Wiley Meets Santa Clause

We took Wiley to meet Santa at Brookwood Mall here in Birmingham. Honestly, I'm pretty sure he's the same Santa that's been around this area since I was a child, which is neat. I loved the photos we got, I'm just sad because I didn't realize if we didn't buy all the photos then we'd lose all but the photos we actually bought prints of (I thought I could go look at an online gallery and purchase them later). Still, I'm very happy with them. I just wish we'd bought white and red striped pants for Wiley, we were (are) strapped for cash so even doing the Santa photos was pushing it.

The girl whose job it was to get Wiley to smile for photos kept saying "You're too easy!" because he's such a happy, smiley boy she barely had to even try. Afterward when we were buying the photos Santa held Wiles for us and one of the girls told us "Oh, Santa has fallen in love with your baby" because he was enjoying him so much.

I'm hoping and praying that next year Wiley will still be just as smiley and happy about seeing Santa as he was this year, but I guess we'll just have to wait and see. It's not like a crying photo is the end of the world, I just like having happy photos.

Long Time No See

So I've been pretty awful at the whole blogging thing. I meant to stick with it, but in October I was getting so stressed out trying to make myself keep updating during the times Wiley would be asleep, and that wasn't a whole lot of time--at least not all at once.

Since then his sleep pattern has changed a bit, though we'll see how long he stays asleep this time. I've also adjusted a bit better. Mostly, while I want to be a serious blogger, I'm going to remind myself that Wiles is my first priority and I should never stress myself out trying to finish typing a post or anything when he's being fussy because he wants to be held or something.

So what's he been doing since mid-October? He's pretty much gotten smiling mastered and is now melting the hearts of people everywhere with his wonderful smile.

This past week he has just started rolling over onto his side by himself, I almost feel bad because I barely noticed it. Patrick was the one who actually realized he'd witnessed an accomplishment and got excited about it.

He's also started that wonderful drooling phase, though right now it's in the cute little mouth-bubble stage. I guess I should be excited it means teeth are in his near future, but I was kinda hoping he'd skip that drooly stage. I am not the best mom when it comes to saliva, boogers and whatnot. Obviously he's much more interested in eating his fingers (or attempting to eat his whole hand) now.

We also were involved in a car accident this past week. It was very scary, but it honestly wasn't that bad of a wreck. It took us a day to even find anything we actually considered damage on our car (on the back, left hand side of the bumper there's some that wasn't there before). We'd been stopped at a light and a girl rear-ended us when (as she told Patrick) she looked down to navigate on her cell phone and when she looked back up a few seconds later it was too late and she hit us. We'd just been walking at Railroad Park with one of my best friends. Patrick was driving and I'd let my friend take the front-seat while I sat in the back with Wiley and held Lupe (we have a harness for her but we need to clean out the car so the spot we were sitting in was the only part of the seat somebody could sit in (especially since we put Wile's seat in the center to be safe). Wiley had just fallen asleep when she rear-ended us and he started crying. I freaked out and got him out immediately, jumping out of the car and trying to get out of the middle of the busy road we were in to get to the sidewalk in front of one of the several hospitals downtown. I yelled for Patrick to get Lupe over when he could as I didn't want somebody else to hit our cars with Wiley or Lupe in it but it took a bit for him to get her over there. Wiley wouldn't stop crying for about a minute, which was terrifying to me because it was the longest he'd gone without calming down when I was there to comfort him. The good news is, our car was still driveable, other than being understandably sore none of us were worse for wear and the accident was so minor it fit all the qualifications required for our car seat company, Britax, to say that the seat was still use-able (we'd actually gotten my mom's seat from her car to use, which is a Baby Trend, but I feel like the Britax is much safer). We checked over the seat a lot just to be safe, of course. And Wiley got checked out at the emergency room just to be safe, of course he was fine and smiled all through the doctor's examination of him. I almost hate that I took him just because there were sick kids coughing in the hospital, but hopefully he didn't catch anything (he shows no signs yet).

(These two photos were taken at the park about 20 minutes before the accident)

He did scare me at the hospital because during our almost 2 hour wait (I knew it'd take awhile as he wasn't obviously injured so not an urgent need patient) he kept crying and not always for obvious reasons. Sure, we got dropped off at the wrong part of the building and I had to borrow a Radio Flyer wagon to cart him from one side to the other (of a large hospital), the wagon also made awful ring-wraith noises, especially when turned or pushed backward (like when I had to push it out of two elevators). The wraith noises, understandably upset him. But even just sitting there he'd get randomly startled, which I can understand after he'd been peacefully asleep then the chaos of a wreck. At one point after Patrick got there (he drove Lupe and my friend to meet my mom nearby and she took my friend home and Lupe to her house so he could come back to the emergency room with us) we wound up with Wiley trying to cry while we sang You Are My Sunshine at him. It was so dramatic, it was adorable.

(at the emergency room)

Let's see, what else? I think Wiles is about to wake so I'll try to sum up the big holidays that I didn't bother posting around quickly.

Halloween was really un-eventful for us this year. We went to the church's festival, but since Wiley was two months at the time it was a bit lost on him. It was neat that this couple in our small group whose son is a bit younger than Wiley (they were actually due within a week of one-another initially but since Wiley was born at about 38 weeks by his original due-date (39 by the second one they gave us and I delayed the surgery 'til as late as possible during the week to get him as close to 39/40 I could) and their boy was born a bit closer to his actual due-date he's half a month younger). Anyway, Wiley went as Batman and their son went as Robin (his dad went as Batman). Lupe actually went as Batgirl (I wanted her to go as Robin but the Robin costumes were sold out in her size). Still, I thought they were super-cute as Batman and Robin (I wish I'd gotten a photo!), their little boy is also much smaller than Wiley (I think the other boy was somewhere in the 6lb range at birth) so it worked perfectly.

For Thanksgiving we went over to one of my friend's parents house to spend time with her and her daughter and another friend and her daughter. These two girls are two of my best friends and we've been friends since elementary school. 

Mommy and Wiley. He's my mini-me!

Me and Patrick. I almost had forgotten I can look presentable, haha!

After that we went to Patrick's mom's house, but I don't think I really have photos from that. Somebody got photos, I haven't seen them.

I guess I'll try to make separate posts about some of the other goings-on, like the monthly photos I take as well as Santa pics and just random pics I love. I think it's going to be much easier for me, especially once I catch up. I just hope I can because I have some seriously precious photos I need to find a reason (and the time) to post.

Keeping Up

It's really hard to not worry that your baby isn't progressing as well as the babies of others around you.

To anybody who's ever been a parent, that's a pretty obvious statement. Even as a pet-parent I've found myself frustrated when Lupe (because Abel is perfect... and also, I've been around so many cats I guess I don't have any expectations for them) doesn't match up to what I was hoping for or see in other dogs (like how she's pretty terrible at playing with other dogs... to the point where I'm afraid to take her to dog parks and even nervous introducing her to friends dogs because she sounds mean when she plays and I don't want them to think she's going to hurt their dog, even though I know she's not). But it's so much worse as a first-time parent, seeing your friends and relative's babies and wondering why yours isn't doing what they're doing.

Wiley started smiling about on cue, but he doesn't seem to smile as much as some of the other babies I see. 

Of course, I try to remind myself that I'm judging the happiness of these babies off of pics on Facebook, and these babies have their normal moments, too... but I struggle to even get pics of Wiley smiling because it's not the most frequent and it doesn't happen every time I try to get him to smile, even half the time. He smiles when he wants and when he does it melts my heart, but sometimes I just coo at him for forever and have to give up, frustrated.

I also have to tell myself to stop when I start worrying that maybe I'm doing something wrong as his mother, not giving him enough attention, interacting enough, doing enough. What else could I do? I'm a good mother (great according to his grandparents on both sides) but I want to be the best for him and I want to know I'm doing everything I can.

Even more so, I know Wiley is his own person and going to develop at his own pace. I totally get that. But it's still hard to not kinda wish your child would seem interested in things more--like toys. We've offered him these 0+ toys for months now but he won't even really grip it if I put it in his hand still, at seven weeks. I've taken to watching Netflix almost because it's easy for me to do while holding him because after our daily tummy time (where I lay on the floor with him, talk to him and try to offer him the previously mentioned toys 'til he cries in about five minutes) it doesn't seem like I do much with him other than feed him (what seems like) constantly. Sometimes we make eye contact, a lot of times we don't... sometimes I feel bad I don't give him more of my attention with feeding, but if I spent every attempt at feeding staring in his eyes (or at least at him since a good bit of the time he's not interested in the eye contact) I might go crazy. As I previously mentioned, I'm not exactly the biggest fan of feeding time. He's still being breast fed but it's by the grace of God and my determination to take it one day at a time for as long as I can before giving up... and the majority of the time I use a hand pump now instead of having him latch. Sometimes I still have him latch and he does great, then other times (today was one) he pulls off every two minutes, gets upset and starts crying like I did something mean to him by offering him sustenance. And then with the frequent feedings, it's hard not to feel like you're going to go insane. Even right now he's in my lap while I (somehow) am managing to type this and he keeps fussing. I guess he wants food, the pacifier quiets him for a bit, though. I remember when I thought I'd feed him whenever he seemed to want it and never use a pacifier but now it is obvious sometimes he doesn't want my breast, he just wants something to suck on. Sometimes he does want the breast, or the bottle (he's not picky) but (like right now) I feel it's too soon to feed him again (I mean, it's literally been an hour or less. That is not cool when he's eating plenty).

I also try to keep in mind that most of the babies I'm comparing Wiley to are either a few months older than him, they're also almost exclusively girls.  

Wiley has two second-cousins who are both about a month older than him and Patrick and I will see their photos or videos and I'll wonder how Wiley is ever going to get anywhere close to catching up to that within a month. I have friends with babies anywhere from a few days to months older than Wiley. Every single one of them are girls and I wonder if that's why Wiley seems to still be focusing more on himself and people, not objects or even animals. 

I know boys and girls develop at different paces, just like all babies in general do... but I'm definitely not a newborn kind of person. I'm sure I'll miss it a bit when he's older, but I look forward to being able to play with him and really interact with him beyond fighting to get him to breast feed, popping a bottle or pacifier in his mouth and changing his diaper.

I wish I could post a more thought-out post, I really want this to be quality writing, but it's hard when the husband is away all day and I struggle to even get time to bathe... it'll get better (right?).

Oh, did I mention my mom got a new kitten? About 8 weeks old (well, 9 now, so two weeks older than Wiley). His name is McPhee and he's adorable. 

I'm pretty excited they'll get to grow up together. Wiley is obviously not so impressed yet (and neither is McPhee for that matter, but in all fairness it was his first day with my mom and I know he must have been overwhelmed by all the new people and the new cats and a baby to top it off).

In other good news, we had our third and final baby shower two days ago and finally got an age-appropriate stroller for Wiles! We're so excited! It came right before we left to go to Railroad Park yesterday (Patrick was going to wear Wiley in a sling because my back was dying from cleaning all day) and we got to put it together and take it out for a spin. It was great!

I must point out, I'm also in love with that jacket I bought for him the other day. Me and Patrick love colors!

Daddy putting Wiles in the stroller after a feeding.

And of course me with two of my babies (poor Abel never gets to go anywhere... but he also acts like the car is a death machine, so I guess he's mostly glad for it).

Ahh well, I've made him wait long enough to eat. 

Distractions

I have been a lazy bum for the past several days. I did some good cleaning a few days ago during a short spurt when Wiley actually napped long enough for me to eat, pump and still manage to pick stuff up, organize a bit and vacuum. We then went to Patrick's dad's house for dinner with his dad and his younger (half)brother. We didn't get home 'til relatively late, way past our now regular bedtime. The next day, which was intended to be spent cleaning, was spent napping and then when Patrick went to work it was spent watching Ghost Hunters, which is what I've been doing lately. Today was really not much more productive. Everybody got a bath, including the dog and baby, but not much was cleaned and I napped and spent the majority of my time watching Ghost Hunters and caring for Wiley (and this morning poor Patrick did most of the work, I honestly don't know what I did the majority of the morning besides watch that show.

I re-started our Netflix account and unfortunately I'm one of those people who is so easily distracted by the TV and computer that I don't get much done (while pregnant at least I had the excuse of being pregnant and getting worn out easily, but I also played way too much Candy Crush Saga, scrolled Tumblr and poked about on Facebook for hours on end. By the end I was bored out of my mind but really couldn't do very much (and I still tried to clean, I really did, but I had to take much more frequent breaks). Since giving birth I have kept myself off Candy Crush and have done really well not getting caught up in distractions... that is, 'til we petsat for Patrick's mom. She has Roku and so I got to watch Netflix and I'd heard so much about Orange is the New Black that I started watching it. Since I was getting so bored at home nursing the baby with nothing to do since I can't easily scroll Facebook (and I run out of updates) I re-started our account (I had closed it after I had binged out the last time and had run out of things that I really wanted to watch at the time). Since then I've watched all of Orange is the New Black, Sherlock and now I'm working on Ghost Hunters. I think I'm easily distracted and I'm one of those people when my focus gets on something I can get hyper-focused.

So hopefully I'll run out of shows to watch soon, cancel it again and go back to being productive.

I've made a conscious effort to make eye contact with Wiley while feeding him and to spend lots of time interacting with him, but it is nice having a distraction when he falls asleep in my arms or while I'm pumping.

My other problem is I'm so bored I'm snacking constantly. On top of that, I feel like I have a craving for something unknown and I keep munching things trying to satisfy the craving but it's never it so I just keep eating. I've got to start eating less junk food. I'm hoping to start that tomorrow and definitely within the next week (once we go grocery shopping, though I think I've eaten the majority of junk foods, I just need to find something that will satisfy that chocolate craving I get without me eating the entire thing at once.

Thoughts

Awkward family photo! Minus Abel.

Well, I was going to get up and clean now that I finally got Wiley down for a nap but then I realized that I haven't had time to update this blog in awhile. Of course right now I feel like I have nothing good to say.

Him in mommy's shirt from when she was a baby. War Eagle!

We managed to make it to church this morning, we were late to Bible study by about 20 minutes but, gosh darnit, we made it. We decided not to go to church because I had woken up late, had wet hair, hadn't eaten breakfast and needed to feed Wiley again. I'd tried to pump this morning but since I woke up late I only pumped enough in the hopes I wouldn't leak it all out in the shower (tmi warning), but instead I made the mistake of removing my sports bra that I now wear non-stop (unless I'm in one of my normal bras, but at home I'm constantly in some sort of bra) before starting and I just kept dripping on myself (I'm sure I mentioned that's one of the reasons I hate breastfeeding in my previous post, right?). Apparently today is no-bra day according to some photo being shared around on Facebook, and normally I'd be all for it... but now if I don't wear a bra I'm quickly mortified by the wet spots that appear on my clothes.

We took Wiley for a walk a few days ago and later I was informed by a friend who saw photos on Facebook that the umbrella stroller we were using for him is not meant for babies as young as him (I kinda guessed, but assumed so long as he's safely clipped in and we're just calmly strolling that it would be fine, she said it's bad for his back though). So now we're hesitant to take him on walks because my back isn't strong enough for carrying him yet. We're hoping we'll get a more age-appropriate stroller to wheel him in soon.

City stroll.

I really want a heavier-duty stroller we can take on trails so I can do easy hikes like I used to take Lupe on. I'm anxious for it to really get cooler and for me to be able to start getting out there and being active again (and hopefully get back some of my muscle strength and stamina, whether or not I lose weight). I hate that they closed our swimming pool, but we wouldn't be able to take Wiles swimming this soon, anyways. At least not in our complex's pool (I might take him swimming in a privately owned pool where I knew the owners). I just want to be active again! I wish we had money for me to join the YMCA or Lifetime Fitness (since Patrick works there in the childcare center so Wiles could stay with him while I work out) but we don't have money for either... but I would love, love, love to start being able to use weight machines again. Maybe once I start working again.

Visiting great-grandma!

I feel like I need to go on back to work, but Patrick is trying to work extra hard so I can wait (which is one reason I feel like I need to go back to work, he needs a break). I've been with Wiley for 6 weeks but I was hoping for at least 6 months of being a stay-at-home mom before I had to go back. Now I'm hoping for at least 3 months. The week after he was born I was ready to be back at work, truthfully, but when I really think about going back I panic because I want him with me. I don't want to leave him with anybody, even my own family. I want to know I'm the one influencing him and teaching him the most and there are some ideas that even my family has that I disagree with.

Nap time <3

Weight is frequently mentioned in my family (in every family), and I want Wiley to never grow up the way I did. Thinking his weight (or rather, lack-of weight) was what made him worthy as a person and love-able. Since he's a boy I comfort myself with that it won't be as bad as it is for girls, but I know that it's getting harder for boys... more boys are getting eating disorders and I don't want him thinking he can't like the girl he likes simply because she's fat or saying hurtful things to a poor little girl because that negative attitude is so pervasive in our society that it's second-nature. I want him to look at a person's character and personality. I don't want him to be like his dad who liked bigger girls but couldn't admit it to himself and still thought the girls he did date could stand to lose some weight simply because he was also taught those negative thoughts. My worth is not determined by my weight, nobody's is. We're taught that women need to take up as little space as possible to be desirable. No thanks. It's not just the issue of weight and body-acceptance, although that's a huge thing to me. It's a lot of negative attitudes I don't think they even realize they have (and I'm not perfect, I know). I don't want him growing up thinking he has to be different just to be different, that different is inherently bad and I don't want him to learn to lump other people into boxes instead of accepting we're all different and that's OK (great even). I would love to give examples, but I don't want to upset anybody should they find this. It's hard to accept that I'm going to have to let other people interact with him and possibly put ideas in his head that I vehemently disagree with.

Anyway, it sounds like he's waking up, time to go. He's finally in 6 month clothes, he's too big!

Snugglesaurus!

Going Crazy

All I can do right now is fight the urge to get in the car and drive off to Huntsville, Nashville or Chattanooga. 

Just everything makes me want to get away. Family, going stir-crazy and even being stuck with the baby all day every day... except I wouldn't want anybody else with the baby instead because I don't trust anybody (ok, maybe Patrick).

I just need a break.

I'd love to type more, but my mom is on the phone with me and won't stop informing me of her cat's locations and whatnot.

I've been terrible about updating, I've been distracted with a cold and a baby who refused to sleep without me next to him for awhile and still doesn't want to sleep more than thirty minutes.

I'm not going to post much tonight, I will say that at Wiley's last Dr's visit he weighed in at 11.14lbs and was 22 1/2 inches tall. Big boy! I don't remember the exact numbers but I think he's 95 percentile for weight and 75 for height (which I don't get, he's not fat, what?).

Sick Mamma

I have a cold. Normally I'm pretty good about colds, I don't let them slow me down and work through them like a champ. This one shouldn't even be so bad, but it would help if I'd stop trying to do too much other than take care of Wiley, since that's the only real obligation I can't postpone.

I think Wiley may be slightly sick, too, though if he is he's taking it like a trooper. He sneezes some, which he always has, but he also has had a mildly stuffy nose and the most distressing one to me is a cough that sounds like mine when I'm sick and my throat hurts. He doesn't cough all that much so we're not too worried.

Mommy snuggling with Wiles while he naps (I didn't realize I was so tan, haha)

I've been trying to get the title to my car transferred into my name (it was my grandmother's car) and a new tag because my old one expired in August... But every time we try we run out of time because it takes entirely too long to renew tags now that they've shut down some of the satellite DMVs (of course, the safer, more convenient ones)... Yay government.

Tomorrow we have Wiley's one month visit, I can't wait to see what the doctor says... except that he's possibly got a cold. I'm trying to get my breast milk in him so that he can get his sweet self well! In the meantime, we're napping together (yes, in the same bed) quite a bit. He was so fussy yesterday, I laid down in bed with him and nursed him 'til he fell asleep and I could fall asleep. We're both sick, we both need the sleep and so far I have yet to move in my sleep. I'm acutely aware he's beside me. The only reason I sleep better knowing he's right under me is because he sleeps better and longer, especially yesterday since he was fussy. Amazingly, I thought we were going to have to let him sleep with us last night but because he'd gotten such good sleep in with me that he wasn't fussy we managed to get him to sleep in his cradle all night so mommy and daddy could have the bed to themselves.

I was planning on posting more, but to get him to sleep again I had to side-lying nurse him and so now I'm in an awkward position beside him trying to type... When he's older I'll get better at this posting thing, I swear.

Sick buddies... except Lupe isn't sick, just taking advantage of the situation.

I Hate Breastfeeding

Seriously, I do.

Before Wiley was born I was determined to exclusively breastfeed. I had all these images in my head of sweet mother-son time, a great way for us to bond, not to mention all the health benefits. I knew that it can be rough starting out but I told myself just to try to make it through the first two weeks and that's generally when people say it gets better.

By the end of two weeks I still hated breastfeeding, every week I continue to do it I'm still amazed I haven't given up.

In some ways it is easier, I think at first I was closer to having an emotional breakdown over it than I am now, but in some ways I'm worse.

My third night in the hospital I wasn't being given my pain medicine and I was in a lot of pain, we were up at about 2 AM doing one of his feedings and I remember how frustrated I was. From birth he's been strong and he's pretty much always fought me when it comes to feeding him (it's like he wants to do it all himself but he also thinks my nipple is a moving target when it's being held still). That morning I was in horrible pain from my surgery and he was screaming and crying and I just sat there, struggling to get him latched, and cried over him while Patrick tried to help me.

Before two weeks was up I kept telling myself to just keep at it. I went to a lactation support group (I need to go back) and they did help, for a bit. I guess it's still helped what they taught me, but we still have problems often.

Since day four, the day we left the hospital, we've been supplementing with formula on our pediatrician's recommendation (if you're reading this and thinking "Oh, well that's why it's so hard for you now!" Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. I've actually learned to use formula to make it easier to breastfeed him, such as when he's so hungry he's frantic and won't latch, some formula to ease his hunger helps big time. Until he was established breastfeeding I would only give him formula after breastfeeding (now I do it if we're somewhere where I can't nurse and have no breast milk) so he didn't learn to be lazy--I'm actually amazed how he has no issues switching between breast and any kind of bottle I've given him as well as pacifiers. This boy will latch on to anything, he's not picky).

Wiley was born 10 lbs 6 oz, a big baby. When he left the hospital he was down to 9 lbs 6 oz. The pediatrician reassured me that she'd also had large babies and that sometimes you just have to play catch-up and that it can be hard to make enough milk to satisfy a large baby's needs. It didn't mean I had to supplement forever, but that I should at least supplement until my milk came in.

Well, silly me, I thought my milk came in enough just when I could tell it was actually coming in (wrong). I started cutting back on the formula before he was even two weeks old and at his first doctor's visit in the clinic we discovered he was down to 9 lbs 3 oz. We talked to our doctor about how much we were feeding him and it was determined that we should just try to supplement with 2 oz of formula every feeding, which we've been doing ever since. We had that appointment on a Friday and then the next Thursday I went to the lactation support group, we weighed him and he was up 9 lbs and about 12-13oz (his weight fluctuated since I also fed him while there to see how much he was getting from nursing). I took him in again the next Thursday only to weigh him and the mom that helped me figure out how to work the scale was surprised when he came up 10 lbs and saying how he'd gained almost a pound in a week. I smiled and told her we were supplementing and specifically trying to get his weight back up to his birth weight.

I didn't get to go last week so I have no idea what Wiley currently weighs, but I plan to go to the lactation support group again this week and we also have his one month check-up so we'll see where he's at soon.

Still, I hate breastfeeding. I cry at Patrick about it during our late night feeds when he's fighting against me (I believe he's harder at night because generally we go a little longer than every two hours between feedings). I tell him repeatedly how I don't want to breastfeed anymore, but still we're breastfeeding over four weeks later.

I've told my mom and she suggests it's because we're modest and don't like being naked, but I don't know where she got that idea from because I am not very modest at all and have no issue with people seeing my breasts. I don't breastfeed in public yet, but that's because I'm struggling to do it as it is, I couldn't drape something over myself and still get him latched. It also doesn't help that I am fat (I don't say fat in a negative way, it's what I am and the best descriptor of what I am. Better than "pleasantly plump" or "full figured" or anything) and I am acutely aware that if I were to try to breastfeed in public, as little as I care about people seeing me do it, I feel I'm more likely to attract negative attention than a skinnier woman (and let's be honest, any woman breastfeeding in public is likely to get negative comments from closed-minded idiots, regardless of how she looks) and I already feel so negatively about the process that I don't want to completely ruin it for me forever.

No, it's because I have carpal tunnel, I hurt my right wrist further during pregnancy by falling on it twice and then thanks to breastfeeding my left wrist is currently as bad as my right. I have sharp, shooting pains in my wrists and hands just from moving pillows on my bed now. I have to fight with a 10 lb baby who was born being able to lift his head (not for long, but he could lift it) and who's nickname from one of his grandmothers is "Samson". It's because I struggle to get him to latch correctly and even when I think I do a few minutes later he's somehow managed to shift so that only my nipple is in his mouth-- and when the baby nurses off your nipple only it hurts. It's because I get angry and frustrated and feel like a terrible mom for being mad at my baby boy, sometimes I have to stop trying to feed him 'til I can calm down, it's so bad (it has gotten better now that my hormones are calmer). It's because it hurts to have my baby scream or cry when I'm trying to get him to latch. It feels pretty crappy to have a baby start sobbing because you shoved your breast in his mouth. I hate how sweaty we get and I hate when I wind up with my breast milk all over myself and feel dirty all day. I hate when I leak into my bras and I hate being tied down while my baby continually falls asleep mid-feeding and refuses to wake up until I've given up and just laid him in his napper, then he starts screaming. I hate feeding him every two hours and him taking so long to feed that I honestly don't even have an hour to myself to do chores, bathe or nap.

I've become even worse about it lately, I do whatever I can to pump milk prior to him eating so that he doesn't have to latch and I don't have to fight him. I don't have a nice electric pump, either. I would rather hand pump, which also hurts my wrists, than nurse, though I wish I liked nursing so he could be getting all the milk I know me pumping can't. I just want to avoid it whenever possible (and I still nurse, I stopped in the middle of typing this to nurse him).

But we're going on five weeks and I'm still breastfeeding with supplementing, despite how much I hate it. I want to give my son (and myself) as many of the benefits as I possibly can and the longer you do so, the better. As long as I feel like I can mentally stand it, I'll push on. As long as I feel like the positive feelings out-weigh the negative, I'm going to keep on. Maybe my attitude will change, maybe the problem is with me and with more support I can get the problems fixed, who knows?

And I do have positive moments with breastfeeding. I have so many photos of him after he's passed out on my breast and even in the hospital of me nursing him. I like knowing I'm doing something good for my son... but I don't like breastfeeding and will be glad when it's over.

I have so many wonderful memories of him falling asleep after a feeding and me just being in awe of this beautiful little human we made, holding his hand, etc.

He looked so beautiful and peaceful post-feedings in the hospital (he still does, but I don't have those photos on this computer, sadly).

I had hoped it would be a great bonding experience like I've heard, but it is not at all for me. I remember before I started that I planned to exclusively breastfeed for six months before even introducing food and then to continue up to a year (honestly, I had pictured how great it was going to be once we got it down and I was mentally prepared to nurse him up until three or four if he was still wanting to nurse for that long--now I'm praying we make it to a year).

I hope for other mom's out there that they don't go through what I am, I wish every mother who wants to breastfeed has a much more positive experience than I have. I'm still hoping maybe we can turn it around with enough support, but I'm already luckier than a lot of women in that my husband is fantastic at supporting my attempts to breastfeed, including getting up in the middle of the night with me to hold Wiley's hands so he can't shove me away. It will never be my goal in telling anybody how much I hate breastfeeding and the issues I have had with it to scare other women off of it, I think it's best to inform yourself... I wish I had realized all of the problems I might face going in. The latching thing was expected but I didn't expect to have such a large baby and have to play catch-up because of it, I didn't expect him to be so strong and to fight me. I assumed he'd be like a newborn kitten and just be able to latch himself (my cat, Locke, had kittens and they seemed to have no problems finding the nipple and latching despite being blind at birth), instead he'll bounce his head around like he's hoping it'll make it in and fighting me while I try to help him.

No football hold or guiding their head needed.

We're working on getting me an electric pump, so hopefully soon I'll have every tool at my disposal to continue to give Wiley the best nutrition possible, though.

I also left out that yesterday was Wiley's one month birthday! I might make another post in a few days, but here's a picture I got to celebrate it:

One month!

And for anybody interested, I got the month stickers from Belly to Baby Designs on Etsy. Also, I didn't realize that it came with the first weeks stickers so I ordered it right before he turned a month... I wish I had known because I'd have loved to have gotten a newborn photo as well as the first few weeks with those as well.

I'm stuck at home without a car until we can get a piece of paper notarized and renew my tag (because I've been driving it despite the fact it expired last month), I am super paranoid that I'm going to get a ticket and I'm not willing to risk it over half a month later because I feel like we'll be pushing our luck. But tomorrow I'll get the thing notarized (our last attempt ended badly when our power got cut off and we had to deal with getting all our cold foods and animals to my mom's house) and hopefully Friday we will get it done.

But in the meantime I'm going stir crazy, Patrick si at work all the time and I'm left alone with the baby and animals... and surprisingly they aren't the greatest conversationalists. Most of my time is spent trying to either feed Wiley or pumping breast milk in the hopes of producing more milk so that at some point we can stop with the formula.

I feel dirty constantly, I even bathed earlier and I still feel dirty. I should probably get used to it, I suspect he's going to get worse as he gets older before he gets better (in terms of vomiting, pooping or peeing on me). My face has broken out and I keep touching it because I'm self-conscious about it and bored, which has only made it worse.

Whatever.

I hope to post actual interesting stuff soon, but it's not like the life of a mommy with a newborn baby is all that exciting or glamorous. It's pretty much just feeding him, cleaning him, trying to do other random chores and changing his diapers. Maybe spend time with him the few times he decides he wants to be awake longer than just to feed. I seriously just stared into his eyes just trying to figure out if they're going to change color or not (I suspect they will turn brown but I'm hoping they won't). Other than that I've been sitting here watching New Girl. I should've just watched it when I was breastfeeding--but I get so into it I've watched it for two days straight 'til I caught up. Total time waster. I could be doing more, but not much more.... at least I accomplished something, even if it's useless.

And as usual, I'll try to end with some photos from the other day.

Lupe helping out with tummy time.

Abel came to supervise.

Mommy helping with tummy time.

Lupe and her baby boy.

Family photo time :)

Sweetness.

Me and my sweet baby boy.

Went in for my three week checkup post c-section, apparently everything looked good. My blood pressure was normal and my incision looked good, thank goodness.

Also, I'll be getting birth control, yaaaay. Not that I can have sex yet, even if I wanted to... but I'm excited to know when the time comes that we won't be having another baby any time soon. Part of me misses bbeing pregnant, I was semi-jealous of all the pregnant ladies I saw today at the doctor's (especially the one where I could tell they had just gotten their first ultrasound, so sweet), but I definitely don't want another kid for three to four years (I was 3 and 1/2 years younger than my brother and I honestly really, really like that age gap. I think it's a good one). Of course, I'm still out on if I even want anymore kids, but I don't doubt that in three years I might change my mind and forget how horrible I found the birth experience because everything else was great... well, minus the people in my life stressing me out through my pregnancy.

I had to get a flu shot. Well, I didn't have to, but I did since I don't want to get the flu with Wiley (of course, I didn't get a flu shot even when I worked at a pharmacy and didn't get the flu, but I also didn't have a kid to worry about then). I am such a baby about shots, I used to be so good... Seems to me that we're going to not be able to let Wiley come with me to doctor's visits where I get shots because I don't want to teach him to be as big of a wuss as I am. It's just extra frustrating because I used to have no problem with shots and now I whimper when they even look at me with a needle.

Then when we got home Wiley decided to pee right as I was changing his diaper. This has happened to Patrick quite a bit, but I was very proud that it had yet to happen to me. The only reason I never bragged was because I felt like as soon as I did it would jinx me, oh well. Then, to add insult to injury he spit up on me. I finally got him to nap and I'm hoping when he wakes up we can get back on the right foot. We'll see!

And of course I have to share some of the pics I have!

Patrick wasn't really asleep, but I can guarantee you he wanted to be. Still, sweet father-son snuggle time <3

Wiles at Railroad Park, he was getting burped. I love his expressions when we burp him, too cute.

Me with Lupes at Railroad Park. She is on high alert with Wiles around!

At my grandmother's funeral the other day my uncle got up and talked about Rita's life. At one point he mentioned how he believed God had "lifted the veil" at the end when Rita looked over (at nothing as far as they were aware) and said "My boys."

My grandmother lost two of her three sons, my father (the middle son) in 1986 to cancer while my mother was 6 months pregnant with me. My youngest uncle passed in the 90s when he was in an auto accident.

Even though I'm a Christian, death still scares me a lot (since it's been a reality in my life since I was born I grew up knowing and fearing it because it meant people couldn't be with you anymore). Still, I handle the death of others better than lots... But while I believe in an afterlife, I think I try to not think too much about it because it causes me fear.

But then I can't help but think back to when my best friend was murdered, her sister told how she was jealous because my friend got to be with their mother who had passed... And thinking about what my uncle said, I wonder (and hope) that maybe Court's mother was there to welcome her home when Court passed on. I know Court would have loved that, she loved and missed her mom so much.

And then, who will be there when I pass?

I've dreamed my whole life of meeting my father, so I assume he'll be one of the ones welcoming me... But who else? My grandfather? Will all my passed relatives be there or just a few? Court? I hope so, I can't wait 'til I can see her again, I miss her so much. I can just imagine her big ol' grin when she sees me coming, I can almost hear her saying "It's about time, geeze!"

It breaks my heart Wiley will never know my father, his grandfather... almost more than it bothers me I didn't have a father growing up. It breaks my heart Wiley will never know my best friend, Court. I used to think about what I'd tell any future children, I have photos of her up... I guess at some point Wiley will ask. What do I tell him? Obviously not the whole story, at least not right off the bat... it would be too scary. He'll learn it in time, I hope, because it's definitely shaped who I am. But he will know that she was one of my best friends who I loved very much, that she was somebody I consider a soul-mate and that she is missed dearly. She should have been there with me to support me through my pregnancy. I still remember Court saying how she saw me having a loving husband, kids and a house with a picket fence. I don't know about the fence, but she's definitely been right on two counts, I just wish she could have been here with me to celebrate all these things.

Wiley has taken to rooting lately, something he really didn't do when we first had him. I don't know if it was because he was a planned c-section and came out before he was ready, but he's very alert and otherwise seems like a normal three week old to me... Ok, well, I might not be an expert on what normal three week olds are like.

Still, he keeps rooting post-feeding, he wasn't even rooting when I tried feeding him to begin with. He's been doing it lately and we have given in and fed him more some of those times, only to have him vomit it up (in all fairness, I passed him to daddy and daddy was just about to burp him after continuing to feed him when the vomit happened). I thought my milk was coming in better, that things were going better with breastfeeding... but right now I feel like they're worse. I don't know if it's because he's wanting to just get the formula, when he latches he'll unlatch within half the time he was last week... still, I tried pumping post-feeding and couldn't get anything out, so I don't know if he got everything he needed in half the time or what. Of course, now I regret not staying at the lactation support group last Thursday, but I'll go again this Thursday and hopefully they can help me. Also, his one-month checkup is coming up and I can see if his doctor still wants us supplementing with formula or not. I'm hoping not, except often I get so frustrated with breastfeeding I don't want to do it anymore.

I knew it would be hard, just not how hard. I told myself to just make it through two weeks, then a month... I'm currently at three weeks and still not sure. I feel a lot of pressure to do it, partially because I was so determined to when I found out I was pregnant. I did the research, took the classes. I know all the perks of breastfeeding and I want to give them to him so bad... but I also want to not feel miserable. I want to not be in pain physically, he's hurting my wrists and now my back is getting knotted up. It's starting to get like it was when I felt I had to quit my job at the salon. I'm wanting to go back to the salon part time, too. Just so we can catch up on bills and I can buy Wiley all the stuff he deserves and all that. He's started not latching well, or un-latching from a good latch and re-latching just on my nipple and then refusing to let go. It hurts so bad! I also feel pressure from family, though only one family member in particular. I think everybody else would understand that I'm trying my hardest and if I give up I'm making the decision because I honestly think it's what's best for me and Wiley. I mean, breastfeeding is great and I'm glad I've managed this long... but it's hard and my mental and physical well being are also important. Hopefully I can go back to the lactation support group and they can help get me back on track. I only stopped by last Thursday to weigh him and he's finally back at the 10lb mark.

I'm hoping to get a good breast pump soon... I mean, I have a Medela Harmony but I'd like an electric pump. Here's hoping we can get one.

But Wiley is laying in my lap and it's hard to type and hold him so I'm going to end by sharing a couple photos of Lupe with her baby.

Lupe loves her little boy.

Patrick finally got the pack and play fully put together, I'm so excited. Before the newborn napper and changer weren't put on but now Wiley is resting comfortably.

I've been trying to go through the presents we got at the last baby shower and start putting them away/out where they'll be useful. We got yet another sound machine, this makes three. We only registered for one but the other ones have been nice, too. Especially the one a friend gave me that was one she just had. I'll probably just give my mom one of them once Wiley starts staying over at her house but for now we have three spots in the house for Wiley to sleep, anyways.

We've been cleaning some today, mostly sweet Patrick. I've taken at least two naps and now I'm sitting here typing this useless post (but I'm trying really hard to keep myself updating!).

I could probably type a more interesting, informative one... I'm just on eggshells waiting for Wiley to wake up and don't want to get into a long and involved post before then.

But for now I'll go help clean instead.

They Say to Sleep When the Baby Sleeps...

I don't think this is what they had in mind, but desperate and tired mommies do what they have to to get a little nap.

In reality I had laid down to try to nap and Patrick had to go back to work and so he handed Wiles to me to calm and somehow shushing alone worked... and we fell asleep together.

As much as I want to do co-sleeping, I'm hesitant to because I don't want to risk suffocating him. I've napped with him several times but generally not with him on me but beside me and I have a set-up to where I can't roll over on him (although my body seems to know when he's nearby and I don't move at all, anyway).

Still, I'm not letting myself get super upset when I do nap with him or fall asleep with him on me because I haven't moved and he desperately wants to be held at all times if he can... and since he's a newborn we're catering to his need to be held for at least the first three months.

On another note; Wiles is three weeks old today! Happy birthday, little man!

We wanted to get a photo for my aunt of Wiley in one of the onesies she gave him. We used this awesome red panda stuffed animal another friend gave us... 'cause trying to use Lupe to help support him did not work at all.

That perfect little face!

He looks like he's trying to pick the red panda up, haha.

Wiles with his sister, Lupe... she looks like an awkward Chewbacca.

And this was when mommy gave up trying to use Lupe as support for cute baby-dog photos and decided to switch to the panda doll, haha.

My C-Section

Wiley is asleep right now and I'm waiting for my dinner to cool down so I thought I'd post, this will probably end up turning into a ramble because even though I had a lovely baby shower today, I just feel annoyed. My head has hurt all day, I miss my husband who's gone the majority of the time trying to take care of us and even though I'm doing great with Wiley, it would be nice to feel like I had more of a break. I'm currently feeding him every two hours and that takes it's toll when every two hours you have to struggle to get a baby to use you as a milk cow.

But I will talk about the c-section and my feelings on it now that I've been through the procedure and lived to tell the tale. Now obviously this is my personal experience and my personal opinion so it won't be the same for everybody.

My c-section went well as far, as far as I can tell. They got me set up and started cutting into me about 7:15, they didn't even have Patrick in the room yet. I had thought they were going to ask me if I could feel the scalpel before they really got into it but they didn't, I suspected they had already started and it was confirmed for me when I saw Patrick come in and the look on his face when he could see them cutting into me.

The lead-up to the c-section was the worst part of the actual surgery, at least pain wise. I was so scared I was trying to hold back tears. Every time the anesthesiologist put the numbing agent in my back I could feel the needle and would cry. Apparently he put extra in my back, according to a nurse. I assume it's because of the fact I kept saying "Oww" and freaking out when he'd stick me. My poor nurse had to keep me calm during that and the epidural, I felt so embarrassed.

Once they finished and the epidural was in I started to shake, which they assured me was just a normal side-effect... but I honestly believe it was also just the sheer terror I was feeling by that point. I had already been anxious, then I got pricked and poked and everything I didn't want done to me and I knew that surgery was imminent. I even suspect they thought it was abnormal, they kept asking if I was cold and put a blanket over my arms to help me once I was in the surgery room... but then they still asked if I was ok afterward, which I suspect was because of how much I was still shaking. They had to shift me from my bed to a table, I thought they were going to drop me at one point and started whimpering and reached out for whoever was closest to me that my arms could get.

Wiley was born at 7:22, I think they actually started cutting about 7:18. Patrick had just sat down for a minute and was petting me when they asked if he wanted to watch Wiley be born. I remember he kinda stood up to look over the curtain and later just told me "it was kinda weird"... maybe he said something more elaborate, I was on pain meds when I asked. I remember the doctor exclaiming "Oh, you are a big boy!" when she first saw Wiley. Shortly after that they told Patrick he could go with Wiley to see him get cleaned up and weighed, he started to stall and stay with me and I told him to go on. There was a man (I guess another anesthesiologist? He wasn't the one that inserted the epidural but I remember him using the term anesthesiologist somewhere in his job description) kept trying to make small talk with me, I was relieved almost when he started just talking to the surgeons about their kids and their plans for labor day.

The first photo Patrick got of Wiley

They brought Wiley back to me for a few minutes which is when we got our first photos together. They told me he was 10lbs 6 oz and 22 inches long. I was still pretty terrified at that point, and in shock and just doped up. It was a planned c-section so I don't think my body was ready at all, and even though I had known I was going to give birth my mind still was having trouble grasping it.

My first photo with Wiles.

I don't think I even felt like I could hold him properly at that point, I just wanted somebody else to take him because my arms didn't feel like my arms... they were shaky and not fully under my control.

First family photo.

Then after they let me see Wiley they took him and Patrick to the recovery room to wait for me while they finished closing me up. Around 8 AM (possibly a little sooner) I was wheeled into recovery to meet with them.

I remember before the surgery, when the epidural was kicking in, how I could still move my big toe. Once I got into recovery they wanted to start me breastfeeding right away. Normally I'd have been thrilled, my original plan was to nurse immediately... but my original plan involved me pushing him out of my own volition and being able to function normally afterward. I was so shaky, they tried to hand him to me and help me get him to latch, I just wanted them to do the work. I kept apologizing, saying how I couldn't do it and needed help for a few hours afterward.... I wanted to, I really did, but I was so scared I'd drop him and my arms felt like they belonged to somebody else. An hour or so later I was trying to breast feed again and attempting to push/pull my entire body, including my numb and more or less paralyzed lower half up the bed so I could sit up and hold him. At one point I just barely managed to shift my legs and they told me what a good job I was doing to even be able to do that, I was less thrilled... it was just another example of how I didn't want that surgery.

They took my catheter out the next morning at 4 AM. I was up and trying to walk on my own a few hours later and I hurt so bad. I forced myself to walk the halls with Patrick, I was determined to get well faster.

I would honestly never choose an elective c-section. People talk about convenience--but you're getting major surgery, you need rest... and you have a newborn, you're not getting it. You hurt, not just a temporary pain like I imagine actual labor is (where yes, you're in lots of pain for hours), but a long and drawn out pain. Even two weeks later I'm not totally healed, and I'm doing much better than I think most people have expected. I can't do any holds besides the football hold while breastfeeding and I struggle, it's killed my wrists and who knows if I'd had him naturally what position I'd prefer.

Now, I'm not saying I think my c-section was the wrong choice. I had a 10lb 6oz baby, while people manage that--I at least can tell myself it was a wise decision, that he actually was a large baby, etc. I can comfort myself with the fact nothing bad happened to him due to his size, although we don't know that anything would have... but at least it was justified more so than if he'd wound up being 7lbs and some odd ounces. But I thought long and hard about it and only agreed last-minute because my doctor raised valid points about how with a bigger baby I wouldn't have the easiest vaginal birth and the quicker recovery that I wanted was likely not going to happen for me... But if my pregnancy had been totally normal I would never have considered a c-section (and Lord knows I fought long and hard not to have it).

So looking back, was it as terrible as I thought it would be? In some ways, no... in others, yes. My mental fear was so strong and I honesty don't think it would be any easier the second time around. Two weeks later and I still stand by my statement to Patrick that we may have to just adopt our next child (we'd already discussed adopting at some point, so this isn't a total change from our family plans) and that I was terrified to ever have another baby with him again as we don't know why he turned out so big (we assume Patrick and I just make big babies). I love pregnancy, but if I get pregnant with a second big baby then I'll have to go through the same thing again, especially now that I already had a c-section once and am automatically considered high risk for any future pregnancies. I'd love a little girl with him, but this is a very real fear for me. I know they say you forget, maybe I will to... but I don't know.

Anyway, I'm very tired and have run out of steam to blog.I meant to post more about other events that happened recently but I'll have to post them later. I need to wake Wiley up and feed him, anyway.