i need an instruction manual

are you judging me? or am i?

Posted on by mommyinthemidwest

My husband said to me, “I didn’t like your last post very much.” 

I looked at him in shock.  All along, I had been thinking he was my biggest fan.  “Why not?”

“Because you weren’t very nice to yourself.  I don’t like it when you talk bad about yourself.” 

Sigh.

I know, I know.  It was a harsh letter to my ta-tas.  I was feeling low, what else can I say?  Rhetorical question, guys.  You should know…I can say lots.

Don’t get me wrong… I am grateful that I have been able to pump and nurse Dexter for the past 8 months.  I really, really am.  It is such a frustrating situation for me and I wanted to vent about it.  I just didn’t want to mope and whine about it on here so I thought I’d be a smartie pants and put a mean, sarcastic spin on it.  Well, it was fun to read, anyway, wasn’t it?  I thought so.

The thing is, breastmilk or formula…the kids turn out the same as far as I can tell.  I know more kids that were formula babies than breastmilk babies and I don’t see them getting sick any more than my own kids or other booby babies I know. The whole health thing was my main reason for breastfeeding.  Then, of course, are the savings.  The fact that it’s natural.  It’s bonding time with baby.  Etc, etc, etc, right?

But now it has turned into my stubborness and feelings of guilt if I “give up” or don’t make it to a year.  I don’t know why I am beating myself up about this, but here’s the truth.  I feel like I am failing at motherhood.  I was bound and determined to make it to at least a year.  Every day I pump a little less than the day before.  And every day I go into more of a panicky tailspin about how I’m a worthless mother if I can’t make this work.  Because when it really comes down to it, I do love those quiet moments Dexter and I spend together while he is nursing.  And he’s {more than likely} my last baby, so that kind of puts me into a panic, too.

Do I think mothers that formula feed their babies are worthless? OF COURSE NOT.  I just wanted to say that, in case anyone thought I was insinuating otherwise.  Here’s some honesty – I don’t understand mothers that choose not to breastfeed.  I just can’t wrap my head around why they wouldn’t want that.  Regardless, I realized that it is a choice that some mothers make.  So because I don’t understand, I am probably a little judgy in that department.  But hey, whatever works for you.  What I do understand is mothers that try and can’t do it, for a variety of reasons.  Because it’s hard. Because they don’t make enough milk. Because they have post partum depression or other medical issues.  It happens and I get that.  I wonder if all those other mothers, formula feeding and breastfeeding alike, ever beat themselves up for their decisions and/or circumstances.  Surely I’m not the only one.

We’re all just moms, trying to make the best decisions we can for our kids.  And then others in society and the media and the crunchy mom movement make you feel like crap for doing that very thing. 

~I feel like I will be judged if I don’t make it to a year of breastfeeding.

~I feel like I’m being judged if I breastfeed in public.  Or if I don’t.

~I feel judged for having an unexpected pregnancy that landed me with kids who are only 14 months apart. 

~I feel judged for not being a Stay at Home Mom.  And also because honestly, I don’t really want to.

~I feel judged for not even considering an unmedicated birth.  I never, not for one second, thought about skipping the epidural.

~I feel judged because I don’t fix my hair and put on make up every day.

~I feel judged because my kids are in the 15th – 20th percentile for weight.  Even though the doctor says they are perfectly healthy.

~I feel judged because I’m not planning on throwing Theo and Dexter massive birthday parties every. single. year.

But why do I feel judged?  I don’t judge others for those things. Or do I?  No one I know or communicate with has EVER, in person or on this blog or facebook or anywhere at anytime, said anything to make me feel judged for these things.  I place this judgment on myself because I see what other moms are doing and what other babies are doing.  I feel like maybe I’m not always on par with all the wondermoms out there.  I think that other moms are going to think I’m lazy or ugly or inadequate or and idiot or just a CFM.  Complete. Freaking. Mess.  Why do I let what everyone else is doing feed my insecurities and make me feel small?

Here are some non-rhetorical questions.  I would love it if you responded in a comment.

Has anyone judged you (your parenting) to your face? 

Do you feel ever judged simply because of what other moms are doing (or not doing)? Or by what you see on the internet/in the media?  

How do you keep from letting your insecurities get you down? 

I don’t question that I’m a good mom.  I AM A GOOD MOM.  So why do I let this crap make me feel like I could do so much better sometimes?

ugh.
~C~

most pathetic boobs ever.

Posted on by mommyinthemidwest

Dear Boobs of Mine,

You are a sorry excuse for a rack.  You always have been.  You’ve let me down ever since I was 13 when other girls had real lumps under their sweaters and you could only be classified as itty bitty bumps. The mean boys made fun of girls with smallies and ogled girls with biggies.  You were part of the reason for my low self-esteem for years.  I thought maybe you’d balloon up one day, but surprise, surprise…you failed me.

You’re just a pair of failures.  Nothing more, nothing less.

Anyway, I learned to live with small boobs.  I bought padded bras.  Wonderbras. Went bra-less at times.  I tried to embrace whatever good I could find in having tiny ta-tas.  Sure, there were times that I dreamed of filling you up with giant saline implants, but eventually I grew up and grew to accept and respect both of you for what you were. 

Jugs.  Funny word we use for boobs, since “jugs” is commonly associated with milk, right?  I assumed that ONE day, you would at least serve a friggin’ purpose if you couldn’t just look cute in a low-cut shirt, for crying out loud.  You knew this day would come.  You knew that you would be called upon to do a very important job.  You knew that your obligation to me was primarily cosmetic, but what about the kids, guys?  Er, girls?  I gave you a pass for drying up 6 months into nursing Theo because I the dada slipped up and got me pregnant.  My hormones were wacko and you didn’t know what to do so you shut down.  I.Get.It.

But what’s your excuse now?  Why are you on a mission to deprive sweet little Dexter of your glorious milk?  He’s only 8 months old.  You have made it this far (thanksforthatbytheway), so what’s 4 more months?  I won’t do this to you again.  Or at least I’m not planning to.  You loathed being engorged and deflated (lather, rinse, repeat) and the stretch marks that were left behind.  I know you are sick of being sucked on by a tiny human.  You are completely annoyed by being crammed into the dumb pump flanges for 30 minutes, 4 times a day, 4 days a week.  You hate wearing stupid crinkly paper diapers, just in case you spring a leak.  You hate being bound by ugly nursing bras.  I HATE ALL THOSE THINGS TOO.  Don’t you get it? 

You know that quote from Spider-Man, “with great power comes great responsibility”?

I haven’t asked that much from you in life.  Like I said before, I accepted your faults.  All I wanted was to make it to one year of breastfeeding with ONE of my kids.  Since I the dada admittedly ruined Theo’s chances, clearly you were supposed to step up here and keep the milk flowing for 12 months with Dexter.

Fail.
Fail.
Fail.
Fail. 

Worst boobs ever.

I don’t know what your deal is but I can see that you are not going to be persuaded to make more enough milk by my drinking teas and popping pills.  And for that, stupid tits, you have disappointed me to the brink of devastation.  I can’t beg you anymore than I have already begged you.  I can’t stimulate you anymore than I have already stimulated you.  I can’t keep reminding you to make milk – it is your one job in life and you have failed.

I am losing respect in you every time I pump and watch 1 or 2 ounces dribble out of your idiotic nips.  I will keep pumping you for every ounce for as long as it’s worth it, but I have a feeling that your breastfeeding abilities are diminishing rather rapidly.  Piss poor excuse for boobs, you’re breaking my heart.  I’ll never understand you.  Either of you.

Disrespectfully yours,
Your owner

sleeping baby

Posted on by mommyinthemidwest

I don’t want to press my luck here, but I have to say it.  I will probably jinx myself and everything that is good between here and Mars, but I have to say it. 
Dexter is sleeping through the night.
Since Dexter was born, he’s slept through the night – meaning no one had to get up and go talk to him, pat him, rock him, feed him, etc. – a few times.  As in less than 10.  I haven’t counted, but that’s my best guess.  Last weekend, when we were at Big Splash, something happened.  He would not calm down.  He would not just.go.to.sleep.  Normally we rock him to sleep but it has gotten harder and harder.  He was so fidgety and restless, we resorted to putting him in his pack n’ play wide awake.  He did cry.  It was sad.  But it only lasted a couple of minutes.  Less than 10…and he was out.  He slept until almost 6.  I know that sounds lame, considering that he didn’t go to sleep until about 10:30 that particular night, but that was heaven on earth to me. 

We decided long ago that once we started, we wouldn’t go back or it was all for nothing.  Two times last week, he cried for 30 minutes (Tuesday and Wednesday).  We checked on him every few minutes to reassure him that we were still there and that it was okay to go to sleep.  The rest of the nights, he either barely fussed at all or was asleep after nursing by the time I laid him down.  But guys.  The great news?  He has slept through the night (or at least put himself back to sleep without crying in the middle of the night) FOR THE LAST WEEK.  Do you know how magical that is?

I will say that I’m not a huge fan of crying it out, but I felt that we were out of options that made sense.  We could no longer get him to go to sleep in our arms.  He has just gotten too big and strong and stubborn.  If things continue to go like they have been, this will have been worth it.  Know why?  Because this little prince slept from 8:30 Saturday night until 7am Sunday morning.  And this mama slept from 9:30pm until 7am Sunday morning.

Thank you, Dexter.  You have no idea how much I needed that.  Now do that trick again.  And again.  And some more and then do it again. 

rested,
~C~