Know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em

I think it's time. Truthfully, I can't even believe it's still happening. I'm pretty sure he doesn't even want to anymore. Both of us have been crying about it. The dog days of nursing are over.

Yesterday, for the first time, the boy up and bit me hard as he could. It was as though he was trying to tell me, ENOUGH ALREADY; I'm over you. After hearing so many stories about the anguish, physical and mental, of weaning a baby who can't quit the boob, I know I'm so lucky. And yet, there is no relief. No excitement. Only sads. What the hell? Where is the woman who couldn't wait to get her body back? Maybe I can't function without my oxytocin fix. Do people become addicted to breastfeeding? I need a new vice (and a new excuse to eat as much dessert as I want).

I think tomorrow might be the first day when cow's milk is the only milk on the menu. I have been feeling some guilt about weaning right before cold/flu season, but that can last through March. I know I can't. My fluctuating hormones combined with Mr. Monk's four incoming teeth from hell have made this one awesome week in the Schneed household. No wonder the Mr. decided to catch the flu. Fun times.

So, now I get to go bra shopping, right? At least the empty inside comes with a pretty, lacy outside.

And, I'm pretty sure the babe will be able to find himself a new source of nourishment...Mexican!

A time to wean, a time to cry

When I spoke with friends, family and random people (mostly women) I met ten minutes before in the playground about weaning, every person said that I would feel depressed during the process. Nope, not me, I thought. I figured the joy of having my body back would more than make up for the fact that I no longer knew what to do with it. As with most things when it comes to being a mama, it's harder emotionally and easier physically than I expected.

Before I left for our quick trip 5,500 miles away, I pumped like mad to have enough milk for Mr. Monk's five days without the boob. Turns out, there was nearly the exact amount needed and he downed the bottles like there was a prize at the end. Clearly they were a good replacement for the real thing because for the past few days he has been refusing the milk machines. I'm not necessarily opposed to this because I wanted to wean him around a year, but I thought he'd at least put up a fight. Frankly, I think I'm a little hurt that he's turning up his nose at me. Literally, giving me the chin, like how dare I consider him a baby who would want to suckle with his mama. Even though I know this is the easiest way to transition to this next stage, I still feel like crying all the time. I assumed I would have to close up shop to great protest and now I can't even get my best customer to drop by for a visit. My little baby is all growns up. Color me ambivalent about this whole toddler deal.

In part, I think the rejection is due to his separation from me for a few days and his realization that the world doesn't revolve around my boobs. Maybe he's paying me back for leaving in some strange way? Oh please do not let my son be passive aggressive. I also may have lost a bit of the old supply when I accidentally electrocuted my chest in London and destroyed my power cord. Word to the wise--when calling a hotel front desk, telling them that you blew a fuse while pumping may not be the best choice of words. Perhaps batteries just don't work as well because I am only able to pump out a fraction of my normal output. At this point, me and my best friend, pumpette, might need to part ways. We've had a good run but lately I just feel bad about myself when I'm with her. And, I'm pretty sure she scared the old man sitting next to me on my plane ride back from England.

While I was happy to do it and grateful that I could, I was never that nursing loving mama. Although it was the most natural thing possible, it always seemed surprising and a little science fiction-y that I could nourish my baby with my booby. I found my groove with it after the first couple of weeks, but I definitely started the final countdown a few months ago. I am excited to get my breasts back to their previous uses (if only I could remember what those were). Yet, here are all these emotions that I told myself I wouldn't feel.

Breastfeeding (and hanging with pumpette) has taken up a good 30% portion of my job description. How am I going to fill that time now? At least I knew I could manage to pull down my shirt every so often. The teaching and raising a decent person part? That seems infinitely harder. It's just dawning on me that perhaps, in addition to the health benefits, some mamas continue nursing their young until they can ask for it because they want to still be necessary. Not coincidentally, I seem to be seeing a rather high number of pregnant women with babies around the 1 year mark. Right now it feels like my son definitely knows he doesn't need me for his sole source of nourishment. While that is wonderful, it's also painful. The letting go begins.

So, what now?

Cheerio!

Last night as we were flying 33,000 feet above land, I kept picturing my little baby’s face. His blond swirling hairs, his pretty red mouth and his itty bitty nose appeared under my eyelids as if to tell me that he’s always with me no matter how far I go. I left him once before for a night but I was only a car drive away. A ten hour flight is a whole nother deal. He and his sweet toes are on another continent! Though I know everything will be fine, it’s still scary to imagine being so far away if anything should happen. But, it won’t. I know, I know!

He was crying when I left, though I think that had a little more to do with him dropping his bottle than his fear of missing me. I’m fairly certain that he’ll be so spoiled by his two grandmas that he will hardly notice I’m gone. As long as the milk lady left her milk, he’s chillin'. And leave it I did, down the plane’s drain. That was rough. Bye bye 10 ounces. I’ll be throwing out a lot more this week. What a waste. I may try to see if I can donate it here since I can’t freeze it and bring it home. Somehow, I have a feeling that there is a good deal of bureaucracy involved in that. Though, maybe I should just sell it and pay for the trip (whoa...no!).

I’m so excited to sleep tonight (first time I’ve stayed up 36 hours straight in YEARS) and wake up to London tomorrow. We spent much of today walking around and getting lost, which is my favorite traveling pastime. I’m quite good at it.

Also, on the plane yesterday I discovered a new obsession--FRIDAY NIGHT LIGHTS! Holy moly, that is an engaging show. The Mr. had to shove me to realize that it was our turn to disembark the plane. I kind of wanted to ask him to wait for me till the end of the episode. I know I’m super tardy to the party but I need to Netflix that series asap.

It's a new dawn, it's a new day

This weekend was a weekend of "firsts:"

First birthday as a mommy.
Verdict: both more and less awesome than as a non-mommy. More awesome--realizing that it's not all about me anymore. Less awesome--realizing that it's not all about me anymore.

First time trying formula.
Verdict: eh. He hated the first kind we tried (some eco brand from WF) but would reluctantly take the second kind (a totally conventional brand from Walgreens). He's still living high on the boob, but we just wanted to have a backup for our child-free mini-vacay in London.

First time sleeping through playgroup.
Verdict: playgroup is still fun even without the baby. Mr. Monk took a two and a half hour nap immediately after drinking a few ounces of formula, just as we were heading to our friend's house. Maybe its sedative properties are not overrated.

First joint party with Mr. Schneed.
Verdict: double your pleasure, double your fun. Not sure why we didn't think of this earlier, considering our birthdays are always three days apart. One of us got a wee bit drunker than the other. Guess which one?

First time feeding the baby pizza (first time at this yummy resto).
Verdict: let the sunshine in. He seriously could not have been more excited. Seems like he's ours after all.

First time feeding the baby gelatto (what? who has pizza without gelato?)
Verdict: even better than pizza! We only gave him a tiny bit, but he continued to lick the spoon for a good ten minutes after it was gone.

First time attending the SF Street Food Festival.
Verdict: would have been so much cooler if about 90% of the people there weren't. The lines were no less than 50 people deep. Our tummies made us leave and go here to have these. Our tummies were pleased with the decision.

First time using Pinterest.
Verdict: pinterrific! We are doing a little redecorating and this site is so perfect for stealing ideas from far more creative people.

First time pooping in the tub.
Verdict: hilarious but disgusting. He was very unhappy to leave the bath once he had gone and marked his territory. Definitely made me nervous for the glory days of potty training.

Happy World Breastfeeding Week!

Recently a pregnant friend of mine texted me, "my boobs just started leaking! Why didn't you tell me about this?" Ah, the glamorous life of a pregnant woman. While I didn't enjoy the pleasure of leaving circles on all my tops until after I gave birth, leaking some colostrum is just one of the many eccentricities of pregnancy. After all, you're growing a life inside of you for 9+ months. From scratch! Things are bound to get a little weird. I responded that at least now she knows the boobs are working and milk is a comin'.

In honor of the many friends of mine who are currently baking a baby, I decided to jot down a few things I never knew before I went and got knocked up:

Contraction (in)action--It's possible to have contractions for days on end and not be in labor. This happened to me. For weeks. Weeks! It's called Prodromal Labor and it pretty much sucks. It's a fairly common situation wherein you experience hours (or days, weeks) of regular contractions that are more painful and more consistent than your basic BH contractions. These contractions (which are sometimes known as the beginnings of early labor, or pre-labor) supposedly help prepare your body for active labor, so they aren’t totally in vain. Pretty much like a really long, annoying warm up routine.

Drip dry--Your amniotic fluid doesn't always "break" sometimes it's more like a slow leak. For me, it felt like I was peeing after I was done peeing. This was actually far more pleasant than having it gush out of me on an elevator (my biggest fear), but can be a bit scary as some women leak without even realizing it. Luckily, the amount of amniotic fluid can be measured by an ultrasound so the doctor will be able to determine if there is any danger.

Pee phobia--Speaking of peeing, going number one after giving birth is nearly as scary as pushing out the baby. A nurse, a squirt water bottle, a mess of blood and a giant maxi pad will be involved. At least you get softeners for going number 2. After the first time with each, the pain is (mostly) gone.

There will be blood--The bleeding, unfortunately, sticks around for a while. Some women experience lochia, post-partum shedding of all that extra blood, for up to six weeks. But, you don't have to wear the huge uncomfortable pads the whole time, as the bleeding gets lighter over time and may stop and start.

Sleep, baby, sleep--Once the baby starts gaining weight, you don't have to feed him/her every three hours. If you are lucky enough to have a good sleeper and a good eater, you may gaze lovingly your sleeping beauty but do not touch, poke, prod or otherwise wake the baby. And get yourself to sleep, stat. I was all set to get mine on a set feeding schedule (yeah, right) when I took him home from the hospital. That is, until the doctor at my first visit laughed at me and reminded me "never to wake a sleeping baby."

PP PD--Your period could start again while you are nursing. And, you CAN get pregnant while nursing full time even before your period starts. I've met a few too many babies less than 18 months apart to believe they were all on purpose. Your body will likely take a few months to regulate itself with all the hormonal changes so unless you want some Irish twins, use protection.

Get In My Belly--You will be hungrier and thirstier than ever before when breastfeeding. I never had any food cravings when pregnant (which actually freaked me out at times) but I couldn't get the food down my throat fast enough when I first started nursing my little vampire. Cookies, cakes, muffins, anything baked had to be consumed by the fistful. It calmed down after the first month or two, but I still need to drink almost a gallon of water per day. I am thirsty all the damn time. And, I pee all the damn time.

Hearing things--Some time after you get used to the sound of your baby's cry, you start hearing it. All. The. Time. This phantom cry was the freakiest thing for me in the first few weeks. I would hear him crying in my dreams, in the shower, sometimes even when I was out of the house. I guess it has something to do with being hypersensitive to the sound in case you need to rescue the baby from a massive blowout poop or an alien invasion.


But, of course, nothing can really prepare you for that magical moment when that baby is pushed, pulled or lifted into this world. Good luck, ladies, and remember to take the disposable underwear!

I still see this face all the time

Do Re Mi

You know what's fun? Waking up thinking that you have pink eye. You know what's even more fun? Breaking the coffee pot before you have a chance to make yourself some coffee and deal with your infected little eye. I know all about fun things today.

As it turns out (one trip to the eye doctor and $140 later), I do not have the pink eye. Hooray! I have a minor infection that is not contagious but is irritating, on many levels. The dr. flipped my eyelids inside out, which was a most peculiar feeling. It reminded me of the boys in my class who used to do that on a dare to freak the girls out. After she said that I shouldn't wear my contacts for two days, I told her how ugly I feel in my glasses. As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I looked up and realized that she was wearing glasses. Open mouth, insert foot.

Perhaps the infection is payback for staying out on Saturday night and getting home later than we promised the babysitter. The wedding was lovely--good friends, good music and good cupcakes. It was held on a ranch in far out Marin. As promised, I dragged along my handy dandy pump and did my business in a friend's car during the dinner course. There was a deer right outside the car, staring at me as I pumped. I wonder which one of us would have been a more startling sight to passers by.

The eye doctor also told me that I should go and buy some new makeup. Apparently, you really are supposed to replace mascara and eyeliners every three months. Sephora, here I come!



Thanks for not giving me pink eye, mom.

A Reprieve

So tomorrow we have a wedding to go to up in Marin. It should be sunny, warm and FUN. I know it will be fun because it'll be the single longest stretch I've ever been apart from Mr. Monk. A whole 10 hours! I can't even imagine what I'll do with the freedom. Somehow I think cocktails and dancing in large quantities will enter the picture.

I'm trying to figure out how to camouflage the fact that I have to bring my pump to this wedding. I've pumped on a plane, in a car, in a public restroom, but I think this might just top that. I have no idea where I'm going to pump since this is an outdoor wedding. Maybe they'll have the extra fancy porta potties for this sorta thing. Should I even bother bringing a cute clutch to match my strappy sandals when I have to lug my big black breast bag? It should set off my coral dress nicely. Speaking of the dress, I wonder if it's a bad idea to wear silk when I know I have to be dealing with potentially precarious milking sitch. Living on the edge, my friends.

Being out most of tomorrow should be good preparation for next week's bachelorette party when I will be away overnight (maybe even for two nights)! As excited as I am, I know I'll miss the way he grunts like he's carrying on a conversation, the way he twirls his hands like he's conducting a symphony and the way he smiles at me like I'm the most important person ever, which I am to him...for now. But, luckily for me, I get to spend the rest of my life enjoying this boy so a few days off will be good for both of us. My husband, shockingly, is less excited for my upcoming break. He doesn't seem totally scared, yet. What man doesn't want a weekend alone with an eight month old for Father's Day?

No (more) boob for you

In playgroup yesterday the other mommies and I let each other in on a deep, dark secret. We. Are. So. Over. Breastfeeding. At first we danced around it and then, sensing a unified front, we collectively admitted what a chore it’s become. Now that our kids are all about seven or eight months, it seems as though we might be on the downward slope. Here in San Francisco, not giving your baby nature’s most perfect food is even worse than buying a purebred dog, or owning more than one car, if you can imagine such horrors. Please note that my husband and I are guilty of both. It’s amazing our tax dollars are even accepted.

I had initially planned to BF for a year based on all the findings that kids who suck down the liquid gold for at least that are more likely to publish a novel by age 30, bring about world peace, and generally be better-looking and have more friends. Feeding the wee one is essentially my job during this non-working period of my life. If I don’t perform my primary task of motherhood, would I still be good mom? Why would I then be any better than a bottle-feeding nanny? Of course, I realize that I am more than my boobs, but surely they are the main reason that my babe loves me more than anything else on planet Earth right now (even more than paper and he loves him some paper to rip and eat).

Many people tout the convenience of breastfeeding. After all, you’re already toting those puppies around all day. But, it can be a bit annoying to navigate BF’ing in public, unless you’re one of those folks who truly don’t mind whipping it out anytime, anywhere. I can safely admit that, while I fully support a mama’s right to feed her youngin, I am just not coordinated enough to nurse while wandering the aisles at Whole Foods. Enter breast pump, stage right. Anyone who has ever come in contact with this contraption will agree that something’s just not right about fitting your girl parts into a machine that literally pulls the milk right out of them. If you’re giving your kid more than one bottle a day, you have to make up for those feedings by milking yourself. The worst is having to pump right before heading to sleep so that I don’t wake up completely engorged. While I say a prayer every night thanking my baby for sleeping straight through the night so I don’t have to wake up and feed him, having to fill the bottles is not my idea of a relaxing pre-sleep activity. In fact, I’m surprised I haven’t yet had nightmares about being sucked to death.

One of my main concerns with continuing to BF is that I’m starting to feel a little selfish about my girls. I want them back. And so does my husband. It’s hard to feel ownership over your body parts when they are being controlled by an 18 pound writhing, screaming little being. I’ve become very hostile toward my husband even looking at my breasts these days. I’m fairly certain he hasn’t touched them in the past year. Memories of enjoying the bosoms prior to being pregnant have been so repressed that I am beginning to wonder if they existed at all. People do have use for these things, right? Not to mention, I was already doing quite well filling out a bikini before, I didn’t need any help from the full ducts I’m now carrying around. I may be one of the few people looking forward to the promised decrease in size once nursing is done. Of course, with my luck I’ll get pregnant immediately after weaning and the fun will begin anew. It’s like I’ve donated my body to science.

Fret not, I will persevere and soldier on to fight the good fight (though I draw the line at biting). I know I will miss this special bonding time with my son and the ridiculous smiles he gives me like he can’t believe he gets to drink this stuff every day. Also, it is free. I never could pass up a bargain. I just hope he thanks me someday in his acceptance speech.