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.

Bumps and bruises

What a crazy couple of weeks...

Sylvia has entered a whole new wonderful dimension. For the first few months, I catered to an eating, pooping machine that would smile and occasionally throw me a giggle. Since she turned 6 months (she is almost 9 months now), we have been on a serious incline of awesome. The smiles and giggles that melted my heart have now been topped by hugs and nuzzles. Weird noises she used to make are starting to resemble a language that lets me know what she wants, likes, and doesn't (She has totally reinforced my idea that I'm the funniest person in the whole world). The little lump that had to be carried everywhere is now moving around on her own (crawling is her bitch) and can follow me around the house as I clean. She can pull herself up to standing, and she thinks she can stand on her own.

WAIT!! HOUSTON, WE HAVE A PROBLEM!!

The keyword is "thinks" she can stand up on her own. I had no idea the terror that would strike every time she falls down. I'm seriously considering getting her a helmet. She will pull herself up on anything from the coffee table to the wall. Then, she just lets go and SMACK. She either falls into whatever she's standing on or straight to the floor. I know I sound like a horrible mom because I just let her do this, but I really do my best to keep it from happening. Unfortunately, I don't have the time to stand by her every second of every day, and I don't think I should. She needs to learn on her own a bit too, right? As long as all real dangers are removed from her play areas, she should be allowed to fall down and learn to get back up. This is what I keeping telling myself every time she falls hard(it has happened twice now), but the truth is it makes me nauseous. I'm afraid she is going to have brain damage even though I know that she doesn't even have a goose egg bump. I feel like every other mom looks at the bruise on my baby's forehead and thinks I'm a derelict


I guess I should just be glad she can actually move around. She is quite rotund, and gravity is not a big girl's best friend. I hope and pray we make it through this trial and error period without any major Central Nervous System injuries. I have a feeling we will be walking sooner than later. Great....

4 Quarters

I wrote this as a note on Facebook June 4, 2009. It was right before my 25th birthday, and I was having a really hard time with where I was in my life.

So, in less than a month I will be turning 25. If you would have asked me 5 years ago, I would have told you there is no way I would live to see the day. I'm having quite the little quarter-life crisis. I'm pissed at myself for all the stupid things I've done and the things I didn't get done due to my love affair with the party scene. My boss noticed I haven't been as focused at work nor as much of a sarcastic asshole (which he loves, mind you) lately, and he asked me what was wrong. I went on like a five minute rant about my quarter-life crisis, and after I was done he put everything in perspective for me. It was something along these lines:

Jenna, I know you love football, so think of life like a giant football game. There are 4 quarters. In the first quarter you grow, make a lot of your big mistakes, learn, party, and play. In the second quarter, you build. This is when you build your career, your family, and yourself based on the lessons you learned in the first quarter. In the third quarter, if you played the first 2 right, you enjoy what you've built and learned. If you fucked those up, you have to keep building. In the fourth quarter, well, I doubt either of us will make it there! The way I see it, you did everything right in the first quarter, you've made more mistakes and partied more than anybody I know and actually learned along the way. Now, it's time to get your ass building! You don't want to have to make up for anything in the second half. Think of how stressed you are when Jake has to make up for 4 interceptions he threw the first half of a game. That's no way to live life or play football!

Now, here I sit almost 2 years later. I'm married, living in Germany, getting ready to move back to U.S., and I'm next to the most beautiful baby girl I've ever seen. I never would have guessed when I wrote that note that I would be sitting where I am now. I still think it is the best life advice. I'm in the second quarter. I'm building my life. I find it hard to believe that I went from being a lost child to a pretty responsible adult in 2 years. I love this reliable, responsible person I've become. I like knowing that my family can always count on me. It makes me proud. I also like that I was that other person that I've almost completely lost touch with. The only remnants left of that person are, "shitter was full", laughing when the baby toots, and my love for cheap beer. Even my air guitar has gotten rusty. I know I will never have any regrets about taking long shots down the field. I ran most of my crazy plays in the first quarter. Now, I'm hammering with the run game and making steady progress. It may seem boring, but I've always got a few trick plays up my sleeve to keep it interesting. Right now, I would have to say I'm WINNING.

The Funk

So lately I have been in a serious funk. It is almost enough to say I'm semi depressed. I really have no reason to be seeing that I have everything a person needs to be happy. I have just been so unmotivated to do ANYTHING. I weigh more than I've ever weighed (minus being 9 months pregnant) in my entire life, and I can't seem to get motivated to really diet or exercise that much. If I leave the house twice in a week, it is a good week for me. When we moved to Germany they warned us about the winters. They are long and cold. There are no 60 or 70 degree days September-April. I don't even think I saw the sun the whole month of December. I'm not cut out for this. I was born in South Florida. I NEED THE SUN. I have no idea how people do this year after year. I understand why Germans are so miserable though. Needless to say, I am in desperate need of my trip home. In 6 days Bear and I will be in LKN, and we will be in Florida on 19 days. The things I wish to accomplish while I'm home:
1. Spend as much time as possible with family and friends. Being alone sucks. I love Noah and Bear, but I need some time with other people. I isolate myself here. It isn't healthy.
2. Get a tan. I think sunshine is a must for happy people. I truly believe the lack of sunshine and warmth in my surrounding has directly attributed to the lack of sunshine and warmth in my soul.
3. Exercise every day... outside. This goes along with my needing a tan, but fresh air while exercising helps too. Even if my exercise is pushing Bear in her stroller down to Birkdale Village to window shop (I'm not buying myself anything until I lose at least 10 pounds, but it should probably be 20).
4.Go on a couple of real dates with my husband. It will be our anniversary while we are there. We need some time away from our sweet angel to actually feel like a couple again instead of just parents.
5. Show off my baby. I know that is so tacky to say, but she is my most awesome creation. She is such a ham, and I love to dress her up and show her off.
6. Spend one night acting like my old self. I want to take one night and act like the carefree person I used to be. I may drink a few too many Coors Light drafts, sing some karaoke, and do some serious fist pumping. I've spent the last 14 months being completely responsible, and I need a night away with my super crazy fun friends.
7. Do some serious work on myself. Being a stay at home mom is hard. It is emotionally trying being a slave to an infant 24/7, and I am starting to lose touch with who I am. I've lost sight of goals, and I have no priorities past Bear and Noah. I need to find a balance between who I was and who I am, and I need to devise a plan to get to who I want to be.

That was some serious rambling, and I haven't even had a drop of wine...