Workin' It

Okay, so. I meant to write this post before it actually happened, but it's been over a month, oh well.

I am back at work. And it's kind of awesome, actually.

Everyone said it would be really hard, and you know? It's not. At all. I almost feel guilty about it not being hard. Almost. But not quite. I'm really happy to be back.

It helps that I was really ready to return. I was ready several weeks ago, actually. 18 weeks of maternity leave is quite a long time, and to be perfectly honest I was bored. My baby, while adorable and perfect and amazing, is a tiny dictator, and even though he is "good" (as if a baby could be bad) and not colicky or anything like that, he is very demanding and wants face-time attention at all times and only cat naps on my person, and damn if that's not draining. By the time Kyle would get home in the evening all I could say was TAKE THIS THING AWAY FROM ME! But, evening time is boob time, apparently, so no such luck. Anyway. Too much baby time for me. Not enough grownup time. And maybe it's stupid, but I was missing wearing clothing that I want to remain unsullied by baby vomit or doesn't necessarily allow access to my boobs at a moments notice and like, high heels! Sometimes, at least.

Maybe it's blasphemy, but I don't really miss him when I'm gone. When I pick him up at daycare or from Grandma sometimes all the missing him I should have been doing wells up the moment I see him and I get all misty, but during my actual workday I am fine. In fact, there have been n tears at all. I thought I would be a hot mess my first day back, and I wasn't. And I'm glad.

I was concerned about the breastfeeding thing, but so far that seems to be a non-issue. I'm able to pump enough while I'm away to cover his needs, and then some. I hate the actual pumping, but you do what you gotta do. And fortunately no one at work thinks it's a big deal either, since we share a single office, and I'm pumping (with a cover) in mixed company.

So work is good. We still haven't exactly mastered the home routine that goes along with two parents employed outside the home, so everything else is a hot mess, but work is good.

My very serious baby.

I have approximately five thousand posts up in my head that I need to type out, but babies, demanding, etc. Working on it.

Baby Fat

A year or so ago I signed up for weekly emails from Babycenter, because I was newly pregnant and excited and please, give me as much information as possible! They are kind of stupid and written to appeal to the masses, but who doesn't want to know what obscure vegetable her fetus most closely resembles this week? And apparently the emails continue after baby is born, letting you know what milestones he might be meeting this week. It's actually been nice, if sometimes a little lol, DUH, especially when a timely link to advice for travelling with an infant popped up. But this week's email just... I don't know:

3 questions about: Chubby babies

What if my baby looks fat? 

Obesity has become the health buzzword of the day. While it's unhealthy for anyone to carry too much fat, your baby's doctor is unlikely to be very worried if your baby is chubby. Some babies are born plump, others grow that way — but not because they have an unhealthy diet and don't exercise. It's because they haven't developed much muscle yet. This kind of baby fat isn't likely to stay with your child as she grows.

Should my baby go on a diet?

No. First, your baby's doctor will check to see whether your baby's weight and height are within the guidelines for her age. If she's too heavy, it's likely your doctor will simply watch to see how she grows. It's pretty rare for a doctor to be very concerned at this age, especially before solids have been added to a baby's diet.

Does this mean my baby will always have weight trouble?

No. A plump baby does not foreshadow an overweight teenager or adult. Many big babies slim down once they begin crawling and walking. They simply store their baby fat differently. As your baby grows, you can keep her fit and healthy by encouraging floor play. Feed her only when she's hungry, and avoid using a bottle to calm her when she's upset or stressed. Instead, offer her a toy or love and kisses.

WHAT THE FUCK?

I just... I don't even... REALLY?

Like many new moms, I worry. I worry quite a bit. Why is he crying? Could he be sick? Does he spit up too much? Is his poop the right color? Am I holding him wrong? Is my car seat installed correctly? Were those bitchy old ladies right about him needing a hat? Never has it even occurred to me that my baby might be too chubby. And my kid is the fucking poster child for chubby. Babies are supposed to be chubby. It makes me so sad and so angry to think that there are women that are already concerned that their babies are too fat. That this information seemed to Babycenter more important to us than the myriad other concerns a new mother might have. That we are so fucking afraid of fat that we worry about the health of a perfect, chubby baby.

I guess we can't even make it for four months in this society before we have to start worrying about our weight. And I find it very telling that they used "she" instead of "he" in this particular article. Fuck.




No cute baby pictures for this post. I will not sully my child's image with this bullshit.

Rollin'

Hey guess what!

I can roll over now!

No big!

Change

Motherhood changes things.

Today Kyle and I took Tycho out to lunch with us, and then on a trip to Babies 'R Us to pick up some essentials. We had planned to stop at Target on the way home, but at the last minute Kyle decided he didn't want to do anymore "chores" and took us home. So then I went out to Target by myself, sans baby. And chores it was not. I bought myself a chai latte and leisurely compared different varieties of socks. A mundane trip to Target is now my me time, apparently.

And then I come home to this.

The Boob Post

I suppose I should write a post about my experience with breastfeeding, since it's how I spend the majority of my time. In fact, it's what I'm doing right now.

I think I should start off by saying that I am so lucky. This has come easily for me. Tycho is 100% exclusively breastfed, with a bottle of expressed breast milk here and there, but mostly straight from the source. I say this, though, without arrogance, as I've seen my friends struggle with supply and latch and pain and babies that just aren't growing, and I am grateful I haven't been faced with those challenges. For us, this has been very easy, or at least as easy as being a 24-hour-a-day on-demand food source for a (not so) tiny cranky person can be.

Tycho is a grazer. (Like mother, like son.) He eats for short spurts, all the time. It's rare for him to go more than an hour without a snack. I can't say I blame him, as I prefer to eat in much the same way, but between keeping him sated and his diapers dry, I rarely have a stretch of time long enough to do the dishes, much less any more time-consuming chores. Especially since I prioritize showering and my own meals over vacuuming.   So things are crazy right now, and I'm not thrilled about that, but this is such a short time in our lives... Sometimes I do feel resentful that he wants to eat AGAIN, and why can't my husband start lactating and share this burden? But I try to take a deep breath and settle back and enjoy the quiet moment with my son. It's not always easy, and I'm not always successful, but when I can stop myself from trying to reach out beyond our little bubble nursing can be an amazing, beautiful perfection.

We have nursed pretty much everywhere. When babies are hungry, they are hungry, and I try to get out of the house at least three times a week, so Tycho comes with me, and he eats wherever we are. I've nursed him at restaurants, at parks, at the zoo, at family reunions, at the doctor, in the hospital. Airports, airplanes, grocery stores, shopping malls, a birthday party, yoga class, in bed, half asleep. In front of my sister, my parents, my in-laws, my boss, summer daycampers, little old ladies, teenage boys, both mine and my husbands entire extended families. I don't own a nursing cover. I've used a muslin blanket a couple of times when we're outside in direct sunlight, and not for any sense of modesty. (After giving birth, I have none.) And I haven't heard one word about my public display of my breasts, except my father-in-law commenting after the fact on how none of his family members seemed to care. I worried, as I'm not exactly the most discreet, nor do I have any intention of trying to be, but so far I've felt nothing short of complete acceptance and encouragement.

Body issues are common, I'm sure post-partum. In general, I feel pretty good about where I'm at. I can fit into some of my jeans again, however they do look a little different. But my chest challenges me. Back during my pregnancy I had very little breast development, and I was concerned that it would lead to challenges with milk supply later. But oh how wrong I was. Finally I went for a bra-fitting at a local hippie/breastfeeding/cloth diapering/baby wearing store, and wow. I went from a 32A pre-pregnancy, to a 34E. E wasn't even in my boob alphabet. I'm still kind of shocked, to be perfectly honest. So while I can shimmy into pre-baby bottoms, anything on top is just hopeless, as you can probably imagine. And even with cobbling together a new, bigger wardrobe, I find that the style I have cultivated for years simply doesn't flatter my new voluptuous body. Add to that the need to find clothes that allow for easy boob access, and I'm really struggling with my style right now. Considering my career in fashion retail, I find this particularly difficult. Even when I return to work, I still need to have access for pumping. But what I wouldn't give to be able to wear a boat neck dress!

Speaking of returning to work, I go back full time in a month. (I have more than enough thoughts on this for another whole blog post, so let's keep it to breastfeeding.) I'm committed to keeping Tycho on breast milk, for at least his whole first year, and I know that it might be difficult for both of us. We started trying  to introduce a bottle when he was around six weeks, and it's taken until quite recently for him to accept it without a fight. We make sure he has at least one bottle everyday, so that he maintains his bottle-feeding skills, but this is very frustrating for me, more of the milk I am pumping goes to these bottles instead of into my frozen stash. I had quite a bit stored, but before we left town I gave it all to a friend in need, so I've had to start all over again. I'm hoping to have at least 100oz frozen before I go back, and I think I'll get there without too much trouble. I am, though, concerned with being able to keep up with Tycho's demands pumping at work. I do pretty well with the pump, but at home I usually pump from one breast while the baby nurses from the other, and I get a much better letdown than I would by pumping solo. But I'm trying not to worry about it until I actually have a reason to, if at all.

So all in all, breastfeeding is going pretty spectacularly for us, and mostly I like doing it. It's so cool to look at Tycho and be able to say, "I made that."

Jet Set

Please excuse my absence, friends. We've been busy with travel. That's right, Tycho took his first airplane-type trip to meet his relatives in Ohio.

I stressed over this trip. I worried and ranted and ultimately researched my butt off on how to make things go smoothly. And on the way there, they did. I wore the baby through the airport. I was going to use the Ergo, since it's my everyday carrier, but at the last second decided to wear the Moby instead, since it seemed easier to sit in for long periods of time. (I packed the Ergo in my carry-on just in case, but ended up being happy with my choice.) We borrowed a Snap 'N Go stroller frame, popped in our car seat, and piled our luggage on top for easy airport navigation. I had to have some additional screening because I asked for my breast milk to be hand screened, but it was no big deal. We were able to gate-check our car seat and stroller, and we were seated in the very last row of the plane, for easy access to the lavatory for diaper changes. On the second leg of our trip our flight was only partially booked, so we were able to bring the car seat on board and give Tycho his own seat. I didn't specifically nurse him on take-off or landing, because he wasn't hungry during those times, but he didn't cry or fuss, and beyond the normal discomfort of sitting in a cramped airplane seat for hours on end, air travel was no big deal.

The trip itself was pretty lovely. The transition wasn't hard for Tycho at all; we co-slept at my in-laws just as we do at home, although he kept on his Seattle schedule, which made for some very late nights. But hey, vacation, we can sleep in. We left him with his Grandma and Grandpa a couple of evenings to go out with friends, and his first time(s) being babysat went as smoothly as you could imagine. And I didn't even stress out too much about it.

I think perhaps my favorite thing about the trip is this. We spent some time paging through old albums of baby pictures of Kyle and found something astonishing:

I seriously couldn't believe it. Everyone we showed it to thought it was a picture of Tycho at first. It really could be a picture of Tycho, if Tycho had a velour tracksuit. I need to procure him one. It's funny to me, because although it is obvious that he is his father's son, I really just see "Tycho" far more than I ever see either of us in him. But I am his mother and that is how it should be, I think.

The trip home was slightly more difficult, with delayed flights, rerouting, no layovers, many extra hours in the air, and Kyle and I being separated in middle seats in different rows. By the end of the second flight Tycho had had enough of sitting on my lap for hours on end with no time to stretch and wiggly and here I am sandwiched between two strange men with my boob out while my baby cries and spits up all over me. I'm still not completely over it, if you couldn't tell. But I supposed all's well that ends well, and we made it home in one piece, minus a little bit of a sleep regression, but that may be tied to some growth-spurting, too.


In other news, Tycho is three months old today. I can't believe how much he's grown, both physically (and how!) and developmentally. He is not at all the same baby we brought home from the birth center. He interacts with us now, he coos and shouts and grunts and he can stick his fists into his mouth and hold onto some of his toys and all of the sudden he miraculously will tolerate tummy time for more than three seconds. A couple of weeks ago this all really started to feel real and permanent for me. Before it just seemed like we were simply playing house, and sometime soon someone would come and take him back and things would go back to how they were before. But the new reality has solidified for me, and I truly feel like I am his mother, and always will be, and that is that. And that is nice.