Sensitivity

It had now been three weeks since I last nursed Tycho. And everything is all fucked up. Well, not everything. Just poop. It's gross. It's all the time. It makes bedtime last for hours. I hate it.

I'm guessing a dairy sensitivity. He has, of course, had cow's milk (and yogurt and cheese) in abundance since he turned a year, but I think that my breastmilk kept his digestive system in check, and now without it everything's going haywire. Bummer.

So, it's elimination diet time. Right now we're giving him half cow's milk and half coconut milk to get him used to it, and once he'll take coconut we'll try a week without dairy and see what happens. Hopefully it helps, because I am so tired of being up to my ears in poop. If all seems good we'll try adding cheese and yogurt back in. I hope he can have them, because he loves the shit out of yogurt and I love cheese and don't want to have to hide it from him, because you know that baby's favorite foods are whatever is on mama's plate.

I guess it's not the worst thing that could happen.

Cycle Two

I finally got my period after a 45 day cycle. Which doesn't correlate at all with any fertility signs I had. Maybe this was an anovulatory cycle. I don't know. I don't like not knowing. I know I said I wasn't going to temp this go 'round, and let things happen "naturally," whatever that means, but I hate not knowing where I am and what's going on. So maybe I'm going to start again? I don't know. I just want to get pregnant and be done with it.

Weaning Mama.

(Yes, another post about weaning. I know.)

Tycho nursed for the last time eleven days ago. I think that means it's official. I've still got a little milk, but I don't think I will breastfeed Tycho again. Sigh.

He's doing great. I was so worried that it would be hard and there would be lots of tears and I might give in and decide now is not the right time, but I guess it was. He certainly hasn't looked back. We're still adjusting a little with how much he needs to eat, but really it's been a non issue.

I'm doing.. less awesome? I have a cold. Of course. And my period is about a million years late. I'm not really charting right now, but I'm roughly keeping track of fertility signs and what have you and while the timing wasn't perfect... maybe? But I didn't feel pregnant. So I gave my body an ultimatum: a period by Sunday or I would take a test.

I thought by throwing that out into the universe my period was sure to show up immediately. But instead I got every pregnancy symptom in the book: Mystery cramping, sensitivity to smells, food aversions and cravings, nausea, fatigue, the whole nine yards. The only thing I didn't experience was breast tenderness, but I think my boobs have been through enough, don't you?

I started to get hopeful and excited about my little maybe baby. Silly me. But I had a negative test on Sunday evening, and another negative the next morning, too. And had I actually been pregnant, it would have definitely been late enough to test. So I wasn't. I'm not. I'm sad. But I went to my mama class on Monday, and a couple friends confirmed that they too thought they were pregnant for the week right after they weaned.

All of those symptoms have faded away now. My period is still MIA, so I'm thinking I probably never actually ovulated at all, that it was delayed for some reason. I'm also finally coming down off this oxytocin withdrawal from weaning and no longer feel (so much) like crawling into bed for eternity, but I'm sad about the baby that I thought was having that never really existed and I still and congested and have a terrible cough, and am just generally feeling kind of meh. Strangely enough, weaning has absolutely been the hardest thing about breastfeeding.

And it's funny, I was so worried about how Tycho was going to take weaning that I didn't even think it about how it would affect me.

Weaned?

We decided to take the plunge. Tycho had been down to nursing once a day in the mornings for a few weeks, sometimes skipping a day entirely because I left for work before he woke up. And that last nursing session was becoming less and less fun for me. I couldn't get him to focus anymore. He'd suck for a minute and then get distracted, but don't you dare put that boob away, mama. Or he would stay latched while doing what I can only describe as baby yoga in my lap. I just felt so. Very. Done.

So we did it. I had to work overnight all week long this week, so it seemed to me like the perfect opportunity. On Sunday morning, while we nursed for the last time (very pleasantly, actually, I might add), I explained that he was a big boy now and after this he wasn't going to nurse anymore and he could have milk in a cup or water or a snack instead. No idea how much actually sunk in, but I feel better doing it. and I'm glad it was a planned thing so I could savor those last moments of our nursing relationship. And then, because I was out so late with work Kyle got up with the baby and let me sleep in. We've let him watch a movie every morning, because that keeps him distracted for a little while, and then once he's been up for a few hours he's fine.

It's been four days. It's been... really easy. Too easy? He has barely even asked and not protested at all when I've said no and my feelings are a little hurt even though this is what I wanted. I've been in a horrible funk and feeling anxious and depressed about nothing, and I'm taking it very personally, and it dawned on my when I was driving home from work this morning at 3 am that I am going through oxytocin withdrawal and OF COURSE I feel like ass. At least I know now that hopefully this dark cloud will pass and I'm not in need of antidepressants again or something. I hope.

Anyway. Weaned. Tycho is weaned. Probably. Weird.

Bath

Tycho can say bath now. Well, baf. Baf Baf baf all he wants is a bath. Even if he just got out of the bath.

When Tycho takes a bath, everybody takes a bath. Splash splash, I am soaked head to toe, and so is everything in the bathroom. When I start draining the tub it's "oh no! oh no!" and lots of tears when we have to get out.  Sigh.

Everytime we go upstairs, "Baf?? Baf!" and he runs into the bathroom. Sorry, babe, actually it's naptime.

Butterflies

On Friday my mom and I took Tycho to the Pacific Science Center.

Taking him to museums is hard at this age. He doesn't do well with transitions, because obviously whatever activity he is doing right now is OMG THE BEST EVER I WANT TO STAY HERE FOREVER MAMA WHY ARE YOU TRYING TO TAKE ME AWAY??? And then there is a lot of crying and rolling around on the floor. Yep. We are those people.

HOWEVER. We took him into the butterfly house and it was the best time ever. He was just completely amazed and awestruck at it all and I was completely reveling in his experience of it. So amazing. He'd been once before, about a year ago, but this was completely different. And I have a million billion pictures of the experience, because he was just so darn cute with his oohing and aahing and delighted giggles and every single other person in the exhibit thought he was the best ever because he is the best ever.

Without further ado:

On weaning.

So remember how I was like, maybe I will wean Tycho when I'm in Mexico?


Yeeaaaaah, no.

My mom brought Tycho to pick us up at the airport, and as soon as he saw me he held out his fist to sign milk. I asked if I could have a hug. No, just furious signing to nurse. So I breastfed him in the airport before we could even go home. Not so much weaning.

I'm sooooo ready to  be done, though. I thought I wanted to make it until two and the World Health Organization recommendations, blah blah blah, but right now I'm over it and I totally don't care what the WHO recommends.

We are doing great with the twice a day schedule, so now I am dropping us down to once. We often have once days as it is, if the circumstances are right, but tonight was the first time I've managed to distract him from nursing when I got home from work and I haven't seen him all day, so that's a victory. We actually didn't nurse at all today, because I was leaving just as he woke up, but I'd rather cut out my evening nursing session than the morning one, and why not start today? So I will nurse him in the morning tomorrow, and then not again until Sunday. Hopefully. I have no idea how we will be able to drop that last morning session, but I suppose we will cross that bridge when we come to it.

We got a new car seat!

MEXICO!!!

So, we took a vacation! Without the baby! It was magical!

18 months, it was definitely time. Kyle and I spent a blissful three nights at an all-inclusive resort in Puerto Vallarta, and did mostly nothing, while my parents spoiled the poop out of Tycho. It was good for everyone!

Kyle and I mostly did a whole lot of nothing. Sleeping in late, then laying by the pool, then taking naps, eating at our leisure, taking more naps, never doing dishes or laundry, spending time together, not working, holding hands like that's something we still do. (Apparently, it is!)

I did insist on going to town on one day, so at least we could say we did. Puerto Vallarta is just beautiful. We walked down the avenue by the beach until we found a quiet restaurant for lunch, stopping to buy a souvenir for Tycho, check out the wildlife, take pictures.

At the beach at the end of our walk we rented a pair of jet skis. And then mine ran out of gas and I was stranded out in the ocean, too far to see from the shore. No, I'm not kidding. Kyle had to go in and bring the rental guys back out to get me. I didn't really realize that it was kind of scary until we were safely back on land.

It was all perfectly lovely. Our last night was Valentine's Day, so we capped off our trip with a romantic dinner in the resort's "fancy" restaurant. It was so nice just being together, enjoying each other's company. It's been a long time since we've really been able to do that. Reconnecting was amazing.

I'm proud to say, also, that we didn't get weepy or emo about Tycho. Not at all, really. I only began to miss him when we were flying back home to Seattle, and I was sitting next to an adorable three year old. Her mother was apologizing profusely for the tiny feet periodically kicking me in the thigh, but tiny feet only make me happy.

I'm so glad we were able to go on this trip. It was just what we needed.

Missing Jaime.

There is no solace in death for an atheist. I don't, I can't believe that Jaime is in "a better place." Yes, I am glad she is no longer suffering, but I am so so sad that she is gone, and I'm so very angry about how deeply unfair it is. There are no platitudes. You can't tell me that at least she lived a long and full life, because although it was certainly full, it was cut tragically short.

Jaime's funeral was beautiful. I'm glad I was able to go. I wasn't sure it was appropriate for me, a random girl from the internet, to be there, but it turned out that it was. And that I'm not. Random, that is. Jaime's sister recognized Tycho, knew him by name. That meant the world to me.

On Saturday I felt so much lightness; Jaime picked a wonderful beautiful place for us to lay her to rest. I got to say my goodbye. Hugs and hand-holding with my friends in our grief.  But today it all feels so real and final and it is and I'm feeling crushed under the weight of this reality. She is still sitting in my chat favorites on facebook, seemingly just a click away, but not really, not anymore. I wonder how long it will take for her to disappear from there. I don't want her to, but she will, eventually, I know.

I wasn't ready for this to be so hard.

Today...

Rest in peace, friend.

Cycle Day One, I guess

Today I got my period for the first time since October 2010. It's a good sign I suppose, but I certainly didn't miss it.

I signed into Fertility Friend for the first time in forever. I don't think I'm going to do any serious charting this time around. I am definitely not interested in bothering with temping. But I will probably put in the stuff I happen to notice anyway, because why not?

For some reason I feel very weird about this.

Grief

My friend Jaime died yesterday.

Jaime was an amazing person. She knew what she wanted out of life. A husband, a house in the country, a beautiful kitchen, a baby, a garden and some chickens. She went out and got all of those things and she didn't wallow in comparisons or focus any of her energy on what anybody else had that she might be missing and she was just unapologetically HAPPY.

Jaime called me her "cheese wife." In some ways we were alternate universe versions of each other; so much in common, yet leading vastly different lives. We were pregnant together, sharing in that experience. Her daughter Katie was born just a month after Tycho. She made him a onesie once, with a rainbow unicorn and a cupcake on it. I sent Katie tiny pajamas with birds on them, because before Katie was born we knew her as "little bird." We she first got diagnosed with cancer she got a fabulous pixie cut. I admired and envied it, and she convinced me to get one too.

My friend Jaime died yesterday.

That's what I said at least. Jaime was a part of an online community of women, who I sometimes collectively call my imaginary friends; I've never actually met her in "real life," whatever that means. But she was my friend as much as anyone is my friend. I'm dropping the "imaginary" so that people better understand my grief. She is real to me.

Jaime was never supposed to be imaginary forever, anyway. We were constantly discussing opportunities to visit. When we found out she had cancer I started making more serious plans. Just a couple weeks ago, when the prognosis was six months, maybe more, we decided on the spring, probably May. And when things got worse, I vowed to go down right after we got back from Mexico, since I had already asked for a couple extra days off.

But she died yesterday, and I never got to see her beyond the screen. I never got to give her a hug. We never got to sit in the sun, eating rich foods and drinking wine. That is without a doubt what we would have done. We never got to see our babies play together. We never got to build a friendship that I won't have to justify to anyone. I never got to say goodbye.

She was just 33 years old. And only two months from her first cancer diagnosis to passing. When she found out she was sick, and that it was terminal, she was accepting, she was strong, she just wanted more time with her daughter. A year, maybe two, please, to see her little girl grow up, to make more memories. These past few weeks all I can think is that I just wish I could take a year off the end of my likely long and boring life and give it to her right now, so she could spend just a little more time raising her daughter and loving her husband.

I am just devastated. I am exhausted from crying, from mourning. My heart is breaking for her daughter, who will grow up not knowing her amazing mother, and for her husband who has lost his love, his wife, his best friend, and become a single father all in one day. And also for our community of imaginary friends. We are brought to our knees by this tragedy. We are all still so young; none of us are prepared for this loss.

My friend Jaime died yesterday.

It still hasn't completely sunk in, the permanence, that I will never talk to her again, that we won't get to meet like we both so badly wanted.

I bought a plane ticket today. I'm going to her funeral in San Francisco on Saturday. Maybe it is silly to blow so much money on this trip to see her dead, when I never was able to make it when she was living. Maybe, but sitting here in my anger and grief, doing nothing seems impossible. And something I can do is be present for her, and for her family, one more reminder of how fiercely she is loved. And I'll be making other imaginary friends real on this trip, and we can hold and support each other through this impossible time.

My friend Jaime died yesterday. I am not okay.

Volume 2, Chapter 1

"You are no longer protected against pregnancy."








Okay, let's let that sink in for a little while.

Shit.

Fucking cancer can go and fuck itself.

That's all I've got right now.

The Simple Life

If every day was like today I might consider the whole stay-at-home-mom gig. I mean, not really, since it's not a financially feasible thing for us right now, and every day is not like today anyway, but really, today was simply blissful. 

I got myself up early, on my day off, and dragged myself to yoga. It's been a long time since I've been to class regularly, but I need to carve out some time to myself, so I've been going to class at a studio just down the street and it's been lovely. This morning's practice was, in a word, beautiful. Joyful, even, and you could feel it radiating out of everyone in the room. I needed this. I'm in perfectly reasonable shape, thanks to my job, but my muscles are so tight, and I need the opportunity for relaxation and meditation and slowness and deep breaths. My unofficial new years' resolution, I suppose, is then to get to class twice a week. I think it's doable.

It was a beautiful clear day today, after a week of thick fog, and then finally rain yesterday, so Tycho and I took a walk to get brunch. Tycho walked the whole 3/4 mile without me having to carry him, except for across a couple streets. He stopped to look at every bird and truck and smiled at everyone we passed. Kyle met us at the restaurant. Food was delicious. I had a mimosa.

When he napped this afternoon I tidied and vacuumed and assembled our new dining room furniture that has been sitting in boxes in the garage for weeks now. I'm slowly (slowly!) but surely turning our house into a home and these bright yellow chairs bring so much happiness into this space.

In between all these things I let myself really be present with my kid. It's hard to do sometimes, when there's so much to get done or I just need a break or I can't pull myself away from the inanities of facebook, but I spent most of the afternoon down on the floor with him wrestling and cuddling and reading and giggling and it was just what I needed.

He went to bed easily tonight, and I am enjoying my alone time. Some music, a fire, chocolate, the internet. And another day off with my babyman tomorrow! This is happiness.

It's Time

Last time, things went something like this: First I got the baby fever, and I got it bad. BAD. Like, it kept me awake at night, and daydreaming during the day. I could not stop thinking about what it would be like to be pregnant, how I would feel when I saw those two pink lines, how I would fall in love with my little bundle of joy. It consumed me. But it wasn't time yet and I knew it so I just immersed myself in imagining.

Step two, I realized that babymaking for real wasn't that far off. And it freaked me the hell out. And I took a step away from the obsessing and the daydreaming because it was becoming too much for me and frankly I was scared.

And then finally three. One day, like someone flipped a switch, all of the sudden I was READY. NOW. And I couldn't wait a single second longer, I don't CARE what we agreed upon I HAVE TO do this. Fortunately Kyle seemed to understand the weight of the MUST I was feeling, and wisely didn't argue.

This time around has been a little different.

Stage one this time, was complete disbelief that I would ever be ready or want to do this again, ever. EVER. I felt like it was easy to go in to birth with a positive attitude; I knew it was going to be hard but I didn't know really what I was getting myself into, and there was no way after experiencing THAT I'd be able to do it again. And how exhausting Tycho was and we'd never be ready to juggle TWO, and ARE YOU CRAZY?

Before Tycho was born, before he was even, as my parents would say, a twinkle in my eye, Kyle and I agreed that we wanted at least two children, probably two to three years apart. It sounded reasonable. It SOUNDS reasonable. But when October rolled around I realized that if we wanted our kids two years apart we'd have to get pregnant right then. No. No no no no no no no NO. It was all either Kyle or I could think. NO. NOT READY. NO.

But then the NO faded almost as quickly as it came, and suddenly I'm back to the daydreaming and imagining and all the possibility and someday and feeeeeeeeelings. Still not ready, but WHAT IF, you know. And all that.

And then a couple weeks ago my switch got flipped again. It's different this time. My life is too full now to be so dominated by NEEDING to do this. But all of the sudden two doesn't scare me. I know, I KNOW, that it is time. It's a weird sort of calm I am in. Just kind of "bring it on, universe!" It's strange how it is this discrete jump from daydream to reality. I'm ready.

Weaning

Weaning is going... well? I guess I expected it to be a terrible fight, lots of tantrums, and nothing! We nurse twice a day, sometimes only once, and it's not really even been hard. He asks sometimes, but usually I can redirect without too much trouble, or give him a cup of cow's milk or water. Sometimes it's a little bit of a fight, usually before nap time, though, when everything is a fight.

Being that this is easier than I thought it would be I'm seriously considering weaning him for good when Kyle and I leave him with my mom and go to Mexico next month. I feel a little sad about that, but at the same time, I also want to have another baby and I don't want to nurse again, so this trip would be really great timing... I guess we'll have to see how things are going when the time comes.

Little baby dude is growing up. Sigh.

Breastfeeding, 18 months in

I've been meaning to write this post for a while. Maybe not this exact post, as things change all the time, but something about the extended breastfeeding thing, because it certainly is a thing.

I'm so proud that we've made it this far. And I am SO ready to be done. But also not?

Nursing a toddler is such a different thing than when he was a baby. Firstly, he is demanding. He furiously will sign at me for milk, crawl into my lap, yank down my top. But he's also all over the place. It's never JUST nursing anymore. He's looking around, pointing, wiggling, trying to run away while still latched on, driving cars all over my chest, winking at me, demanding to play with my phone, putting his foot on my forehead, giving me a high five, playing peek-a-boo, wiggling, wiggling, WIGGLING.

It's not hard or bad by any means, but it's not exactly going as I imagined, either. Everything I'd heard and read suggested that he would gradually taper off, dropping this nursing session or that one, easy, without us having to work on it no big deal. No big deal, my ass. Tapering off? Ha! My kid loves the boobs. He asks to nurse, oh, all the time. All. The. Time. Typically, on a day I work (and am gone for 10+ hours, mind you) we nurse 5-6 times, on average. Once when he wakes up in the morning. Once, at Ashley's  before I leave for work, again at her house when I arrive to pick him up, once or twice in the evening, and once before bed. Days I'm home, I stopped counting. Add something mid-morning, before and after a nap, random afternoon time, oops I bonked my head, etc. All in all, WAY TOO MUCH.

So I'm weaning. I didn't want it to be something I specifically did, but clearly he's not going to initiate it, so I guess I have to. I don't know if I want to wean him entirely; I really did want to make it until age two, but I would also like to have another baby sometime in the relatively near future, and I don't know if I'm even ovulating yet. I don't know if it's because of nursing or my IUD, or some combination of the two, but I haven't had a period since October 2010, so I'm nervous about that. And should I get pregnant, I can't see myself having any energy left for breastfeeding. And tandem nursing? Totally awesome and inspiring when other people do it. Totally not for me. So. Weaning. Ish.

I've decided just to cold turkey drop us down to twice a day. Once in the morning when he gets up, and once after work/nap/before bed, whatever makes the most sense depending on that day's schedule. We're a couple days in, so far so good.

Kyle and I are going to Mexico without Tycho (!!!) next month, and I am, not entirely seriously, considering weaning him completely while we away for four days. I don't know, I bought a hand pump to help relieve engorgement (Yes, at 18 months I still get engorged. Sigh.), and to keep my supply up, I guess, if that's what I want to do, but I don't know if that's what I want to do. It seems really soon, and really kind of mean, since he loves it so much. And I do love it too, even though I'm tired of it. I suppose we'll see how things look when we get to that point.

Holiday Rundown

I have all these bits and pieces of blog posts brewing in my mind, but I need to get some business done with: the Holidays! They were exciting this year, as Tycho was old enough to kind of sort of maybe get what was going on, and we had a house for Santa to visit, etc. It was tough, though, working in retail as my time was, shall we say, limited. And my sister was in town for the first time since Tycho was a month old so things were crazy and busy and completely off schedule, but good and memorable and fun, too.

I wish I had a Santa Claus picture to post, but we got to the fancy-pants Santa at the Nordstrom downtown, and they are irritating and old school and mail your pictures out in January and I still haven't received them and it's not like anyone cares at this point, so it'll just go up next year, I guess. Blah. But I am pleased to report that Tycho did great; no tears at all. And Santa gave him his first candy cane, which miraculously kept him happy and silent for a good thirty minutes!

For the first time ever we hosted Christmas morning at our house, since I think it's fair that Santa comes to where the kiddos are. Last year, when we were in our old house and Tycho was too little to have a clue we just spent the night at my parents, so this felt like our first REAL Christmas as a family. My parents and my sister ad our good friend Catlin all were good sports and got up early to come celebrate with us.

Tycho really did grasp the whole presents concept that went right over his head at his birthday, so we had a good time.

As you can see above, our "big" present was nine million (well, two hundred) ball pit balls. Everyone told me I was insane and they would be everywhere, and they are right, but they are so awesome. Tycho LOVES them and he can throw them where ever and there are always more and they don't hurt anyone or break anything.

Later that day we headed out to my aunt's house to spend time with the extended family. Tycho was the center of attention, obviously.

I'm so glad it's all over, though. Now that we're into January, my work schedule is settling down into not-so-crazy and I feel like I'm breathing again. (I'm hoping that will allow my body to finally get rid of this cold I've been fighting with little success for the last six weeks or so.) I'm coming off a rejuvenating four day weekend, and I've booked Kyle and I a romantic getaway to Puerto Vallarta next month and we are settling into 2013.