Got Milk?

When Cordy was born, I was determined to breastfeed. My daughter, however, wasn’t so interested in the idea. Our first two days in the hospital were filled with frustration, as I would try to get her to eat and she would resist. She would latch on at first, then realize she wasn’t getting much (it was still colostrum at that point), let go and scream. Repeat every half hour. Even the lactation consultant was no help.

Our third night in the hospital, the staff checked her blood sugar levels and told me her levels were low. Whether I wanted it or not, she was getting a bottle. The look on her little newborn face when offered the bottle was one of surprise and glee. After all, this was easy! The liquid just flowed into her mouth without any effort! It was at that point, I realized we had lost the battle, as my lazy child decided that the easy way was the way to go.

I continued to fight with breastfeeding for the next four months before giving up entirely. She would make a half-hearted attempt at breastfeeding, and then I would follow up with a bottle of formula or pumped milk afterwards. By the time I was back at work, she was mostly on formula.

With Mira, I hoped things would be different, and in many ways, they are. Thanks to the VBAC, she was able to breastfeed minutes after birth, and I was thrilled that she latched on like a pro. But when we got home, her appetite seemed to be endless, and I couldn’t keep up with her. We had to supplement, an act that gave me flashbacks of Cordy and her lazy eating. However, Mira doesn’t seem to care where it’s coming from, as long as there is food. She has no problem going back and forth between bottle and breast.

But I didn’t want to go down the formula route again. It’s expensive, it stinks, and it’s a pain to prepare. So after consulting with my doula and pediatrician (Mira isn’t gaining weight like she should, so the ped is involved now), I’m now trying to increase my milk supply to satisfy my bottomless pit.

What’s involved in this? Well, my pediatrician suggested beer to help with supply issues. I always thought that to be an old-wives tale, but she said she’s seen it work. OK, I can drink a beer. No problem.

Then there’s the herbal solution. An herb called Fenugreek can help increase supply. This is the herb used to flavor artificial maple syrup. Much like garlic, when you take large amounts of it, it has the not-so-pleasant side-effect of scenting your sweat and urine. Which means that my sweat now smells like maple syrup. And my breath smells like beer. All I need at this point is some cigarette smoke and you could have a truck stop IHOP sensory experience in my presence.

It seems to be working so far. I hope that my supply will catch up to her demand soon, because after dealing with a baby who wanted nothing to do with my breasts, it’s frustrating to see her so eager to breastfeed and worry I don’t have enough for her.



More Thoughts On The Past Week

I have no idea what day it is right now. I think someone told me it’s now June. Wow, that came faster than I thought.

We’re still in survival mode here, trying to get used to life with two children. Yesterday, Aaron took Cordy out for a few hours, leaving me only Mira to care for. I ate lunch, decluttered the living room a little bit, and fed Mira. As I sat there nursing her, I laughed to myself, thinking: I used to think this was hard? Taking care of one is a breeze!

Cordy is handling the new addition with the grace we expected – which is none at all. She’s doing her best to ignore the baby, and acting out in new and exciting ways, mostly directing her anger towards Aaron and I. She’s hitting, she’s screaming, she’s doing things she already knows aren’t allowed, and she’s physically hurting herself. Today, during a time out, she repeatedly bashed her head on a wall until she slightly bloodied her nose. Fun times, people. It makes my heart ache to see her hurting so much.

So far the post-partum hormone dump is only affecting me minimally, but I’m still waiting for the fallout. I had one sobbing fit on Monday night in the hospital, when Cordy came to visit for the first time. Aaron brought her in and said, “Look, there’s mommy!” She walked right up to me, looked at me, and then replied, “That’s not mommy!” Ouch. She eventually warmed up to me, but then when it was time for her to leave, I had to endure seeing her realize that I wasn’t coming with her, and see all hell break loose. Strapped in her stroller, with large tears streaming down her face, she cried out “No! Mommy! Mommy!” and tried to reach for me as Aaron took her out of the room. I could hear her screams all the way until they reached the elevators.

Physically, I’m still down and out. It isn’t as bad as a c-section recovery, but I wasn’t quite prepared for this. My nether-regions are unrecognizable, with the swelling, the stitches from the giant tear, and the hemorrhoids. Pooping is an ordeal that requires mental preparation. And I’ve already warned Aaron that sex is unlikely for a long, long time. Are there any good remedies for healing my girl parts? While I love the Dermoplast numbing spray the hospital gave me, it only masks the pain, and the Tucks pads aren’t that helpful. Things will go back to normal down there, right?

Mira is so far very different from Cordy. From the beginning, Cordy seemed to be angry at the world for being pulled out of her warm home in my uterus. She wanted nothing to do with nursing, and spent a lot of time crying. Mira took to breastfeeding like a pro from the very beginning, and so far (knock on wood, or well, wood laminate for me) she’s generally not too fussy. We had some issues the first two nights at home, when she would only sleep up against me in bed, but last night she slept in a sleep positioner and managed a 4 hour stretch. She also went out with us for the first time today, and slept for most of the trip. I keep hoping that she will be different from Cordy entirely, and we might just skip that whole colic phase.


Having Aaron home for two weeks full time, and then four weeks part time makes me want to send flowers to the State of Ohio as thanks for their parental leave policy. With Cordy, Aaron only had a couple of days off, but now he’s here for two full weeks to help make that adjustment. I honestly don’t know how I would manage without him right now.

So, we’re doing our best to find normal in our lives again. At the moment everything feels so overwhelming, but I know that eventually we’ll fall into a routine and I won’t feel so out of control. Until then, I have to struggle to find ways to make room for two needy little girls on my lap.



You Can Tell We’re "Klassy" By The Mattress On The Floor

So, uh, yeah…still here.

Remember how I thought I could be all clever and take the drop rail off the side of the crib to transition Cordy to a toddler bed? Oh sure, I thought, it’s still her crib – it’s just missing one side. She’ll adjust, right?

Yeah, well…not going so well thus far. Apparently a crib without its drop rail is, in fact, NOT the same as her crib. Two nights ago, I placed her in her room, tried to reason with her (HA!) about the coolness of her Big Girl Bed for over 20 minutes, then gave up and simply raced her to the door, managing to get out without shutting her fingers in the door. She screamed for about 2 minutes again, but then all was quiet. I figured she gave up and got in bed.

However, when Aaron went to check on her an hour later, he found she had climbed up into the rocking chair in the room and fell asleep there, slumped over holding one of her books. He moved her to the crib, where she did sleep most of the night. Around 4am she was up and moving around in her room, but she didn’t yell for us or cry, so she clearly wasn’t too traumatized.

Last night, though, was the worst yet. Twice I rocked Cordy to sleep and tried to lay her down in her bed, and both times her eyes would pop open and with lightening speed her arms and legs were wrapped around my leg. Aaron then tried twice, with the same results. He finally raced her out the door, but the screaming didn’t stop after 2 minutes like the previous nights. After 10 minutes, I went back in and comforted her, trying to place her on one of the beds, but she would not go near them.

I then spotted her little foam fold-out couch, and wrestled her down onto it, with me laying beside her. This was at least acceptable to Cordy, so we stayed there on the floor, with me right beside her patting her back, until she was asleep. I then was able to sneak out, and later Aaron came in and moved her to a bed again.

It seems we may have luck getting her to sleep if we lay down with her. The problem is, both toddler beds won’t hold our weight. Which now leads us to Phase 2 of Operation: Crib Eviction – we’re going to remove the crib entirely, and leave the mattress on the floor. She’s never liked heights, so maybe having the mattress on the floor will comfort her? And if it’s on the floor, Aaron or I will be able to lay down with her.

I’m not thrilled with the idea of her sleeping on a mattress on the floor – could be the college flashbacks it conjures up – but I’m willing to try it as another way to get her used to the idea of sleeping without bars.



What Will The Night Hold?

Cordy loves her crib. She has a beautiful toddler bed, a Christmas gift from grandma, placed directly across from her crib, but she is still devoted to her crib. We’re at the point where she will nap in her toddler bed (on those rare days she naps), but at night she cries out for her crib and insists on being placed in her cage. I think she feels safe in the confined high bars of her crib.

We can’t wait any longer, though. While baby #2 will be in our room for the first few months, she will need a crib eventually. So today we started Phase 1 of Operation: Crib Eviction.

When Cordy goes to bed in an hour or so, this is what she will be greeted with:


We took the front rail off the crib, and added the toddler guard rail. No more confinement in her crib from here on out. Luckily, she can’t open doors yet (I know, a 2 and 3/4 year old who can’t open a door – a rarity, right?), so no worries about her getting out of her room.

So her choices at bedtime tonight will be her toddler bed…


…or her modified crib. Either way, no high rail.

I have no idea what level of hell we’re in for tonight, but I’m preparing for the worst. It could be a long night.



Real Moms Brag


We may underplay our parenting skills, but one thing real moms won’t hold back on is talking about their children. Real moms know their kids are the best out there, and we’re not afraid to brag about it.

I mean, look at that face. (Click the picture to see that adorable face up close.) Those gorgeous blue eyes filled with both innocence and a twinge of mischief. That pretty, smooth skin. Those curls – oh, the curls! Her golden blonde curls attract many admirers at the playground, the mall, the grocery store…everywhere.

I know my daughter is beautiful, and I happily beam with pride that I created her from the building blocks in my body (with half of the DNA coming from daddy, of course). Where I see imperfections with myself, I see perfection in her.

But she’s not just the sum of her outward beauty. She’s also a bright, interesting little person that we’re learning more about every day. She loves numbers, counting all the way to 19 in English and 10 in Spanish. She can also recognize written numbers, reading off prices in the store, state routes on highway signs, and the address of any house we visit. She knows her shapes and colors, and can spend an hour sorting items by shape and color. Her sense of humor is unique, filled with knock knock jokes that don’t make sense to anyone except her.

I take pictures of her all the time. I want to preserve each new day, watching her grow and change slowly over time. I want to proudly introduce her to the world and celebrate each new milestone.

Of course, you should know I’m not insane. She’s not the ideal child by any means. I know others don’t see her the way I do: they don’t see that spark inside of her that I see. And that’s partially because every mom sees their own child as I see mine. They see past any imperfections to that inner soul, that reflection of something bigger than they are. Your own child is your legacy, your greatest project, your hardest job, and is undeniably a part of you.

So I understand if you see Cordy’s curls as a little unruly, or her skin a little too pale, or her temper a little too hard to handle. That’s OK – she’s amazing to me, and I’m not afraid to tell everyone about it. And I’ll happily listen to you brag about your amazing child as well. Because real moms aren’t afraid to brag – we know our kids are pretty damn special.

This post is an entry for the Real Mom Truths contest! The winner will receive this amazing 4G iPod Nano and Chocolate gift set, plus a link to their post on True Mom Confessions on Mother’s Day.

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