To boob or not to boob

The Angel is 14 months old now.  She is no longer a baby, although I know she will always be my baby, and I've been thinking about weaning recently.

I know that a lot of people will think that I deserve an award for having breast-fed for so long.  But I also know that it is normal and natural for toddlers to nurse until they are at least 2.  It is apparently a cultural thing to wean them early.

But as much as I still mostly enjoy the tender sweetness of holding my baby to my breast, I also at times don't like having my clothes yanked and my chest clawed.  And how I wish the night-time feedings would end.  (That being said, the current 1 or 2 night-time feedings is MUCH better than what we were dealing with up to 3 short weeks ago. ''Tears and Tantrums'' ... it saved my sanity.)

It is such an intimate experience, breast-feeding.  

I never expected it to be so emotionally charged.  I remember the devastation and grief I felt in the early days when I thought that I did not have enough to feed her.  Although that reaction could just have been the hormones I was roller-coaster-riding on after she was born.  It was a short-lived issue anyway.  Soon enough I had sufficient milk to feed someone sitting clear across the room.  

Then there are those moments when she smiles up at me, without letting go of course, and my heart bursts. And most recently, the michelin-man legs and toes that end up in my face are just so yummy.  She is quite flexible.

I'm trying to encourage more ''loves and hugs and kisses''.  Less boob needed for those.  Same sweet smiles in return.  And there is always some kind of food or drink within easy reach.  She still seems to want the boob though.  I guess she just isn't ready.

I don't want to end up doing it out of anything other than love though.

I started off so gung-ho on letting her wean for herself... whenever that would be.  In keeping with my determination to be a Perfect Parent.  HAHAHA.  What a warped notion.  I failed to be that from day one!  Now, I'm praying that she won't still be nursing when she is two.  I wonder how many more of those parenthood-humility-moments I have in store.  Countless I'm sure.

Its a good thing this book doesn't run out of pages.

The baby bit my boob and other fun tales.

AAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWW.

That's how I reacted to the searing feeling of her newly chipped front tooth grating away the skin of my poor, poor, right mammary.

WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. sniff sniff sniff.

That's how she reacted to my reaction.

''Oh no, Mama's sorry pumpkin. It's OK. It's OK. Here you go'' *returns now shredded and bleeding boob to sniffling Angel*.

*Stifle scream of agony as she resumes nursing.*

She didn't mean to. It was an accident. It was most likely my fault. It still hurts like the deepest flaming pits of hell. It was her favorite boob too. It still is.

Onto other fun stories!

I didn't marry an @ss!!  I knew it! He is a wonderful, caring, sensitive, loving, funny, awesome, smart, sexy, handsome man. He just had a moment of weakness. It happens. I was a bee-atch. It happens. But everything is all lovey dovey once more :) Yay! Being in love is so yummy :)

It's CHRISTMAS!! My tree et al is up. The baby is trying her best to take it back down. I am Jingle Bell Rocking all around the kitchen thanks to this amazing lil program called Spotify. Since I can't get any Trini radio stations to play on the Mac (because the Mac, the radio stations and / or I am incompetant), I am using this nifty thingy to listen to all my music. Unless you like really crappy pop, obscure Euro trash tunes or weird techno music, Estonian radio just doesn't cut it.

Music is such an important part of Christmas, isn't it! There is nothing like the notes of those old hymns or the jingling of the bubbly Christmas pop to transport you back to your own childhood days when Christmas was a time of magic. Listening to it today while I pushed the baby around in the living room in her stroller (she likes it, we don't have to get dressed, I'm sure we look weird, but I'm not complaining) I felt that magic again.

The magic of twinkling lights; the excitement of trying to catch a glimpse of Santa and his flying reindeer; the smell of ham, home-made bread, sorrel, ponche-de-creme, turkey and stuffing; the bustling feeling of preparation in the air; the choir at church who always give it that extra jazz; the magical stories; the beautiful, fairy-tale decorations at the mall; the new curtains and freshly painted walls; the happy visitors; the creche; the generosity; the laughter of Christmas morning; the ''how yuh Christmas shaping up?'' from everybody you meet; Soca Santa sweating on the highway in his roller skates advertising Elsa's Toy Store; the any-time-of-the-day-traffic-jams; the music that plays only at this time of year.

Elbonia doesn't really celebrate Christmas. They acknowledge it all right, but I wouldn't use the word ''Celebrate''. They are a reserved people (coughcoughgrinchescoughcough) If you blink at the mall you are likely to miss the decorations. Nary is carol to be heard.  Polar opposite to Trini Christmas.  Trini's are everything but reserved.

This will be my 3rd year away from home for Christmas. I would give anything to be back in Trini. But Birmingham will have to do. Yup! Birmingham. One of my closest friends, Nalini and her two little girls are leaving warm and sunny / rainy Trini to spend a cold Yuletide with her brother in B'ham. The Angel, hubby and I will be crashing.  We'll be kicking it pseudo-trini style, with scarves and sweaters instead of strappy tops and stilettos . Grocery lists are being compiled for real Trini ingredients as I write.  And I am finally feeling ''it''.

I'm really really looking forward to Christmas this year :)

Are you feeling the feeling yet?

I got pissed off cuz hubby doesn't have boobs

And we wonder why they say women are impossible to please????

Not that I really want him to have boobs per se. I don't think that look would particularly suit him.

It was more of me wishing I could remove mine, just for a little while, and maybe give them to someone else, albeit temporarily.

I wish that for one night, just one night, I could sleep, all night long, without them being sucked on, tweaked, kicked, grabbed, squeezed... a jillion times.

Sigh.

Yummy Yummy Boobies

It is World Breastfeeding Week. YAY for the Lovely Lactating Lady Lumps everywhere in all their splendid shapes, sizes and spraying powers.

In keeping with my nature to compulsively over-share the intimate details of my life, here's what I've learnt about this so far.

In the beginning:

IT HURTS!!! Boy does it hurt. Those first few days are agony. Especially when the midwives you are relying on for information (because you are a clueless first-time mom who has knows nothing about what to expect despite having read the book) don't tell you that you should be using nipple cream until you are already chaffed and bleeding. Even though you told them IT HURTS, they will still pinch and squeeze your poor tender titties and force them into the mouth of your precious new angel, whom by the way, you are seriously considering bottle-feeding by this point. They will ignore your cries of pain and tell you in bad english to get used to it... until a few days later (when you are lying there exhausted and topless because even the slightest breeze causes you to wince in agony) one midwife notices that your boob has a crease down the middle. And this should not be so. AH HA! The baby was not latching on properly. Hence the crease, hence the pain. It will take some time to figure out yourself how it should be done. Because they won't show you. And your angel won't do what the books and videos say she should be doing.

Oh yeah, and, NOBODY has milk for the first few days. Nobody. You have other healthy, gentle, important stuff in there for your angel, but your milk doesn't come in until a few days after. It doesn't mean that your supply is low or anything. Just keep nursing away. The more you nurse, the more you will have.

Then overnight, your chest will go from zero to torpedo. You will wake up on the morning of the 3rd day or so with 2 MASSIVE ROCKS. You will wish that you could go clubbing in a slinky little top just so you could show them off. Not really. But you will be very impressed and show them off to your hubby. ''Look at these!'' jiggle jiggle... ouch. They still hurt. And they are HARD!!

That's when you turn into a firehose. The little angel whom you feared wasn't getting enough will now be choking. You will spray everything in your path including hubby, the bed, the floor, the mirror, and of course, the angel. You will spray her in the eye, up her nose, all over her clothes. Especially those times when she nurses just enough to get things flowing and then decides she doesn't really want it after all, and leaves you in full blast.

But it gets better :)

By the fourth or fifth week, things begin to settle down a bit. You feel like you have been doing this your whole life. It has stopped hurting. Now you look forward to laying down side by side and nursing your precious angel. Even if it is 20 times a day. It is beautiful, calm, relaxing.

And boy does it take the weight off! Hello pre-preggy jeans! Or maybe I'm just lucky.

It has been 8 months now and I can't imagine not being able to bond like this with the angel. When I think back to the torturous first weeks, and how it was sheer determination that got me through, I am beyond grateful that I kept at it.

There is nothing that soothes an angel's cries when she bumps her head trying to crawl, is scared or overwhelmed, or maybe the moon is in the wrong phase, than cradling her to my now normal-sized and once again soft chest.

I hope to self-wean, and mentioning this has met with looks of shock and horror. ''You going to be nursing a 4 year old?? That's gross!''. Well, maybe she'll be 4, maybe she'll be 2, maybe she'll be 7. Who knows how it will go. I do know that right now, I'm pretty determined to let her decide when she's ready.

And I also know that I am nowhere near ready to stop.

In the beginning...

I originally wrote this at the end of the first week after the angel was born.  It seems like it was just yesterday, but at the same time, she has grown so much... and I have grown so much that it also seems like eons ago.

So i have survived the first week more or less intact. BOY.. pressure.  What i've learnt so far:

A bath is a luxury

I can do laundry every day and still have a full basket waiting to be done.

The recovery is a slow process... stitches really take their time to heal. I still can't sit down easily, and am walking like a geriatric duck.

Breast feeding is a real skill and does NOT come naturally to everybody. I started thinking I wasn't producing enough for her, but found out that it is just that she wasn't latching on properly and as such wasn't getting enough, or encouraging my boobs to produce more. We are still figuring it out. Pumping a little bit before i feed her seems to be helping so far, fingers crossed.  This discovery was made after both of us were in tears at 2 this morning and I was desperately searching the internet for help.

I can stare at her for hours. Iz a real different kinda love. 

I love cuddling up with her to sleep or just to lie down. She hasn't spent a night in the crib yet.

You lose all sense of shame and can walk around with your boobies and other parts hanging out in front of almost anyone. Being naked in front of my mom and hubby at the same time is strangely not weird.

Breast feeding is the best way to lose the weight. I am back to normal size, my tummy is gone. It feels a lil squooshy with the extra skin, but is basically flat already. Mikael last night said ''But honey you're slim!!'' like he forgot that i wasn't always like an elephant. hehehe.

I LOVE MY MOM!! If my mom wasn't here I would probably have gone mad, or starved to death by now. She is my saviour! Breakfast, lunch, dinner, laundry, grocery shopping, holding Zara so I can do whatever I need to (like bathe!)

You can never describe the whole experience (labour and being a mom) to somebody who hasn't gone thru it themselves. It eh have no words to describe the pain or the love.

5 minutes to myself is A LOT of free time... and it is now up :)