I HATE BREASTFEEDING!!!!

So, this blog is not for everyone. The La Leche League and pushy breastfeeding mothers will probably have an aneurysm if they read on. This is for those women who tried their best at breastfeeding and failed, and it is for the women who chose bottle feeding from the get go.

I tried breastfeeding my first. After a traumatic emergency c-section and a milk supply that decided not to show up until 10 days later, I failed miserably. Sylvia would only drink from a bottle, so I pumped like a mad woman for 8 weeks before throwing in the towel. I beat myself up over it, and swore the next time I would do more to succeed.

Well, here is next time. I took the breastfeeding class before I had the baby. I read the books. I prepared myself mentally for the struggle that might ensue. I was ready. I went into labor at 32 and 35 weeks (both were able to be stopped). I ended up having my sweet son right at 37 weeks. The c-section was definitely not traumatic, but it was still major surgery. When I finally got ready to start this breastfeeding adventure, little Elisha (m. Biblical name E-lie-sha not aleesha) did not have a strong suck reflex. Not to mention he is super lazy. I was still determined, but once again I failed. So here is why I hate breastfeeding...

1. You're damned if you do and damned if you don't. If you do it in public, it is offensive and disgusting to others around you. I'm pretty sure I have shirts that show more boob than I show with a proper nursing tank and little man covering up the rest of my boob anyway, but whatever, I'm used to offending people. If you give your baby a bottle, you have also committed a cardinal sin. Any older woman or judgmental breastfeeder will tell you how terrible the poison is that you are feeding your child. (Note: The hospital pediatrician assured me that when I was supplementing that there is really nothing wrong with formula.)

2. I still can't eat or drink whatever I want. One night during my breastfeeding adventure I had lasagna with hot sauce on it and garlic bread. Holy mistake. That was poisoning my baby. He screamed and cried all night, and he doesn't scream. It was a bad call on my part, but it sounded so good after months of heartburn after eating everything for months. Then add in, still no booze. Well, no more than a glass of wine a night. I rarely drink anymore, but if I want to have a second glass of wine I think I deserve it after all the crap I went through during pregnancy. I would never, and if I did I would pump and dump. Guilt is a hell of a drug.

3. Pain, blocked ducts and mastitis. I suffered through these when I was pumping for Sylvia. They were actually the reason I stopped pumping. It hurt, and I was miserable and sick. Well, it turns out a weak and lazy feeder is just as bad for your boobies as pumping incorrectly. I was nursing Eli with the lights off in the middle of the night. When I woke up there was blood all over his onsie, the sheets, my shirt, and the burp rag. It turns out I fed him a belly full of bloody milk. Then, I pumped out blood the whole next morning. (Pretty much my last straw. I know the bloody milk wouldn't hurt him, but I still thought it sounded more like poison than formula.)

4. SOME lactation consultants. The lactation consultant I had as my night nurse in the hospital was a terror!!! I almost punched her in the face on several occasions. She was the main reason I pushed to come home after just one night. I wasn't sure if we would make it through the night again (definitely over dramatized although I may have hit her). She kept grabbing and pulling on me, and she refused to get us the donor milk until Eli was hysterical. I did have a good experience with the lactation consultant at the pediatrician. She gave me a nipple shield which helped little man latch and feed much better. She also wasn't pushy about breastfeeding, and she made me very comfortable.

5. Finally, the guilt. I hate that I gave up after the mastitis. I hate that I actually want to breastfeed, and I hate that I am beating myself up over it once again even though it is what is best for us. I hate that I see "the breast is best" on everything. No shit, Sherlock. For the record, Sylvia was formula fed after 8 weeks. I highly doubt she is going to have a low IQ because of what I fed her. I'm pretty sure that is genetic. She also has been sick a lot less than her friends. She only got sick once before she started preschool. All preschoolers get sick, breast or formula fed.

So, there it is. Those are the main reasons I hate breastfeeding. I'm sticking by formula being what is right for us. I won't judge, and I will support you when you pull out your boob to feed in public. I am hoping that you do the same for me when I pull out my bottle.

Crazy, Pregnant Mommy Wishlist

There are those women who love being pregnant. They feel their most feminine and most beautiful creating life. I am not one of those people. Not even close. I feel fat, hideous, everything hurts, and I'm dying. Needless to say, these days I have a wishlist a mile long.

1. I wish I was one of those women that really only put on 25 pounds during pregnancy. Yeah, 40 pounds later... I'm going to have my work cut out for me (again) when this baby comes out. (Thankful note: I'm so glad I have good genes that make it a bit easier to lose weight.)

2. I wish I didn't feel judged by everyone. I don't know if it is real, or I'm just losing it. I feel judged by people if I sneak a latte, eat a Whopper, or don't buy everything organic. I feel judged by my husband when I "accidentally" eat all my food at the Japanese steakhouse. I fell judged by anybody that walks in my messy house. Bed rest and housework do not mix, and I'm really not a great housekeeper when I feel good. I won't even get into judgement by other moms based on my feeding and diapering choices. Sorry, but I will NEVER cloth diaper. I throw away clothes if they have poop on them. There is no way I could carry a shitty diaper around all day. (Thankful note: I have some really great family and friends that try to convince me the judgement is mostly in my head)

3. I wish I could explain to my sweet angel why I can't carry her like I did a few weeks ago, play outside at the park for 2 hours, and why my patience are running abnormally thin. (Thankful note: She is a laid back kiddo, and we love our naps together.)

4. I wish I could get through a whole day without crying, especially over stupid stuff. I cry over country songs, commercials, Sylvia doing something by herself, or the wind blowing a way that tickles my nose. (There is no thankful note for this. I come by my crazy emotions honestly.)

5. I wish I could ditch the guilt. ALL OF THE GUILT. I know I'm doing the best I can do, but my heart is full of guilt. I feel guilty for taking away Sylvia's attention, being less of a mom than usual, not keeping the house clean, the 2 glasses of wine I've had to ease my anxiety attacks (doctor recommended),and basically for being less than the person I usually am. (Thankful note: I have people who accept my crazy ass just the way I am.)

6. I wish this baby would stay put until he is healthy enough to come out. Preterm labor was very scary. I want my baby coming home with me, not staying in the hospital. (Thankful note: I'm 35 weeks. He is almost ready!)

7. I wish this baby would come out. I hate being pregnant, but I absolutely LOVE being a mommy. I'm not like some of my friends that were made to be mommies. I'm not even sure I'm even good at it, but I still love it more than anything. (Thankful note: I'm so very thankful to be pregnant after the hard time we had getting a baby to stick).

8. Finally, I wish that no other woman feels as bad or worse than I do (mentally more than physically). Give yourself a break, ladies. Lord knows I'm trying.

New Style of Weekends

So, I read an article on what highly effective people do on the weekends. It basically says that they unplug and unwind. Anybody that knows me is well aware that I am the complete polar opposite of highly effective. My head is as messy as my house, and I live with a toddler that is the same way. Needless to say, things don't always get done. My husband, on the other hand, is highly effective so I think this "new weekend" will benefit his psyche. So here is what I'm thinking our new weekends should be like... 1.I'm actually going to have the house cleaned on Friday and ready for the weekend. We will not spend our weekends working, cleaning, or working on "honey do" lists, 2. Phones, Ipads, tv's, video games, and technology are off. Well, not our phones because that is the only way to make plans for fun, but we won't be sitting around staring at them. The TV will be turned on if we want to watch a movie after Sylvia goes to bed. 3. We will nap. We all love naps, so a napping we will be together as a family. Sylvia isn't allowed in our bed at night, but we will make an exception for the day. 4. We will plan *F*U*N* family outings every other weekend. Noah likes to do the whole sandbar thing with his brother, so I will give that to him on his off family fun weekends. This will give us the ability to truly enjoy our babies and create memories that we will never forget. This type of weekends isn't really new for us. This is how we lived in Germany, and it brought us a whole different type of intimacy that was so easily lost when we moved back to the states. I'm hoping this change will not only recharge us but also reconnect us in this world of distractions. I hope it builds a strong bond with Sylvia and shows her that she is more important than the rest of the world. I guess we'll see how it goes.

When the heck did all this happen?!

Wow, I haven't blogged since May 2011. Since then, I've turned 27, 28, and 29. The wriggling 9 month old I used to blog about has turned into a full blown little girl. She will be 3 in a little less than 2 months. She is the light of our lives and 100% girl. She is all about makeup, changing clothes, pretty dresses, and drama. We also have a new addition on the way. After a rough year or so of trying with a few losses, we finally got a baby to stick. He (no name yet, Noah has rights so I'm patiently awaiting his ruling) is due October 7, but he will be here a little earlier. The first 20 weeks were stressful due to my history of pregnancy loss, painful due to the scar tissue stretching and my lovely fibroid, and exhausting seeing that my lovely daughter has an abundance of energy. Since we got positive results on our big ultrasound and all testing has been normal, we have hit somewhat of a stride. Ok, enough catch up, now on to the main event... Around my birthday I always find myself a bit reminiscent. This year, I just couldn't help but wonder where the last 4 years went. Here I am about this time 4 years ago...

And here I am now...

I refer to myself as a reformed party girl, but the truth is, a true party girl never fully reforms. The last 4 years of my life have included more change and excitement than most get in 10 years including but not limited to: pregnancy(surprise!), marriage, a move to Germany, having a baby in a foreign country, traveling all over Europe, moving back to US, having to adjust to a new type of life in old surroundings. I have really struggled with the adjusting. It is so hard letting go of who I was especially since I really liked her. She was awesome and hilarious. It is even harder finding where I belong now. I haven't been able to switch to mommy groups and car pools. While there are a few moms that I really enjoy hanging out with, I find that most just like to have pissing contests about how "advanced" their kids are. It is also hard to hang out with my pre-baby friends. They are all wonderful to Sylvia and very accepting of where I'm at, but there is still that separation that comes from just not being able to be around. When I started my blog "My life as a grown-up..." I was a little scared, but mostly excited about this new chapter in my life. Now, looking back, I realized that I had no idea the challenges I would face. Being a grown-up hasn't been like playing house. It has been hard decisions, broken hearts, let downs, and a whole lot of learning sewn together by lots of laughter, kisses, hugs, and love. As I start to stare down my 30's I'm glad I learned all these lessons, so I know better than to think life is a cake walk. It is hard, and it doesn't give you many breaks. It takes courage to get through it. There are so many things to be scared of, and you should be. Courage is being scared to death but saddling up anyway though, right John Wayne? Time to saddle up, kids... we're just getting started AGAIN.