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the breast things in life are free

Gummy Mcbitey

February 26, 2013

Last night was kind of rough. Baby Finn was up every half hour throughout the night for no other reason than to bite my boobs. Must be nice to be a baby, with free access to delicious boobs all day and all night.

Moments like these, I am just thankful that he doesn’t have any teeth in those bitey gums.

By the time morning rolled around, both me and my boobs were a little exhausted from all the attention. In fact, one of them was seriously considering giving up this breastfeeding gig and going back to being a regular decorative boob.

Just then, I remembered something the husband said a couple of days ago during one of his more profound moments. There was this elderly caucasian couple next to us on the plane back from Bali who really liked Finn and they kept smiling at him during the flight. They waved to him as they made their way out of the plane and the husband turned to me and said “It would really suck to have to say bye to Finn Finn. Good thing we get to have him all the time.”

To that, I say AMEN.

This little guy is often squirmy, sometimes difficult and occasionally spends an entire night mauling my boobs but he’s all mine and I get to have him all the time.

Plus once in a while, when he gets in a nice long nap, I get rewarded with a gummy grin. I know I’m supposed to be all “ooh so cute” looking at this but basically, I’m just glad those gums aren’t attached to my boobs right now.

bed head

by Daphne

Breast Friends

January 21, 2013

breast friends

I didn’t think I’d get here but for the first time in like, ever, I’m starting to enjoy breastfeeding. Maybe *enjoy* is not quite the right word here. It’s less of “I’m enjoying my trip to Disneyworld” and more of “I’m enjoying not getting punched in the face”.

I still get the sinking feeling during let down but I’m learning to get that under control by focusing on the fun parts of breastfeeding. Yes, that was fun and breastfeeding in the sentence you just read.

That’s a big deal because for me, breastfeeding is usually accompanied by words like “painful, depressing and OMG WHEN IS THIS EVER GOING TO END???”

But after 5 months of latching on baby Finn, breastfeeding and I are now xoxo BFFs yayy!!

So here’s my list of breastfeeding fun times.

1. Running my fingers across his cheeks while he drinks. Sure, I can do this at other times but this boy is a squirmy one and the only time he’s immobile is when he’s attached to my boob. That’s 20 minutes of unlimited baby cheek access without any squirming.

2. Magical sandman powers. I try not to use it all the time but nursing is the best solution for a fussy baby. It doesn’t matter what he’s crying about – too hot, too cold, too bored, too tired, doesn’t matter, just pop out a boob and BAM, problem solved. He immediately settles down and his eyes roll back into his head like he’s under a potent sleep spell. It’s like I’m the magician and my boobs are…ok never mind.

3. Catching his gaze and being rewarded with a milky smile. Once in a while, my sleep magic doesn’t work and he glances up at me with those heart-melting baby eyes. And he breaks into a gummy, milky smile. And then my heart explodes with too much love.

4. The way he places one hand on my boob and grips my shirt with the other. Which basically says “ALL MINE! Keep off my property.” Strangely, I don’t mind it one bit.

5. Talking. Mostly, I do the talking while he does the drinking. Sometimes I tell him about my day. Other times, I tell him about how awesome he is and how glad we are to have him. And every day without fail, I get to tell him that he’s loved and special as he’s snuggled up in my arms.

by Daphne

breastfeeding, the breast things in life are free

Booby Trap

January 2, 2013

finn

If baby Finn could talk, his favorite phrase would be “I WANT BOOBS!!” You’d think that it means he wants milk, but no, it’s the boobs that he’s after. Well, occasionally he does want the milk when he’s hungry but he only takes about 6-7 full feeds a day. The rest of the time, he just wants to use me as a human pacifier while letting the milk trickle out of the side of his mouth.

I tried giving him a pacifier and it worked for a couple of days until he realized that hey, this feels plasticky and wrong. So we played the spit-the-pacifier-out-while-I-stuff-it-back game, which I obviously lost because the spitting part is so much easier.

For him, every successful spit = 10 points.

For me, catching it in time = 5 points, aiming it into his tiny mouth = 5 points. If it falls onto the floor = -50 points + I have to go rinse it.

It’s a stupid game.

So, boobs. Thanks to his obsession, the entire area from my shoulder down to my waist is now a demilitarized zone. Unless he’s hungry, he’s not allowed to smell it or touch it or look at it or go near it. Which means I can only carry him facing forward and keep him as far away from THE ZONE as possible. The cradle hold against my chest? Impossible unless I want them to come under attack.

And by attack, I mean that he’ll burrow his head furiously into my boobs and suck on my t-shirt in a frenzy. He’ll be all “2 layers of clothing are keeping me away from these boobs? Imma eat them, nom nom nom…” It’s cute and terrifying at the same time.

Last weekend, a friend offered to hold him for a moment and she made the mistake of going for the cradle hold. My son took it as a cue for feeding time and started attacking her boobs. Even though I’ve just fed him 10 minutes ago and there ain’t no milk from these particular boobs. It was just awkward on so many levels.

I’m going to have to teach him the see-no-touch rule.

by Daphne

breastfeeding, the breast things in life are free

Hot property

November 19, 2012

I’ve had one goal the past 3 months: to successfully transit Finn completely to direct boob feeding. And I’m pleased to say that we’re finally there, more or less.

After having tried formula feeding (with Tru) and expressed bottle feeding (with Kirsten), this is so ridiculously convenient.

Instead of having to spend 40 minutes at the pump, washing the bottles, sterilizing everything, warming the milk, then finally feeding the baby, I just have to pop out my boob and I’m done. When I’m out, my baby bag is more like a baby satchel with some spare clothes, diapers and wipes.

But there’s a downside to it, which is that baby Finn now refuses the bottle. Did I say refuse? I actually meant that he hates it. With a passion. He makes a face, pushes it out with his tongue and looks at me like “hey, don’t you give me no bottle when I can see boobs right there. Now give me the real stuff.” But you see, I’m training him for those days where my breasts are unavailable and he’s with my mom or in-laws. So I pass him to the husband for boot camp bottle training and he goes into meltdown mode. He’ll struggle and scream and tears will be flowing out of his eyes and milk will be sputtering everywhere like he’s choking. And amidst all the frenzy, I’m pretty sure I can make out something like “BOOBS!!! GIVE ME BOOBS!!”

Sometimes, when he’s positively starving, he’ll struggle through a feed like it’s the nastiest thing he’s ever had to drink. Then when he’s done, he’ll launch into a complainy monologue of baby talk to drive home the point.

Other times, I’ll cave and offer him a boob and while he’s drinking, he’ll put one hand on it and look at me as if to say “just so you know, this is my property.”

Ok, it’s really cute but this means that being apart from him for any length of time at all will be a problem.

Any tips on how to reintroduce the bottle?

by Daphne

the breast things in life are free

Gotta Keep ‘Em Separated

April 5, 2012

The moment we found out that Tru has HFMD, I knew it would be quite a task to keep the kids separated while being cooped up in the same house all day.

But faced with the prospect of a second kid doing the screaming mouth-grabbing thing, I was determined to at least try to keep Kirsten away from the blasted virus.

I had an elaborate plan to keep them engaged in different activities throughout the day. Their naps were in different rooms and they had separate mealtimes at different corners of the kitchen. I had to give them specific orders not to so much as look at each other’s food. I was even hardcore enough to go around with a disinfectant to wipe down every surface Truett touched. It was exhausting but I managed to keep them apart till about 5pm on the first day.

Then it happened. I was prepping dinner when Tru had another bout of shrieking and I went back to the room to discover Kirsten patting his head, then moving into give him a giant kiss to help him feel better.

I ran in and screamed “NOOOOOOOOOOOOO DON’T KISS!!!” but it was too late. She grabbed his face and planted a nice, juicy one on his tear-stained cheeks.

On retrospect, it was really sweet but all I could think of was how many germs were exchanged in that one tender moment. Well, A LOT.

In other news, it’s Good Friday tomorrow and even though we’re all a little germy, we’ve got lots of reasons to smile. Have a good one, you guys!

by Daphne

motherhood, the breast things in life are free

Miracles

March 26, 2012

It would have been a lovely Monday if not for the fact that it is getting quite unbearably hot around here. It seems compounded by the fact that my pregnant ass is generating heat like a Josper Charcoal Broiler Oven. As I’m sitting here spritzing myself with the spray my mom uses to water her plants, I so wish I had a tub of ice to soak my super hot, heat generating self in for the rest of the day.

But then I wouldn’t be able to blog because I’m probably going to end up dropping my laptop into the tub and electrocuting myself. Which would be bad because I do have something I wanted to talk about today.

Days like these, I wish I had a personal assistant to type whatever I said while I sat in my ice-tub all day. And also feed me grapes. And massage my feet.

The husband says it would be a whole lot easier to blast the air conditioning because people these days don’t have to rely on a tub full of ice to cool down. But the man hasn’t been pregnant before so he obviously doesn’t know the difference. Sitting in an air-conditioned room having to do my own typing isn’t nearly as fun as sitting in my ice-tub with a grape-feeding, feet-massaging personal assistant who was also good at dictation.

Anyhow, last night, I dreamt about Finn. Or rather, I dreamt about myself giving birth to Finn, who by the way, was beautiful and perfect and tiny. In fact, he was far too tiny because in my dream, I had gone into labor and given birth to him at 26 weeks. The whole time I kept screaming that it was far too early for him to be born and they were supposed to STOP HIM FROM COMING OUT QUICK PUSH HIM BACK IN NOW!! But he was intent on coming out and because he was so tiny, all his organs haven’t fully developed so they had to take him away and stick lots of tubes into his body.

Even though it was a dream, it was terrifying because there wasn’t a single thing I could do about it.

I know I sometimes kid about how difficult it is to be pregnant and make a baby but the truth is that while being pregnant is occasionally uncomfortable, I’m really not much more than a storage facility. I mean, I go about my day, go to sleep and wake up and without me even thinking about it, the baby develops and grows. God is the one forming the little fingers and ears and intestines and all I do is channel part of my bacon sandwich to the baby. I can’t make him grow any faster or slower or tell him when to come out.

And I’m glad because if I was the one who had to call the shots and make the baby, he’d probably have misshapen toes and a gallbladder where his liver should be.

This being the third pregnancy, I hardly even think about being pregnant until the discomfort from the backaches and constipation hits me, then I send the husband passive aggressive emails about how difficult the pregnancy is because it usually results in an extra back rub when he comes home from work. Or maybe a tub of ice-cream.

I always hear people say that having kids is a miracle and such cliches usually make me cringe inside but today, I’m a little sappy.

So I woke up this morning and after checking to make sure that Finn was still snug in my uterus and growing healthily, I snuck over to give my 2 other kids a hug, thankful for how perfect they are.