I’m sad

double digits: holding on, letting go.

Posted on by mommyinthemidwest

My little Dexter is 10 months old today.  With every month that passes, I ask myself how we’ve gotten here so fast.  Double digits means only two months til my littlest little person turns one.  Time to start planning the party!

taking off on my own

I’m holding on to these next two months with everything I’ve got.  I think I’m done having babies.  That makes me sad.  It also makes me breathe a little sigh of relief, but with that sigh, I already know I’m going to miss having a sweet little baby in the house.  It’s kinda become a way of life, after all. 

exploring
holding on; not quite ready to let go

I’ve been holding onto hope that I would be able to nurse Dexter for a full year.  For the last four months, my supply has been dwindling and so has my supply of frozen reserves.  Each week, the amount of milk I’m able to express decreases.  It’s getting to the point where it hardly feels worth it.  The constant pumping and calculating ounces is wearing on me.  It’s been stressful the past four months, not knowing if I would make it to the next month.  When I made it to 9 months, I made a goal to breastfeed until he was 10 months and if it was still working, then I’d make a goal of 10 and a half months.  
Last night I looked in the freezer and found that I only have 25 ounces of frozen milk left.  That just means that I only have enough to make it through a couple more days in addition to what I’m able to pump.  We are going to have to start supplementing with formula very soon.  I have a feeling once we start that, the nursing and pumping will end shortly thereafter. 
I’m letting go, but I’m not ready for it to end.  I love nursing and I hate pumping, but I’ve endured the pumping to prolong the nursing.  I’m not ready for my baby to stop being a baby.  I’m not ready to stop holding him in my arms and soothing him to sleep tonight.  Breast or bottle, I don’t have any plans of letting go of that any time soon. 

if you stop breastfeeding me, I’ll eat dirt.
I love this little boy like I never knew I would or could.  When you love your first baby so much, I guess it’s natural to worry that there won’t be enough love to go around.  Not so.  We might be holding on and letting go, but we’re doing it together.  We’re not growing apart, we’re just moving into a new phase.  When Dexter is done nursing, it will be the first time that I haven’t been growing a baby, inside and/or outside of my body, in almost three years.  
I know it is time to let go and move on, but it sure is hard. 
Love,
~C~
P.S. I have a couple of “Theo’s 2nd birthday” related posts planned, but the lack of free time I’ve had lately is not allowing me to write posts/edit pictures like I want to.  So, I’ll do it when time permits.  He had a heck of a celebration, but on a small scale.  Does that even make sense? More to come on this soon. 


sometimes it’s just not what you want it to be.

Posted on by mommyinthemidwest

Sometimes it’s more wonderful than you ever imagined. 

Other times it’s just one disappointment after another.  Valentine’s Day was one of these times.

I was picturing crap like this.  To be fair, this was taken just one day before Valentine’s Day.
My expectations for Halloween were minimal and it was one of the unexpectedly happiest days I’ve had as a parent.  I could have called in sick to work after Trick or Treating because my cheeks hurt from smiling so much.  Yesterday, I pictured Valentine’s Day hugs and kisses and snuggles and kids that eat their food, but didn’t get much satisfaction. 
I picked up the kiddos from our babysitter and naturally, Theo threw his standard fit while I put his coat on.  Fit Number One.  All the way home he whined “I wanna see daddy” so I called R to tell him to make sure he’s waiting for us when we get home so he can get Theo out of the carseat.  Apparently this is a big deal to our little one and he has been in a mommy mood lately, shouting “mommy dooooo it” anytime R tries to get him out of the carseat.  
So there’s R, waiting to get him out and as soon as the door is open, Theo starts whining “mommy doooo it!” Fit Number Two. 
I made homemade pizza for dinner, because I thought that would be a fun treat for everyone (including myself -yum!).  While it was in the oven, I set up the boys’ cards and presents from us, their grandparents, and their aunt & cousin.  Dumb me. I didn’t think about the fact that there was candy involved.  Regrets (why didn’t I just give him the frickin’ candy before supper? It’s Valentine’s Day for crying out loud).  Fit Number Three. They did love all their little presents, and that made me and my mommy heart smile.
Dexter felt like crap and didn’t want to eat.  Not only did he refuse his food, he did not want to sit at the table with the rest of us so we could eat.  In peace.  Meanwhile, Theo was fixated on candy and didn’t want pizza.  At all.  Queue Fits Number Four and Five. 
Baths went okay.

Then there was the part about how the daddy tried to put Theo’s jammies on and he screamed MOMMYYYYYYYY DOOOOOO IT!  Although he had no problem with daddy giving him a bath.  The kid is nuts.  Fit Number 62.
There were other catastrophes, like not being allowed to watch Doodle Bops and putting ointment on rashes and being told to clean up toys that elicited Fits 205-234. 
 
Oh, bedtime.  Let’s not leave bedtime out.  Dexter couldn’t have been happier to go to bed.  Theo couldn’t have been more depressed.  Let’s finish the night off with Fit Number 23 Jillion. 

Happy Flippin’ Valentine’s Day.
P.S.  I lost my lens cap for a couple hours, which resulted in turning the couches upside down and tearing the kitchen and living room apart.  And also? My amazing, kind, loving husband dug through the trash (that was already outside for morning pickup) looking for it.  Then I found it under an end table.  I’m pretty sure I didn’t put it there for safe-keeping.  Perhaps a child or four-legged friend thought it would be a hilarious practical joke to play on mama.  Didn’t laugh, not funny, you lose.

On a positive note, my sweetheart surprised me with some potted tulips and a nice card that made me cry.  Well, I don’t know if the card made me cry or the culmination of events made me cry, but that card and those tulips somehow made things better. 
Today will be a better day.  Today will be a better day.  Today will be a better day.
Valentine’s 2012 with the boys was a bust.  Luckily, the husband and I got to go on a date over the weekend that was a bit rushed, but completely perfect.  We don’t need Valentine’s Day to show each other that we care, but every once in a while we need a night without kids to reconnect and focus on the feelings that got us here in the first place. 

The moral of the story? Don’t set the bar too high.  Have realistic expectations of your toddler and infant when you envision the perfect ____________ (insert whatever you wanted to be perfect here). 
Check and check.  Done.

At the end of the day, I know I am blessed beyond measure to have these three special guys in my life.  Fortunately, all my love eggs weren’t in this heart-shaped basket.  There will be plenty of love to go around the rest of the year. 
Love,
~C~







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~