Wednesday, November 25, 2009

The End of an Era


This whole breastfeeding thing, it didn't come to us easily. As I might have mentioned. From the world's clumsiest latch to hatred of one side to full-fledged strikes, the only things in our favor were a ridiculous supply and my single-minded, bordering-on-pathological determination to make it work. We were going to be successful. WE WERE. (did I say bordering on? ....anyway)

But when it clicked, it clicked. It took probably five months, but when we got there, it was just the easiest, most natural thing in the world. For Grace, it went from the worst torture to the greatest comfort. And for me, I went from counting the days until I could quit with a clear conscience to panicking when I realized we were almost done.

And we're there. I didn't want to nurse her past a year, and I still know it's the right choice to stop now. But ohhhhhhh. I'm sad. I'm sad about the whole weaning process, and I'm sad about being done and never having that same relationship again. I am absolutely dreading the first time she makes it clear that is what she wants, and I have to tell her no. I know that it will hardly be the last time I have to tell her no, but there's something about THIS. I remember once watching a patient grabbing for his father's hand, and his father backed away and put his hand in his pocket. When I think about weaning, that's how I feel. She's looking for physical comfort from me, and I'm telling her no.

I look back on all my insanity, the ridiculous lengths I went to, getting her back in the groove with this, the time I've spent with the dreaded pump, the frustration and the stress, and now the thought of taking it all away, and I still don't regret a second of it. I wouldn't change a thing. Except maybe I'd have her wake up tomorrow and hate nursing. That would be pretty freaking awesome.

Friday, November 13, 2009

Houseiversary

We moved into our house a year ago today. It was a rough day- I had my 36 week appt the same day, and I couldn't reschedule it because I was the only person working the next day. We had no food in the house, so I didn't have breakfast until we were driving to the new house and I stopped at Dunkin' Donuts. I went straight from there, to the appt where my doctor told me I was not at all dilated, but high and closed and started explaining how they schedule inductions. Then I went home and helped my poor one-armed husband unpack.

I definitely don't recommend moving when you're nine months pregnant and your husband is two-weeks postop from significant shoulder surgery. Just saying, in case you were considering it.

It feels so weird to look back on the last year, because obviously life is so, so, so different now. I think about how I felt and what I expected and yeah...it hasn't been at all what I expected. And since we moved in right before she was born, I think of our time in the house the same way I think about our time as parents, and it's just...weird. I'm not explaining this well. If I were a better writer, I could say exactly what I'm thinking, how I remember trudging up the back steps every day after work, still hugely pregnant, still not in labor, and the day when Grace was less than a month old, and we had to go to my parents' house because they were replacing the windows in the house, or how a few weeks before that, we had to keep spending the day there because they were rewiring the house (didn't expect that one!), or how my parents had to sit at OUR house, because they were replacing the basement windows, but we were in the hospital having a baby, and it makes me feel SOMETHING, I just can't put it into words or explain exactly what I mean. It's frustrating.

I guess maybe my only point is that I usually don't pay attention to something like a houseiversary, but I do here, because it's all tied up with so many other intense memories, and I feel the need to commemorate it somehow. Like I should go home and watch The Money Pit.

Sunday, November 8, 2009

Eleven?!


Yikes. My baby is only one month away from being a whole year old.

I remember this day like it was yesterday:



There was nothing really special or outstanding about that day, it was just a really nice day, a little cool, nice breeze, and Gracie was happy to play in the yard. Well, no. There was sort of something special about that day- it was the first time I realized Gracie wasn't difficult anymore. She was playing on the blanket, without crying or arching or getting mad, and I realized she hadn't done any of that for awhile. You know how people talk about losing a lot of weight, but still thinking of themselves as heavy? It was kind of like that. It made the day that much sweeter.

I didn't really have any major epiphanies or anything today, we just had similarly nice weather, and a lot of fun playing outside again. It was the perfect way to spend the day, and get ready for her to go from being a baby to being a toddler (even if she'll always be my baby). (ew, Kathy, when did you get so cheesey?) (December 8, 2008, at 8:38am.)

Sunday, November 1, 2009

Of course, that was then...

When I was a staff nurse, the absolute worst thing that could happen was having to work a night shift when we turned the clocks back. We did get paid for that extra hour, but I didn't care. I'd give back the money to not have to work a 13-hour shift. Yech. I didn't think it was possible to hate the time change more than I did then.

Gracie woke up at 3:08 today. On a normal day, 4:08 would be an unacceptable wake-up time. This morning, it was downright perverse.

Proving once again, you should NEVER say "well, at least it can't get any worse..."