In lieu of pictures (which I don't have time to post right now), here's a video...Thanks Auntie N!
Pictures are coming though, promise!
Monday, November 30, 2009
A Cornucopia of Cleavage
This holiday weekend marked O's first Thanksgiving, his turning 1 month, and his first trip to Disneyland (Squeal!!!)...
I was sooooo excited!
I freely admit that I am a ginormous cornball, so I love holidays, and "firsts", and sentimental "moments."
He slept through the majority of all of these monumental events.
Sigh.
ANNNNNND, my husband made fun of me for crying because he turned a month.
IT'S A WHOLE MONTH! Already!
(While warned, I was NOT prepared for the rate of growth that goes on...)
Also, I know this will be a shock, but I am officially a mother. Who knew, right?
So, we're at D-land and it's time for the baby to take a bottle. I pull out the water to fill his bottle and it's super cold.
I don't want to give it to him this way, because it'll hurt his little belly, but how can I warm his bottle?
Where's a warm spot to stash it for a few minutes?
Wait....Cleavage!
That's right kids, I warmed my son's bottle by sticking it in between my cleavage.
(I'm a total shoo-in for Mother of the Year for SURE.)
Oh, theose heartwarming holiday memories are already being made....
I was sooooo excited!
I freely admit that I am a ginormous cornball, so I love holidays, and "firsts", and sentimental "moments."
He slept through the majority of all of these monumental events.
Sigh.
ANNNNNND, my husband made fun of me for crying because he turned a month.
IT'S A WHOLE MONTH! Already!
(While warned, I was NOT prepared for the rate of growth that goes on...)
Also, I know this will be a shock, but I am officially a mother. Who knew, right?
So, we're at D-land and it's time for the baby to take a bottle. I pull out the water to fill his bottle and it's super cold.
I don't want to give it to him this way, because it'll hurt his little belly, but how can I warm his bottle?
Where's a warm spot to stash it for a few minutes?
Wait....Cleavage!
That's right kids, I warmed my son's bottle by sticking it in between my cleavage.
(I'm a total shoo-in for Mother of the Year for SURE.)
Oh, theose heartwarming holiday memories are already being made....
Thursday, November 19, 2009
I finally remembered where my camera was!
I can finally post the pictures of Owen's first real bath...
(It was in the diaper bag, btw. The camera, not the bath.)
READY TO BEGIN
and not too sure about it...
THIS IS KINDA NICE...
YEAH! I'M DIGGIN' IT!
SEE? HE'LL SLEEP ANYWHERE.
The kitchen sink included
WAIT, WHAT THE HECK HAPPENED TO THE WARM WATER?
Not cool, guys.
WARM IS GOOD!
ALL CLEAN!
Time for Snuggles!
(It was in the diaper bag, btw. The camera, not the bath.)
READY TO BEGIN
and not too sure about it...
THIS IS KINDA NICE...
YEAH! I'M DIGGIN' IT!
SEE? HE'LL SLEEP ANYWHERE.
The kitchen sink included
WAIT, WHAT THE HECK HAPPENED TO THE WARM WATER?
Not cool, guys.
WARM IS GOOD!
ALL CLEAN!
Time for Snuggles!
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
The conclusion of Boob-Gate 09
I have thrown in the towel...erm, pump.
Owen doesn't want my nipples, he wants the silicone ones (that's what I get for having a baby in South County), and nothing I do is going to change that.
Pumping is a done deal as well. He's 3 weeks old today, and the lactation lagoon has dried up.
And nothing makes you feel more womanly than realizing your chest has turned into the Dust Bowl (how will I ever save a starving stranger now?)...
Sadness.
I have to keep reminding myself though, that this isn't about me. It's about the baby; he is perfectly healthy and content with his bottle of formula, and I am not an asshole or unfit mother because I couldn't breastfeed.
I'm working really hard to believe that, and not be negative about it.
(Sometimes however, I do find myself giving the formula can dirty looks...USURPER!)
As much as I hate to admit it, waving the white flag on this whole feeding fiasco has made things a lot easier.
I am less frustrated, the sobbing has all but quit (pregnancy hormones ain't got NOTHING on postpartum ones), and I get to spend more time cuddling Owen.
He's so good. He's waking up about every 2-2.5 hrs at night, but will usually go right back to sleep after a bottle and a dry diaper.
The pediatrician says he looks great, and I swear, he gets bigger each day!
I don't want him to grow up!
And yes, believe it or not, I get super-bummed sometimes that he's no longer in my belly....
But then I remember the constant pain, and I snap out of it pretty quickly.
Oh! Oh! Oh!
I am sleeping in my own bed again!
I'm thinking of burning the Poang chair in effigy.
Owen doesn't want my nipples, he wants the silicone ones (that's what I get for having a baby in South County), and nothing I do is going to change that.
Pumping is a done deal as well. He's 3 weeks old today, and the lactation lagoon has dried up.
And nothing makes you feel more womanly than realizing your chest has turned into the Dust Bowl (how will I ever save a starving stranger now?)...
Sadness.
I have to keep reminding myself though, that this isn't about me. It's about the baby; he is perfectly healthy and content with his bottle of formula, and I am not an asshole or unfit mother because I couldn't breastfeed.
I'm working really hard to believe that, and not be negative about it.
(Sometimes however, I do find myself giving the formula can dirty looks...USURPER!)
As much as I hate to admit it, waving the white flag on this whole feeding fiasco has made things a lot easier.
I am less frustrated, the sobbing has all but quit (pregnancy hormones ain't got NOTHING on postpartum ones), and I get to spend more time cuddling Owen.
He's so good. He's waking up about every 2-2.5 hrs at night, but will usually go right back to sleep after a bottle and a dry diaper.
The pediatrician says he looks great, and I swear, he gets bigger each day!
I don't want him to grow up!
And yes, believe it or not, I get super-bummed sometimes that he's no longer in my belly....
But then I remember the constant pain, and I snap out of it pretty quickly.
Oh! Oh! Oh!
I am sleeping in my own bed again!
I'm thinking of burning the Poang chair in effigy.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Just call him Baby Van Winkle...
Owen takes after his Mommy. He likes to sleep. A LOT.
(We're hoping this trend continues. *Fingers Crossed*)
He can sleep anywhere, anytime:
THE BIG GAME WITH GRANDAD
Go WVU!
IN HIS ROCKER
ON THE FLOOR, EVEN
With his beloved Bink...of course!
HEY, HE'S AWAKE!
Well, kinda.
My little sleepy bean!
It's hard work being adorable all the time.
That, or he just finds us all incredibly dull...
Baby's First Bath Pics to come soon!!!
(I just need to remember where I put my camera)
(We're hoping this trend continues. *Fingers Crossed*)
He can sleep anywhere, anytime:
THE BIG GAME WITH GRANDAD
Go WVU!
IN HIS ROCKER
ON THE FLOOR, EVEN
With his beloved Bink...of course!
HEY, HE'S AWAKE!
Well, kinda.
My little sleepy bean!
It's hard work being adorable all the time.
That, or he just finds us all incredibly dull...
Baby's First Bath Pics to come soon!!!
(I just need to remember where I put my camera)
Thursday, November 12, 2009
That wasn't nearly as satisfying as I'd hoped...
You know how whenever a celebrity has a baby, it takes about 2 hours postpartum and then BOOM! there's a cover story on OK magazine about how they're back to their pre-pregnancy skinny jeans?
HOW DO THEY DO THAT? I want to be that disciplined!
(Hell, I just want to wear skinny jeans)
I'll feel SO much better when I'm al LEAST back to my pre-pregnancy weight!
Those crazy superhuman celebrimoms!
I've decided once and for all that it is all LIES. Vicious, unadulterated, lies.
Bitches.
I was suspicious before, but now, I'm convinced...
It all started yesterday when I was getting ready for my 2 week postpartum check-up with my OBGYN.
Getting dressed was not going well.
My pre-prego clothes weren't fitting, so I grabbed a pair of maternity jeans.
Mind you, these were jeans that I wore up until I was 7 months pregnant.
(I was HUGE)
I put them on, and to my dismay, they were uncomfortably snug.
I consoled myself with the reminder that it had ONLY been 2 weeks, and so OBVIOUSLY I was still carrying some baby weight.
It takes awhile to lose 27 lbs. I'm not Heidi Klum, for Pete's Sake!
Then, at the the OB's office, they made me get on that awful scale. Like they ALWAYS do. Jerks.
As per the ususal, I'm averting my eyes and waiting for it to be over, when my nurse cheerfully announces to me that "Hey! You're back down!"
Back down to where? The depths of Chunky McButterPants-ness? Was I not standing on the scale correctly?
What IS she talking about?
She, my dear readers, was talking about my weight.
I was down to my pre-pregnancy weight.
Instead of being estatic, I'm pissed!
You mean to tell me that I've lost 27 lbs. and I'm STILL wearing too-snug maternity jeans?!
SON OF A.....
Right back into those skinny jeans, my flat-sadly-unaffected-by-pregnancy ASS.
HOW DO THEY DO THAT? I want to be that disciplined!
(Hell, I just want to wear skinny jeans)
I'll feel SO much better when I'm al LEAST back to my pre-pregnancy weight!
Those crazy superhuman celebrimoms!
I've decided once and for all that it is all LIES. Vicious, unadulterated, lies.
Bitches.
I was suspicious before, but now, I'm convinced...
It all started yesterday when I was getting ready for my 2 week postpartum check-up with my OBGYN.
Getting dressed was not going well.
My pre-prego clothes weren't fitting, so I grabbed a pair of maternity jeans.
Mind you, these were jeans that I wore up until I was 7 months pregnant.
(I was HUGE)
I put them on, and to my dismay, they were uncomfortably snug.
I consoled myself with the reminder that it had ONLY been 2 weeks, and so OBVIOUSLY I was still carrying some baby weight.
It takes awhile to lose 27 lbs. I'm not Heidi Klum, for Pete's Sake!
Then, at the the OB's office, they made me get on that awful scale. Like they ALWAYS do. Jerks.
As per the ususal, I'm averting my eyes and waiting for it to be over, when my nurse cheerfully announces to me that "Hey! You're back down!"
Back down to where? The depths of Chunky McButterPants-ness? Was I not standing on the scale correctly?
What IS she talking about?
She, my dear readers, was talking about my weight.
I was down to my pre-pregnancy weight.
Instead of being estatic, I'm pissed!
You mean to tell me that I've lost 27 lbs. and I'm STILL wearing too-snug maternity jeans?!
SON OF A.....
Right back into those skinny jeans, my flat-sadly-unaffected-by-pregnancy ASS.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Yay! We haven't screwed it up yet!
Owen is 2 weeks old today!
He's been a dream baby so far, and we're all just mesmerized by him in our household.
As with any new baby, the "firsts" have already begun:
FIRST FAMILY PHOTO
FIRST TRIP TO THE PEDIATRICIAN
On our way!
No one likes waiting for the doctor half-naked and cold!
FIRST TRUE LOVE AFFAIR
No one comes between a boy and his Bink... Owen makes sure of that by always holding on to it for dear life. He's committed.
He's been a dream baby so far, and we're all just mesmerized by him in our household.
As with any new baby, the "firsts" have already begun:
FIRST FAMILY PHOTO
FIRST TRIP TO THE PEDIATRICIAN
On our way!
No one likes waiting for the doctor half-naked and cold!
FIRST TRUE LOVE AFFAIR
No one comes between a boy and his Bink... Owen makes sure of that by always holding on to it for dear life. He's committed.
Monday, November 9, 2009
Maybe this means he'll be a butt man....
Owen is HERE!
As of Wednesday, October 28th at 1:05pm, my perfect little man made his grand entrance into the world!
8 lbs, 7 oz, 19 inches long.
He is an absolute ANGEL, and I could not ask for a better (or more gorgeous) baby.
{For pics, check out http://lookathowcuteiam.blogspot.com}
Well, except for one thing...he hates my boobs.
I reeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaallllly wanted to breast feed. The bonding, the nutritional benefits, etc. I studied up, armed myself with the right gear, and gathered resources--I was amped.
My son, not so much.
He would not latch on to save his life. Granted, we had some obstacles, like my inverted nipples and his tendency to draw in his lower lip, but I was assured by the lactation consultants (or "Nipple Whisperers" as they were deemed by my hubby) that with persistence and patience, he would be on the boob in no time.
After 4 days of him screaming every time I put him to the nipple and me crying because I felt like a monster of a mother, the NWs changed their tune.
Now, they said—“You can pump and feed. The breast just doesn’t work for everybody”
Great.
So home from the hospital we went, latchless.
I was totally bummed. I felt like a failure. Would I think that any other mother was a failure? No, but this was not someone else, this was me, and the standards are less forgiving…
But, finally after trying to get him to love the boob at home only to more tears from the both of us, I decided to let it go and focus solely on pumping.
Yay Pumping!
Or not.
I had been pumping in the hospital every 3 hours, and continued that trend when I got home…
My milk wasn’t coming in.
More crying and crushing feelings of inadequacy ensued.
So I called the NWs. They assured me that my milk would come in, and that it was common for Cesarean births to sometimes cause a delay in production.
Their official line was basically: “If you Pump it, Milk will come”
Okay, fine.
So every 2-3 hours, I’m pumping, and when I can stand it, I’ll pump every hour and a half.
I feel like a dairy cow.
All of that effort and my production is still super low. We’re having to formula feed him almost exclusively, which again, makes me feel (however irrationally) like LoserMommy.
This Wednesday marks 2 weeks. Unless the Nipple River starts flowing by then, I’m packing away my pump.
I don’t want to be one of those women that gives up too soon, but at the same time, I don’t want to beat a dead mammary either.
I feel like all I do is pump, and it’s not even effective. Kinda like salt in the wounds….
I might as well spend that time enjoying Owen, instead of feeling bad about myself and torturing my nips, because on top of all the boob vs bottle drama—I’m healing from a C-section and as those of you who read this blog regularly know, a pretty physically debilitating pregnancy in the first place, which isn’t going so hot if I’m honest.
My poor husband.
He has been SO incredible in helping me and taking care of Owen, but I know he’s pretty sure I’ve lost my mind, because there has been a massive amount of tears and frustration since our son was born, and I don’t think he expected that.
In his defense, I don’t think I did either.
Neither one of us could have anticipated the feeding problems or how physically wrecked I would STILL be after coming home and how emotionally taxing that would be.
So it’s been tough, but every day gets a little better, so we are hanging in there.
And most importantly, we have Owen…our healthy, sweet, little monkey who makes us both giddy.
I swear, I could just stare at him sleeping all freakin’ day.
That’s not creepy, just maternal, right?
As of Wednesday, October 28th at 1:05pm, my perfect little man made his grand entrance into the world!
8 lbs, 7 oz, 19 inches long.
He is an absolute ANGEL, and I could not ask for a better (or more gorgeous) baby.
{For pics, check out http://lookathowcuteiam.blogspot.com}
Well, except for one thing...he hates my boobs.
I reeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaallllly wanted to breast feed. The bonding, the nutritional benefits, etc. I studied up, armed myself with the right gear, and gathered resources--I was amped.
My son, not so much.
He would not latch on to save his life. Granted, we had some obstacles, like my inverted nipples and his tendency to draw in his lower lip, but I was assured by the lactation consultants (or "Nipple Whisperers" as they were deemed by my hubby) that with persistence and patience, he would be on the boob in no time.
After 4 days of him screaming every time I put him to the nipple and me crying because I felt like a monster of a mother, the NWs changed their tune.
Now, they said—“You can pump and feed. The breast just doesn’t work for everybody”
Great.
So home from the hospital we went, latchless.
I was totally bummed. I felt like a failure. Would I think that any other mother was a failure? No, but this was not someone else, this was me, and the standards are less forgiving…
But, finally after trying to get him to love the boob at home only to more tears from the both of us, I decided to let it go and focus solely on pumping.
Yay Pumping!
Or not.
I had been pumping in the hospital every 3 hours, and continued that trend when I got home…
My milk wasn’t coming in.
More crying and crushing feelings of inadequacy ensued.
So I called the NWs. They assured me that my milk would come in, and that it was common for Cesarean births to sometimes cause a delay in production.
Their official line was basically: “If you Pump it, Milk will come”
Okay, fine.
So every 2-3 hours, I’m pumping, and when I can stand it, I’ll pump every hour and a half.
I feel like a dairy cow.
All of that effort and my production is still super low. We’re having to formula feed him almost exclusively, which again, makes me feel (however irrationally) like LoserMommy.
This Wednesday marks 2 weeks. Unless the Nipple River starts flowing by then, I’m packing away my pump.
I don’t want to be one of those women that gives up too soon, but at the same time, I don’t want to beat a dead mammary either.
I feel like all I do is pump, and it’s not even effective. Kinda like salt in the wounds….
I might as well spend that time enjoying Owen, instead of feeling bad about myself and torturing my nips, because on top of all the boob vs bottle drama—I’m healing from a C-section and as those of you who read this blog regularly know, a pretty physically debilitating pregnancy in the first place, which isn’t going so hot if I’m honest.
My poor husband.
He has been SO incredible in helping me and taking care of Owen, but I know he’s pretty sure I’ve lost my mind, because there has been a massive amount of tears and frustration since our son was born, and I don’t think he expected that.
In his defense, I don’t think I did either.
Neither one of us could have anticipated the feeding problems or how physically wrecked I would STILL be after coming home and how emotionally taxing that would be.
So it’s been tough, but every day gets a little better, so we are hanging in there.
And most importantly, we have Owen…our healthy, sweet, little monkey who makes us both giddy.
I swear, I could just stare at him sleeping all freakin’ day.
That’s not creepy, just maternal, right?
Sunday, November 8, 2009
He's Heeeeeeeeerrrrrrrre!
Our gorgeous son was born on Wednesday, October 28th, 2009 at 1:05pm.
He weighed 8 lbs and 7 oz and was 19 inches long.
He was delivered by cesarean section, which went well and I am recovering slowly but surely.
We left the hospital on the afternoon of Halloween, and celebrated Owen's first week on the planet on Wednesday.
He is ABSOLUTELY perfect, and the cutest baby in all of the world.
This is not an opinion, it is a fact.
See for yourself:
We're so happy he's here!
All cleaned up!
Happy Halloween!
He weighed 8 lbs and 7 oz and was 19 inches long.
He was delivered by cesarean section, which went well and I am recovering slowly but surely.
We left the hospital on the afternoon of Halloween, and celebrated Owen's first week on the planet on Wednesday.
He is ABSOLUTELY perfect, and the cutest baby in all of the world.
This is not an opinion, it is a fact.
See for yourself:
We're so happy he's here!
All cleaned up!
Happy Halloween!
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