Photo a Day May: Love – 15.

Today felt long and I am feeling spent and burnt.  Unfortunately capturing a photo of love may not have been at the forefront of my memory today. Fortunately it was the love of a little boy that helped guide me through the trickier moments.  It comes with the territory of being a parent, I think.  How can I be sad when my boy is looking at me with such concern, such empathy, and such… love?  Those eyes. Those words. Oh he was saying the most beautiful things and I could not help but to cradle him close.  Wowwee is he ever empathetic and caring. I mean, I knew that already, but you know.

So love.

It means so much and I am far too tired and in need of chill that I cannot expand the way I want to.  Do we all need a bit more of it in our lives? Um heck yeah.  It surely would not do any harm. But then why do we resist it, I will never know.

In case I need to further explain the photos, love to me is the cornerstone of exploration, trust and community.  Can I really stand on this toy case, and trust myself to do it? Why yes I can. I am safe and I have got this.  Love and let go, love and let go.  But its not what it sounds.  By letting go we love harder and deeper.  Oh so deeper.

And can I just say one thing? In regards to love? My son has helped me reach for it, seek it out, and express it more.  He has helped me to love and to know what that means.  Gosh.  What a gift.  He has taught me the importance of supports and community.  In parenting. In loving. In life, in anything really. We need each other and we need ourselves. And oh gee how I am so grateful to have a great lot of you.
It takes a darn village.

Photo a Day May: Fun – 4

Today just had to be a tie.  And it was almost tripled because I received some absolutely delicious looking flowers today at work.  Mother’s Day accidentally came early. No qualms here, but I figured the two chosen photos more captured the essence of fun than did flowers, as fun as flowers can be and are.

So I present to you, readership, one of the best ways to start the weekend off, eating a Thai meal with your loves and then frolicking in the outdoors.  Kind of perfect if you ask me.  And… fun.

Heal the soul, Feed the heart.

I am so sick and tired about blogging how I never blog.  I am sick of starting posts with “I’m back” or “so I took an unintentional break.”  It’s all the same junk, all the time.  I take breaks, they are unintentional.  I have mini-meltdowns, I forget about my blog, I get up on the uppity and sail through my life without so much as a thought about my main writing outlet.  How dare I ignore myself, because this blog really is just an extension of that?  I prevent myself from writing about anything substantial, aside from the fact that when I am gone that is substantial but most definitely not the most substantial moment that has occurred since the last time I wrote.  SIGH DOUBLE SIGH.

I am not sure if I have made a promise before, to myself and to my blog.  Probably?  Kinda feel like I’ve been there done that with every sort of “I VOW TO BLOG ALL THE TIME EVERY TIME” deal, but please don’t judge as I am about to make it again.

Aside from my mini-explanation two days ago, I haven’t blogged in nearly three months.  That is an eternity.  Imagine something you thoroughly enjoy, now axe it out of your life for three months and imagine the sorrow.  My heart is filled with it, and then part of my heart gets mad because I am the only one that can change that and I haven’t done that.

I feel like I am at a very transitional point in my life, and in all honesty, I think I always will be.  As human beings, I think we always are, because we always are growing and changing, even if we feel we are pretty stagnant.   The last five months have been an incredible adjustment, and they totally still are, and I am still adapting.  I think C is too, though seriously, I feel like he is just going with the flow and is mostly loving it.  The boy loves daycare.  He loves his friends.  He loves his daycare provider.  That really just tickles me pink, it truly does.  Mainly, I am happy he is happy.   Daycare is not a choice for us but a necessity, at this point in our lives anyway.  If we had a choice, we wouldn’t be utilizing it, or at least not on a full-time basis, I already know this much is true.  I am pretty certain I would be much happier, more fulfilled and satisfied, if I was a mama who did not work out of the home or at least not on a full-time basis.  It feels awful to write such a sentiment, but it is what I believe.  The tricky part of this is, because it is not really an option right now, is navigating it so I still feel thoroughly fulfilled, and that I am providing my family and myself with the very best me possible.  That part, I haven’t yet figured out.  What I do know, is my boy is growing way fast, and I know that part of what I need to do is to let go of my hangups around what I can’t have, and focus on trying to enjoy what I do have.  It’s the quality now, not the quantity.  Wise words from some wise women.

Back in January (!!!) I talked about the growth I have been encountering, the changes I have been making, and while they are mostly the same, there’s even more to add to it, and that warms my heart deeply.  I’m still on my handmade gift only path, and we’re heading into the middle of April.  It’s so fun, so satisfying, and it really nurtures and helps to fulfill my creative soul.  I have sewn turtles and flax magic bags, made no-sew fleece blankets, made miniature taggy blankets, along with various other goodies.  I am learning skills left right and centre and I absolutely love it.  I’ve got to gather up some more tricks for my bag of crafts, because I’m needing a dose of fresh crafty ideas in my life, but for now this is good.

Another huge development in my life is that I registered for the Doula Training course that is offered here.  I am beyond thrilled for this new step in my life and I have this feeling, I just know, that this is going to be a good thing.  I questioned myself slightly before I registered, mainly because I had to drop a bit of cash in order to take the course, but I know deep, deep down that I am meant to do this.  It is my passion through and through, for various reasons.  I thought I’d get the birth high, then it would dwindle, but oh no, ohhh noo it’s still there, stronger than ever.  I am not obsessed, I am passionate.  The gig starts April 26, and is ten weeks long, one night a week.  I imagine I will branch out in the blog-world to have a doula biz site up, but that’s for another day.

As of Saturday morning, I have temporarily deactivated my Facebook account.  It was a decision that I had to do.  The clincher for me, was the struggle I actually had with clicking ‘Deactivate.’  I couldn’t do it, well I mean – I obviously did, but I hummed and ha’ed for quite some time, days, before I went ahead and did it.  That experience alone reinforced to me that I was far too addicted to it.  It had taken a hold of my life, and gripped it with all of its psychotic Facebook intensity.  SO not cool.  The whole smart phone phenomenon made it even worse.  Honestly?  Do I need to check my Facebook ALL the time? Just ‘to check’?  Highly unlikely.  But even more than that, was the psychopathic tendencies of Facebook, that is, if Facebook was a person.  Stalkerish, right?  Creepy.  And I was a part of the game.  I couldn’t let go of certain Friends on my Friends list, because the fun would end.  And by fun I mean, the ability for me to poke my head in on their virtual life at any given time.  I get that we are in the 21st century and social networking is the way of the future, but when does it become social psychopathic tendencies and not social networking anymore?  Hmm.  The privacy settings are shady at best, and I just needed a break..  It is not okay when I feel my blood pressure rise, my cheeks become rosy, at the sight of some ridiculous, attention-seeking status update by someone I really don’t even care about. That is not okay.  Sure, there are plenty of things I like about Facebook.  I like the support that some of the communities provide, the ability to see photographs of family and friends in faraway lands, but for now, for me, there are other ways to have these needs met.  And quite honestly, I’d like to spend a little bit more time talking to the people I care about instead of creeping on some jerk-face who I really don’t.

I am no longer seeing the counsellor I mentioned in my second last post.  Not because of anything more than we  really weren’t getting anywhere that significant.  It was alright, and she helped to somewhat shed light on a few issues I was struggling with, but it was not entirely what I needed.  In hindsight, I am not even sure I know what I need.  We’re at that point, and I know it’s not a great point to be at, but it’s a starting point, and I know I am here, so I’ll roll with it.  And it’s nothing against psychologists, but that is not exactly what I am needing right now, I don’t believe.  So tomorrow the journey continues, and I will meet with a homeopathic doctor/social worker/counsellor in one.  She comes HIGHLY recommended and so I am quite anxious to have this experience.  I’ve got a couple of things I want to address, and I am also anticipating that she will guide the session and we will do some exploring.

As for my running shoes, they haven’t been laced up in way too long.  March came and went, and that is the hardest month of every year for me.  The winters are too long, and the spring lingers.  I love the first days of spring, but then let’s get this show on the road.  I am tired of cold mornings, and my cold appendages itch for warm skin.  The plan is to get out there and get running, again, because last summer when I learned that running was a total outlet for me, was one of the best summers ever, and I need that injection of wholeness, of light, and of endorphins, in my life, on a constant basis.  The issue right now is that I am feeling really unable to battle the brisk mornings, and so I’m anxiously awaiting the warm ones.  In time?

And without turning to ‘external’ sources of healing, I am mostly feeling very blessed, very privileged, to have this here family that I do.  My son provides me with an insane amount of beauty, life, and love, and I don’t even know how to say it properly.  He basically just blows my mind, over, and over, and over again.  Every little word he says, every thing he does.  He is the most beautiful soul, the most beautiful creature, the most beautiful beauty.  Yeesh.  so.much.love.  And thee baby-daddy, well aye, I get hung up on things, on complains, on this and that, but gosh darn, I am lucky.  Who ever thought I would be living in my small-but-its-cozy house, with a 17 month old, a 3 year old poochy, and a partner?  I am not sure I ever did, but oh boy, am I sure glad I do.

Happy Monday, friends, dream sweetly & sleep tightly.

Happy Hump Day!

What made your hump day happy?

• Going for a walk and having the beautiful array of coloured leaves crunching and swirling beneath my still sandal clad feet.
• Doing a load of diapers, and feeling the plush softness of freshly cleaned ones.
• Hanging out with good friends while eating pizza and watching TV.  So simple but yet so lovely.
• Coffee while playing on the floor with my most favourite boy of all.
• The cool, crisp air of an autumn evening, seeping into the home, freshening everything up.
• That same air creating just one more extra reason for necessary bedtime snuggles.  Reasons aren’t needed, but oh, you know.
• Establishing, at least a little bit, in my mind, what my 5-year plan (in terms of career, anyway) is… potentially… and realizing that it is very attainable.  Details to come at a later date.
• Watching my boy enjoy blueberries to the very greatest extent possible.  However, the diaper aftermath ain’t necessarily so fun.
• Constantly reflecting and recognizing the amazing individuals that I am able to surround in my life, hold close, and love with all my heart and all my soul.
• Knowing that there are only 2 more days of daily blogging left and I have reached my goal of September Blogathon.  This makes me feel so good and it has totally jump-started and re-fuelled my passion for wanting and needing to blog.

09/19/09.

Two years ago, I said these words to my main squeeze, at our wedding ceremony, along the river, surrounded by our loved ones.

Kyle, I love you because you have allowed me to be me and to constantly grow and learn.  I promise to always encourage and embrace opportunities for our relationship to continue to grow and flourish.

I love your calm and gentle soul and how you remain grounded and support me in doing this as well.  I vow to always strive for a calm spirit and to constantly focus on relaxing physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually. 

I love your ability to reassure me when the whole “relaxation” vow doesn’t always work out.  I promise to accept that love can be hard work and not to feel discouraged, but to use tough times as growth.

I love that you are always there.  Your hug, your kiss, your touch sometimes say more than your words can.  I vow to support you and root for you through any struggles and challenges that life presents. 

I love your genuine appreciation and love for your friends and family, including Lily.  I promise to nurture and fulfill our desire for creating a family and a home that is loving and patient. 

I love when our eyes meet from across the room and we can’t help but smile.  You know how they talk about “the look”?  Yup, you’ve still got it.  I vow to love, respect and embrace you now and forever, to always be by your side, through all of life’s joys and all of life’s troubles.

I love your brain.  It is beautiful, smart and bursting with endless knowledge.  I promise to always learn with and from you and to encourage you to do so as well.  

I love how you cheer for me in all that I do and I love how you push me to test my fears and take on new challenges.  I vow to do the same for you and I vow to continuously search for that “breath of fresh air” in life and in love. 

It feels surreal to be standing here with you, celebrating our lives and the deep and absolute love that we share for the last almost 6 years.  I cannot say this enough – I love you.  I’ve always felt that these words cannot completely capture the intense, emotional, physical and spiritual connection I feel with you.  You have enhanced my life and you have shown me that love is beautiful and kind.  I am so excited to be here with you and with our family and friends, sharing this moment.  I don’t know what tomorrow will bring us, but I do know that I will be with you, side by side.  Whether we laugh or cry, or just “be”, I am entirely confident that we can take on anything.  Thank you for loving me, learning with me and being with me.  I love you, I respect you, and I’m privileged and blessed to have you in my life always. 

Fast forward 2 years, a baby, and you know what?  I feel these words even greater.

Happy 2nd Anniversary, Kyle.  I can only say, that I feel so lucky.  Thank you for gifting me with an amazing and beautiful child.  Thank you for embracing and support my journey into and through motherhood.  Thank you.

C25K: Week 9 Day 1

We’re in the final stretch now and it feels OH. SO. GOOD.

I’ve been saying and thinking “I’m doing this! I’m doing this!” all along, and pretty soon I can say “I DID IT!” and do you know how friggin’ good that feels?  Conquering a fear, something I told myself I couldn’t do, and instead, went on to prove myself, and I’m sure many other naysayers wrong?  Shit yeah!  I belong in some kind of new club or something now.  I feel like when I see people running, and I’m just out for a leisurely walk, I want to yell out, “I can do that too!  I’m just not doing it right now.”  

I did my first run of the last week on a treadmill, because by the time I got my butt in gear to go, it was way too flippin’ hot and I didn’t want to battle heat exhaustion like last time I decided it was an amazing idea to git’er done in the sun.  I don’t know my exact distance, because the treadmill kept turning off whenever I’d switch the fan on, but I THINK it was almost 3 miles, which is aaaaaaaawesome for me, best yet.  There was a time where I had the speed set to 5.5 mph!  But my average was about 5.0 mph, which is still a huge step.  The only other time I ran on a treadmill, I was running at about 4.3 mph, and that was week 6 day 3 I think?  We’re making headway, oh yes we are.

My weight loss is at about 10 lbs, I think I’ve posted that before, but even more awesome is my energy level has increased and I am very aware of that.  My clothes are fitting looser, and I feel like I “take up less space” than I did before.  I am learning to love my body again, but we’ve still got some work to do.  I went through a nasty phase when I was a few months post-partum.  It was hard and difficult and… interesting, because I had worked so long to come to a sort of peace with my body and its “imperfections.”  So when my mind came crashing down and tried to tell me to hate on myself, I sort of listened to it at times, and we were not in a happy place as much as we should’ve been.  But we’re getting there!  We’re working on it, and there are so many contributing factors, including… my happy pills (Vitamin D and Omega 3′s), sunshine, exercise, well-balanced diet and treating myself one day a week, and most of all, my fricken’ awesome little family and life I’ve got going on here.  I’ve got to do a lot of reminders, daily almost, because I see things I don’t have but desperately want, and then I start to feel like a little kid and am sad that I can’t have such and such.  That’s when I have to take a tiny little step out of my mind, look at what I’ve got, as cliche as maybe it sounds, and re-evaluate.  We do that a lot lately.

I’m trying to think of a way to treat myself after I finish this program.  One thing I am doing is going out with a couple of my besties on Thursday.  I don’t do it very often so that will be a huge treat, however, I’d like to personally reward myself with something.  It’s hard when money is tight, so it can’t be anything too extravagant, and I don’t necessarily want it to be something food-related either.   Anyone have any ideas?   I’d love to buy myself a brand spankin’ new pair of awesome, pro-fitted runners, because I know that I need them to avoid potential injury, but I’d be looking at about a hundred dollar bill there.  We’ll see.  I haven’t bought myself new running shoes for about… 3 years, so, yeah, it’s probably really bad that I’m running in these ones, but they are in decent shape.  Still though, I need to get in on the shoe market SOON before I smash my feet all up.  So throw your ideas at me and we’ll see what we can do.

Oh and totally not C25K related, but I’m taking on a little project and I’m having a lot of fun with it.   I’m now an Admin on the Facebook page for The Birthing Site.  It’s awesome, informative, and fun.  I love to support amazing people as they go through an amazing stage in their life, and I am learning a lot.  You should come check it out.  You don’t have to agree with all of the articles posted, or links, or what have you.  We are welcoming of ALL birthing experiences, not just “natural”.  The main thing is we encourage woman to be educated about what ALL of their options may be, so they can make the right choice for THEM, which may not be the right choice for anyone else, but that’s not the important thing.  Come and say hello!

A Story of Blessings, a Baby, and Breasts.

 

 

*EDIT: I forgot to add this within the story, and I just want to make a note that I did have blood work done in November when I was first struggling with low supply.  Nothing of concern was noted.  I also had more blood work (hormonal levels and thyroid) checked in March at my annual physical, and again, no concern.  I do realize this does not MEAN there are no physiological reasons, but these were explored and so that is why I am at such a loss!  Thank you for reading – I am overwhelmed with the response to this post, and I feel SO honoured to hear so many stories from amazing mamas.  <3 

When I was pregnant, one of the biggest themes present in my crazy, extremely vivid pregnancy-style dreams was that of breastfeeding.  My baby, in my dreams, was faceless, but beautiful.  I didn’t know if my baby was a boy or girl, because we had decided not to find out, let nature run it’s course, and find out when I gave birth to our child.  In my dreams, it was the same, I didn’t know if it was a boy or if it was a girl, and sometimes, it was a boy, and sometimes, it was a girl.  But for the most part, when I would dream about my baby, my baby was simply that – a baby.  But MY baby, a beautiful tiny little being, full of life, love, and full of dreams.

Just like I was.  I frequently had dreams about my unborn baby, and I would always wake up and tell Kyle what happened that previous night in dreamland.  Most of the time, it was nothing new.  Most of the time, it was simply that I was holding my baby, rocking my baby to sleep, and breastfeeding my baby in my arms.  Simple, right?

Throughout my pregnancy, and for any of you that have been pregnant I’m sure you can relate, one of the hot topics is how you are going to feed your baby, except it is not asked in such a way, it is asked of you if you are going to breastfeed.  It’s just one of those natural things, right?  Right.  I had done a lot of reading about pregnancy, birthing, and breastfeeding (however, not NEAR as much as I do now, the birth junkie that I am) and so I felt like I had a good handle on it.  I was not fearful of the labour or birthing process, in fact, I was looking forward to it.  I was amazed that my body was going to take over, with the aid of my brain and my baby, and we were going to do something miraculous, yet totally normal and happens all the time.

For the 9ish months that I was pregnant, I was waiting for my breasts to change.  I was waiting for them to get ginormous, to say the least, and it never happened.  I knew that this didn’t always happen, but I never really experienced much in the way of breast changes.  The only time I remember any pregnancy symptom that was breast-related, was in the summertime, being in the hot sun and going for dunks in the lake, and having the sorest most tender nipples EVER.  It was uncomfortable but secretly I was cheering inside because I had always wondered up to that point what was up with the lack of boobie changes?  On more than one occasion, did I wonder out loud if I would have issues with not being able to produce milk for my child because my breasts were not showing any evidence of this whole pregnant deal.

Cade was born on November 3 at 8:08pm and as most of you know, it was the most beautiful and transformative experience of my life.  Cade was born and I was born as a mother.  Just like that.  It still blows my mind, really.  He was immediately placed on my chest for me to introduce myself (though he had known me all along) and love all up.  I was in a state of complete bliss, and perhaps a slight amount of shock, but most of all, I was ecstatic and beside myself.  I couldn’t believe it.  ”Oh my god, Oh my god!  I can’t believe this!  I can’t believe you are mine!  You are so cute!  Oh my god!  You are so beautiful!  I love you so much!”  I wish, to this day, that the moment that Cade was born was video’d, because it was incredible.  And not only that, but my declaration of love was, am I allowed to do this, flippin’ AWESOME.  I was over the moon for this little being!

And while I was beside myself, blissed right out, it did not cross my mind at that moment to breastfeed my son.  I don’t know if it crossed anyone’s mind, because it didn’t happen right then and there.  I wonder to this day if it would have made a difference, and I don’t THINK it would have, but I’m a sucker for not knowing.  I held my son for quite awhile, and Kyle and I gushed over him like mad.  I don’t remember timelines exactly, I don’t remember when he was taken to the warmer, Kyle right beside him for the whole time, and I don’t remember when they wrapped him all up, but I know that we had skin-to-skin for awhile.  I have tried not to have any regrets about this moment, because I know in my right, rational mind, there is nothing I can do differently about it, and having regrets is unhealthy.  So I don’t regret it, but I use it as a learning tool.  I would loved to have delayed everything, the “cleaning” of my son (rub that goodness right in!), the weighing, you name it, and I would’ve wanted us to attempt the breast crawl right off the bat, to initiate eye contact and bonding in such a way.

It wasn’t until we were up on post-partum, after I had showered and cleaned up, and after Cade had been wrapped in blankets, warmed right up, and had a bath, did we attempt breastfeeding.  He knew exactly what to do.  I remember the nurse that was helping me, bless her heart, said “look, wow, he knows exactly how to do this, he is a pro.”  I believed her and we went on with our night, as rough as it was.  Cade cried most of the night, despite frequent attempted feedings, cuddles, and skin-to-skin.   Kyle and I were both exhausted, and I broke down at one point because I “didn’t know what to do and I was so tired” and the nurse swaddled Cade up tightly, rocked him a bit, and handed him back to me.  It was not until 6am that he finally got some sleep, and so did I.

I always say that the beginning of motherhood is so insane.  You start off after going hours, days without sleep, and then you are thrown into a whole new wild world of breastfeeding, caring for a baby, and trying to heal, physically and emotionally from everything that just took place.  That’s exactly where I was at.  I could barely lie in bed without my perineum aching, and not only that, but I couldn’t pee due to the epidural/IV combo I had been infused with.  Toss in sore and cracked nipples into the mix and I’m spent.

The next day I remember being a bit calmer.  I would frequently breastfeed Cade, and I felt that things were going well.  I was in a sleep-deprivation induced haze, but was over the moon and in love with everything.  The tears poured out of my eyes over any and everything.  I was tired, so I cried.  I was in love with Kyle as a father, and so I cried again.   I remember the nurses in the hospital telling me to rest up that day, as baby’s second night of life was usually chaotic and they wanted to be up eating all the time.  I felt somewhat prepared, but that didn’t really happen.  That night, actually went off without much of a hitch.  Cade would wake up every 1.5-2 hours to feed, and would then go back to sleep.  Kyle and I woke up feeling somewhat refreshed, but still extremely exhausted.  Mostly, we were excited to be taking our little boy home, as that was the plan.  They tested his bili levels and they were fine, he was not jaundiced, and so we were able to go home.  That morning, I remember asking a nurse for the help of a lactation consultant, to ensure that everything really WAS going well and that we were latching.  The nurse basically denied me this request, saying that the LC’s were usually reserved for individuals who were struggling and having breastfeeding issues.  At the time, I accepted this, especially because she told me she had a passion for breastfeeding and offered to help me out.  I thought this was fine and dandy, and she really WAS of great assistance and showed me different positions to ease my achy nipples, however, looking back, I do think this was wrong.  I should have not have been denied the support of a LC by any means, and while I don’t think this affected our journey at all, I just think it’s unfortunate.

So homeward bound we were, and we couldn’t be happier.  I was on a strict regiment of having 2 baths a day, and to feed my son on demand, which I would do anyway.  The thought of using formula never crossed my mind.  I thought things were going quite delightful actually, until that night.  The sun went down and the evening reared its ugly head.  Cade turned into a nightmare, and in turn, so did his mama.  I must say, thank goodness for the best father ever, because he really was our rock at this time.  I’m sure there were times where he wondered who he should comfort first, though obviously that answer is pretty clear-cut.  Cade screamed.  All.  Bloody.  Night.  Despite constantly nursing him.  Despite endless cuddles and swaddling.  We swaddled him with an additional blanket.  It was shortly after that that he stopped crying and slept.  That was around 7am.  And I must say, we were pretty proud of ourselves.  Oh, so THAT was it. He was just cold, well DUH!

But it wasn’t just temperature regulation that was the issue, oh no, because he lost his mind the next night too.  And I felt oh so bad for this poor little boy.  What an entrance to this thing called life.  He screamed.  He screamed some more.  He cried.  He yelled.  He wailed.  I cried.  Kyle rocked and swaddled and patted and rocked and cuddled.  I think it was about 8am that Cade finally crashed for a couple hours.  Kyle and I were absolutely zonked.  I knew in my heart that something wasn’t right, and Cade looked a little on the yellow jaundicey side of things, and so I called the Healthy & Home nurses and demanded that they come for a home visit that day.

It pains me so hard, it breaks me into pieces, and it hurts my heart to think what COULD have happened if the nurses didn’t come that day, if something wouldn’t have told Kyle and I that we NEEDED to seek out support immediately.  I was starving my boy and I didn’t even know it.  Except, I did.  I knew something was wrong, and it was only after 2 nights of solid screaming did I wonder if perhaps he wasn’t getting enough to eat?

I was in tears on the phone with the nurse.  They sensed my urgency and they came over within an hour and a half.  They weighed my poor, sad, hungry little boy, and he had lost a pound of his body weight, which totalled 13 % which is a major red flag.  He hadn’t pooped in a couple days, and I really don’t remember his wet diaper count, but it wasn’t good.  I know that some major lactivists might say I was booby trapped after I say this next point – and maybe I was and maybe I wasn’t – what I DO know is my boy HAD to eat and he was a completely different baby after we fed him formula.  The nurses with Healthy & Home are lactation consultants as well, and Cindy, oh dear Cindy, was a kind, compassionate soul.  She understood my deep desire, my need, to breastfeed my son, and she understood my need to nurture him, with love and with nutrition, and she understood that he HAD TO EAT.  This was not an option, and I was not producing enough for my poor, sweet boy.  When we came to this conclusion, I was heartbroken.  I burst into tears, I had a million questions, and Cindy was amazing.  I swear, I should’ve sent her flowers.  I don’t know if it’s because she was the first nurse we encountered after going home or what, but she is the only LC’s name that I remember, and there were I think 5 different LC’s that visited us at home within a few days, to check on Cade’s bili levels and to provide breastfeeding support.  (Actually, this is an aside, but I think I am going to contact Cindy and let her know how much I appreciated her. )

Cindy basically demanded that we had to get some calories into this boy asap.  She asked if we had some on hand, and sure enough, WE DID (go on lactivists, attack me for not tossing out the free formula samples).  I saved everything we got in the mail, why?  I don’t know.  I remember thinking when I got the formula samples “oh, well, I’ll never need these, in the closet they go.”  I showed her the only bottle we had on hand (also a free sample), and she encouraged us to try the Supplemental Nursing System if we wanted to continue breastfeeding as well as getting formulas into our boy at the same time.  I remember the method seeming petty and confusing, and WORK.  But we agreed to try it out, and she showed Kyle and I how to team up and make it work.  It was complicating and stressful and just thinking about it gives me a lump in my throat.  Basically, we would fill a syringe with formula, attach a tiny sterile tube to the syringe, and then place the tube alongside my nipple as Cade latched on.  We were still trying to perfect the latch, so adding an extra step in caused much grief, but we did it.  For nearly 4 weeks, every feed, we would use this tiny little tube and place it as Cade latched, so that he would still nurse and hopefully stimulate my breasts to provide milk and increase my supply, but that he would still get substantial calories as well.  I remember feeling increasing anxiety as it came time for Kyle to go back to work, because how the hell was I supposed to do this on my own?  It took my tears, many tries, until we figured out a system that (sort of) worked.  When the tears got to be too much, I would just use my finger and feed the tube along my finger to feed Cade, after breastfeeding him.  I was scared of the bottle and we avoided it for as long as I could stand to.

After going in to the Breastfeeding clinic to meet with an LC there, Cade’s suck was evaluated and determined to be great.  The LC checked out his slight tongue tie, and also determined it to be very slight.  Our doctor has said the same.  This is still something to this day I wonder about.  Everyone has said it would not affect breastfeeding because it’s so slight and far back, but I am skeptical, if only because I am searching desperately for answers.  At one point when we met with the LC, I was breastfeeding Cade, and the LC was doing hardcore breast compressions to attempt to get the milk flowing.  And it still didn’t flow.  It just would NOT flow, stubborn supply.  The plan was to rent an electric hospital grade pump and attempt to pump after every feed for approximately 10 minutes per side (or all at once if using a double pump).  Needless to say, this was exhausting, but we did it.  The pump became my worst enemy.  I felt overwhelmed and intimidated by the pump.  We were not friends and I don’t believe this helped to increase my milk supply either.  I began to despise the pump, everything about it.  I hated washing out the pump parts a million times a day, I hated sitting there with the flanges on my breasts, making the “werr, werrrrrr” noise with every suction.  I hated anxiously watching the bottles that would catch the pumped milk, waiting to see a bottle at least half full.  I hated seeing next to no milk come out of my pumped breasts, my breasts that were so desperate to be full.  I’m sure one day I will regret it, but I wanted to experience hard, aching, full of milk boobies.  I felt envy and jealousy when my friends would have to slip in a breast pad because they were leaking.  I wanted to leak.  Shit, let me leak all over my shirt, let’s soak it up.  It never happened.

I attempted to take Fenugreek and Blessed Thistle, two supposed galactagogues, but the only thing they did was give my body a sweet and spicy odour.  I took these in combination with Domperidone, a prescribed medication used to treat stomach issues with the sometimes fortunate side effect of inducing lactation.  Again, I’m not sure it did much, though I did take it for about 6 months.  After 4 weeks of feeling in my heart that I tried everything I could to increase my supply, but to see really no improvements, I retired the SNS and revamped our routine to 1) Breastfeed Cade for as long as he would latch and suckle 2) Give him a bottle with formula to top him off.  This worked and I felt like a huge amount of pressure was eased off of me.  The SNS created stress and I began to cry at almost every feed.  Was it worth it?  Was Cade benefiting from a depressed and completely worn-down mother?  Eventually, I returned the pump.  I held onto it for a very long time, because I couldn’t bring myself to take it back for fear that it was signalling I had given up.  I hadn’t used it in days, and it was sitting there, taking up space, it was almost daunting in a way.  I returned it, and I felt a twinge of sadness, until I realized why I was returning it.

It took me a long time to realize what our feeding routine was doing to my son, and to myself.   I was completely worn out, I was stressed, and I was depressed.  I had begun to question if I really did everything I could, surely I missed something, right?  But when I realized that I did everything I could, and when I realized that it was worth it for our feeding routine to change, was when I felt a complete let-go of the stress that had been bogging me down.  I felt this within myself, and I noticed a change in my son at feeding.  He took to the bottle like a champ, and he took to the breast like a champ.  There were no issues with him going from breast to bottle and back.  Was it so important to me to not use a bottle because it might mean failure, even when it might have meant not so pleasant things for my son?  He truly thrived when I was happy, and I didn’t realize that in the moment until we had decided to change our routine, for everyone’s sake, but mostly Cade’s and my own.   Cade needed me, he needed his mother, to be happy, and to be content, and to feel GOOD about the time spent feeding him.  I was not feeling good about this, and what was this doing to him?  Did I want to transfer so much negative energy to a sweet little baby?  Of course I didn’t, so why I was doing that for so long, I don’t know.   I have determination and I have perseverance, and because I knew in my heart that that was one of the best things I could do for my son, was breastfeed him.

This was what factored into my decision to keep at it for so long.  I understand that everyone has a choice to make, and that choice is truly their own.  I respect each woman’s choice, and I do believe that decisions are made for a reason, based on past experiences, life issues, and the like.  The choice that I made, that we made, as a family, was for me to continue to breastfeed Cade for as long as we could sustain it.  Even if it was a teaspoon of milk he was getting from me.  Even if it was a drop.  We had become pros at breastfeeding, and it was part of our routine, so we kept on keeping on.  Gradually, he started to get more formula and less breastmilk, though there were times where he would breastfeed and did not want to take a bottle after that.  Those times?  I felt happy.  I felt good.  I felt like that was a huge success for us, and it was sort of a gift, a karmic gift, after the breastfeeding struggles we had endured.

We kept on with this routine until Cade was about 8 months old.  Eventually, it had turned to where he would only breastfeed in the morning when he first woke up, before having a bottle, or in the middle of the night when he would wake up to eat, while waiting for the bottle to warm up.  He got to an age where he got so distracted, and nursing was not on the top of his priority list, and so we went with it, and we excelled at that for awhile too.  Around 8 months old, he lost his interest in nursing, and it sort of happened gradually, which I am thankful for.  I remember thinking that I had to prepare myself for the end of this rocky journey that we had had, but because it just dwindled off, I am just now mourning the conclusion of it, pouring it all out there.
Truthfully?  I feel okay with how things went.  I had to come to terms with it, and I still have many what if’s that cross my mind, sometimes on a daily basis, but not as much anymore.  Do I wish that things would have went differently?  I do.  But I have learned so much based how things did go, and they went according to the agenda in which they needed to go.  Not only have I learned an insane amount about breastfeeding, pregnancy, birthing, and how the birthing process can affect breastfeeding, I have learned even more about my son and myself.  My son is patient and determined.  He possesses these traits like no other, and while some might argue that I can’t determine that since he’s so young, I CAN and I know that he will fight for what he wants, and if he wants it, he will get it.  I feel like at such a young age, only 8 months, he already knows exactly what he wants and how to go for it.  When my son is old enough to understand, I want to talk to him about our journey, and I want to thank him for being patient with me as I learned, and for helping me to learn.  He taught me the gift of patience and perseverance.  He taught me to believe in myself, and to be strong when times were tough.  And really, by simply being born, he has encouraged me to conquer my fears, to take on anything.

Still to this day, I don’t know why we were not able to exclusively breastfeed.  I don’t want to say that we weren’t successful at breastfeeding, because the way success is measured can be so trivial.  We were successful in ways that we had to be.  Was it the tongue tie?  Is it because I was induced and my body just wasn’t ready?  Was it the epidural and intense infusion of IV fluids?  Did the pitocin have something to do with it?  Should we have done skin-to-skin sooner and commenced the breastfeeding journey right then and there?  Do I have insufficient glandular tissue, a physiological condition that can prevent a sufficient supply of milk?  There were times where I wanted to be more successful, and around 6 months old I seriously considered attempting the process of ‘relactating’, but aptly decided that I would be doing more damage than good by taking on that.  That’s just a whole other ball game.

Just like any other mama who breastfed once but is no longer, I miss the feeling of my beautiful little angel’s tiny hands on my chest, resting on my breast, as he nursed and looked at me, or nursed and got so comfy he dozed off.  I miss being skin-to-skin and having his warm and so very soft tummy pressing against my own.  I miss his little “hmm” noises he would make when he was latched on.  I miss the feeling of nutritionally nurturing him, knowing I am providing him with the antibodies that he needs and his body desires.

I had many moments where I felt extreme amounts of guilt.  I didn’t want to feed him in public, because pulling out that bottle meant that I had failed breastfeeding, and so obviously I had failed as a mother, right?  WRONG.  I learned that breastfeeding did not equal perfection, nor did it equal motherhood.  Was it a huge component of motherhood?  Yes it was, but it was not the be all and it was not the end all.  In the end, I was doing for my son what I needed to do for him.  We learned along the way.  I’m hoping with future babies (probably only just 1 ;) that breastfeeding will work out, and that I will be able to use the tools that Cade taught me, in order to be “successful.”  But that’s for another time, and for now, this is where we’re at.

But most importantly, I am proud of where we were and where we have come.  I feel blessed that we were given an obstacle, a hurdle, and we flew right over it, with a little bit of turbulence along the way.  I know that my experiences might seem trivial compared to other’s, but the fact is, this is our story, and it does matter.  Our story might help others, but most of all, it has helped us.  It will make us better people, more empathetic, stronger individuals.  I feel like I have a surge of compassion that has been injected in me because of it.  I feel better able to understand other’s experiences with breastfeeding.  I never realized the emotional intensity of a breastfeeding journey and all that goes along with it.  I now do, and I think that that is beautiful and such an important part of the life that I want to lead.   My boy is thriving and I am happy and as healthy as I’ve ever been.  We work as a team, and this was only the very start of it.  We are in for a very wonderful, a very fulfilling, and a very triumphant ride.

Why I Refuse to Join the Mom Bashing Club.

Besides the fact that it is ridiculous, juvenile, and basically just mean, it goes against everything that new parents need first and foremost, a strong support system.  I am a lover of all things pregnancy, birthing, breastfeeding and parenting blogs, and I love the communities that have been created as a result of these blogs bringing women from all the world, all different situations, together. And before I go out on a tangent, a bit of a rant, I should preface myself by saying that there are several possible reasons for why I am about to say what I am going to say: 1) I am mighty sensitive (to language, and sometimes, to life) 2) Everyone thinks they have all the answers and are doing things the best and right away (I suppose there is nothing inherently wrong about this, however, can we still not at least be like, “dude, you do things hella different than me, but know what?  I’ve got your back” 3) Mom guilt sets in and makes you rethink every decision you have made, every interaction you have had with your child (maybe not every single one, but a lot of them, mom guilt is the worst, GUILT is the worst in general, let’s ditch it, all together now, 1, 2, 3, NO MORE GUILT) 4) People are just mean and/or insensitive and there is nothing more to it.

As I so bravely confessed on Facebook last night, I have an addiction to reading blogs about birth, parenting, cloth diapers, breastfeeding… you name it.  Not only that, but I am a junkie for talking about and learning about all things birth and babies.  I want to take in as much information as possible, and because of that, I am often subjected to a lot of information that is counter-productive to what I am seeking out, which is support and community.  I guess thems the breaks right?  Can’t have it all, can’t have it all.  I hate when I stumble across some super strong one way article or post, one that proclaims to be the be all end all to one particular subject.  This was even worse when I was 4 weeks postpartum and ridiculously hypersensitive to everything I read.  But now, it just makes me mad.  And sometimes sad – I’m not going to lie, while I do consider myself a confident person, and fairly self-aware and strong in my values and belief systems, and can feel good about that, sometimes people make me doubt myself, and sometimes people make me feel sad.  OMG!  Human and emotional being, alert.  I’ve seen it more than I’ve needed to, one group of parents bashing the other, or at the very least, not supporting.  I get that we all have our own ways of parenting, our own ideas of what is best for our own children.  I get that some of us might follow one specific set of ideas over another.  However, what I don’t get is why some of us feel the need to pinpoint mamas who aren’t doing the same thing, to run them down, to attempt to make them feel like balls.  There are always situations in life, in our daily interactions, in our work, where we will have differing opinions and different beliefs, so why does it seem like when this happens in regards to parenting, birthing choices, rather than attempting to come to an understanding, and learn (NOT adopt, I simply said learn) about what another woman is doing with her children, and what her reasons are, we go into attack mode and full-on pull out the harshest Weapons of Mass Destruction – our words used in anything but a lovingly, nurturing and supportive way?

I had a bit of experience with this the other evening, after I posted a comment to an article about breastfeeding, and why one mom chose to breastfeed.  The article was great, and was written in a very supportive tone, in a way which did not berate anybody, but rather, shared her experiences and encouraged others to do the same.  Since breastfeeding is very dear to my heart, I of course had to leave a comment, briefly touching on my experiences and the support I had/have.  I talked about not knowing why my milk supply never fully came in, and I mentioned that I thought that maybe it might had something to do with the epidural, induction, pitocin and IV.   Another poster commented about how she wished there was more support for breastfeeding mothers to have a natural labour and delivery, so as not to interfere with the body’s processes and to further encourage breastfeeding.  In total, there were 34 comments, most of which were positive, supportive, and a sharing of individual experiences, however there was one that made me angry.  In short, the poster suggested that since she had had an epidural and been induced and had more milk than she knew what to do with, and this was the situation with most people with similar experiences, that she did not like how women “put the blame on those things.”   My reply to this was, “I didn’t suggest epidural/pitocin/IV because I need something to ‘blame.’ I think we need to be careful around the language we use in terms of breastfeeding (read a good article about that today, can’t find the link, sorry.) Suggesting that there needs to be some sort of blame placed suggests that we need an excuse for not being able to breast feed. I would like a REASON as to why I cannot produce more milk, and I have had tests, blood work done which has produced no answers. I have read a lot of studies that talk about how epidural, pitocin and excessive IV fluids MAY affect breastfeeding and milk supply. I’m not saying that this is why I am unable to exclusively breastfeed, I am just lost as to what another reason might be and think this might be one. Thanks to all the women for sharing their stories. I think that as mamas, there are so many pressures, so many issues that we face. First and foremost, we need to support each other in this sometimes rough, but mostly beautiful journey.“

I admit, I am sensitive around this issue, and perhaps take things in somewhat of a defensive manner, however, I do think that as part of this whole ‘let’s just be supportive’ thing, we need to be careful how we approach these very personal issues.  As I have written before, breastfeeding is highly personal and highly emotional.  So is birth, and so is pregnancy.  For some, it is a rite of passage, and for others, it is a journey to hell.  We need to be respectful of each of these journeys, no matter how they differ from ours, and instead of bashing, accusing, or disrespecting our soul sisters, let’s engage.  Let’s talk about things, let’s put our fabulously expanded and wise brains together to figure things out, to brainstorm.  Let’s learn, let’s educate, and let’s share information.  I promise, we’ve all got a lot to learn, be it in line with the way we live our lives or not. 

2/2 – The 2nd 3

I feel like I am going to put a big jinx on everything that we have accomplished up to this point by saying what I am going to say next, but because I am brave and courageous I am going to say it anyway: months 4, 5 and 6 were easy-peasy in comparison to the first 3.  Oh isn’t that lovely, just after I typed that, I heard a mysterious screaming noise coming from the boy’s room.  Lovely is right.  I have come to dread the evenings again, and we were doing so, so, so well.  Sigh.  And so we march on, and another hurdle we will conquer with our fists held high.

4 months old

I guess I shouldn’t say easy-peasy, as month 4 was still winding down from the chaos of the previous months.  Month 4 saw several 2am car rides as well, which were enjoyed by all, even Lily.  I have never seen someone get as pumped for a late night car ride as her.  Oh my babies.  Basically we spent the month of March attempting to level out the wild crying activeness of the boy, and eventually, they settled down.  Cade had his first ride on a Greyhound bus, which went off pretty smoothly, thankfully.  It was actually quite peaceful, just being able to chill out with him in a vehicle, pick him up if he needed soothing, and feed him as need be.

Month 5 saw big changes in regards to Cade’s motor abilities.   Our little baby who just looked around and took in all the new sights now started to physically take in all the new sights, wanting to grab at them and shove them in his mouth.  This happened more so towards the end of the month, and the middle of month 5 saw a huge milestone in the life of Cadester – he started sleeping in his crib at night and during the day for his naps.  One Saturday eve, when Kyle was at soccer, I was lying in bed with my boy attempting to watch some NetFlix and hopefully have him fall asleep next to me.  After 2 hours of him lying there, calm though, he still had not fallen asleep.  That should have been my cue to try the crib, but intead, we persevered and we both eventually dozed off.  The next night, I suggested to Kyle that we should give the crib a try.  We had tried dozens and dozens of times, but Cade was never ready and would scream bloody murder as soon as his head hit the crib, even if he was fast asleep when we put him down.  So, the night of March 20, we went about our evening routine, nurse, bottle, bath, book and bed.  We aimed for a bedtime of 8PM, hoping earlier would mean better chance of crib sleeping success.  Turns out, it may have.  We laid our little guy down, patted his bum, popped the soother in his mouth, and he drifted off.  An hour passed, and Kyle and I were amazed.  Another hour, and same thing.  Granted, we had to get up several times that night to pop the soother back in, he slept in his crib from 8pm – 8:30am, minus getting up to eat two times.   I was curious what the next day’s napping schedule would bring, but it went off without a hitch.  Our boy was READY!  And mama was sad, because it meant no more naptime cuddles or no more bedtime cuddles.  Well, at least not for a little while until he got used to the crib being his bed.  If he wouldn’t have been ready, we wouldn’t have pushed it, but I truly believe it was just ‘his time’ to sleep on his own.

5 months old

I must say that month 5 was full of big things for this little guy.  First off, he decided that everything he saw, he had to touch, attempt to grab, and then shove in his mouth.  This started earlier than month 5, but was really exacerbated in month 5 and taken to a whole new level, and this has just gotten progressively crazier.  I can barely drink a glass of water without him grabbing it out of my mouth and putting it up to his mouth.  Reason #5328573289572389 why I love my boy, because he is hilarious and persistent.  He fights for what he wants.  Atta boy.

Cade had his first taste of ‘solid’ (read: pureed) food on March 29, which was homemade pureed chicken.  Pretty sure more ended up on the bib, on his face, on his hands, and up his nose, than in his mouth, but it was fun and it went well.  He figured out pretty quickly how to open his mouth for the spoon, and in fact, wanted to do it himself, which I partially obliged to until he nearly shoved the spoon down his throat.  After the introduction of chicken went off without a hitch, we proceeded to make some more food and introduce slowly, allowing for a few days in between so as to notice any adverse reactions.  To date, Cade has tasted avocado (loves), sweet potato (loves), beef (meh), carrots (loves), rice cereal (likes quite a bit), banana (loves), as well as small tastes of apples and peaches from using his ‘safe mesh feeder’ where he just sucks on the fruits through a mesh cover, so he can taste the juices.

Delish

Cade had his first HUGE shopping trip over the Easter weekend in Edmonton.  I did not expect him to be the trooper that he was (I shouldn’t say that, he is an amazing little boy and I thought things would be ok, but I knew we would be going shopping crazy and I can’t even handle that let alone a 6 month old boy who needs naps and down time more than I do!) but he showed us all up and braved the 9 hour shopping day with all of us, Lily included, since she was puking the night before and the morning of, we didn’t want to leave her alone because we were worried.  So in her travel bag she went, and both the sibs got to hang out with us for the day, checkin’ out West Ed Mall, South Commons and Ikea.  Nine pure hours of shopping and Cadester barely fussed once.  I was seriously amazed but moreso I was proud of my little guy for being such a trooper.  He is a shopper at heart, oh yes he is. Kyle, look out, ’cause now you’ve got two of them.

Cade had his first swimming adventure at the beginning of April, when we went to the Shaw Centre with our little munchkin.  It was super fun, and so nice to be in water with my boys.  Water is so relaxing and so natural, and Cade seemed so comfortable being in it.  He loves his baths, so it only made sense.  He wasn’t a huge fan of the kiddie pool, I think because it was a bit chilly, but he absolutely loved the family hot tub, which was set to bath water temperature, and had jets.   What can I say, I loved it too.

Waterbaby

The relationship between Cade and Lily has just continued to grow and grow.  He watches her everywhere she goes, every move she makes, and she is pretty actively into what he’s doing too, but mostly I think because she knows that his spit up makes for good treats for her.  Yup, I know, its not the most pleasant thing ever, but it’s pretty funny.  Lily has come to recognize when we start burping him, that his burps often mean spit up will come, and she is on her toes.  He gives her treats and and he doesn’t even know it.  However, while she loves his spit up, she is not the biggest fan of his grab & ingest behaviours.  She has figured out how to dodge his flailing arms and legs so she doesn’t get booted or grabbed.  The other day, Cade actually got a good grab of Lily’s fur, and while she frantically tried to get away, he pulled tighter, and the menace-like grin and laugh on his face got brighter.  It was quite hilarious, though I felt bad for the little gal.  Once Cade is an appropraite age, I’m excited to teach him how to treat animals and what the correct way to engage with them is.

Besties

In April, we made the decision to switch to cloth diapers, based on environmental impact, chemicals in the diapers, as well as finances.  We’re still using disposables as we’re building up our stash of pocket diapers (we’re at 16 now, woo, with 2 diapers from eBay enroute).  Soon, we’ll be able to mostly use cloth, with a few disposables here and there, and do laundry every 2 or 3 days.  We purchased a couple different brands to try, and have purchased a few of one particular brand that we like.  They are so darn cute, and we really feel a lot better about having our babe’s bum draped in chemical-less cloth diapers, and in turn, not throwing out a bajillion diapers that will sit in the landfills.  We’re leaving a legacy behind for our little boy and his grandchildren and so on, I guess you could say.

                                                                                    

Clothbum

6 months old

Month 6 has seen Cade develop a growing disinterest in nursing, except for his middle of the night feeds where when Kyle is prepping a bottle, I breast feed my boy.  I am not sure what it is, actually scratch that, I am the mama, I am pretty sure I know what it is, but can’t quite pinpoint exactly what it is.  I think it’s more of a combo deal, he knows he gets the bulk of his nourishment via the bottle, which comes out faster, he gets distracted when nursing, and since it’s not constant, fast flow of milk, he is more likely to turn into wandering eyes. 

So 6 months, eh?  Where did the time go, I have no idea.  I couldn’t tell you.  I guess we were busy, though some days I feel like we just did the same thing as the previous thousand days.  It’s all good though, because if I had to choose between doing the same thing over and over by myself or with my babies, I would obviously choose with my babies.  I cannot even verbalize how much I love my boy and how much he has changed my life for the better.  The photo above is one of my favourites, taken today.  It speaks so clearly about our family.  There you have Kyle and I smiling at our boy, who is grabbing for my glasses and Lily, simultaneously, while Lily is barely hanging on, trying to escape from the Wrath of Cade.  I love us and I love what tomorrow will bring.  Happy 6 months, my boy, you are beautiful.  xoxo.

These are a few of Cade’s favourite things…

Month 4

• Sucking thumb and fingers
• Rolling over from tummy to back
• Chillin’ out in my Ergo baby carrier

16 lbs 8 ounces

Month 5

• Chewing his feet, fingers, toes, and virtually anything he can get his hands on
• Sofie the Giraffe and Lily are probably his besties
• Loves his Lamby lovey and Sleep Sheep, they are his sleep companions that replaced mama and dad
• Solid foods!  Chicken, avocado, rice cereal, sweet potato…

18ish lbs

Month 6

• Solid foods, more n more… beef, carrots, banana
• Being busy and never ever sitting still, that is my boy’s main motive right  now
• Jumping jumping and jumping in his ‘jumperoo’, related to the need to mov
• Non-stop til-you-drop shopping (okay, maybe not his favourite thing, but he was a trooper, so it kinda counts)

19 lbs 8 ounces and 26 inches

1/2 – The 1st 3

The first three months of Cade’s life were probably the hardest, most emotionally and physically draining months of my life.  I can’t imagine they were a walk in the park for Cade, either.  I think he struggled immensely with the 4th trimester, and I don’t think my little monkey really loved being apart from this mama.  I don’t blame him, would you?  Cozy, warm, serene, aquatic, and constant nourishment vs. cold, noisy, bright, and a fight to feed.  Take your pick.

Not even 24 hours old

Month 1 was full of excitement and disappointment.  As I’ve been very open about my breastfeeding struggles, that’s where the disappointment enters the picture.  We struggled and struggled, and we tried and tried.  We also persevered, despite an extreme amount of tears, anxiety, and at times, stress.  We battled with silly nursing aids, tubes, syringes, herbs, and medication.  We fought sleep so we could feed constantly.  We had wars with the breast pump that was just oh so mechanical.  In the end, it was far too much, and we switched to a new routine of a nursing session and then a bottle session.  It worked and it’s still working, though my sadness is again coming back for a visit as I sense my boy self-weaning.  That’s another story for another day, though.  Don’t want to get too sad all up in here.

The first 4 days were rough.  My boy was being starved and we didn’t even know it.  Well we did, we knew something was up, and eventually pinpointed it after my boy had lost a ton of weight, did not produce the appropriate wet and dirty diapers, and came down with a nasty case of jaundice.  At that point we had to introduce formula, which was my worst enemy turned… simply just enemy.  We have a love/hate relationship.  My boy was losing weight and was extremely hungry despite constant feeding, so formula was the better option out of starve or formula.  Once he began an appropriate intake of calories, he was happier and did not scream for all hours of the night, every night.  Thank goodness.  I really should have kept track of how much sleep we actually got in those first few days (or weeks, months, even), because I know it was minimal.  There were days where I wondered how we’d survive, and looking back, I’m so proud of all of us for making it through, but mostly Cade.  My little boy persevered, grew, and has kept on growing into such a very content and happy, though sometimes very serious, little man.

Cade loved being swaddled in the first couple of months.  It came down to being the only way he’d sleep, and eventually, one of the only ways he’d sleep.  The other way?  In The Arms.  He was an arms sleeper for probably close to 3 months.  An arms napper and an arms night sleeper.  This made for a very tied down mama and a very tied down daddy.  But even better, it made for a very happy and very secure and loving little boy.  And that’s what really matters when it all comes down to it.  We co-slept from the time Cade was about 6 weeks old up until March 30, so just over 4 months old.  It worked for us – it wasn’t our first plan, but now, I am so glad we did it, and I miss the days of snuggling with my boy.  (Since he’s come down with another cold, the first of which he caught when he was a tiny 5 weeks old, we’ve been doing a lot more snuggling in this household, of which none of us mind one bit.)

1 month old

Cade’s first smile came on December 2, the day before he was 1 month old.  It was not even 7am, and Cade was lying happily in his crib after a feed and a change.  My mom and I were talking to him and he flashed us the most precious little smile ever, he just beamed, which of course made us extremely giddy with delight.  I quickly ran and woke Kyle up, but of course, as Murphy’s Law always wins, when he came to wait for another smile from our little monkey, Cade decided smile time was over.  Sigh.

Cade’s first ‘roll-over’ from tummy to back was on December 27.  Kyle and I witnessed it and of course cheered like it was the greatest thing that we had just witnessed (which at the time, it certainly was.)  After that, he didn’t roll over for a really long time, probably until about 4 months old when he started rolling over lots.  Another milestone for the boy was when he started to ‘talk’ a lot, which was at about 3 months old.  He coo’ed and “yelled”, particularly when he was hungry or tired, he was sure to let us know.  He also would smile tons at his polka dot decals that were above his change table.  He LOVED them and was always looking at them, smiling at them, and occasionally he would “give them a talking to.”

2 months old

Cade and I spent most of our days chilling out at home, since it was often too cold to go for walks.  You know, Saskatchewan winters and all.  We did a lot of playing, a lot of cuddling, and a lot of talking.  We also listened to music every single day, because who wants to watch crappy daytime TV when you can listen to shitty hip hop?  Does it get any better than that?  Oh, I also should mention we did a lot of socializing, and still do.  Being that I’ve got… 2 hands full of mama friends on maternity leave with me, we’re kept busy.  We’ve done lunch dates, coffee dates, “play” (read: mamas talk and babies chill out, mostly sleep) dates, and we also took a ‘Stroller Fitness’ class at the Field House in January, which was super fun, despite Cade’s consistent screaming fits, which resulted in me using our trusty and awesome wrap to participate that way.  We were both much, much happier.  And I was able to keep my sanity!

Starting in January, shortly after Cade was 2 months old, we started a ritual of super late night car rides.  Like, I’m talking at times, 2am car rides.  It was sometimes our only break from screaming, our only chance to talk to one another without Cade crying in between us.  We’d grab a tea and a hot chocolate from TH’s and cruise the quiet city.  It was relaxing, though I have no idea how Kyle managed to do that and get up at 7am for work (luckily since Cade was up all hours, he’d sleep in, and so I did too).  We tried everything to try and combat cryfest 2011.  We switched to lactose free formula and a lactose-free diet for yours truly, we used probiotic drops (BioGaia, I think it actually may have helped), and we also did a nice swaddle-soother-side position-shh’ing white noise-swinging/rocking combination for sleep, which also helped our little one not get so riled up.

January was a tough one, as it often is in terms of anxiety and depression due to horrid temperatures, however, that was coupled with a colicy babe, and a perineum that didn’t want to heal.  It made for a sad and emotionally fragile mama, though with a lot of talking, reading, and writing, those days are mostly behind us.  I cannot believe my little boy is so happy and content.  There were days where I thought, alright, I’ve got a miserable little guy forever, let’s do this.  Fortunately and thankfully I was so wrong and I’m so glad for that.  I have got nothing but a happy little guy.  Heck, he smiles and jumps even when he’s sick.  I can’t top that.  The 5th trimester (‘cept, not really, because it was much smoother) was just that – progressively got easier, less cry-y, and happier overall.  We even got a chance to breathe a couple times!

3 months old

Cade and I are super thankful to our friends and family because they are amazing and helped us to trudge through some of the roughness of the first three months.  We probably only would have scraped by if not for them, but instead, we passed with flying colours.  A support system is a must, people.  I really am clueless how single folks do it, or folks who’ve got simply, no one.  I mean, they do it, and I really ought to give credit where credit is due – PARENTS ARE AWESOME PEOPLE!  They (we) are amazing and we can learn so much and thrive in times of madness, who would’ve thought?

These are a few of Cade’s favourite things…

Month 1:

• Swaddling, warmth and cuddles
• Sleeping and eating
• Music, car rides, and movement
• Following objects with his eyes

8 lbs 3 ounces

Month 2

• Sleeping with mommy and daddy
• The froggy position against mommy or daddy’s chest
• Car rides, rocking, movement and cuddles
• The decals on his walls, Lily, and his play mat

12 lbs 13 ounces and 23 inches long

Month 3

• Strong neck and head support
• Looking around and checking everything out
• Eating, eating and more eating
• 2am car rides to combat non-stop cry fest 2011
• Sleep Sheep white noise ‘machine’
• 70′s music station on Galaxie
• Sleeping only with mama or dad, and napping only with mama or dad

14 lbs

Besties from day 1 (this picture was taken at about 5am)