Teething Troubles

My little Nugget is currently working on his first two top teeth and is quite put out by the whole experience.

According to this meta-analysis of teething studies, Nugget is going to be a total smarty-pants. Maybe. The authors quote an old wives' tale about a baby's first tooth's "precocious eruption as a sign of great intelligence" and my little guy popped his first tooth at the ripe old age of 3 months and 3 weeks. I guess that would make up for all those times he's chomped down while breastfeeding. Maybe.

I have to say, I'm so glad we live now and not 100 years ago, when doctors would cut an X into a baby's gums to help get teeth through. Or before that when leeches were put on the gums and just generally used for treating everything. Yay for modern science!

Although there's still a lot of disagreement about teething.

Some studies say that teething can cause "general irritability, disturbed sleep, gum inflammation, drooling, loss of appetite, diarrhea, circumoral rash, intra-oral ulcers, an increase in body temperature, increased biting, gum-rubbing, sucking, wakefulness, and ear-rubbing" while other studies disagree. Nugget is experiencing 7 of those 14 symptoms, so I'm going to go with yes.

What is teething? Supposedly, it's the "4 days before, the day of, and 3 days after emergence of the tooth," however they follow that up that symptoms "cannot predict the emergence of tooth" in literally the same sentence. So Nugget might have another 6 days of waking up cranky at 6am. Or he might not. Super.

When it comes to treating teething pain, the only recommendation that doesn't come with risks is applying pressure to the gums... except the authors warn that gel-filled teething toys could explode toxic goo all over your baby.

And molars are supposed to be even worse.

Why I Don't Cover Up When Breastfeeding In Public

I've always been modest when it comes to showing my body. Don't get me wrong, I wear short shorts and tank tops in the summer. But I try to keep it classy. No pretending that sheer tights are really leggings and/or can be worn instead of pants.

So when it came to planning how I was going to feed Baby, I wasn't quite sure what I would be comfortable doing. I knew I wanted to breastfeed, so I expected to carry around one of those cute breastfeeding covers that doubles as an infinity scarf. Baby is here, and I don't own one. And I probably I wouldn't use it if I did.

One of my defining breastfeeding moments happened in Target. (I feel like everything happens at Target. I love Target. Anyway...) Baby and I were most of the way through the store, and he decided he was HUNGRY. So I pulled down my shirt and we breastfed in the toothpaste aisle in Target.

Because that's what Baby needed, and the hell with anyone else.

Although I will say the furniture section is a much more comfortable and relaxing place to breastfeed than the toothpaste aisle. If Baby can wait that long. If we're being real, the backseat of the car is even better. Better for me, that is. What's better for Baby is whatever fills his little hungry belly faster, so that's what we're going to do. And if that means a few strangers see some boob, so be it. They're not really even my boobs; I didn't get them until Baby, so I'm pretty sure they belong to him. And for the foreseeable future, they're his whenever he decides it's boob time.

Lactation Cookies

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For Christmas, we got sick. Hubby, Baby Boy and I all had colds. It was pretty rough. Getting sick while breastfeeding means a lot of asking "can I take this medication?" And even when it's a "yes," it's really "yes, but..." And the "but" is almost always that it decreases milk supply. Considering that I don't pump and therefore don't have extra mom milk in the freezer, I was concerned about keeping my little man well-fed while trying to clean out my sinuses. Despite my best efforts taking meds sparingly and keeping my water consumption up, I noticed that my milk machines were looking less full than before. So I decided to step up my game and see if lactation cookies are all they're cracked up to be.

They are. I made the cookies last night and had one before bed. I had another one with breakfast (not for me, for the baby). Not only are my milk machines back in high production, but these taste just like my favorite oatmeal chocolate chip cookies with an added hint of peanut butter. Does it get any better? 

This afternoon I wrote myself a reminder on the bag:

The recipe I used was basically half of this recipe from Simplistically Living, with a few modifications, mostly to simplify the process.

Here's what I used:
1 tbsp flaxseed meal
2 tbsp water
1 stick of butter
1/2 cup white sugar
1/2 cup brown sugar
1 egg
1 splash of vanilla
1/4 cup peanut butter
1 tbsp brewer's yeast
1 cup flour
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1 1/2 cups old-fashioned oats
3/4 cup mini chocolate chips

Combine water and flaxseed meal in a small bowl. Mix butter, sugars, egg, and vanilla in a stand mixer (have I mentioned how much I love my KitchenAid stand mixer?). Add watered flaxseed meal and peanut butter and mix again. Add brewer's yeast, flour, baking soda, and cinnamon and mix again. Add oats and chocolate chips and stir (by hand) to combine. Drop by the spoonful on an ungreased cookie sheet and bake at 350 degrees for 12 minutes or until cooked through.

New Mom, New Mom, What Do You Do?

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Last night, Hubby came home from work. I gave him a kiss and asked him about his day. After giving me the gory details, he asked me, "what do you do all day? I'm not trying to criticize; I genuinely want to know." I believed him. I've told him that being a new mom isn't easy and doesn't leave me with a lot of free time. 

He always asks me if I'm "sleeping when the baby sleeps." At night, yes. During the day, no. Then what am I doing when the baby sleeps? I'm running to the basement to do a load of laundry. I'm running back to check on the baby. I'm running outside to get firewood. I'm running back to check on the baby. I'm running into the kitchen to find something to eat. I'm running back to check on the baby.

And when the baby isn't sleeping? There is no "I." There is only "us." When the baby isn't sleeping, we do baby things. We breastfeed. We read books. We breastfeed. We do tummy time. We breastfeed. We sing songs. We breastfeed. We have baby dance parties. We breastfeed. We go for walks. 

Sometimes we even breastfeed while we're reading or singing or walking around the neighborhood. Yeah, we have mad skills.

And that just about sums up a perfect day as the new mom of an exclusively breastfed baby.

And the baby just pooped himself awake, which means this post has reached its end. Back to doing baby things.

The Great Diaper Debate

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As a new parent, there are so many decisions you have to make, including whether to use cloth or disposable diapers. If you're considering cloth diapers, there are a few things to consider. 

Cloth
The good: less expensive, better for the environment
The bad: endless laundry
The ugly: you have to try to remove the poop before washing

Disposable
The good: more convenient
The bad: endless trash
The ugly: diaper rash

For Baby Love, I've decided to use both cloth and disposable diapers. We didn't start using cloth diapers right away--they didn't fit until he was about 9 pounds. Now, we use cloth diapers when we're at home and disposable for going out and for going to bed (they seem more absorbent, which means fewer overnight diaper changes, which means more sleep for me). And I'd rather be able to throw out dirty diapers in public versus saving them in a wet bag and bringing them home. We do have this wet bag at home, and it's great for keeping diaper smells and messes contained.

Not all cloth diapers are created equal. I have two brands that I like, Charlie Banana, which seem to be the premium brand, and LBB, which is cheaper and doesn't have as nice of fabric but is similar in style. I've also tried Apple Cheeks, which are more expensive and you have to buy in two sizes (the first two I mentioned are one size and adjust with a bunch of snaps). I was given one GroVia diaper, too, that I haven't used because you have to line dry it, and who has time for that nonsense? There are other brands, but I haven't tried them. Are there any that you especially do (or don't) like?

If you want to try cloth diapers but baby poop grosses you out, you can buy disposable liners to keep the poop off of the diaper. I'm not at all bothered by baby poop (I'm not at all bothered by my baby's poop), so I have no idea how well they work. 

The most important thing to remember for all baby decisions is that the only person who can decide what is the right thing for your family... is YOU. And what's right for your family now might not be right next week. And that's okay.

Baby's First Week

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I'm not going to say that I have this whole Mom thing figured out. After all, I've literally been doing it for a week. But I've already found several things that have helped tremendously. 

Nursing bras. I've been wearing ones like these pretty much 24/7. They're super comfy, unfortunately they have zero support. So when your milk machines are engorged, they're all freaking over the place. Not a problem if you're hanging out at home, but I would suggest something more like a sports bra for excursions. 

Nipple cream. I legit have bruised nips. Just because babies don't have teeth, doesn't mean they can't bite you. I have no idea what this stuff is or why it works, but I seriously don't care. It's super awesome. Stock up. 

Prepared food. A few weeks before Baby Boy's arrival, I made some freezer meals. We've already run through most of the fully cooked stuff, but we also have a bunch of stuff that's halfway prepped. At this point, the less effort I have to use to feed myself, the better. 

Newborn diapers. Even if you want to use cloth diapers (we do), they have a minimum weight suggestion of 8 pounds, so it's going to take awhile for most babies to grow into them. They're cheaper online and you will use LOTS of them unless you want baby stewing in his own pee. 

Receiving blankets. So far, Baby Boy has only worn clothes twice. Once coming home from the hospital and once when we went to his first doctor's appointment. Otherwise, he's swaddled in a receiving blanket (we definitely didn't steal any from the hospital... maybe) and enjoying lots of skin to skin time. The ones from Carter's aren't the cheapest, but they're very soft flannel and bigger than some other brands.

Helpful hubby. Hubby has been great. He's been taking initiative on things like laundry, cooking (microwaving totally counts, at least right now), doing dishes, and reminding me to sleep when the baby sleeps. He's also good at diaper changes and other baby stuff. Even though he can't directly help with breastfeeding, he brings snacks and water while Baby Boy and I are having boobie time. If Hubby isn't available, try to find someone who loves you, doesn't add any stress to your life, and cleans--key here is that you have to be comfortable with them seeing you topless. Baby's first week is pretty much all about boobies (if you're breastfeeding). 

Patience. You're not going to instinctively know everything about your baby right away. There will be times when your baby seems to be crying for no reason. Make sure his needs are being met (clean diaper, not too hot, not too cold, not hungry), then try rocking, walking, swaying, singing, dancing, etc. You'll get through it. 

Birth Story

This may take me a while to type because I'm using my left hand and holding a sleeping baby with my right. My sleeping baby. Before I tell you how we got here, I want to mention that I wholeheartedly believe in having several versions of your birth story ready to go. The same level of detail is not agreeable to everyone you've ever met. 

1: The short and sweet version.  This is the version you tell the mailman, the UPS guy (the good one, not the one who couldn't find your house), and other acquaintances. 

Shortly after getting in bed on Wednesday night, I started having contractions. Hubby and I drove to the hospital and 16 hours later, the doctor put our new Baby Boy on my chest. 

Actually, there's probably an even shorter version that would work for casual acquaintances: finally had the baby! He's healthy, I'm healthy, and we're all figuring this out!

2: The touchy-feely version. If your friends haven't asked for intimate details about your cervix, DO NOT tell them. They don't want to know. In my case, this was actually a fairly small number of people. I guess I'm lucky the UPS guy didn't mention it. 

After several weeks of me being ready (especially once our due date came and went without Baby Boy), I finally went into labor on Wednesday night. Hubby drove me to the hospital in the middle of the night, which was great because a) no traffic and b) a fox crossed the road in front of us, and we'd agreed early on that we wanted a fox-themed nursery, so that was neat. Maybe we should do a Yeti theme if we decide to go for baby #2... Anyhoo, back to the story. After awhile in the hospital without much progress, I decided I was ready to stop being in pain. I was shaking from adrenaline and trying not to cry by the time the cute anasthesiologist got the epidural set up and my left leg turned into pudding from the drugs. Once I was able to calm down, we waited for awhile. When the nurse came in to check on me in the afternoon, she said "push" and I started trying to push even though I couldn't feel a damn thing. I'm glad I got the epidural even though it wasn't part of my birth plan, because it allowed me to relax enough to stop (inadvertently) fighting what my body was trying to do. Once I pushed out Baby Boy and Hubby cut the cord (which was the main thing on his birth plan, along with raiding the hospital's hubby snack area), someone put the little boy on my chest and said "here's your baby" and I said "holy shit."

3: The juicy version. This one you share with your closest family, friends, and anyone who works in the medical field. Medical peeps love hearing all the gory details. (Warning: gory details ahead. Read at your own peril.)

Hubby and I got in bed Wednesday night, and I had my first contraction at 10:41. We left for the hospital at midnight, when they were 9 minutes apart and we were sure it was baby time. By the time we got to the hospital, the contractions were 5 minutes apart and my cervix was 4cm dilated. The doc came in and broke my water to help move things along. I alternated between laboring on a birth ball in the shower (which felt awesome except for the terrible water pressure... highly recommend) and in various positions on the bed. Hubby slept for a couple hours. By the time the nursing staff switched out for the day crew, I was still only at 6cm and ready for drugs. I wanted to avoid an epidural, based on what I'd read about its effect on labor and recovery times, but whatever they pushed through my IV was bad. It made me dizzy and loopy and didn't touch the pain. So that sucked. And once it wore off, I said yes to the terrifying epidural (have I mentioned I don't do well with needles?). Then we waited. Not being able to feel much of anything, I took a nap, which helped a lot. At 3:30, the nurse decided it was time to check my hooha again. She poked around and called to Hubby: "do you want to see the head?" Then she told me to push once, for shits and giggles. Then we waited for the doc to finish another delivery. When she finally showed up, we did several more rounds of pushing until I somehow pushed out a baby at 4:07 Thursday afternoon. And I didn't feel a damn thing. Hubby cut the cord, just like he'd wanted to. Then the baby nurses sucked a bunch of goo out of baby's lungs. Then someone put him on my chest and said "here's your baby" and I said "holy shit." 

Feeling Ready For Baby

Today, we had our 38 week prenatal appointment. Even though, based on our ultrasound yesterday, we're way closer to 39 weeks than 38. Either way, little man could make his appearance any day now. And I'm ready. I don't mean I'm ready because our hospital bag is packed (it is) or because the car seat is installed (it is), or even because I'm so excited to meet this tiny person who's going to depend on hubby and me for the next 18+ years (I am). 

At this exact moment, I'm ready to be able to say that my body is MINE again. At least partially. I'm ready to stop having acid reflux 24/7. I'm ready to stop getting kicked in the ribs at all hours. I'm ready to eat whatever I want. I'm ready to walk like a normal person instead of a duck. I'm ready to wear whatever shoes I want to, not whatever shoes don't require my hands to come into contact with my feet. I'm ready to not be congested and uncomfortable all the time. I'm ready to feel like me.

What part of returning to non-pregnancy were (or are) you most ready for?

Nesting

If "nesting" is NEEDING to sweep every leaf and speck of dust off the stairs in your yard (which is about 3 normal flights of stairs because you live on the side of a mountain and which haven't been swept once all year) to the point where you feel the urge to tell your hubby that your yard may soon resemble your crazy neighbor's yard (which is 100% bare dirt because she throws every leaf that falls inside her fence straight in the trash), then I've started nesting. These could be a very long, very OCD next 7 weeks. 

Bump Books

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People who know me probably know I enjoy reading. So, of course, when I found out I was growing a human inside me, I decided to read up on this new (to me) subject. 

The first bump book I got was one that was recommended by someone I was in a class with, while she was pregnant, and I was not. It was The Girlfriends Guide to Pregnancy. I was underwhelmed. The book didn't have all the factual info I was hoping for, and it felt like it was trying too hard to be cute. For example, every time the author talked about how you're pregnant for nine months, she put (ten) after. Exactly like that. Every time. Which might have been cute or funny the first time, but it's not even accurate. 40 weeks does not equal 10 months... it equals 9 months and 1 week. And you're not even pregnant when the doctor starts counting; it's 40 weeks from the start of your last period, and for the most part you're not fertile until about 2 weeks after that. Sorry if that's too graphic or too technical for anyone, but I really needed to get it off my chest. Speaking of which, the other ongoing theme that annoyed me throughout this book was the references to the "titty fairy" and how small-breasted women were always so excited to have their boobs grow during pregnancy. I miss having small boobs. A lot. When I went shopping for new bras and the saleswoman wanted me to try on a DDD cup, I literally started crying. Which was probably partly due to my raging preggo hormones, but still. Stop trying to tell me I should be excited about needing to wear a bra 24/7 or risk permanently damaging myself.

I wish I had gotten the second book first. I actually started reading Expecting Better before I finished reading The Girlfriends Guide, and finished it first. Expecting Better is the pregnancy book I would have written if a) I hadn't finished grad school recently enough that the thought of reading another research paper makes me want to puke, b) I hadn't finished grad school long enough ago that my access to the university library has been revoked, and c) a brilliant author named Emily Oster hadn't written it already. This book cites actual research that's been done by actual researchers on the various things you're told to do (or mostly not do) while pregnant. And then... she doesn't tell you what to do. Oster assumes that pregnant women are real people with brains and can make their own decisions when given actual information and data instead of just rules. It's a freaking miracle, and I would recommend this book not only to anyone who is pregnant, but to anyone who has ever thought about whether or not growing a human is something they might be interested in. 

Are there any other pregnancy books you would recommend? Or baby books, since I should probably start reading up on what to do when you have a small human in front of you and not just inside you?

The day I wanted to hit an old lady

Today, I am 6 months pregnant. At least, the doctor has declared that with 2-3% certainty that I will give birth in exactly 3 months (October 18th, in case anyone's counting). Which, as far as I can tell, makes today as good a day as any to share some of the... colorful? surprising? shit-tacular? things I have heard from people (mostly, but not all, strangers) about the now very obvious fact that I am growing a human.

When I was 11 weeks pregnant, a coworker said "I can see you've already lost your waistline." I was too shocked to say anything in return (plus, I was wearing a uniform at the time, which will disappear anyone's waistline faster than you can say "man pants"), but I did manage to flip her a double bird.

More recently, a grocery store employee called me a watermelon smuggler. I hadn't slept well the night before, so all she got was a blank stare until my hubby explained to me what the hell she was talking about. And by then we were out of the produce section.

Another woman asked me when I was due. Because I was in a (relatively) good mood, I leaned my shoulders back, put a hand on either side of my belly, and responded with a question of my own: "how could you tell?" I don't know why that made her uncomfortable, but it did.

This past weekend was my personal favorite (so far; I'm sure I'll need to do a follow-up between now and mid-October). At an event held by a community group I belong to, an old lady came up to me after our group leader made a speech identifying all the group members. She said, "When the leader said you were the 'member at large' I almost started laughing out loud." I wanted to hit her.

Now, you may be wondering: what is the moral of this collection of stories? There are probably several. For starters, people can be super insensitive. And men don't give a shit about how pregnant women look, only other women do. I'm sure there are others, but I'll leave those to your imagination. It's time for me to brush my teeth and try to fall asleep while being smacked around by, apparently, a watermelon I stole from the grocery store.

Tiny

At this point, I might as well just come right out and say it: I'm pregnant. 

My honey and I have known about the tiny human growing inside me since Valentine's, but didn't want to announce it right away for the usual reasons. We shared a little before the recommended twelve weeks, but I already haven't been able to button my pants for several weeks and anyone looking at me would be able to tell I'm starting to have a belly. 

All of this means, though, that I have a lot of early-pregnancy stuff to catch up on here before my memory fails completely (I'm already partway there thanks to constant exhaustion. Growing a human is hard work). 

For now, I'll stick with the short version: no nausea (yay!) but I'm exhausted all the time. And I'm so glad I learned early on that looping a ponytail band through a button hole makes it less obvious that your pants don't fit (also yay!). Preggo pants most likely coming soon.