Happy Mother's Day!!!

So there was this day I woke up and suddenly became a mom. Diapers and laundry and sleepless nights hit me with a fury and I wondered what in the world had happened to cause the earth to quit turning on it's axle. Time didn't necessarily stand still. Rather, time ran on and on into itself and never separated itself with proper punctuation. (Such as rest, sleep, sanity, etc.)

Rather than sitting there in shocked disbelief at the wild fury that clung to my life, I flung myself into the whirling merry-go-round of motherhood and hung on for dear life. Diapers and laundry and sleepless nights all flew around my head in a merry little circle of chaos.

And then it happened. The merry-go-round slowed to a nostalgic carousal trot. A sing-songy tuned played pleasantly in the back of my existence. And I loved and adored and cherished this whole thing called motherhood. Simultaneously, suddenly I was struck with a chance to breath, think, rest, enjoy my life, etc... and etc. My "babies" became toddlers and soon and my toddlers became kids.

And you know what happened next?

I began to wish for the diapers. And that laundry. And those sleepless nights.

What is it about babies that just make us WANT them?

We're looking forward to our new surprise expected to arrive the beginning of January... smack dab in the middle of Cabin Fever Season. (I think I found my own personal cure for that disease... a BABY!)

And we're tickled pink. (or is it blue?)

Change For A Time

As a sequel to "Time For A Change," I'll give a little update.

I knew something wasn't quite right with my baby when the most my baby ever did was scream. Not cry or be fussy but scream.

I chalked it up to him being on a bottle, him being a big eater, me drinking coffee a few days ago or him not dealing with a change of weather. I was not even going to think of a milk intolerance and proved it by cutting sugar out of my diet for a day or two to see if that would help.

It didn't help but I still knew Alex did not have a dairy intolerance. I mean come on! what would a person eat if they couldn't have something with dairy in it? Did you know even granola bars are made with dairy?

His diapers displayed some kind of distress but I blamed it on the gas he had from the popcorn we traditionally eat on Sunday night. So, I sacrificially cut out the popcorn. This definitely wasn't a sign of milk intolerance!

Alex would occasionally get a strange skin rash but I knew it was from the humidity, not dairy.

He would also have really strong gas and smelly diapers but even that wasn't from a dairy intolerance. No, this was not that serious.

And then I made that appointment with the lactation consultant and assumed I was going to get help for me to teach him how to nurse. As Alex screamed through the majority of the 2 hour appointment, she somehow conveyed to me over Alex's persistent wailing that we indeed had two problems: he wasn't latching on right and I was eating something irritating to him.

She gave me a list of symptoms and Alex had every single one, except for the bloody stools. The conclusion? Dairy Intolerance.

So, trying to be a good little mom, I cut dairy out. I quit eating cereal, ice cream, yogurt and buttered toast. You know, the real obvious things, the no-brainer dairy products. That helped a little but the screaming seemed to not improve the way the doctor thought it would. So, then I started getting serious and reading labels and that's when I learned that granola bars have dairy in them.

But, he still screams, the diapers are still strange and I'm still confused since I thought a milk intolerance would be the worst "allergy" a baby could have. I'm learning that it's not. The actual cause can be so hidden that many moms and health care providers never find the culprit.

I've heard story after story about colicky babies that are actually weaned from breast milk because they can't tolerate it. They're then put on special formulas only to have to be weaned off that even. Finally, trying goats milk brings relief for many babies.

I told Toby I felt bad that my milk is hurting Alex. And I feel especially bad since if I put him on goats milk, he'd probably do a lot better. Its weird to think that a smelly dumb goat could actually make him happier than me.

So, Toby thoughtfully recommended a goats diet for me and pointed out "all "the grains I could eat that would easily replace the dairy foods in my diet. His grain recommendations? Oatmeal and brown sugar three times a day.

It would be a shame to quit nursing now because at last Alex is happily and sufficiently breast feeding. A nipple shield has done the trick both in protecting me and in adjusting him from bottle to breast. He's a real cuddly baby so nursing is right up his alley. But, if only I could help him quit screaming.

On our recent trip to Wisconsin to visit family and friends and introduce Alex to everyone, I found it quite frustrating that my darling baby spent a lot of time just screaming. I felt like every time I showed up for something, I was arriving with my screaming kid. Every time some one commented to me on who they thought he looked like, they were having to yell in order to be heard over the screaming. Every time someone wanted to simply get a look at our new baby, they had to endure the loud screaming.

Except for one time when Alex amazed me and stayed completely peaceful and sweet and let a mother hold him who just lost her own little baby boy. He was never that quiet for that long for anyone all weekend long. I'm glad he picked that time to be that way though.

As we enjoy our growing (15lbs +) 2 1/2 month old little boy, I'm researching options, substituting foods and improvising recipes. I can't have any dairy at all -- not even to fry my eggs in butter. Which brings me to the next thing: maybe his intolerance includes eggs and soy as well. Yikes.

Read any ingredients list on anything related to food and tell me if you can find something that doesn't have dairy, eggs and soy in it.

Oh, and it has to have calories in it since I am a nursing mom. And if you do happen to find something, let me know.

Time For A Change

Later today, I plan to lug my 15 pound bundle of a baby boy and learn how to nurse. Yes, you read that right. I am going to a haven of lactation consultants and surrendering my instincts to someone that can help me learn how to channel my efforts in the right direction.

This Medela Pump In Style has been a life saver for my baby boy but it's time to cut the ties with it. It has been the bridge between Alex's nutrition and my ability to produce his nutrition. But it's time to burn that bridge. My freezers are experiencing a dairy dilemma, thanks to all the milk the pump has produced but it's time to make room for harvest occupants instead. Where is the milk bank when you need it? Or would that be better phrased: when they need you?

After 2 successfully nursed babies, I was confidant and unafraid of any nursing hurdles when I first had Alex. Except for the usual engorgement and frustration in waking a newborn baby to eat, I figured I'd be all professional this time.

But, that was not to be. I've had a breast infection, he's had colic. I've had a yeast infection, he's had colic. I've had production frustrations, he's had colic. I've had too much milk, he's had colic. I've had not enough milk, he's had colic. His improper latch technique has totally changed my approach to nursing him, and then we both have colic.

Did I mention that he has colic?

So, with my darling screaming baby today, I plan to educate myself in the ways of womanhood that are supposed to come natural but often don't when problems arise. I am praying that the results will conclude that I can indeed nurse, my baby can indeed latch on right and our home can indeed be inhabited by peace.

And to think I used to complain about our house being too quiet... may the peace return after the results from today.

Labor Log No More!

Just got the call from a happy daddy. Alex Daniel has arrived. Mommy and baby are doing extremely well, and I'm hearing tales of a wonderful delivery, lots of hair, and somewhere between 7 and 8 pounds. Sweet, sweet, sweet! I'm tickled pinker than pink. This is the best birthday present EVER! Oh man, gotta go collect my wits. Thank you for your prayers!

Moved And Waiting

We're moved. And ready. And waiting.

Don't ask if we're settled. Everyone asks that question and I've come to the creative conclusion to just say, "no."

But, we're ready and waiting for the baby.

The combination of a busy move, frantic unpacking, semi-settling and then a bout of the flu, made this pregnancy jump ahead a couple weeks. They tell me I'm only 35 weeks but the labor activity I have on a daily basis puts me right about at 40 weeks. It could be anytime.

So, I guess if I don't have the baby real soon, he'll be considered over due then... or, maybe not...?? I'm confused too. It's just a strange feeling to compare a 35 week pregnancy with past 35 week pregnancies and come up way off.

The good news is we are moved into the "new" house and the old house is ready to sell and boasts a cheery for sale sign in the front yard. That was a huge hurdle to get over but we made it -- flu, contractions and all.

As for the settling part, we're getting there. Not only do we have to settle this house down but we also had to work on getting the baby's stuff ready.

Britt and I are quite the team: nothing can be missed by our blonde (me) and blondless (her) brains. (notice I said brains, not hair.) But tragically, the imminent birth of the most recent child was daily being left very unprepared for. The diaper bag was unpacked, the clothes were unwashed and the blankets were unfound. Our brains had just not quite registered the importance of setting other daily tasks aside and focusing on this all important occasion.

The quote of the day was heard at my latest midwife's appointment. Bear in mind that I am very ready to have this baby so you can understand that her kind words were like the healing balms of Gilead on my worn and weary spirit and body.

The dear, kind woman said, (and I quote) "if labor starts now, we won't stop it."

I just chuckled and said, "good, because I won't let you."

But then I realized that not even though I felt ready to have this baby in body and spirit, domestically he would be hideously lacking in many vital necessities. I know they say it doesn't take much to take care of a baby (not to put down the typical American lifestyle of 'see it, gotta have it') but he does need necessities like diapers and blankets at least, not to mention a few socks. I really don't care about the wipes and bottle warmers, just get a few blankets washed, please.

This morning, the first words out of my husband's mouth weren't "good morning honey." Rather, he shared what must've been pressing on his mind all night.

"So Honey, are you all ready for the baby?"

I could tell he expected the answer to be, "Oh, of course dear." But I had to tell the truth.

"Nope. Not a thing done," I confess boldly to him.

Confused, he didn't know how to respond. I heard a long drawn out, "Soooooo.... you at least have the diaper bag packed, right?"

"Not even the diaper bag, Hun." Another brave confession.

"Not even your bag then?" he asks me, obviously catching on that nothing is done.

"Nope, don't even know where the luggage is," I bear my soul.

"Well, don't you think you should get that done first?" Now he's thinking!

Today set a new milestone: the baby's stuff is ready. But, that's only due to the thoughtfulness of the baby's kind aunt. Between trips to the park and hauling arm loads of boxes, my sister set to work getting the clothes ready while I nursed a flu ravaged body back to full health -- whatever that is. Being 9 months pregnant makes it hard to feel anywhere close to "full health" but at least the flu isn't quite as bad as it was.

And now we wait. The changing table is ready. The diaper bag is packed. My bag is almost packed. The blankets are washed.

But, this couldn't have all been done except by some very well meaning and affectionate dear ones -- including both the baby's father and the baby's aunt. A little motivation helps this pregnant diva to really get in gear... once in a while anyway.

As I struggled to merely get in bed last night while juggling all 5 of the necessary pillows around our bed and huffing as I positioned the king size pillow between my knees and stopping every couple minutes to let a contraction go by, my strong husband casually looks over the top of the book he was reading on his side of the bed and in sublime comfort and ease as he lays on his back on ONE pillow, calmly asks me if the next 4 weeks will be like this. I think he was concerned I was turning into an asthmatic or something, with all my breathless breathing and puffing.

Between my huffs and puffs and sighs, I assure him, "Babe, there won't be another 4 weeks of this."

At least, there better not be. The blankets are ready, the pillows are getting to be a hassle and I'm ready to sleep on my back again. And contractions don't keep babies in for very long.

It's a BOY!

And we're already half way through.