she reassured me.
Then, something sort of magical happened. I gave up nursing for the day and Baby A started routinely eating 3 ounces every two hours and sleeping in between. (Hello two week-old eating pattern we've been waiting for!)
I'm not giving up! I'm going to try every day and continue to hope he finally "gets it" the way I've heard some babies magically do. In the meantime, I am thankful for a body that remembers how this went last time and has made a fantastic supply in response. (I seriously freeze about 8-12 ounces every day.)
Oh. Also saving my sanity? Besides wonderful in-laws who take my kid? The swing. Hooray for the swing!
~Nichole
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