If you had told me 10 months ago that I’d be breastfeeding my baby, and not only breastfeeding, but have an abundant supply of milk so great I could feed two babies simultaneously, and that my newborn would be the fastest eater the lactation consultant who visited yesterday has ever seen (we’re talking 15 minutes and done), and that to calm my child down I’d resort to baby wearing, I’d have thought you were as crazy as the lady next to me in Starbucks today who is still nursing her three year old.
I even walked into my nemesis baby store today. The one where they have breastfeeding mannequins in the window and the clientele make you feel all types of intimidated if you don’t use 1000% organic cotton plus BPA-free never would be caught dead in Pampers. You know the type.
I’m so not that type.
I’m so that type.
But, hello, two and a half weeks into this newborn #2 thing and I’ve been transformed. Not judgmental or anything, but one that happily paid a pretty penny to the lactation consultant yesterday only for her to tell me that my kid is great at nursing. And fast. (Did I already mention that? I guess I’m a proud mama. I see a a Coney Island hot dog eating contest in his near future.)
I even invited a friend over to join me in the lactation consultant appointment. Not only did it cut down the cost, but nothing says a fun afternoon like a milky booby party. (Btw if you are in Chicago and need a good lact consultant this lady was the bomb and like didn’t chew me out for skipping a night feeding so I can get a little more sleep.)
Not to mention I madly scour labels to make sure they’re green and have even given up eating tuna and Diet Coke for the time being while the little man is getting my milk. I’m one step away from cloth diapering. Okay, not quite, but you get the gist.
For those who know me, this is a bit of a change in personality. With my first, I said, “let him eat cake!” Well, not quite, but I didn’t exactly turn away the formula samples in the hospital. Anything to get me sleep and a crying baby out of my hair. I showered him with plenty of love, but as I cleaned off and unpacked, also plenty of chemicals, Enfamil and scented wipes. (I have NOT forgotten how badly formula poops smell as compared to breastmilky poops.)
But now, I’m embracing what nature gave me. I’m proudly the milking cow who has helped #2 put on a half a pound since Friday. I’m telling you, the kid can eat. Along with his full belly, my mood and waistline are definitely thanking me. I don’t chalk it up to being won over by the Green Powers That Be as much as having more confidence the second time around. The crying over ever diaper change, the counting of ounces just don’t bother me as much anymore.
It doesn’t mean that I’m not buying up leather goods in abundance (I must divulge my patent leather boot story in my next post), or that I’m ready to do away with essential foods (i.e., Swedish Fish), but that I’m trying my best to stick to the basics. And so far it seems to be working for both of us.
Nothing like ignoring your blog for 10 days while in newborn hell heaven. And nothing like remembering while in such newborn hell heaven that in about 13 days, you have to get up in front of a crowded room at a public place and read something you wrote that was published in a book.
I hope I remember to shower.
On December 3, catch me and popular writers Dawn Meehan and Vanessa Druckman (now I’m wondering how I fit in with these ladies AND how I’m going to remember to shower) at the Comedy Sportz Club in Chicago at 5 pm. Click here for RSVP and official invite.
And please, if you are kind enough to watch me make a fool of myself in a crowded room, please also be kind enough not to get to close to me. In case I really do forget to shower that day.
The birth of my second son, who will be henceforth known as Baby Burrito (I just love the way they swaddle them at the hospital like a Chipolte sandwich), was filled with the randomness of life, a labor story to kill all others and of course, lots of lululemon.
First, the vitals. Baby Burrito was born on Friday, November 6 at 9:48 am. He weighed 8 lb. at birth and was 19.5 inches long. For those dying to know the graphic details, I was induced at 2:30 am and pushed 6 times for a total of 15 minutes. Not so bad. His birthday came 3 days before mine, making the event even more special. What more of a gift could I ask for? (Except the diamond hoops I requested of my obliging husband, of course.)
All I can give you is an ear photo. But the face is just as adorable.
And, he was born almost one year ago to the day of my worst day ever. Life works in ever-so-interesting ways and Baby Burrito’s birth has all but obliterated any misery associated with being pregnant and having a healthy baby.
But, enough about that, let’s talk about shoes. Yes, shoes. Because that’s what I was emailing my friend about a whopping 16 minutes before I delivered the Burrito. Apparently the epidural worked so well I didn’t realize I was dilated to 10 and that the Burrito’s head was about to come out. All I cared about, and I quote, was that my friend was properly shoed and clothed. An excerpt of my words at 9:22 am (talking about what comfy but cute shoes to get to complement a stay at home mom wardrobe):
Hmmm such a dilemma! I saw these really cute sperry duck shoes in black patent leather. Also, minnetonka moccasins are a good shoe as are danskin black patent leather clogs.
You know you’re a slave to fashion when shoes are on the mind when a baby is about to come out.
And of course, my labor story wouldn’t be complete if I didn’t plug my favorite pregnancy wear, now my savior for the post-partum waist. Lululemon did me well from the sweats I wore to the induction to the purple sweat top I wore home. Now, I just have to figure out what I”m going to do with all those large-sized clothes. At least my shoes still fit.
The last time my due date came and went I didn’t know what to expect. All I know I was large and nervous as all hell about childbirth.
This time, as my due date (yesterday) came and went, I was a little more relaxed. I shopped around Nordstrom’s half-yearly sale (being 9 months pregnant is a great way to save money), and ate lunch at Fred’s at Barney’s with my mom. Sure, I was reading into every ache and pain, wondering if labor was imminent, but made it through the day nary a baby in sight.
Last time around, they made me wait ten, excruciatingly long days past my due date to have my son.
This time around, I was able to pick my induction date (late tonight/ early tomorrow.) There’s nothing quite stranger than having an appointment time to have a baby. But I’m a planner and this organized way of childbirth (as much as I can control the situation) suits me just fine.
Last time around I was wary of epidurals, coedeine, tylenol (hospital strength) and various creams.
This time around I say bring all the meds on. I don’t need to be a hero.
Last time I brought cute lounging clothes to wear at the hospital.
This time, I packed all black. And one cute lululemon sweatshirt to wear home and for photos.
Last time I told anyone who’s anyone to come visit me in the hospital.
This time, with H1N1 on the prowl, even my son may not be able to visit.
Both times, however, I’m equally excited.
