The Grand Finale

Thursday, September 29, 2011

I was a breastfeeding mother. And in the blink of an eye, I’m not anymore.

It’s weird to think that it’s over.

Nora and I have come to the end of our breastfeeding journey. It was 1 year, 2 weeks, and 1 day, and I breastfed her at least once every single day. I have never been apart from her for more than 24 hours. I was supposed to be, but
the flight got cancelled, and the way things have worked out since then—I just haven’t been away from her to ever miss an entire day.

I didn’t know how it would end until we were right there at the finish line. On Monday night, as I prepared to nurse Nora before bed, I realized that I would be away from her for bedtime on Tuesday because of a work function. And since she started refusing bottles completely at the beginning of September, there was no way to offer her the bedtime feeding like we would have (by bottle) in the past. I’m big on not taking steps back after making steps forward—so I knew that if she successfully went to bed without nursing on Tuesday, I probably wouldn’t bother to pick it back up on Wednesday. I was suddenly faced with the very real possibility that
this nursing session, the one I was minutes away from, was going to be our last.

Honestly, I’m OK with it. I didn’t cry, but I sat there and tried to take in as many of the details of it as possible. Her little lips positioned in the latch that I’m convinced has pretty much always been perfect. The way she sleepily, drunkly closes her eyes as she sucks. We are long past the days of her snuggling into me to nurse (she just lies there in my lap, with her head turned to the side), so I actually found myself reminiscing to earlier days, when nursing was more than just 5-10 minutes at bedtime.

I always planned to breastfeed. Truth be told, I think my mom would’ve killed me if I didn’t at least attempt it, but lucky for her (and me), I already had my own reasons for wanting to do so. Still, I went into it with realistic expectations; I knew that it did not work out for everyone, so every time someone asked me if I planned to breastfeed, I told them, “Yes, I’m going to try.” From the very beginning, I had lofty goals; I really wanted to make it at least six months, if not a full year. Aside from the bonding and health benefits, I was attracted to the money savings. My real goal was to never have to buy formula, as I’m too cheap to do so if I could feed her for free.

I forced myself to break the big goal into little pieces. Make it through the time in the hospital. Make it through the first week. Make it through the first three weeks (I had friends who swore that if you could make it that far, you’d be golden). Make it through maternity leave. Make it to six months. Make it to nine months. Make it to her first birthday.
When Nora was born, they didn’t give her a lot of time up on my belly/chest. I regret not asking why or insisting that they leave her there longer, but it all happened so fast and I was so new to the whole experience that I went with the flow. They whisked her over to the baby bed, and seemed to keep her there forever. They never expressed concern at the time, but I found out later that her breathing was faster than they liked, so maybe that was the reason. But once I was stitched up and cleaned up, they swaddled up Nora and brought her over to me to nurse. I was prepared for this part—I had even come to the hospital wearing a nursing bra. Nora’s hungry little mouth opened and the nurse helped me get her latched on for those precious first few minutes.

An hour or two later, I was in the darkness of the room where I would be staying. Because the hospital was so busy, I was actually in there with another mother and baby (
it was temporary)—a mother and baby who were already sleeping. As I got settled and the nurse left me—just me and my baby on one side of the curtain, while the second mother slept with her baby on the other—Nora suddenly started to scream. I panicked a little, not wanting to disturb our roommates. I figured she was hungry, so I did my best to get her latched on myself.

As it turns out, I did it completely wrong, because it hurt like hell, and my poor boobs took days to heal from that initial mistake.
When we were discharged a few days later, Nora suddenly decided she didn’t want to nurse anymore. It ended up that she was hungry and frustrated that my milk had not come in yet. Lucky for me, my milk came in full force that very same night, but I still could not convince Nora that nursing was worth her time and effort. It was a hell of a night, with my poor, crying baby starving, and me bawling because I thought she was rejecting me (hormones, y’all). The next day, with a trip to the pediatrician to meet with a nurse/lactation consultant, we were back on track.

We’ve never looked back.

I had a stellar breastfeeding experience. For the first 4-6 months, I had an oversupply which allowed me to not only completely satisfy Nora, but to build up quite the impressive freezer stash. I eventually worked my way up to somewhere around 400 oz. Our freezer was FULL of breast milk. Once I healed from that first solo feeding in the dark, I never had any pain. I never suffered from mastitis. I believe I had a clogged duct
once, but it cleared up within a day. I have a supportive workplace that provided a private “mommy suite” office where I could pump every day—the first month back, I pumped three times a day, but ultimately found that I could still match her intake (or even have excess) by dropping to two sessions. Nora had no problems switching back and forth between the breast and bottle. I used to look at her growth and think to myself, “MY BODY is doing that”—it’s an incredible feeling of accomplishment. I attribute the loss of all of my baby weight (and then some) to breastfeeding. I was able to wear my regular jeans again when Nora was just 11 days old. For the first time in my life, I found that I could eat whatever the hell I wanted without worrying, and THAT.IS.GLORIOUS.

I dropped pumping in August. Back in the day, I didn’t mind pumping. Then, over the weeks and months, I slowly grew to hate it. Breastfeeding Nora was not a chore, but pumping sure was. Once we were in the “home stretch” approaching her first birthday, I knew I still had enough of a freezer stash to get me through, so I dropped one session, and then the other.

Then, a few days after Nora’s birthday, I dropped the morning nursing session, but we were hanging on to the bedtime one. I knew I would stop, and that it would probably be soon, but I just wasn’t sure HOW I would stop. It was admittedly hard for me to pull the trigger.

And then the trigger was kinda-sorta pulled for me on Monday. It
made sense to stop. So we did.

There are advantages to being done. I don’t HAVE to feed her anymore. Michael (or anyone else) is just as capable of doing it as I am, because she drinks cow’s milk from a sippy cup, and finger foods from the tray of her high chair. I haven’t been drunk, or even experienced a strong buzz, in nearly two years. Pumping was so much work, and each drop of milk so precious, that I could not imagine “pumping and dumping.” I never wanted to. And now I could go and drink a whole bottle of wine without concern. Not that I would (often). Nora initiates early-morning wake-up calls, you know. My body is “mine” again for the first time since January 2010. No one is counting on it to grow a human being, or feed one.

Breastfeeding was wonderful. I plan to do it again some day. I will look back on it fondly. I will remember Nora’s tiny little body curled into mine. I’ll remember the feeling of her sleeping up against me in bed when we would doze off during middle of the night (side-lying) feedings. I’ll remember the months when she became more alert, and wanted to unlatch every five seconds to look at the world around her. I'll remember the way she used to grab onto one of her feet and do her "cheerleader stretches" while eating. I’ll remember her funny “acrobatic nursing” as she approached toddlerhood, when she would try to put herself in crazy positions while continuing to nurse.
I will remember.

It’s sad that it’s over, but mostly I’m just happy. Lucky. Grateful. Proud.

And in need of a good push-up bra.

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Neverending

Monday, September 26, 2011

It seems like our lives will never be "normal" again.

I think back to the days when all we had to do was a few chores in the evening. Make dinner. Do dishes. Wash and prep Nora's bottles, make our lunches for the next day. Maybe a few loads of laundry. Clean a bathroom. Then? Collapse on the couch with the laptop or the remote control. I had time to upload and sort through pictures. I had (some) time to blog.

Weekends were full of errands--some fun, some not. We had family dinners. We occasionally went out to eat. We spent plenty of time playing with Nora. Once she was in bed, we'd watch TV, or maybe rent a movie.

Life is just so much different right now.

I don't really mean to complain--I know how lucky we are to have a house, even if it is one that takes up so much time. And despite the imperfections and the amount of work it is requiring, I really do love it. I love having space. I love having a driveway, and a backyard. An actual dining room. Multiple bathrooms. It's just that I guess I thought that after five weeks of living here (six since closing), we would be able to sit back and enjoy it a bit more.

I never intended for us to end up with a fixer-upper. I knew that this place needed some work, but it all seemed so minor when we were looking at it. But it turned out that things that seemed small ended up being a bigger deal than we thought. And simple things take more time than we planned. The funny part is that compared to other houses we looked at, this place needed considerably less work. Can you imagine if we had ended up with one of the other ones? Good god.

Before Nora's birthday party, the pressure was enormous. My dad was coming to stay with us, and if we didn't get the upstairs in decent shape and prepared for new carpet--and then get the carpet installed--we couldn't get our new bedroom furniture delivered, and my dad would not have had any place to sleep. Plus, we invited like 50 people (we are crazy) to our baby's first birthday so we wanted the house to look at least somewhat decent.

During those first weeks, we worked ourselves ridiculously hard. There was no rest. During the week, we worked full-time jobs, came home with Nora, fed her, (briefly) played with her, bathed her, and put her to bed. Once she was down, we maybe ate something, and then we worked, worked, worked until we collapsed into bed at midnight. The next day, we'd do it all over again. Weekends consisted of multiple trips to Lowe's and Home Depot. My mother-in-law generously offered to take Nora for a few hours each day, so that we'd be able to get more work done. When we did have Nora, one of us took care of her while the other did some kind of project around the house. It was exhausting.

The week leading up to the party was crazy, but we did it. The carpet was installed on Thursday, my dad arrived on Friday, and our bedroom furniture came a few hours after he did. The party on Saturday was a success.

After all of that, you'd think we would give ourselves a little break.

You'd be wrong.

On Sunday morning (Nora's actual birthday, mind you), two of our (very handy and do-it-yourself-savvy) friends arrived at 10:00 a.m. I took Nora on a very hefty Home Depot run while Michael, our friends, and my dad ripped down nearly all of the drywall in our family room and started to replace it.

Two weeks later, we are still working on that damn drywall project in the family room. Last night, we went to put primer on the new walls and ceiling (finally!) only to be faced with a fairly significant setback.  :::sigh:::  Such is life.

Last week, I came down with something--extreme nausea and dizziness--so I was down for the count for five days. On the one hand, it totally sucked to feel like that, and to be so unproductive. On the other hand, OHMYGOD IT WAS SO NICE TO CATCH A BREAK. But as soon as I felt decent again (on Friday), I put myself back to work.

The past two weekends, we've slowed down a lot. We do our projects when Nora is napping or in bed for the night, but otherwise, we are trying to treat our weekends like normal weekends. Still, I just want to know when this is all going to be over. If you've moved into a house that had a lot of "projects"--how long was it until you were truly settled? (Please don't tell me never.) I know that "constant" home improvement projects come with the territory of homeownership, but this is just ridiculous.

The place is starting to feel like home, but like I said before--I just want to be able to enjoy it. Is it too much to ask?

On the bright side, Nora's room is nearly complete (finally) as we have been working on hanging things up on her walls. And we just finished the dining room this past weekend, so that's something. Photos to come soon. :)

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Birthday Bash

Thursday, September 22, 2011

Nearly two weeks later, and I am finally getting around to posting about Nora's big "1" birthday party. In short, it was a whirlwind. The preparation? Insane. The party? Chaos. But so much fun.

I had big dreams and plans for this party--after all, it's the only first birthday she'll ever have. We went big, inviting way more people than will be invited to her future birthdays. We figured it was an opportunity to celebrate our little one, but also to have everyone over to see our new house.

I just didn't count on our house being in such disarray.

I suppose we bit off a little more than we could chew when it came to house projects that could be complete in time. In the end, I had to throw a lot of party plans out the window, and had to accept that the house would look very much a work-in-progress.

I had visions of a picture-perfect party. Little areas set up for the kids and activities, lots of yummy (homemade!) food on display, a to-die-for sundae bar set-up that would look like perfection. The reality was that we threw chips and dip in a bowl, I pretty much left it up to the kids to entertain themselves, we ordered pizza, and the sundae bar was made up of store-bought ice cream (the horror!) and toppings that we almost lost altogether, then haphazardly set out at the last minute once we found them.

And did I mention that our home featured half-painted walls, walls that had been spackled (but not sanded) and walls that had been stripped of wallpaper, but not of 100% of the glue?

Yeah. But you know what? People seemed to enjoy themselves. My little girl was surrounded by people that love her, had her smash cake, and opened way more gifts than she really needed. And we had *perfect* weather.

I was up until 2:00 a.m. the night before, baking a cake and cupcakes and making frosting. The morning of the party, I had it in my head that it started at noon. It wasn't until Michael called me from his parents' house (where he was picking up tables and chairs), after he had seen their copy of the invitation, and said, "Did you know the party doesn't start until 1:00?"

No. No, I didn't know that. BUT HALLELUJAH THANK YOU BABY JESUS. I needed that extra hour like a desert needs rain.

I should note that we could not have pulled off this party without the help of our amazing family, who pitched in at the last minute to help decorate and set up and make sure that outlets were back in the receptacles and covers were screwed in so that little hands could not electrocute themselves. You know, all the little things. ;)

You get the picture. We ran ourselves ragged, had a lot of fun, then collapsed when it was all over. As I put Nora to bed that night (the night before her actual birthday), I just sobbed and sobbed. I still cannot really believe that my girl is already ONE!
The smash cake, as well as the cupcakes in ice cream cones for the guests
Not my best decorating job (hello, cake peeking through the frosting), but what can you do? I still loved the way it turned out, especially under such time constraints!
We put her monthly photos on display--only 11 of them, since it wasn't her birthday yet!
A cute birthday sign that we made (thanks to Tyler and Marie for cutting them all out for me at the last minute) with some free printables.

The birthday girl with her super cute birthday shirt (more on that later)



Love her.


The complete chaos that was our family room. It looked like a daycare in there.
Birthday girl eating some lunch
Our nephews and brother-in-law, running and enjoying themselves in our backyard
Nora's friends help her prepare to open gifts
She was into it for about 0.2 seconds. Then it was a struggle to get her to sit with me!
A cute little Leapfrog picnic basket (she actually got two of these, ha!)
I love the randomness that is Hunter in this photo. Why does he have a toothbrush and toothpaste?
Such a cute hat for winter. All she cared about was my cell phone.

Unveiling a toy box that my dad built for Nora
She wasn't too sure what to make of everyone singing to her. At least she didn't cry.
She went right for the cone!
My little ham.
The aftermath. I think it's safe to say she enjoyed it, don't you?

After a post-smash-cake bath, the majority of our guests left, so we went out to enjoy the backyard on such a beautiful late afternoon. 

Little birthday girl was on a sugar high (or just overtired), so she was GIDDY! Daddy was making her laugh here.
Family pics






Modeling her super cute birthday crown, made by her daycare provider


Look, it even had ribbons hanging down the back! There were a few more strands, but they accidentally got ripped off before this photo was taken. :( 

Birthday party = SUCCESS. We'll see what next year has in store!

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Little Fan

Monday, September 19, 2011

Well, now. The Buffalo Bills are off to a start that is quite different than last season (0-8). I'm not predicting playoffs or anything (their opponents have been the Chiefs and the Raiders, so you have to take it for what it's worth). Still, it has been much more entertaining so far this season (not that I've had time to really watch).

But at least we don't (yet) have to banish the Bills clothing to the back of the closet. Which is good, since Nora was given her very first Bills jersey for Valentine's Day, and is just now starting to actually fit into it--perfect timing, given the start of football season. She has donned it the past two Sundays, and hey--if they keep winning like this, it might just become a lucky ritual.

Yesterday. Her pigtails are so long now!
Last Sunday, season opener (also her birthday!). Enjoying her car that was a gift from her grammy. Mess of gifts/toys still in the background from her party (I still need to post pics!).
Go Bills!

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Smashed

Thursday, September 15, 2011

Not me. The baby.
Not liquor. CAKE.

We did a cake smash photo session a week or so before Nora's birthday, and I put together this collage to have on display at her party. I had never done one of these for a little girl before--it was fun to use PINK! :)

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Twelve Months Old = 1 YEAR!

Sunday, September 11, 2011

Dear Nora,

We did it. We made it through your first year. I say that like it was difficult, but it couldn’t have been easier, honestly. I’m sure I’m biased, but if there was a dictionary definition for “good baby,” I’m fairly certain your photo would appear next to it. We have been so lucky with you, and we know it—in fact, we’re a little nervous about giving you a sibling some day, because we’re afraid he or she will be payback! Or maybe you will give us a run for our money in your teen years. All parents have to pay their dues sometime, right? Yikes.

It’s not to say you are perfect. It’s important for you to know that nobody is! You have reached the start of temper tantrums. I was thinking that it’s early, but I’m told it’s normal toddler behavior. For the most part, you’re still an easy-going kid, but sometimes you just want things your way, and you are TICKED if they go differently.
Guess what else we did? We accomplished Mommy’s goal of one full year of breastfeeding. I can’t believe it! It was one of those things that I always hoped to do for you, but I always tried to take it day by day, week by week, month by month. I’m so happy that it worked out. I’ve been working on weaning you the last few weeks, and now we are officially down to two nursing sessions—one in the morning, one at bedtime. This week, we’ll drop the morning one, and then we’ll work on dropping the evening one as well.
To make things extra challenging, you have decided to start refusing the bottle completely. No matter what’s in it—breast milk, cow’s milk, water—you want nothing to do with it. So, you aren’t getting much milk at all right now. Your pediatrician says that we don’t need to worry, since you love yogurt and cheese, and have been eating more food. You sometimes take a lot of water out of a sippy cup at dinner—but generally you only like it if I take the “spill-proof” mechanism out of the lid. What can I say? You are particular about it.

You have started accepting some new finger foods. We’ve learned that if we want to get you to eat something new, we have to give it to you BEFORE we give you any of your favorites (like cheese, or banana). Apparently you will only eat new things if you think that your favorites are not an option!
Your little mind is starting to figure out a lot of things about the world around you. You try to put keys into the lock on the door. You put the (empty) syringe onto the top of the (closed) medicine bottle, then put it into your mouth like you’re taking a dose. You know that a spoon needs to be dipped into the bowl for food before you put it into your mouth. You try to put the lens cap back onto the camera (I’m not even kidding). It’s amazing, really. I love to sit back and observe, just to see what you’ll do next.
Although you still don’t have a lot of real words, you continue to belt out “Tessa” on a regular basis. You “talk” all of the time, but we just don’t really know what you’re saying. Sometimes, you’ll hold something out to us to take and we swear that you say, “Here!” You wave and say “Hiiii” and “Bye bye,” which has been a super cute developmental milestone this month. Your little voice is so adorable; I can’t wait to hear more of it. You have continued to give kisses—sometimes you even give unprompted ones, which never fails to melt my heart. You kiss others, too. Mary said you leaned over and gave your little friend, Amelia, a smooch one day. You also kiss your lovey or stuffed animals.
You have officially graduated from the Army crawl to being up on all fours. Last month, you did a combination of the two, and sometime this month, you decided that the Army crawl was no longer cool. You are standing with greater frequency. You have been letting go of your support and standing on your own for a few seconds before sitting back on your butt. You will be a late walker, but we don’t mind.
You are learning to communicate, even if it is not with words. You hold up books in the air and try to crawl into our laps when you want us to read to you. You reach out for objects and open and close your hand when you want us to give you something. You point with exuberance at things that excite you. I love seeing the world through your eyes.
You weigh 17 lbs., 14 oz. and you’re 28.75 inches long. It’s such a weird dichotomy—you are so small and baby-like, while also looking so big and toddler-ish. Sometimes I look at you and it just blows my mind. One year ago, you were this tiny bundle of squishy baby, who couldn’t focus her sight, and didn’t know her hands were attached to her body. And now you’re asserting more and more independence every day.

We had a big first birthday party for you yesterday. We had so many family and friends here to celebrate with you. We worked so hard to get the house ready, and although it wasn’t perfect, no one else knew that. We had incredible weather, and everyone had fun. You were loved by everyone here, and LOVED your cake—so that’s all that really matters, right?
As I put you to bed last night, I sobbed. I don’t even really know why, but I just sat and rocked you, staring at you and reflecting on how far we have come in just 365 days. I looked down at you nursing and it was so easy to take myself back to that hospital room last September 11, when I held and nursed you for the very first time. I could feel your tiny little body up against my bare belly. And now you are big and stretched out across my entire lap.
Last year at this time, I barely knew you. I studied the features of your face. I familiarized myself with your crazy, funny little monkey toes. I tested out kisses on different parts of your face, neck, hands, and feet to see which places worked best. Now, I know you like I know myself. I have lived and breathed you for an entire year.

It just happened so fast.
Ever since I was a little girl, I wanted to be a mommy. It is the one dream that was consistent throughout my entire life, and was always the most important to me. You made that dream come true. You ARE a dream come true. Every time I would try to picture myself with a child, every time I would try to imagine what my baby would be like—I never could have imagined a child as wonderful as you are.

Every night, I pray over you. That you will be kept safe and healthy. That you will live a long and joyful life. These things I will continue to wish for you, every day for the rest of my life. For the rest of your life. I thank God for the gift that you are.
It is a privilege to be your mommy. I can’t wait to continue watching you grow. As you do, I know that you’ll need me less and less, but I will always be here. I will hold your hand whenever you want me to. I will hold your hand as long as you let me.

And you will hold my heart.

I love you with every ounce of my being. Happy Birthday, sweet girl.

Love,
Mommy

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