cindy's world

I’ve been wondering something for some time now. I’ve been told by doctors and literature that breastmilk takes on the flavors of whatever foods mom eats, so to be careful about strong-flavored stuff like spicy foods, heavy garlic, things that may make the baby resist breastfeeding. I’ve heard of breastmilk taking on a sweet flavor because of mom eating fruits or sweets. Medical people have advised me that what I eat, the baby eats, so if she’s constipated, to drink prune juice, and it’ll get to her. (It works.) Here’s the question. How does the food go from my stomach into the breastmilk? If flavors and nutrition from foods are retained that means food isn’t being molecularly broken down, filtered, and then used as raw materials (like blood) for the body’s milk glands to do their thing; it means instead that foods are, to some extent, going directly from my digestive system to the milk glands. I don’t remember in any anatomy classes seeing a straw connecting stomach to boobs, so how is this done?

I guess I should wiki this process.

P.S. This has nothing to do with the post, but my courtroom assistant just told me she was watching Oprah’s show last night and Neil Patrick Harris and his partner were on, talking about their two new babies, and how THEY FOLLOW THE SLEEP BOOK. Oprah seemed skeptical when the two of them explained about the sleep needs of their babies and how their babies sleep from 7p-7a. They were supposedly good, well-informed parents and very much advocating allowing the babies to have what they need, i.e. giving them the opportunities at the right times to nap and sleep for the night. I’m glad to see “Barney” is on my side on this! I don’t mind being a slave to Allie’s sleep needs and naps for the first couple of years of her life, because it does so much for her growth and temperament. I don’t need an avid social life; I’ve lived for 35 years for myself, what’s giving just a couple to my baby as she starts off life? I hope Mr. W doesn’t get too resentful, tho.

Snack bar, thank you for existing. Because of you, I can work late into lunch, go a mere few floors down, and obtain indulgences to consume minutes after leaving my work behind. Then as my body turns your edible nutriments into milk, I can pump half an hour before trial resumes in the afternoon session. Your selections aren’t varied or healthy, but they are readily available. That’s good enough for me on days like this.

Oh, tuna salad sandwich on wheat, why are you sweet? I mean that literally. Wherefore art thou so sweet? Did they put sugar in your ample mayonnaise? Is that relish in there? Well, whatever the reason, at least the fishy part of you lays between what I assume to be wheat bread given the color, although I guess it could be food coloring to give the appearance of nutrition. I did feel a little bad after throwing your wrapper away, with the sticker on it displaying an expiration date of 5/18. I had selected you because the only other tuna sandwich had an expiration date of 5/16. I didn’t realize until after getting back to my computer that 5/16 is today. What will happen to the other sandwich that I’d left there, looking through the refrigerated glass at potential customers like so many pound puppies and kitties? If nobody picks it today, does it just go to waste? If the prior owners of the snack bar were still there, they’d simply change the sticker and the sandwich would magically be given new life.

And oh, Cheetos, I’ve saved the best for last. Ah, Cheetos, my familiar old friend. You taste of theatres flashing movies like “Mo’ Money” and “Jurassic Park.” Each persistent crunch calls to mind footfalls on a high school hallway traveling between second period P.E. and third period English II Honors. There were days when the ignorance of teenagerhood made you regular company, a time when 320 calories per serving of deep-fried corn meal did not bring with it a concern of lesser-quality milk to feed an infant. (Of course, back in the early ’90s, I’d thought “Allie” would be 11 years old by now.) It’s been a year without you and I’ve succumbed to your bright orange siren call twice this week, unable to resist your crinkly bag depicting promises of miniature Neanderthal clubs in the identical unnatural hue used to paint your speedy mascot. Until and unless shown that your “Artificial Color [including Yellow 6]” appears in my milk production, I shall not regret today’s walk down memory lane.

I haven’t written about my body stuff in a long time. It just wasn’t that consequential to me, as long as I’m alive and producing breastmilk, other details about my body didn’t matter.

However, on April 1, I noticed that my tailbone seemed to be protruding more than I’d ever noticed. I could actually feel the BOTTOM of my tailbone if I press in a little with my fingers. I was totally freaked out and grossed out.
My parents came over yesterday and my mom commented on how skinny I looked. She was concerned, and my dad noted the same thing. Mom said when she hugged me that I felt like all bones. I know my pre-pregnancy clothes fit more loosely than before I’d ever been pregnant, but beyond that, didn’t spend much thought on it. Mom asked what I weigh, and I told her I didn’t know. So last night, since she’d asked, I pulled out the scale and stepped on it after dinner. I was 111 with food in my stomach. I couldn’t believe it. I haven’t seen 111 since 6th or 7th grade when I was busy passing it on my way up. Maybe I was feeling my tailbone because stuff that used to cover it is disappearing, not because my TAILBONE had moved.
Thinking back, here are the few weight markers I have:
125-127 shortly before pregnancy
120 in the 1st trimester
156 the day before I delivered
128 six weeks after I delivered
125 two months after I delivered
121 three months after I delivered
now 111 four and a half months after I delivered

I could win some of those weekly Biggest Loser weigh-ins for percentage lost (29%) since pregnancy 4.5 months ago, which would be a good thing, except that I have NOT been dieting or exercising. I’ve done some weight-lifting with holding my 15-pound baby and I’ve done a stroller walk here and there, but I’ve done no gym stuff. So this is due to breastfeeding and depression. NOT good. I’m gonna need to hit the gym as soon as I’m back to work and have lunchtimes to do that. Of course, lunch will also have to be shared with eating, milk pumping, and transportation to/from the gym. How is THAT gonna work?

Some photos from last weekend:

The stepkidlet left the night she had been planning to. I feel a strange sense of freedom, like I can now hang out in my PJs all day, or relax about the living room looking too “babied up.” This makes me think that I’d been all stressed about the common areas of the house looking perfect before because I don’t want clutter to impact a shared space with someone who’s not a parent (stepdaughter), or having it look bad when her friends come over. Now that it feels like just my, Mr. W’s and the baby’s space, I suddenly don’t have that compulsive need to tidy anymore. Interesting.

Mr. W is feeling well enough to return to work today, having taken Monday and Tuesday off. Monday because he felt like total crap from his sickness, Tuesday because it’d become undeniable that the baby caught his bug and he wanted to take us to the pediatrician. We went to whatever pediatrician had an appointment available, which was not Allie’s regular pediatrician, but she was great. Allie was behaving well, performing well, in good spirits. We had a rough start before being called in with Allie pooping in the waiting room, we waited to be called in but they were late getting to us, so I went to go change her in the public restroom, but the room with the changing station was locked with someone inside. I turned my back briefly to walk a few paces from the door so that I could wait for that person to come out, but while I had my back turned, she came out and some old man, despite seeing me, slid right in as the girl came out and locked himself in there forever. When he finally came out and I could get in, I’d had to wait too long and Allie’s poopie had squished up her back, through her inner shirt, hit her outer outfit. Cleanup was a pain and Mr. W came by the restroom and said irrately that they’d called us already but I was taking too long. I said that he should’ve come to get me as I was contemplating changing her there or later since she had to strip in the medical room anyway. Then when we went back to the waiting room, they had called in other patients so we had to wait even longer. I was pissed.
So anyway, the pediatrician checked Allie for common secondary infections (ear, lungs, throat, etc) but Allie was all clear and smiley. She was diagnosed with an upper respiratory infection that came from the cold virus. The pediatrician said the rattling I hear and feel from phlegm was coming from Allie’s upper chest only, like her throat, and her lungs were clear. It would run its course in a week or two, and as for the new phlegmy cough she developed, to just leave it alone and she’ll be fine. Keep feeding her to keep her hydrated, put a humidifier in her room to help her loosen phlegm or take her in a steamy bathroom if necessary, use the bulb nasal aspirator with maybe a drop or two of saline in each nostril whenever necessary, she has no temperature and she’ll hopefully be recovering soon. It was the advice everyone had been giving me anyway. I have smart friends. 🙂

Last nite, I stayed mostly in Allie’s room. She went down pretty smoothly altho she woke up 6-8 times with a cough that broke my heart. But she went right back to sleep each time. And she slept through her late-night feeding and early-morning feeding. Last time she ate was close to 8pm. I was considering waking her if she doesn’t by 7am, but she just did.

Perfecting timing. Off to feed my baby.

P.S. I have the beginning stages of what they each had. Last nite my throat got sore, and it remains sore. I hear that’s how this starts. 🙁

Thank goodness for bloggers & blog archives! This explained a lot, including the fussy eating/pulling off behavior. It’s hormone/menstrual-related! Apparently menstruation changes the taste of the milk, and temporarily decreases milk supply. This post and its comments restored me.

http://blogginaboutbabies.wordpress.com/2009/04/20/milk-supply-during-menstruation/

Morning has been good so far, even miraculous at points. She stayed tolerant, and absolute angel, when I took her to our room, placed her on our bed propped up by a Boppy within sight of the restroom, so that I could get thru my morning routine of brushing teeth/washing face/changing.

And then half an hour ago, I noticed her getting slightly cranky, then drowsy. I remembered reading about how babies nap by biorhythm, so the perfect naptimes are 9a and 2p. It was exactly 9a, so I put her, drowsy, in her swing. I hummed to her a bit, employed a pacifier for less than a minute, she resisted a little but after 5-10 mins the sleep took over. She’s napping AT HOME WITHOUT BEING HELD! YES!!!

It may only last 45 mins instead of 2-3 hours, but it’s a start.

There’s been definitely new challenges. Morning routines are stressful, because I have to fit my own routine (pumping/storing milk/washing out pump parts after feeding and she HATES the sound of the pump and it will rouse her from sleep; brushing teeth/washing face; changing; eating breakfast) into hers. When she wakes early, such as with Mr. W’s morning sounds, I try to feed her early, put her back to bed, and run around like a manic with my phone on baby room monitor trying to get as much done as possible, hoping for more than 30 minutes of sleep time from her. Evenings are stressful, because we have to fit our dinner, time together after he comes back from work, an evening pump/feed to replace breastfeeding (I’ve skipped several out of stress and just breastfed directly), going to bed by 9pm. Typically Mr. W will relieve me for a couple hours after he returns from work so I could shower and finish laundry or do whatever I couldn’t complete in the day. Make phone calls sometimes.

Last nite, Mr. W tried to push Allie’s bedtime back an hour to 10p. A couple of nites ago, we were exhausted and tried to move it up an hour and were immediately punished by her fussing until 2 hours past her normal bedtime. Last nite, Mr. W read aloud the first couple chapters of “Babywise” as Allie slept in his arms. It was an enjoyable family evening, altho we gave up on the reading before we got to anything substantial (like instructions on HOW to get her to sleep thru the nite) cuz it was getting late. Instead of feeding her at 8:45p aiming for a 9ish bedtime, I fed at 9:45p. As she had come out from a solid nap in his arms at this point, this feeding didn’t make her drowsy enough to go to sleep. She fussed and cried in her crib within minutes of being put down, and I had no idea how to comfort her because I’d done everything already — changed diaper, fed, put her to sleep. After some time, when I was losing it at past 11p in bed, Mr. W got up and tried the pacifier thing twice. She spit it out and kept crying. It wasn’t ignorable so I got up and decided to sleep in her room. I picked her up and comforted her to calm her down, then put her back in her crib (awake) and kept popping the pacifier back in her mouth after it’s fallen out when she got drowsy. That was cousin Jennifer’s sleeping training advice. A bit past midnight, the duration between fussings elongated, I removed the fallen pacifier and she stayed asleep. I woke up with a start at 3:30a, realizing she hadn’t fed all night. Paranoid, I stayed half-awake for the next hour, hearing sounds from her that I was sure meant she was up to feed, but by the time I got up from the recliner and walked the 2 steps to her crib, she’d fallen asleep again. This continued until 4:40a when I finally fed her and put her back down. Now I just finished the pumping sequences of events, computer’s cams on her, paranoid some small sound’s gonna wake her (like someone flushing the toilet a street down). I’m probably going to try for some sleep instead of risking waking her by brushing my teeth and stuff so early, altho I’ll probably be too nervous to sleep.

Had some dark discharge the last 2 days with light pink-looking spotting. This morning, I realize with more discharge that I’d gotten my period for the first time since before pregnancy. As I’m breastfeeding exclusively and have been consistently for Allie’s past 7 weeks of life, I’m freaked out and emailed my OB. I’d just read yesterday that the return of the period means hormones have been triggered by decreasing milk supply/breastfeeding. I’m happy she slept “thru the nite” after so long, but every happiness seems blockaded at some point by a potential fear.

I’ve got plans to meet up with my mom, cousin Jen and her mom, and cousin Olivia and her 2 girls, plus cousin Diana’s 2 yr old little girl Elle (whom Diana/Jen’s mom’s babysitting today) for a lunch and a park day. I’m hopeful it’ll be a good day.

BTW, 2 nites this week (the nite we advanced Allie’s bedtime and last nite when we pushed it back), Allie was up late having fits. I found out that at the same time, same nites, Jen’s baby Alexandria and college roommie Diana’s baby Alexis were doing the same thing. Full moon? Well, it was on Monday nite the first time they lined up (that we’re aware of).

Oh yeah…yesterday afternoon I tried to get Allie to take her nap away from me (she sleeps 2-3 hours on me but 3-5 mins usually if I put her down) so that I could get some stuff done. I placed her in her cosleeper in the living room, turned on the vibration, tried music, tried singing, tried pacifier, she would NOT stop her fit of hysteria and go to sleep. When I finally gave up and picked her up, I noticed a little tear streak down one temple. She started making tears?! My heart broke. I cried. I’ve been a mess again since. Hormones or not, I think I have postpartum depression. I keep reminding myself that it’s okay if I don’t feel productive cuz I couldn’t finish the laundry or unload the dishwasher; things ARE better because she’s thriving and she’s beautiful and she smiles a lot and is generally in a good mood. She’s sitting with us tolerantly longer, and the past 2 nites Mr. W got out her highchair booster and she’s sat with us doing great as we had dinner at the table together (instead of gulping in shifts). But when one thing perceived as a difficulty or negativity happens, I immediately break.

i’m blogging with my right hand only because a brand new little person is sleeping in my left, against my left shoulder after my failed attempt in burping her. *rubbing my left temple on the back of her fuzzy li’l head*

had my 6-wk postnatal apptmt with my ob earlier. hubby took an extra day off today to watch allie, so i made him an overdue optometry apptmt today, where he is now. after my 30 lb preg weight gain (i think i maxed out at 156 lbs), i’m now close to back at my pre-preg weight (128 lbs now). i tried wearing my wedding/engagement rings yesterday and they fit. pelvic exam shows i’ve healed from labor. the stitches just have to dissolve on their own, my skin healed over them well.

as for mentally, my ob said i’m “normal for [my] personality.” he doesn’t think i have an actual psyche disorder, & wanting to hyperclean or hypercontrol housework because i can’t control the baby is common. because i’m meticulous, in-control, organized, systematic by nature, & because i’m an older new parent accustomed to doing things my way for a long time, & i’m educated & have expectations.

baby up & crying now. gotta go!

After the Night of Hell came a Night of Angelic Peace, where she went straight down without even a whimper at 9:30p after I fed her upstairs, and didn’t wake up until a feeding was needed about 6 hours later, then she went right back to sleep and we put her down easily again. The night after was a mediocre night. She fussed a little when we tried to put her down, but not for too long; maybe 20 minutes or so. She got up every 4 hours to eat, but we were okay with that. Then last nite was another night of hell; Mr. W told me he’d take her after I fed her at 7:30p, so I could go to bed early. I heard her fussing and crying until 9p when he tried to bring her up to bed. She basically refused to go to sleep (altho she’d doze a minute or two with Mr. W’s efforts, but she fought it and would wake right back up and go right into her crying fit). I fed her again in the middle of this, and it took until well past midnight for her to finally go down for the night. Then she woke up every 3-4 hours for feeding or diaper changes, which was all right. So I’m beginning to think it all just averages out anyway.

My nerves are still frayed. I think I’m getting psychosomatic symptoms to the anxiety. I was thinking the other day I seemed to have general anxiety disorder (GAD), but in a looong hour+ of holding her asleep in my arms in bed when I was afraid to move, so that Mr. W can catch up on his sleep, I figured out that the problem is that my world has shrunk so much since I’ve been off on maternity leave. In this microcosmic world, there’s just the baby, me, and Mr. W with the stepdaughter, my parents, and my friends on the periphery. So given that this world is so small, what’s the worst thing that could happen in it? The baby could cry and fuss and carry on. So my body has assigned that an 8 (out of 10) in anxiety response. I’m nauseated, scared, unable to fall asleep, have pressure on my chest, loss of appetite, and was emotional. Mr. W had said, “So what if she cries? Babies cry.” True, and my level of response is totally disproportionate to the stimulus. My blood pressure is probably through the roof; I can always feel my heart palpitating, it seems. Multiple times today, when I got up, I’d get lightheaded and would have to brace myself against the bed or wall until my vision returned to normal. And the fact that Mr. W is going back to work in 2 days? Half of my team is going to be gone. My body is reacting to that as if he’s going to be gone for 3 months instead of just 12 hours a day (he plans on getting to the gym by 5am, showering for work at 6:15a, napping during lunchtime, and he’ll probably get home between 4:30-5:30p, depending on the workload). I have my post-natal checkup tomorrow morning, anyway.

To cut down on her daytime crying (altho there have been some improvements), we tried the Seven Sling. I think their sizes run small, because once I finally figured out the stupid instructions and got set up, I couldn’t open the fabric up wide enough to shove her in there. Mr. W could do it by wearing the sling deliberately wrong, across his neck rather than across his shoulder, but that gives me back pain.

Every time I tried for 2 days, the 2nd day after watching tons of how-to videos online, we ended up with her screaming from being squished in my attempts to shove her in with her head stuck out, or a limb would get caught, and we always struggled to free her with her screaming again, being crushed. I finally gave it up. There are other ways to carry her in the Seven Sling, such as just having her butt in there and sitting her upright instead of having her cradled in there, but since she’s only 5 weeks old, they don’t recommend a carry that doesn’t have her head supported. I think she’s just too large of a baby for the infant cradle carry, altho I guess she’s able to keep her head up for lengthy amounts of time on her own, which she started being able to do super-early, like week 2-3 or something.

So yesterday I practiced with the Infantino Flip Carrier. All the straps looked intimidating, but it wasn’t as bad as I thought once I was able to put the carrier on by myself and set the straps to the right settings. This morning, while she was fussing, I put her in it and wore her around as I put the dishes from the dishwasher away, and ate some cereal. She went quiet and sleepy almost immediately after getting in. Right now I’m blogging with her sleeping in it.

I think we might have a winner. Mr. W feels it’s too bulky for home use and he might be right, but I’m desperate. I think we’re gonna go carrier-hunting today to find something fabric, easy, and effective. I looked up the Mobi carrier, but that was even more fussy with even more “pockets” to take into consideration than the sling. =P

I’ve had multiple friends (all female) ask me for my birthing story. I used to be all queasy about birthing stories, but ever since we decided to get pregnant, I had been very interested. It may have been from an educational standpoint. Anyway, here is mine, written in pieces over the course of the past few days (I didn’t have much time available in productive blocks). A timeline:
* Wednesday, 11/23, contractions started (~3am), entered hospital (~8:30 a.m.) and had baby (4:57 p.m.) (I was pretty happy I started in the wee hours of the morning, labored through the day with sunlight streaming through the windows and we weren’t feeling like we were up when we weren’t supposed to be, and I was done by the end of a regular workhour day. It was perfect. Oh! And I didn’t cuss, didn’t fly into verbal or physical attacks on Mr. W. I pretty much felt in rational control the entire time. [I just asked Mr. W if he was glad I didn’t cuss him out or scratch him to death and he said, “Mm-hmm! You were very pleasant to be with, as aggravating as it may have been to have me keep telling you to do stuff like breathe and count…”])
* Thursday, 11/24, stayed in hospital (we opted to stay overnight Thursday night cuz the nurses and staff were so helpful; otherwise they would’ve discharged us after 24 hours, since everyone checked out as healthy)
* Friday, 11/25, discharged early afternoon (~2pm) and came home for the first time with Allie

WARNING: This is long AND graphic; if you’re one of those queasy-about-birthing-story people, don’t click “more.” Otherwise, welcome to my last Wednesday.
(more…)

My cousin Jennifer texted me today to ask how my appointment went. “Any progress?”
“Negligible,” I told her.

Since last week’s checkup, I’ve been having cramps and back pain and sensations that the doctor AND experienced friends have told me are mild contractions, so I was hoping I’d be much farther along now. Turned out, I’m now 90% effaced (I thought I was almost completely effaced last time, so after a week I’m only at 90%?), and my dilation has gone from 1cm last week to…*drumroll*…1.5 cm. AUGH! All those cramps for HALF a centimeter? That means I’m STILL too small for him to sweep the membranes. Also, the baby’s head lowered MAYBE half a station, from 0 to “between 0 and +1.” ALLIE! You little procrastinator! This is a day PAST your due date!

The OB did say, tho, that once I’m fully effaced, the dilation will happen more quickly. “You’re really paper-thin right now already,” he said. “And didn’t you have a LEEP?” I sure did. “You might have a little bit of scar tissue from the LEEP that keeps you from dilating quickly right now, but that’s not going to stop labor. Once it gets going that scar tissue isn’t going to be a factor.” Interesting. “You’re definitely in the count-down now,” he said, trying to be reassuring. “I still think you’re going to be in labor sometime this week, but just in case, I’ve reserved a spot for you for induction next week at the hospital.” So the plan is, I go in to get looked at one last time next Monday if I haven’t given birth, cuz that would be my 41st week of pregnancy. If I’ve progressed enough for Pitocin to be effective (3 cm or so), then I go to the doctor’s appointment at the main hospital that I’d be birthing at for the induction. I asked about possibly waiting till Monday’s appointment to decide whether to do an induction, cuz I don’t want to spend my ENTIRE labor strapped to a bed in the hospital. I’d still like to be as natural as possible. He said the issue is that if he didn’t reserve me a spot already, it may be hard to get a spot in time, and by “in time,” he’s talking about within the 42nd week of labor because the placenta starts becoming less able to do its job to provide enough oxygen and nutrients to a baby that needs more. By that time it becomes a “balancing game” between timing an induction and letting it go naturally if possible.

Something else progressed VERY slowly, too, but this one I’m happy about. I was afraid she’d put on a pound a week at this point (from stuff I’d read) and that I’d have to birth a 12-pounder or something. But between the last appointment and this one, I’d only put on 0.2 lbs. “You’re doing really good on that,” my OB praised. (What a change from 2nd trimester!) He still thinks her weight will be fine (in the 7s) and said that I don’t have a small pelvis so there shouldn’t be a problem getting her out naturally. People with flatter pelvic openings and heart-shaped pelvic cavities have a harder time. I asked how I could tell what my pelvis is like, and he said he could feel it when he checked my cervix, and I have an oval/round pelvic opening and will be fine. Whew.