When I first thought about this breastfeeding thing, I read the AAP recommendation for 1 year and the WHO recommendation for 2 years and thought “Easy-peasy, yo, no worries. I’ll nurse as long as the baby wants”. I was a very laid back person before I gave birth.

After having the baby and actually trying to nurse, I am relieved to make it through each and every individual feeding. I had to block all thoughts of the future from my head, because thinking about the pain and frustration and sleepless nights for TWENTY FOUR MORE MONTHS made me want to jump out a window. Not a very high window, just high enough that someone else would have to take over feedings for a couple days. I decided if I made it to 2 months it would be a miracle.

Once I started treating my thrush and got the baby off the shield and finally realized I’m allergic to lanolin (you’d think my inability to wear a wool sweater for more than ten minutes would have been a clue but remember, no one said you had to be a genius to have a kid) and stopped putting something that makes my skin itch and burn DIRECTLY ON MY SORE NIPPLES Baby Evan and I fell into a rhythm, lulled into peacefulness by a milky river of cuddles and smiles and easy night feedings we both almost slept through. My original hopes for 2 years of nursing came back with a vengeance. I sat in my comfy chair at breastfeeding support group dispensing wise advice to the teary new moms with their days-old babies, assuring them they would make it through and be just as happy as I was now.

And I bet I would have stayed happy, with no doubts about making it to 2 years if it weren’t for these DAMN TEETH Baby Evan has sprouted. Did you know baby teeth are like puppy teeth? Super sharp and pointy and attached to something that doesn’t know better than to bite you. He’s not really biting me yet, since he doesn’t have top teeth. But the scraping, it is painful. I can no longer fall asleep while he’s latched on or I wake up to a bruised nipple. I’ve become an expert at jamming a finger in his mouth to break suction at the slightest noise so he doesn’t whip his head around and take a piece of me with him. Now that stuffy-nose weather is here it’s gotten worse, since when his mouth is full of boob and his nose is full of snot he can’t breath and yanks off every couple of seconds to gasp for air.

I’m hoping these two bottom teeth were just a freak occurrence and he holds off on the rest for a while. I’m adjusting to our current nursing relationship (and our LACK OF SOLID FOOD relationship – yesterday he actually picked up a Cheerio and put it in his mouth…unfortunately as soon as he tasted it he spat it back out) and I’m very proud we made it through 6 months of exclusive breastfeeding. But “exclusive” is no longer a club I want to be part of. Baby Evan is going through a growth spurt and spends most of the day either attached to my boob or lying on the floor going “mmmmm mmmmmm mmmmm oooooooo” *poop*. He eats so much during the night he pees through a size 4 diaper (Which is suppose to work on babies up to 37 pounds. Since the baby only weighs 20 pounds, does that mean he’s outputting 17 POUNDS OF PEE?) at night and I wake up damp and smelly. He’s reached all the important “ready to start food” milestones…except for a willingness to SWALLOW THINGS THAT ARE NOT MILK.

I think the key to my continued breastfeeding success is finding a (baby appropriate) food he’s willing to eat. Cheerios, oatmeal, pieces of banana and applesauce are no’s. I have this butternut squash I’ve been planning to turn into baby food for a week but haven’t actually figured out how to do that yet. I meant to give him a piece of my avocado last week but it was so delicious I ate it all. I’m going to try to find some of those HappyBaby puffs today and maybe pick up a couple more jars of various types of baby food.

Any suggestions? What does/did your kid eat?

Last week I signed up for Stroller Strides, an exercise class for people with strollers. Usually moms, although I don’t think anyone would object to a dog or a cat or a pet hedgehog in a stroller as long as it stayed buckled in. The classes are held four times a week – Monday, Wednesday, Friday and Saturday – either at the park or at the mall when the weather is bad. I joined because it’s time to buckle down and lose this baby weight. I’m taking it really seriously this time. I’m dedicated to attending class at least three times a week. It’s important for my health, my happiness, my self-esteem and also I paid for a membership plus a month of classes so the only way it’s worth it financially is if I actually show up. I’m counting on my cheapness as motivation.

My first class was last Thursday. Our instructor, Amy, was cheerful and bouncy and peppy and all those awful things good exercise instructors always are. Half way through I was tempted to drown her by throwing her in the lake but she’d probably make all of us join her and swim laps while singing “Baby Beluga”. Blerg. Anyways, class kicked my frickin’ butt and I should have spent the next day lying on the couch complaining and being a giant baby about my poor, sore legs and imagining ways to pay Amy back for the pain. I’m sure Google has some ideas under “crazy satanic exercise woman who clearly hates children and happiness”.

Unfortunately, we had company this weekend so I had to Do Stuff. Wait, that came out wrong. FORTUNATELY, E’s sister Kristi came to visit for a few days so she could meet her nephew for the first time. The unfortunate part is lying on the couch begging someone to bring me Diet Coke and ice cream sandwiches isn’t very exciting for anyone else, so we went and Did Stuff. After Baby Evan’s appointment we headed out to show Kristi a good time, parents of a 6 month old style. So not really the “good time” most people would imagine…but we did go to Mystic Pizza! And to the aquarium! Penguins! Whales! Sea lions! The permeating stench of fish and bird poop! And because I’m one of those crazy attachment parenting people I wore Baby Evan in the mai tei carrier the whole time instead of using the perfectly good stroller like EVERY OTHER PERSON at Mystic Aquarium. Ok, so, sure it meant he could see stuff and interact with E and Kristi and maybe get some mental stimulation and boring junk like that…but DUDE. MY LEGS. And my arms and back and feet and oh em gee why did I join that torture program? So what if my butt never fits on a bike seat again? I DIDN’T LIKE BIKING ANYWAY.

The moral of this story is when you’re totally exhausted from your first real workout in more than a year and dragging a 6 month old around all day, it’s OK to let your husband get up with the baby the next morning. It’s also OK to admit said baby isn’t going to make it through an afternoon of wine tasting and shopping the next day and opt out in favor of naps. I may not win the Martha Stewart Hostess of the Year Award by skipping out of family time with my sister-in-law (and depriving her of PRECIOUS SECONDS OF BABY HOLDING) but I think in the greater scheme of things keeping my sore, sleep deprived self and an exhausted, cranky child away from the general public wins me a Decent Human Being Award. Eardrums of Eastern Connecticut, you’re welcome.

Length: 26 1/4 inches (50th percentile)
Weight: 19 lbs 15 oz (80th percentile – 75% of which is just in his GIANT THIGHS)
Head circumference: 45 cm (Normal and the flatness has definitely improved)

I discussed both kinds of flu shot with my pediatrician, and she recommended the regular kind but not the H1N1. We actually don’t even qualify for this first round of swine flu vaccines. They’re only giving them to kids over the age of 2 who have a sibling 6 months or younger at home. So all that OMG WHAT DO I DO?!? freaking out ended up being totally unnecessary. Well, only if you would call hours staring at the ceiling wondering if I’m going to poison my baby “unnecessary”. Not like I could have done something more productive with that time, like laundry or exercise or sleep.

My ped assured me we don’t have any H1N1 risk factors (day care, siblings in school, other adults at home) and that if I wanted to reopen the issue in a month we could talk again, but I think I’m just going to drop it. I did go ahead and get Baby Evan the regular flu shot, since he was only due for two other vaccines this month anyway and the flu is NOT something I want to go through with a 6 month old. She also told me the kind of flu shot they give infants comes in a vial containing a single dose of medication, not the kind they draw several doses from, and therefor doesn’t contain any preservatives (like Thermisol, the stuff people worry about) at all. I’d never heard or read that before, which is weird, considering how many terrifying Google searches I’ve performed using the words “vaccine”.

This next paragraph is the part where I’d usually talk about THE SCREAMING and my damaged ear drums and how the baby hates me now. Instead, I’m going to yell about how I LOVE MY MAI TEI CARRIER. After Baby Evan’s exam – but before the shots – I took off his pants and popped him in the carrier facing in so he could see my face and play with my nursing necklace. He got through two of the three shots without even blinking and the last one just got a startled little yelp before he went back to being his normal happy self. The nurse was super impressed and said she was going to recommend a carrier to all the moms during vaccines. I would brag some more about my excellent mothering and comforting skills and my super brave baby but the carrier thing wasn’t my idea. I stole it from someone at breastfeeding group. But she doesn’t read this blog so as far as you know I’m a total genius. Check me out interwebs! Where’s my Nobel Peace Prize?

Last night our sweet, cuddly co-sleeping arrangement suffered a severe setback when I reached down to pat the baby and came back with a hand covered in poop. Liquid, yellow poop. Are you enjoying your breakfast? Hopefully it’s not applesauce. Or pureed squash.

I suspect the poopsplosion had something to do with the FOUR times Baby Evan nursed last night, since he also peed so much his diaper stopped absorbing and it soaked into his swaddle. I think my nipple has officially become his nighttime security blanket more than as actual source of nourishment. He doesn’t nurse to sleep at bedtime but when he wakes up at night it’s so much easier to just feed him than to get up and rock and pace and shush and listen to him fuss and for the love of God just take the nipple already!  But when he’s latched on – even when he’s not hungry – he’s getting milk and all that food has to go somewhere. I would prefer if that somewhere didn’t include ON ME. And the sheets. And the mattress. AND ON ME. But whatevs. I doubt that’s the last nighttime poop incident we have in his life. Might as well get used to it.

The sad part of the story is all that pooping didn’t faze Baby Evan at all – he just rolled over onto his stomach so he didn’t have to lie in crap and kept on snoozing. So I had to wake up my peacefully sleeping baby at 6 am to get the poop cleaned off him. And the sheets. And the towel I keep by the bed for emergencies. AND ME. When, really, I could have just let him keep sleeping and dealt with the poopsplosion after the sun came up. I think that’s when you know you’re officially a parent – you actually consider the “lie in poop but get more sleep” option. Yes, dear pregnant readers, this IS what having a baby is really like.