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A lesson in socializing

I worry a lot that Miles will be seriously slacking in social skills.

Him and his daddy spend all day together, and they don’t get out much.

Other kids scare me. They eat food that could send Miles directly to the hospital. It terrifies me.

I shudder at the thought of leaving him places with other kids, and don’t even get me started with church nursery. They have snacks. Like Goldfish crackers. And kids eat them. And walk around. And stuff. Terrifying.

I’m trying to let down my guard a little. I only make sure Aaron tells someone 3 times when he leaves Miles somewhere not to feed him ANYTHING!!!

Sometimes people don’t think about it. He can eat broccoli, so my mother in law feeds him broccoli with BUTTER ON IT! That kind of stuff gives me heart attacks.

Social skills.. Not food. Focusing..

I worry that he wont know how to interact with other kids. His cousins mostly hate him because “Heeeee ruinnnnnnssss Evvvvverrrrythhhhing..” (said in the saddest whiny voice you’ve ever heard) He kind likes to knock over towers and take train tracks apart. The older cousins, don’t like that.

I was excited for him to meet OBaby. Finally someone a little more his speed. He did great, they shared toys and stared at each other and both did a little pointing at each other. It was a success in my book!

Miles was the big kid that OBaby looked up to. He wanted to be just like him. Standing and playing and frustrated that he couldn’t get up and walk next to Miles. It was adorable. (They maybe even shared a little snotty nose, all in good fun of course.)

I knew it was love at first sight when the first time Miles met OBaby he graciously handed over his “pretties” (purple mardi gras beads that go EVERYWHERE with us, thanks to Grandma.)

(p.s. Gender neutral parenting FTW!) (p.p.s. We were ALL holding our breath and hoping Miles was actually going to put the beads around OBaby’s neck, because HOW CUTE WOULD THAT HAVE BEEN?? but an offering on the remote of trust was just as cute.. sorta.)

Our Shadows

Sometimes when I am driving alone in the car with the sun roof open and the music up loud, I look in my rear view mirror and see an empty car seat and think, “What is that doing there?”

Sometimes when someone asks me if I have any kids, I choke on my words trying to get them out, to say “Just one.”

We’ll get into bed at night, I’ll kiss my husband goodnight and he leans over me to look at the video monitor and tell Beez goodnight, and suddenly I remember too.

I wonder when this whole motherhood thing will really sink in. It’s fair to say I forget at least once a day that I actually have a baby. Like one that was grown in my tummy, one that I birthed and nursed. Like one that is almost 18 months old. How do you forget something like that?

But then, there are moments like this when all of our shadows are hugging, and making big fat shadow blobs on the ground in front of us, that I wonder even more..

How could I ever forget how perfect this is?

family

This picture was taken a little bit ago, during our first seasonal trip to the park. I suddenly remembered how much I loved it when I read Steph’s post today.

My love of social media…

He walked into the kitchen as I stood alone leaning against the kitchen sink, phone in hand.
Sliding up next to me he asked: “What are you doing?”
“Just quickly checking Twitter.” I replied, half expecting to explain to my father in law what twitter was. Instead he just responded “Oh, do you like doing that?”

My father in law is one of the most giving, free spirited, adventurous people I know. He recently became a middle school teacher, I’m pretty sure we have this to thank for his indoctrinate into the world of social media.

I began to tell him about how I didn’t honestly remember what I did before Twitter. How some of the friends I have made have become some of the best friends I’ve ever had.

I was prepared to hear him tell me about how we are “too connected” or how this method of communication was “ineffective for today’s youth,” how it steers us away from real conversations face-to-face.

Instead he opened up and told me how much he loved texting. As the father of 6, the youngest of who just turned 16. Sometimes sending a text message is the only communication he has with his children for days. He was recently on a three day trip and spent some of the time texting and joking back and forth with his 19 year old son.

“I would never have been able to have those moments of laughing and joking without being connected with him. We just wouldn’t have talked for 3 days,” He told me. “It’s instant communication”

I just smiled and nodded. I knew EXACTLY what he meant.

Some of these people I have conversed with day after day (multiple times a day) are like family. Minutes after meeting for the first time this weekend, we were all at complete ease. We talked about things you would only talk about with once you’ve gotten past that awkward phase with a new friend. We weren’t new friends.
We were with each other and our children’s births, we held hands through the sad times of our lives, we laughed about the funny things our kids have done, we clapped when our children learned how to walk, we cried when we were suffering, and we rallied during depression and addiction.

We immediately talked about bathroom habits, birthing styles, sex lives, and spanx.

During the conference I overheard a conversation about how somebody said twitter was instant communication. When it slow on Saturday and their baby has a diaper rash, they need an answer NOW! Even though they know they could easily go to google for the answer. They want it from their family, and their friends.

We were a family. We are a family.

CBC '10

Melissa, Allison, ME, Julie (who was trying to steal my purse ALLL WEEKEND!)

I told him about the relationships I’ve developed. How we wouldn’t even know Allison and Dan without Twitter. I wouldn’t know lots of my friends without it.. I’m thankful for it.

And the relationships I have because of it.

CBC '10

Kim, Melissa, Allison, ME,

The crash from the high..


You know how you are so so so excited about something that you can’t even think about anything else for weeks before?

Then in the middle of it, it is just like you imagined. So wonderful. Full of so much love. Full of some of the best friends you might ever have.

Then it’s over. Everyone goes home. You go home. You are left processing everything that happened. Left daydreaming and smiling about all the good times. All the inappropriate jokes, all the Freudian slips.
You are just left.

Today I crashed hard, but it’s okay.

I have had the most AMAZING 3 days and nothing can take that away..

I can’t wait to tell you all about it..


For now, enjoy this picture that I so nicely “borrowed” from Heather.

Because I have one more day of not enough sleep ahead of me.

The Reason I Pump

**I get asked a lot to share my breast feeding story. To share my success with pumping so long and any tips and trick I have. But mostly it’s more of “why in the world would you want to pump for two year?” Here is where we start:


I didn’t always want to pump.

My mom breastfed me about 3 months. She went back to work, and switching to formula was just what you did then. My coworker breastfed her first little girl for 4 months before she dried up and switched to formula. A family member tried in the hospital to get her baby to breastfed and was unsuccessful, she gave him a bottle of formula right away.

These were my only real life encounters with breastfeeding before I had Miles. This was it. It was all I knew, and all I thought I needed to know.

I went into it knowing how badly I wanted to try to breastfeed, but I had a plan that I’d probably switch to formula after 4 months because that worked great for her. It was a great laid out plan that I felt very comfortable with.

I horded those free samples* of formula. I loved getting them at dr’s appointments, and in the mail. It was great. I looked at pumps. I knew everything there was to know about every pump ever made. (I’m a bit of an over researcher…. k?)

When he was born, he nursed like a champ. It was so easy. I remember when the nurse would come in to ask when the last time he ate was and I would say “He’s still eating.” Seriously, he would stay latched for HOURS at a time. Our favorite thing to do was to watch movies at home. I could watch 2 movies while he nursed.


Day 3: (home from the hospital)

My milk came in. I was miserable. He was starving. I was a mess. I cried and cried and cried. I would feed him, Aaron would take him and try to put him asleep. 30 minutes later he’d bring him back and say “I think he’s hungry.” I would angerly snap back at Aaron, “How can he be hungry, he just ate for an hour??”

On the way home from his doctors appointment that day I made Aaron stop at the Lactation store. We were getting our pump. Little did I know that pump would become my best friend, and the person (thing?) I would end up spending the most time with.

I started pumping, mostly to sleep longer.

When my sister came to town to help us out for awhile I had to wake me to feed him, then realized I could just wake up in the middle of the night, pump and she could feed him.

It was only a couple days later when both her and Aaron agreed that he did SO much better at night with a pumped bottle. He did better without me.

Being so deep in PPD I was fine with that. It worked better for me too. So I pumped. It was great for all of us.

I returned to work less than 3 weeks after he was born. I’d pump every two hours at work, get home, sit down with him on the couch and he’d breastfeed until we went to bed. Seriously.

We kept up these one time a day nursing sessions for quite awhile. Every once in awhile he’d let me squeeze in another if we were out and about with no bottle, or super engorged boobs. Mostly, It was just once a day.

“4 months. I can do this” I’d remind myself of that often. But by this point I began to find friends through blogging that breastfed for WAY longer than I ever imagined. And I like the idea.

Then that faithful day came around 4 months when we discovered all of Miles’s allergies.

My first instinct was to panic. What would he eat? Surely I can’t keep pumping for him. I got our all my samples of formula. He couldn’t eat any of them so in the garbage they went. I called and got samples of “special” formula and tried to feed him those. He wouldn’t drink them. I panicked more. Terrified of what he would eat.

Never stopping to realize, I had everything he needed.

As the months went on we learned that his allergies went on and on and on. I panicked more, my supply plummeted. I wasn’t making anywhere near enough to feed him now. And to make matters worse, my diet was slashed. Everything I loved to eat was gone because he was so allergic to it. I had to live in a world with no dairy, no eggs, no soy, and no peanut butter. AND keep up my calories so I could still feed him.

I calmed down.

I sat down with myself and realized, He is my son. I will do WHATEVER I can to protect him.

God gave him to me to protect. I promised Him I would do that. No cheese, or peanut butter cookie is going to do that for me.

So I did. I stopped eating all of the things that were making him sick. I committed then and there that I would pump until he was at least 2. Until he’s at least 2 he will have breast milk to drink. Not, “I might” or even “I’m going to try” I WILL.

It has been the farthest thing for easy, but I will do it and I continue to do it because he is MY SON. I will protect him. I will do anything I have to for him.

I have friends walking this slippery slop with me. Feeling so alone. Like no one understands them. One is just starting. I talk to her a lot on the phone. Answering what questions I can, pointing her in the right directions, just letting her vent. (because I KNOW how much that is needed.)

She said something to me.

“I don’t know how to do this..” (she’s 4 months in)

I replied,

“I don’t have a choice.” She told me that wasn’t good enough for her. There had to be an answer. There has to be something she can do. What my heart was screaming and what I should have said was

“How can I not?”

If Miles needed my arm, I would give it. I don’t care what he needs. I have it, and he can take it from me.Especially when it come to feeding him. Is that not my #1 job as a mother? Keep my children safe, fed and happy?

How can I not?

He is my reason. I am all he can have. How can I not provide that for him?

It’s not selfless, its not a huge sacrifice. To say I choose cheese or yogurt over my son? I could never do. I have had pain (not as bad as hers, but still I have had pain.) and I would be in pain every day to still provide for him. I know we’re unique because Miles literally has nothing else he can drink. Nothing. Breast milk is his only option. So really. I don’t have a choice. What I told her is right, but I don’t want a choice.

*****************************

I am now on month 17 of pumping. Miles stopped nursing around 9 months old. Before that he would only do it about 4 times a week. I am going to make it to December pumping. He will be 2 then. Only then will I reevaluate. Who knows, I may go longer.

*********
Edited to add: I made it to 25 months!!!! Miles was 25 months old when I stopped pumping for him. The only reason I did was so I could get started on my surrogacy journey. I never regretted one second of my decision to pump for that long. It was HARD. but  I am so proud.

*Those free samples of formula deserve a WHOLE post to themselves. In the mean time go read THIS post where she starts talking about it!

Please know, that I KNOW that every person is different. Every situation is different. What’s right for me is not right for you. What worked great for you might not work for me.
I love this friend dearly. I know her struggle. I remember being totally and completely freaked out in her shoes. I remember so well. I know how she feels. She feels trapped and so did I. Now I don’t, and I know she soon will feel that peace. It takes time.