Guess what I just figured out...

It turns out that if you have a baby and then wait around for, oh, say around 11 months or so, that baby will turn into a person. It's kind of like a 27lb sea monkey. Just drop the packet in the water, and voila! Shrimp!

Obviously there have been points along the way where Orion seemed take leaps towards person-hood. It started in little ways, with things like holding up his head and smiling, then eating babyfood and crawling, laughing, clapping. It seemed like there were continuous milestones!

Now, though, the things that are changing seem like they require so much more thought. He really has to understand these concepts. For example, just a couple of months ago we were thrilled that he could clap. Yesterday, he took each of my hands in one of his and moved them back and forth together to make ME clap. He insists on feeding himself. If I put food in his mouth with a spoon, he'll spit it back out to pick it up and eat it again. It's messy, but adorable. For months, he could hold the bottle and get the nipple into his mouth but could never manage to figure out that he needed to tip it up in order to drink from it. On Thursday, he figured it out and there's been no looking back.

We learned today that he likes balloons and pushing his highchair away from the table to make it roll across the floor. He still hates having his nose wiped though. Anyone know when that stops?

Mommy Guilt

Work has been hell. Doombot and I are both under pressure to work more hours and it's beyond time to fix some of the problems that are keeping us from performing as well as we need to. Of course, it falls on my shoulders to make it happen and all the pressure, angry conversations, and fear get to be kind of a distraction.

So it happened that when Doombot came back from taking Orion to his follow-up appointment for his ear infection (because I couldn't break away from work), I was shocked to find out that Orion's cough was bad. His breathing was fast, and his airways restricted. Doombot came home with a nebulizer and another prescription for prednisone. While I was busy running a business, I missed the fact that my squirrel is perilously close to having asthma.

I also didn't notice that I had developed a giant hole in one of my teeth. Ths is until it woke me upin the middle of the night last night. You know nothing good is going on when a woman wearing inside-out capri pants, a nightgown, and a parka is standing in a 7-11 at 4am buying Advil and Orajel.

Which reminds me of anohter conversation that Doombot and I had last evening after he got a haircut and I realized that I have had exactly 1 haircut in 16 months (maybe longer).

I'm not taking care of myself. I'm not doing right by my squirrel. My work is killing my marriage. I've GOT to get some perspective on my life. I think I'll start with a root canal and a haircut.

A Nine Month Miracle

I see that I made my last post here on 1/13. That means that I have never recorded the second most miraculous event in recent memory.

On January the Fourteenth, in the year of Our Lord Two Thousand and Nine...

Orion Vick Slept through the night.

At first I thought it was probably a fluke. But no! He's actually done it again and again and again. In fact, since he proved that he can do it there have only been two nights when he's needed any attention overnight. The new routine is that he gets a bottle and goes to sleep at 7pm, fusses a little and needs to be resettled by about 8pm. That is all we hear from him until his happy babbling through the monitor wakes us up at 7:30am.

Also new since the last update: crawling and pulling up. I didn't realize that he could pull up until I looked over while I was cleaning and saw him chewing on the rail of his Pack N Play. I'm a little nervous. This means walking is next, right?

This afternoon marked another milestone. For the first time ever, we ordered Orion his own meal at the deli. He got a grilled cheese sandwich and ate it like a good boy. Well, he ate some of it. He probably dropped about a third of it on the ground.

Overall, we have such a big boy that its freaking us out to no end. As Dannon put it, this time last year I couldn't walk becaue I was so uncomfortably pregnant and now we have a child who sleeps through the night and eats food.

Man.

Oooooklahoma Where the Wind Goes...ah, nevermind.

So, I fell of the internet again.

The thing is, I don't want to come on here and bitch. No one likes a whiner and that's about all I've got energy for these days. Essentially, I've come to the conclusion that moving out here was a big, fat, mistake. All three of us have been sick non stop since we got here, Dannon now has to work nights and weekends out the wazoo so I'm alone with Orion a lot, and things at work are rough. Under any other circumstances we'd pack our shit and go home. The house here should sell just fine and we still own the one in FL. We'd just get new jobs and move on with our lives.

The problem? We're under contract. If we don't stay here for at least 2 years, we owe the company back all of the money they spent to move us here. We'd be paying back until we die. So we're stuck until at least August of 2010...that's if they don't fire us first for being sick all the time and running the project into the ground.

So, yeah, I'm not very good company.

The List

This year I:
Became a mother
Fell in love with my son
Moved to Oklahoma
Took on a challenging new job
Ran out of sick time
Bought a house that I love
Picked my own pumkin for the first time
Cut down my own Christmas Tree for the first time
Gained back all the weight I lost pre-baby

Next year I will:
Get back to a weight with a "1" as the first digit
Enjoy fewer Reeses Cups and more hot baths
Read more to my son
Be a better boss, employee, and wife
Earn the trust that has been placed in me
Make it home for Christmas
Use a babysitter to date my husband

Who asked you?

I guess the firt time one experiences a miscarriage, one runs right to the doctor. On number five, though? Meh. I know how it goes. It's cycle day 17, your beta is only a 12, you should get your period soon. Smell ya later. Been there, done that. So when I was fairly certain that I'd had (sigh) another miscarriage I decided to spare myself the indignity and ride it out solo.

Big mistake.

So, here I lay for the second night, in a randomly inflating and deflating hospital bed. Having been scanned in every hole imaginable, sucking up all the pain meds they'll give me while the IV antibiotics pour into my system. The doc that came to see me this morning was shocked I was concious, my white blood count was so high. He said things like "blah blah blah lose a tube" and "blah blah blah want more kids?" The general implication being, like reproductive health? Lay back and take advantage of the all-your-veins-can-pump IV bar and be glad you're not in surgery right now.

OK...so I know there's a crapton of stupidity here. First, what the hell was I doin getting pregnant now in the first place? I know! I know. Second, it's one thing to know your own body but that's no excuse to not get medical treatment. Ugh. I know. I have a habit of thinking I'm smarter than I am when it comes to medical stuff.

However, what in the world makes my friends and family members think that they should be telling me to get my tubes tied to "keep this from happening again". Does it matter to them that I'm not done having children? No. They think this is too hard on me. Ok...then suggest I go on the pill...get a shot...get an IUD...but dude...burn out your own tubes. Leave mine alone.

*********************
The More Things Change...
For my 3rd miscarriage, I had to have a D&C. I thought it was totally sick that I had to go to the labor and delivery area for my surgery. It really helped me though, when the sweet old nurse patted me on the shoulder on my way out the door and said, "We'll see you next year, sweetie."

Now, after #5, my hospital room is on the mother and baby/womens surgery/pediatric unit. Every time a baby is born, they play a snippet of a lullabye over the speaker. It makes me wonder if that music will ever play for me again. I just don't think I'm done. Maybe I'll be back next year.

Oh My Darlin

I'm from Florida, in general, and from a citrus famil, precisely. If I'm going to get all excited about a citrus fruit it had better be good, is what I'm saying. Until a few weeks ago I'd never even heard of a clementine. Where do they come from? Not Florida. Anyway, it seems like in the rest of the world they're a fall/winter treat that people actually look forward to.

I've seen stacks of them at the grocery store for a while now and just thought...eh...more citrus. Then one of the bloggers I like mentioned clementines on her twitter and I thought, what the hell.

What the hell? These things are amazing. Easy to peel, seedless, juicy but clean, and sweet as candy. I guess I'm officially not in Florida anymore.

Bank Error in Your Favor

Last week, Doombot went to Swanky Preschool looking to see if we wanted to spend an extra $300 a month to send Orion there. Sadly, it turns out that we do. Sadly in part because of the extra $300 part, but also because of what we were told was a two and a half year waiting list.

So, today, Swanky Preschool Director calls and tells us that the 3-yr-old teacher, Melissa Smith, knows us and they think they can find us a spot. We went up there, I took the tour that Doombot took on Friday and fell instantly in love with the place.

We didn't have the heart to tell them that we have no idea who the fuck Melissa
Smith is, but they're calling us tomorrow or Wednesday to let us know when they can get us in.
_________

Mother Fuckers did it again.

When we went to pick up Orion early from the current incarnation of Squirrel School. He was:

1. Laying awake in a crib (hey, that's illegal!)
2. With the teacher having her homework spread out on a table (if not illegal, it should be)
3. With a bottle in his crib with him (definitely illegal)
4. WITH NO MOTHERFUCKING RICE IN IT (I'm gonna kill a bitch)

Seriously, if I wasn't looking at new daycares, I would be now. Thank god Swanky Preschool has webcams in every room and I think I can trust the chef to add the fucking rice.

OK, I lied. It was easy.

So, here's how bed time worked a month ago. I make a bottle at 6:45 to be prepped for the coming meltdown. Sometime before 7:00 the festivities begin. Orion starts crying. I get him into his pj's and a fresh diaper, during which he cheers up a bit. I climb in to bed with him and give him the bottle. If he finishes the bottle while sleeping, I win. If he finishes the bottle before falling asleep, fail. If so, I begin to pat, sing, and otherwise cajole him to sleep. Once he falls asleep, I stay in bed with him FOREVER until he's asleep enough to move without waking up. The End.

Here's how bedtime goes now. At 5:50 he rubs his eyes. I go make a bottle, change him into his pj's and a fresh diaper. The whole family gathers for some tummy blowing time. I give him his bottle. He is still awake. I move him to bed. I hear him playing and babbling for about 10 minutes from my place in front of the TV in the living room. Sometime later, I notice it has stopped.

Dude. Ferber rocks. Now I just have to figure out how to not get up once or twice to feed him overnight.

___

Got a new stroller today, and boy am I proud of myself. Orion actually no longer fit in the one that came with his travel system. His shoulders were too wide...he's a hoss, y'all. I also wanted something more compact, so I had figured on the mid level Maclaren umbrella thingy. This was $189, but I had a coupon. But get this! Instead of going to the store and managing to upsell myself, I actually picked out a cheaper stroller! I know! I was not a brand whore. I did not insist that more expensive must be better. This is totally the 2nd time this has happened. Last time was the car seat. Turns out, sometimes I like the less expensive stuff better. Will wonders never cease.

Easy? My Ass!

Ok. So, Ferber. Here's the scoop on Ferber.

It works. Honest to jeebus, it does. What it also does is makes your kid scream enough to take that dribbly nose and turn it into a full blown coughing, sneezing, hoarse-croaking cold. I don't know if the timing was just coincidental or if its a cause and effect thing but I started Ferber with a relatively healthy (if day-care-plague-oozing) kid and stopped after two days with Typhoid Squirrel. Now the whole house is sick. He's given Doombot the Pink Eye, and I'm sharing his cold. Bad news all around.

So, last night we were back to the "No Cry" approach. He was so grateful he slept 8.5 hours in a row (in his room!)(after I moved the sleeping heap of baby across the house without waking him up or stepping on a cat). Then he celebrated his 8.5 hours of sleep with half a meal and zonked back out for 4 more hours.

Maybe Ferber worked for us after all.

The easy way out

I've been toying with this Ferber idea for a long time.

I haven't done Ferber yet, because:
1. I knew how to get Orion to go to sleep. Oh sure, it required snuggling into bed with him, giving him a bottle, putting on the white noise machine, and singing the same two songs over and over again until he fell asleep then dozing off myself waiting for him to go floppy enough to be moved to the crib. But, you know, I could get him to sleep.
2. He slept a 5 hour stretch every night. Sure, it was the five hours between 8pm and 1am and therefore utterly uselss to my own sleep needs. But everything I read called that the minimum threshold to be considered "sleeping through the night". Yeah, maybe he was sleeping through the night in some time zone, but not mine.
3. Doombot insisted that he stay in our room. Try letting a baby cry for 10 minutes before attending to him when you're sitting in the same damn room.

I'm doing Ferber now, because:
1. My mom is in town and has offered to do it for me. Sigh.

Not Yet

Last night Orion was in a great mood. He'd had some yogurt that was cleaned off his face with puppy kisses. He was giggling and smiling and kicking his legs. It seemed like a good time for a test run.

I laid him on his belly on the chaise lounge and his legs immediately started pumping. A couple of times he got his knees up under him only to splat flat on the cushion when he tried to push for forward motion. Eventually he started pushing hard enough with his legs (but not moving his arms) that he was scooting backwards toward the open end of the lounge. I asked Doombot to move to the end so he could catch him if he tried to slip off.

Since Doombot is conditioned to do whatever I tell him to when it comes to baby safety, he moved into spotter position with a quickness. Then I watched his face fall.

"No. Not yet," he said. He picked up the squirrel and snuggled him in close. "I'm not ready for him to crawl now. Maybe some other day."

We're both starting to realize what it will mean to have an only child. This is the only baby who will ever eat his first yogurt. The only baby that will ever lay on his tummy with his limbs flailing around. The only one to eat his first finger food, pick his first pumkin, and the only one (someday soon) to begin to crawl.

Today at lunch, a woman was at the table next us with her son. He looked like he was about 11 or 12 years old. He ordered and ate his sandwich just like Doombot. First listing off all of the things he didn't want on it, then reluctantly agreeing when his companion asks, "So, just meat and cheese?" Then, again just like Doombot, he got excited about the availability of baked potato soup. At that point I realized that someday that will be me. Picking up the Squirrel early from school on a blustery Friday, maybe for a doctor's appointment, then talking about his science project over a steamy cup of soup.

Certainly, that will hold its own joy, just as watching my baby grow into a real live person fills me with warm amazement every single day. I just can't help missing the tiny infant who was here and gone so quickly, who I'll never get to hold again.

I just caught myself contemplating some of my life's deepest questions. Today, we're talking about...Lazytown.

1. Why is it called Lazytown? Are they saying that the fat kid and the video game guy are lazy? I pick up on nerdy, but not lazy.
2. Why are the girl, Sportacus, and the bad guy regular people but everyone else is a puppet?
3. Is Sportacus' accent fake?
4. When will they air the Mothers Day special that's just 30 minutes of Sportscus doing pushups shirtless? Seriously, that guy's triceps are delicious.

Try this again...

There are four half written posts sitting in my drafts. As it turns out, moving half way across the country, starting a new office from the ground up, and raising a baby from 4 months old to 6 months old is kind of time consuming. This blog isn't the only thing that's been collecting dust. You could build another whole cat/dog from the fur tumbleweeds in my house. It also turns out that carpet is marvelous for hiding shedded animal fur. I had no idea how much there was until the tile in here gave it nowhere to run.

So, what's new on the squirrel front? Let's see...He's eating solids now. So far what we've gotten to work is a breakfast of applesauce with carrots for lunch. You could say we've had limited success with feeding him dinner, if by limited success you mean that every time we've tried to feed him dinner he's woken up halfway through the night with horrible tummy aches. It's been a couple of weeks, and I've tried again tonight. We'll see how that goes!

Also on the squirrel front? Sitting. Well, sort of. He can sit, he just doesn't know it yet. I keep catching him sitting unassisted because he doesn't realize that he's moved away from whatever was propping him up. Of course, though, if you try to sit him up with no illusion of assistance he faceplants right on over. He'll get it soon though.

Not on the squirrel front? Sleeping through the fucking night. We've actually moved backwards. He's gone from getting up once overnight to eat to twice again. That's a big reason I decided to try a solid dinner tonight. He's gotten harder to get down to sleep, wakes up more throughout the night, and wakes up earlier and crankier in the morning than ever before. I'm going to give this No Cry Sleep Solution book one more crack then I'm going Ferber. I don't like it, but this kid hasn't had a decent nights sleep in his life and if I don't do something soon I'm convinced he'll be broken for life.

Overall, things are good though. Orion is gettin big and silly and happy. He's really waking up and growing into himself. Oklahoma is turning out to be pretty fun, as long as you get your ass out of town and experience it. We've gone to corn mazes, petting zoos, and two mountain ranges all in the last two weeks. Up above, that's Orion in his backack hiking in Devils Den in the Ozarks last week. How could I complain with that smile in my grill all the time?

When the cat's away the mice will...

sleep, evidently.

Anyone who's reading this knows that I have never had the luxury of being one of those snooty new moms who haughtily announces that her baby has been sleeping through the night since six weeks old. I came to terms with that a long time ago, and was satisfied that Orion would go to bed at 7pm, wake up once and take a bottle as we were going to bed around 11pm, and then would wake up again around 3am for another quick snack before sleeping until 8am.

Unfortunately, over the past six weeks or so, that's all gone out the window. He still goes down around 7pm and makes it until 11pm, but then all hell breaks loose. He spends the rest of the night tossing and turning. He's still been taking (at least) one bottle overnight but from 2am until 5:30am he fusses and squirms, needing constant settling. Then at 5:30 he poops, and I'm up for the day because I've gotten up to change him.

But that's me.

With Doombot its a whole 'nuther story. For the first night I was out of town, he did have some trouble getting the baby to sleep. He was starting to early, having picked the Squirrel up from daycare early enough that he missed his last nap then trying to compensate by putting him down for the night at 5:30pm. Yeah, not gonna work. But for the last two nights, he's come about as close to Orion sleeping through the night as I think we're going to see for a while. In bed asleep at 7:00, up at 11:00 for a bottle, then back down sleeping soundly until the 5:30am poop.

It turns out that the magic formula (and in all honesty I've suspected this all along) is that the baby got to lay in bed with him without any contact. He got to lay in my spot with his arms all the way outstretched, with nobody harassing him with all the snuggling and patting that he gets from me. Sorry little ingrate.

The solution is going to be a major pain in the ass. Tomorrow night, we're pulling the full-size crib into the bedroom. We'll take the side off and push it up beside the bed on my side. He'll be safe, close by where I don't have to get up to put him back down in the night, and he won't have to be touched while he sleeps. Maybe we'll be able to recreate Doombot's results.

Rapido! Con no arroz.

I never wanted to have to say this, but Orion is delicate. We worked very hard to strike a balance where he was getting a formula that sat well with him, thickened to a point where he wouldn't aspirate it, coming out of nipple with a hole big enough to fit through without giving him an ear infection but small enough that it didn't give him a tummy ache from eating too fast. This nipple was required to be attached to a bottle that would not give him gas.

After much crying and many sleepless nights for all of of us (come to think of it, we were all doing the crying, also) we came upon the following combination. Nestle Good Start formula, thickened at a ratio of one formula scoop of rice cereal to four ounces of formula, coming out of a Size Three Dr. Brown's Standard Nipple on a BPA free bottle. We were even able to wean him from his reflux meds.

Almost two weeks ago, Orion started to have loose, frequent stools. His reflux was back, with him arching his back and fighting his food. He stopped sleeping well and was cranky and weepy. I was confused though, because suddenly he was eating more at daycare too. It occurred to me that they weren't asking for rice cereal as frequently as it seemed like they should but I figured they were using the community rice, which was fine with me. I never connected these dots. Until today.

Today, we picked Orion up early. They were getting ready to feed him, so they just gave us his bottle to take with us to the real live Pediatrician. We usually leave his bottles there, so I told them I'd bring it back tomorrown.

I noticed right away that the nipple looked kind of funny. Cloudy, and maybe a little fatter and shorter than I recalled. Enough to make me notice, but not different enough to set off any alarms. Once we got settled in the car, I started feeding the baby and formula just came POURING out. He was starving, but he'd just take a couple of gulps then cry and push it away. He'd catch his breath then reach for the bottle again, mouth wide open, only to push it away again when the formula came pouring out the sides of his mouth.

I held up the bottle and saw the word "Rapido" printed on the side of the nipple. What the hell? Orion's nipples don't speak Spanish. I turned it around and saw the word "Fast."

"Mother Fucker!" I yelled from the backseat.

Doombot nearly lost control of the car. "What the hell is wrong back there?"

I'll tell you what was wrong. There was a god damn fast flow Playtex nipple on my Squirrel's carefully selected Dr. Brown bottle. It wasn't even a fast flow nipple that was in good shape. When I pinched the top, it gapped open wider than a (insert off color joke here.) I looked around the car and found a dirty bottle with a size three nipple. The baby was crying his poor little eyes out and I contemplated ways to get the nipple clean. I decided to wait until we got to the Dr. and clean it there where I could get soap and hot water. Orion would just have to suck on my knuckles until then.

Doombot asked to see the bottle. He swished it around and said, "I hate to piss you off even more, but there's obviously no rice in here." He was right. No rice.

We went through with the Dr. visit, but I'm now certain what was going on all along. Either because they wanted him to eat faster or because of total carelessness, some daycare girl has put the wrong nipple on Orion's bottle and collectively the daycare brain-trust has forgotten to put rice in his bottles.

That's why his reflux has come back and he had to restart his meds. His formula was too thin. That's why his tummy hurts. He's eating too fast. And that's why he has diarrea. His solid/liquid ratio is different than he's used to.

I still think its a good daycare. Each of the girls really seems to care about Orion and wants the best for him. I just think they're spread too thin, got disorganized, and forgot. I'll straighten them out tomorrow and all will be well.

But I'll tell you what. One more fuck up like this and they will rue the day they crossed Mama Squirrel.

Sleep or Death!

Orion is a really crappy sleeper and its noones fault but mine. Since he was born, we've used a combination of the Pack n Play/Co-sleeper in our room and the "family bed" for all of our sleeping needs. The little tyrant has also required that he be allowed to fall asleep on the bottle and that he not be moved until he is fully asleep.

He wakes once a night for a full feeding. I could live with that, if not for the 30 other times he wakes up to do a little bit of sucking and to have his position changed. Next thing you know he's going to be making me wipe his ass for him. Speaking of which, during The Intestinal Distress of September 2008 the sleeping has gotten even worse.

I get that he's just a baby, but this shit is not acceptable. I've bought some books and learned that I can teach him to get back to sleep on his own with no crying. I can't do the whole cry-it-out thing. The jury is out for me on whether or not its always cruel, but I just don't have the constitution for it.

I am taking action though. He's back on his reflux meds, which was a no brainer. But the big news is that Doombot has finally agreed to let me move him to the crib. He's currently taking his second nap in his very own crib in his very own room. I even rocked him until he was drowsy and then laid him down. Then I sang to him until he fell asleep. No bottle, people! Do you know what this means?

No? Neither do I, to tell the truth. But the Book says that its important. We'll see what happens tonight, because if I don't get some sleep soon I think I'm gonna die.

God Bless Dr. Sears

OK. The sleep book was horse shit. I don't need to pay $20 for a book to tell me to get over myself if my baby doesn't sleep through the night. Yeah, he's hungry. I get it. Why don't you send someone on over to feed him for me. I'll give you another $20. What? Where are you going???

But the website. Ahhhhhh. The website. When I go to Dr. Google and frantically type in some search term, like tonight's "infant loose stool", and the first link up is to Dr. Sears' site it's like someone has thrown me a life raft. I just want to give every single one of those damn Dr. Searses a great big sloppy kiss.

Dr. Sears tells me I'm not crazy (unlike Doombot). Dr. Sears tells me that its ok to love my baby so much I'm in tears because he's got diarrhea (while the baby giggles at me because it doesn't bother him a bit). Dr. Sears tells me some shit I can do to feel like I'm helping (Give him some live and active cultures!) Dr. Sears even tells me all of this for free.

Unlike Dr. Opium Den, who charged me fifteen bucks.

Squirrel School called at about 3:30 this afternoon, to the shock of absolutely no one, to tell me I needed to come get him. In all actuality, the "three loose poop" alarm clock went off about four hours later than I had expected. I was just glad to have gotten most of a work day in. See, Orion has been pooping soup for four days now. He doesn't seem dehydratedm and when he's not fighting sleep because his tummy hurts, he's laughing non-stop. He's eating less than normal, but I kept thinking it would just go away. But today, Squirrel School forced my hand.

We've only been in OKC a month, so we don't have a pediatrician yet. I was gonna need a Dr. note to be able to get back to work tomorrow, so I set about looking for a walk-in clinic. What I found was awful. I would rather have had Orion treated in the bathroom from Trainspotting.

First, it stunk like old food and cigarettes. Never a good sign in a Dr. office. Then the 9-volt battery in the infant scale was dead and they couldn't find another one. So, we did the next best thing:

Step 1: Weigh Mom Holding the Baby
Step 2: Round Combined Weight Down to Nearest Five Pound Mark
Step 3: Ask Mom How Much She Weighs For Subtraction Purposes
Step 4: Sigh Loudly When Mom Doesn't Know
Step 5: Weigh Mom Alone For Subtraction Purposes, Rounding Up to Nearest Five Pounds

The oh-so-accurate result? Orion has evidently lost 3lbs in the last month.

After we established that my baby weighed somewhere between fifteen and twenty pounds the examination began. The Dr. told me to feed nothing but Pedialyte for 24 hours, then changed his mind. He told me that there was nothing wrong, and told me how to cure constipation. I'll have to keep that in mind, asshole.

I got my daycare release and left.

By two hours later I was in tears. I KNEW there was something wrong with the squirrel but I didn't know what to do about it. I came home and asked the BabyCenter ladies with no luck. Desperate, I turned to Dr. Google.

Dr. Sears had me switch to soy formula, mixed 50/50 with Pedialyte. Doombot ran out and got it. One bottle and Orion was out. At least I feel like I'm doing something.

Bad Mama

Woops!!!!!!
Ha ha! I got your attention didn't I.

Before I begin, let me first explain my extended blogging hiatus. I've moved from Florida to Oklahoma, bought a new house, and started a new job. It's been crazy, and blogging has been the least of my problems.

With that out of the way, lets talk about breast feeding for a little bit, shall we?

When Orion was born, he didn't latch for shit. Well, he'd latch then let go after just one or two slurps. The lacatation consultants in my shitty ass hospital didn't offer any advice more helpful than keep trying. Then they'd make a patty out of my boob, shove it in my screaming newborn's cryhole and shake their heads like I was somehow defective. What I wish I'd known at the time was that I had overactive letdown. Yes...immediately after he was born I was already in such awesome shape production-wise that I was squirting milk forcibly down his little confused throat. We kept trying though, and my boy who was born so big and healthy was barely allowed to leave the hospital for his weight gain and jaundice. Looking back, if I hadn't taken them up on the offer to be discharged a day early he probably would have gone to the NICU.

With that much force to my colostrum, you should be able to imagine how forcible my letdown was when my milk actually came in. I'll never forget waking up in the middle of the night on our first night home from the hospital with my breasts so hard that my nipples were stretched so flat that there was nothing at all for Orion to latch to. He was furious and starving, so Doombot went to the cabinet for one of the ready-to-feed Enfamil bottles that had come in the mail. While he snuggled and fed our newborn, I huddled over the free Avent bottle that came with our baby registry and hand expressed a full four ounces of milk. Barely enough to make me comfortable. This set up the next 10 weeks of our lives.

My letdown never got any better, and once I'd seen the rapturous look in my baby's face as he was snuggled and drank from the bottle it was hard to even consider making him go through the alternative again. The figting, spraying, and screaming seemed like far to high a price to be paid for all of the additional benefits that come from nursing. We settled into a predictable pattern. I would pump while Doombot delivered the bottles. When he was at work, I would pump while Orion slept. Feeding him was a full time job for the whole family. I was constantly feeding, pumping, packaging, thawing, and sterilizing. Parenthood turned in to a death march.

I made multiple attmepts to move him to formula. In those bleak days, all I knew was that I wanted to be enjoying my baby and we were both miserable. Him from terrible silent reflux, and me from endless days and nights hooked to the pump. All of my efforts were failing. Each time we tried formula he would become terribly constipated. I could not win for losing.

Then, all at once, a few things came together to make it imperitive that we make the switch. Some of the decisions I stand by today, some I am ashamed of. Let me explain.

I have already detailed the issues we faced with Orion's laryngomalacia on this blog. We discovered that his reflux was being aggrivated by a combination of that and a potential sensitivity to something in my diet (more on that later) and that he was aspirating his milk. We had two options. Feed him thickened formula, or face swallow tests, MRI's, and the potential of feeding tubes. I must remind myself that none of these things could have been avoided by my diet changes alone.

The second thing that happened is that I became totally addicted to Reese's Peanut Butter cups. That sounds like an exaggeration, but I swear to you it is not. I don't drink. I don't smoke. I don't do drugs. Food is my self-medication of choice, and those were some dark days. I began binging on peanut butter cups to a point where I probably should have gotten some professional help. Yeah, it sounds stupid to me when I write it too. The only part that isn't funny is that all those peanut butter cups turned Orion's poop dark orange and mucousy. It's embarassing to say so now but rather than showing me that I should lay off the smack, I was convinced it was a sign that it was time to force the formula issue.

I could have modified my diet (it sounds so much nicer that way, doesn't it?) and thickened the breast milk. I could have seen a lacation consultant earlier. I could have kept pumping. There's lots of things I should have done first.

Today, though! Today! Orion is growing strong. Sometimes he's so happy when he's eating that he can't suck because he's smiling so big. I get to feed him my self. I have time to play with him during the brief period of time between the end of work and his bed time. His diapers are healthy. He hasn't had a single reflux symptom in 9 weeks. Is it a coincidence that he screamed through the last bottle of breast milk he ate? I never hear the rattle in his chest anymore that used to tell me that he'd aspirated milk.

Here's what I know:
1. If I'd nursed him, the milk would have been too thin. His reflux would have been miserable and he'd be prone to pneumonia from the aspiration.
2. If I'd modified my diet, I still would have had to thicken my breast milk.
3. If I'd thickened my milk, I still would have had to use my spare time to pump.
4. If I'd used my spare time to pump, I never would have had the relationship I have today with my squirrel.

The babycenter blogs have some kind of breastfeeding blitz going on right now, and they're making me feel like shit. In the past few days, I've read up on relactation and priced new manual pumps (did you know Dr. Brown's makes one now!). I just don't know at this point if it's even a good idea to try.

Maybe it's a bad analogy, but..

I feel like I've just been picked up by a tornado and dropped in a completely different world. Why is this a bad analogy, you may ask? Well, ladies and gentlemen of the internets...we're moving to Oklahoma! Why the fuck would you do that, you ask? Why the fuck, indeed.

The reason is simple enough. The company that Doombot and I work for is expanding our division and adding an office in Oklahoma City. I've been asked to run it, and Doombot is going to (gulp.) work for me. Sounds simple doesn't it? Well, it's not.

There's a house to be bought, and a house to be sold. A daycare to be cancelled,and a daycare to be started. Travel for the three of us back and forth to OKC two weeks ago. Travel back and forth to Virginia weekly for three weeks for Doombot. Orion and I heading to OKC for three days next week. Pet shippers, pet shots, and two different boarding kennels. Crates to buy, furniture to acquire, paint colors to choose. Ice maker un-hooker-uppers and hooker-uppers to schedule. Packers, movers, car shippers. Rental cars, hotels. Oh, and an entirely new job to begin for both of us. Does that sound like a lot? Keep in mind that when I last posted on July 10th I knew nothing about this, and I'll have closed on my house and started work at the new place.

I need a drink. In the mean time, enjoy a photo tour of our new house in OKC!
http://www.jeffclickhomes.com/gallery/swf/310