Nursing Your Kids

Two weeks until due date and I’m ready.

Okay, ready is relative. I don’t know that I’ll ever be ready for taking care of both a newborn and a toddler (preschooler according to the website that sends me weekly child development updates) at the same time, but that’s just one of those things I’ll have to do, not really prepare for. When I say ready, I mean the house is pretty much ready to go.

I’ve got a freezer full of meals that should last us until Bob finishes school for the summer and a few more things to cook and freeze in the next day or two. I’ve got a chicken stock portioned for two different kinds of soups- chicken noodle and a vegetable- and a beef roast that will become beef stew. I know, not the most seasonally appropriate foods, but they freeze well and use ingredients I have so I don’t have to make any special shopping trips to accommodate.

The nursery is not set up, but the gender-neutral newborn clothes and diapers are washed and folded and the other seasonally appropriate boy’s clothes are out and ready to be washed if it’s a boy. Baby gear is ready to go. I still need to dig out the Boppy pillow (which I found utterly useless for nursing, but fantastic for sitting on after delivery) and wash the cover, but that’s the only thing that really needs to be washed.

The house is in a perpetual state of fairly clean. Well cleanish. I’ve been straightening and vacuuming and organizing daily so the house is ready for grandparents, aunts and uncles to come in and take care of Sam. Lists have been written, outlining how to wash the cloth diapers and basic Sammy-care like “don’t forget to change his diapers,” and “he needs to wear sunscreen in the sun.”

Now I’m just waiting. Impatiently waiting. This baby could come any minute or it could come in four weeks. This part is the hardest. I’ll pack my bag when the contractions hit. I’m afraid if I pack too soon the baby will never come.

With four weeks until due date I am sick of being, and especially looking, pregnant. Seriously. Stick a fork in me. I’m done. I think my weight gain has stalled somewhere around the 30 lb mark, a huge improvement from the (more than?) fifty I’d gained at this point with Sam, but the swelling has begun in earnest which is seriously interfering with my quality of life.

Aside from the self-esteem hurting fact that I can no longer find my ankles in the swollen section where my legs end and my feet begin, all of my shoes are painful to wear. Hell, even my ankle socks that used to fall off in bed during the night leave elastic marks across the tops of my feet. It’s finally spring and warm enough to fit into the maternity skirts and cropped linen pants that still fit over my ginormous ass, but I’m embarrassed to wear them because of the hideousness of my lower legs.

My hands are puffy and sore and my eyes are disappearing into my fat, fat face giving me a more porcine appearance than usual. It’s subtle to the people who see me regularly, but I feel like a whale.

And can we talk about my mother for minute? I generally try to reserve all complaints about her for my personal, semi-anonymous blog, but the other night she stepped over the line. She asked, “What do you think you’re having?” and I responded (as I always do) that I have no idea and no maternal instinct. She told me that I’m carrying differently. (Which I’m not, and I have pictures to prove it. I just look smaller because I haven’t gained an additional 20 lbs.) She then told me to turn around. I thought it was so she could look at me from the back since throughout both of my pregnancies I’ve heard that people can’t tell I’m pregnant when they see me directly from behind. My belly is mostly all out front. She then grabbed my sides and pretty much manhandled my love handles and quite pleased with herself she said, “You’re spreading. It’s a girl.”

My two-word response was not uttered aloud. Instead I jerked away from her and glared. Never tell a pregnant woman she’s spreading.

My son is driving me crazy. He is whiny and clingy and demanding and rude. He yells at me constantly to assert himself and throws things when his demands aren’t met. These are not behaviors he sees demonstrated on a regular basis so I can only hope that this is a stage.

I hope this stage is short-lived.

Every 15 minutes or so I find myself reminding him that he needs to speak nicely. He’ll immediately lower his voice to a regular speaking tone and say please, then go right back to yelling and demanding. If I give him a blue fork he’ll scream, “Noooooooo! Green fork!” Offering choices makes things worse. If I offer him the green fork or the blue fork he’ll say green then scream, “Nooooooo! Orange fork!” when the fork arrives.

Bedtime battles have returned. Our formerly 15-20 minute bedtime routine is now back to a full hour and a half. The last month of illness has left him unable to settle himself. I don’t object to staying with him until he falls asleep since I know he’s just not feeling well and his better habits will eventually return, but at seven months pregnant I’m just not that delicate anymore and getting out of bed wakes him every time. When he wakes he’s angry, demanding that I lay down on this particular spot on the pillow, then another spot on the pillow. He screams, “More kisses! More, more, more!” and it would be charming if he weren’t so damn angry about it, flailing his arms like a little dictator.

He wants me to carry him constantly, only wanting to walk when it’s unsafe or inconvenient. He no longer sits in a chair by himself for meals, he needs to sit on, “Mama’s lap!!” I can’t just cuddle him when trying to help him fall asleep, he insists on sleeping, “On top of mama, “ a demand I’m currently unwilling to meet.

He’s truly making me nuts. I’m sort of looking forward to a lumpy, blobby newborn who does little but nurse, sleep and poop all day long.

Stonyfield yogurt, makers of the popular Yo Baby line, is releasing a new kind of yogurt for pregnant and breastfeeding mommies called, you guessed it, Yo Mommy. Their baby yogurt, in all of its full fat, sugary, organic glory is delicious. One can only hope that their new “mommy” yogurt is just as good.

Here’s their press release:

(PRLog.Org) – Jan 18, 2008 – Londonderry, NH – Stonyfield Farm, the world’s leading organic yogurt-maker, announces YoMommy, the first yogurt created to address the specific nutritional needs of pregnant, nursing and new moms, and their growing babies.

YoMommy comes in 4-ounce four-packs at a suggested retail price of $2.99. Flavors include Strawberry and Peach, and Blueberry and Raspberry. YoMommy is now available nationwide in natural food stores and in select grocery stores.

While I don’t necessarily agree that, “Enjoying Stonyfield Farm’s YoMommy, a healthy and delicious yogurt from a brand name that you trust, is the simplest way to nourish yourself, which will go a long way to taking care of your baby as well.” really is the “simplest” way to eat well, I know that a few extra vitamins, minerals, DHA and probriotic cultures won’t hurt, especially if you, like me, spent the first trimester eating mostly crackers and french fries.

We’re back to napping in the car and the past three days have been lovely. Sam sleeps for close to two hours and aside from running back and forth to the window to check on him I get to rest. Because I don’t have to mess with wrestling him to sleep he’s been napping at a reasonable time instead of the late afternoon. Napping at a reasonable time means he can go to sleep at a reasonable time. He gets tired earlier and can go to sleep earlier. It doesn’t always work that way. But it’s nice to know it’s an option.

He hasn’t nursed at all since he bit me the other night. It’s nice having my breasts to myself again but I almost want him to nurse. I assume this is pregnancy related, but my breasts are especially heavy and full. I know that I can’t logically be engorged since I haven’t been nursing regularly for a good six months or more, but I feel engorged. When I’m in the shower I feel like I’m going to start leaking all over. So far it hasn’t happened, but it may not be far off.

In other non-breastfeeding news, we’ve officially made the switch to cloth diapers. I bought a bunch before Thanksgiving but they ended up being a bit too small so I took advantage of the sales and bought a stash of Fuzzi Bunz pocket diapers along with a couple of DryBees all-in-ones. I also picked up a few g-Diapers and disposable inserts to use when we’re out and I don’t want to cart around dirty diapers. I really like using the cloth so far, though I’m not sure the pocket diapers will be the best choice for a newborn. I’m glad I’m starting now so I’ll have an idea of what I’m getting into. I haven’t been brave enough to use the cloth for overnights, but the Fuzzi Bunz with two inserts kept everything contained for a three hour nap the other day.

Operation Nap Indoors day two was a bigger failure than day one. A very sleepy Sam and I read a few stories and rocked in the glider together. We got into bed and I rubbed his back. He said, “Up mama, up.” I explained again that it was nap time and we had to stay in bed. I held him and he struggled and cried. I whispered to him and shushed him and cuddled him and rubbed his back. He cried harder and harder.

I decided to try physically holding him down in the hopes he’d just collapse from exhaustion. He cried even harder and struggled, hitting me and pulling my hair. I explained to him again that it was nap time. He hit me again so I left the room and told him I’d be back in ten minutes. Ten minutes later he’d thrown several diapers, three books, and two hats over the gate.

He asked to nurse so I picked him up and brought him into bed. He nursed for a while and fell asleep. I tried to remove my breast from his mouth and he clamped down hard. I nudged him to relatch and he clamped down again. I suffered through for a few minutes until his breathing grew slow and heavy again and tried to remove myself again. His eyes opened wide and he cried, “nurse, nurse, nurse.” I switched to the other side. It was fine for a few minutes until he clamped down hard. I asked him to let go but eyes closed, he clamped harder and said no through his teeth. I burst into tears, stuck my finger into his mouth to unlatch him and sobbed in his bed while he cried to nurse more.

After I calmed down a bit I opened the gate and left the room. He followed me out and I’ve been crying on and off ever since. I don’t think this is going to work.

Sam hasn’t nursed to go down for a nap in at least six months now but that’s because I’d given up on indoor naps entirely and taken our naps on the road. When the weather was nice he’d nap in the stroller and when the weather was bad he’d nap in the car. Then I got pregnant and my energy level plummeted. Two hour walks trying to get him to sleep were out of the question. For the last three months he’s only napped in the car.

I kept thinking that things would change at some point. Eventually he’d be old enough to reason and just calmly accept that it was nap time and he’d get into bed and lie down. But then I came to my senses and realized that I was screwed unless I actively changed our nap routine. Of course I was too exhausted to actually do anything about it, but the idea was that when my energy returned in the second trimester changes would be made.

Well it’s the second trimester and I still don’t have any energy. For some inexplicable reason I decided that today is day one of operation nap indoors. I prepped him all morning for the indoor nap after lunch. I told him that he was going to take his nap in bed today and he shook his head no and said uh-uh each time I reminded him of the indoor nap. After story hour we came home, washed our hands and ate some lunch. I reminded him that it was nap time. Again he shook his head no and said uh-uh, but this time he started to cry. I brought him upstairs and into his room. He began to cry harder and say light on, shoes on. I turned on the sleepy time music and asked if he wanted to read a story.

We read two Curious George stories, turned on the music, got into bed and read Goodnight Moon a few times. Then I put the book down and tried to help him fall asleep. He started to cry immediately. The crying escalated until I did exactly what I didn’t want to do and asked him if he wanted to nurse. He said yes immediately and nursed calmly until he fell asleep. As soon as I removed my nipple from his mouth he woke up screaming and crying, “More, more, more.” I let him nurse a little longer until he was asleep again and the same thing happened only this time when I tried to extract myself he bit me. Hard. I tried to cuddle him a bit longer but the screams just got worse and he tried to bite a chunk out of my cheek. After the third time I told him to put his head down I left the room.

He cried for a while then started yelling, “Mama, bed.” I went into his room and he asked for his pajamas and sleep sack. I got him dressed for bed and he cuddled with me for a few minutes and asked to nurse again. I told him no, he started crying again, climbed out of bed and tried to unlatch the gate in his doorway. I told him I’d leave if he didn’t get back into bed. He said, “Mama stay,” but didn’t get into bed so I left.

That was ten minutes ago. We’re an hour and a half into the process now. He’s clearly not going to take a nap today. I don’t know what to do. He’s obviously exhausted and ready for a nap but doesn’t want me to help him fall asleep. I don’t want to get into the habit of nursing him to sleep and leaving my nipple in his mouth for as long as he’d like but I don’t want him to give up naps altogether. I feel like breastfeeding just to get him to nap is taking a huge step backwards, but I don’t know what else to do. If he doesn’t learn how to nap in his bed I’ll be screwed once the baby is born.

I wish I could remember where I read this rumor, but at some point early in this pregnancy I read that breasts don’t change as much during a second pregnancy. I was expecting that unlike my first pregnancy, when my breasts went from a perfectly reasonable 32 B to a shocking 38 D, I’d stay on the small side until close to the end.

This bit of information wasn’t something that really consumed me, although I think I may have been slightly disappointed that I wouldn’t have the fabulous cleavage to draw attention away from my belly since I’d also read that women start to show more quickly in second pregnancies.

Yes I started to show much more quickly this pregnancy. I was showing at 10 weeks pretty obviously if I wasn’t wearing a baggy sweater to disguise the baby bump whereas with Sam I didn’t show until 16 weeks and even then I was just barely showing. Here’s a picture of the belly. On the left is me at 16 weeks the first time around. On the right is me at 12 weeks this pregnancy. (please excuse the filthy mirror)

With Sam, my breasts got bigger way before my belly. I needed to buy new bras weeks before I needed maternity clothes. But now, just over 16 weeks pregnant, my breasts have finally caught up to my belly. They are large (yippee for fabulous cleavage!), heavy, and sore. I’m not so fond of the sore. They’re sore pretty much all the time, whether I’m chasing Sam or sitting still. They’re also tingly, like I’m experience let down when I’m actually not. Sam is still nursing sporadically- twice yesterday, once the day before- and the tingly feeling doesn’t actually occur when he nurses. It’s like phantom letdown at random intervals throughout the day.

It’s still painful when Sam nurses, though not nearly as painful as it was during the first trimester. It hurts when he latches and I often have to make him readjust his latch, but it doesn’t hurt through the nursing sessions. It also helps that the sessions have been lasting no more than a few minutes lately. I don’t know that I could take much more. I really thought that pregnancy would be my big incentive to wean. But so far it’s just another minor inconvenience. It’s not nearly as bad as I thought.

Bryan’s wife Sarah is being induced today. Good luck with a smooth delivery!