I've tried to be politically correct on my blog as much as possible, writing so as not to offend any readers or insite a hater club following. The thing is though, I write for me. I write to relieve tension, express emotion, remember events. I don't go all out to make it perfect. I typically write on paper first and then when I have a chance, grab an entry and type it in. I type fast...like 150 words per minute fast (the advantages of being addicted to yahoo chat rooms in the mid 90's) but I also make mistakes. there's a slight disconnect between my fingers and my brain. So when I re-read posts (usually at a later date when I'm reading comments) I notice the mistakes: adn instead of and. An S on the beginning of a word instead of the end of the previous one. Little things that I SHOULD take the time to correct!
I don't do the sponsor thing. I'm not writing to bring in money though I wouldn't be opposed to it if someone (like Lane Bryant, yoooohooooo over here fat fashion gods!) came along and offered me something I could use in exchange for a teensy weensy badge...yea I would sell out, but I don't see me going out and actively soliciting every etsy seller for pennies just to look cool. I probably won't ever write well enough to illicit a following big enough to justify that anyway. ::shrugs:: Not the point of why I write.
Yes, of course I wish I had more readers because I've developed some kick ass relationships with some of them! (although google is still being a bitch and not letting me post on google blogs thus why I'm in the process of transitioning to Wordpress!) I still write for me though. So why do I continue to hide parts of myself from everyone? If people quit reading because I express views they disagree with then I don't need closed minded people in my life. They don't hide thier views from me and a few tend to shove them in my face even. I disagree with bloggers all the time but I respect that they have an opinion and freedom of expression and I keep my mouth shut.
So I'm agreeing to be more honest, with myself, with my blog, with the few dedicated readers I have (and hopefully the don't run screaming when they find out my number on the scale, my religious confusion or the fact that I'm a conservative pro-life republican ---GASP!)
In the end, I'm still me, the girl who struggled with weight (and continues to do so) and fertility, new mom, working gal, living in the crazy world, paying bills, loving my husband, adoring my son,and trying to put down the lemon pound cake. I just sometimes have a little more to say on subjects. I'll never be a Dooce or a Pioneer Woman. God forbid I'm ever a Under1000amonth blogger either. I join blog sites to find new things to read but never promote myself. Maybe I should to find more kindred spirits to keep me motivated. I'm inspired daily by people and their commitment to honesty on their blogs. Holding themselves accountable like skinnyemmie.com. With my current life, I strive to be more like that, for the sake of me.
So beware. I'm letting down my hair...a little at a time. (My courage comes in small doses because like everyone I still have a desire to be liked even by a few.)
Showing posts with label ponderings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ponderings. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Breastfeeding vs. Formulafeeding
This post is not intended to start a debate between breastfeeders vs formula feeding. It is merely to express my emotional journey between the two. I have no problems with formula feeding (for other people), though I will admit that I side eye people who HAVE milk and CAN breastfeed but choose to formula feed for no medically necessary reason (boob jobs, medicines etc.) as well as those who give up because it hurts or is hard. Those opinions also are closely tied to my own journey though and I realize this.
Breastfeeding (especially in the first weeks-err months) is one of the hardest things I've done. There was a weekend that I resorted to exclusively pumping because of how painful it was, but I went back to it and gritted my teeth through the pain. I'm 4 months in and my nipples are still tender and sore but not to an unbearable degree. I can still enjoy the act of breastfeeding at this point and appreciate the bonding experience.
I have fought, cried, and emotionally abused myself to breastfeed. Thanks to PCOS, my body does not produce enough to meet my sons needs. In four months my supply has not increased at all. Period. When my milk came in, I could pump 2 ounces. Which was fine for a 3 day old. Not so much for a 3 month old. I have worked with Dr's, lactation consultants, gadgets, pumping regimens, natural remedies, foods and prescription drugs. To this day, I can still only get 2 ounces every few hours. Which means he gets 2-4 ounces of formula every few hours (except at night).
the first time I gave him formula he was 5 or 6 days old and I cried the entire time. I think I cried the whole first week while giving him a bottle. I felt like a failure as a mom and to this day, those emotions and that memory of that moment haunt me.
(Here's where formula feeding moms will really gnash their teeth.) I'm EMBARRASSED to BUY FORMULA. I won't look the cashier in the eye. It's like being a teenage girl buying a pregnancy test or condoms. I'm embarrassed to give my baby a bottle in public because people can see me mix the powder and water and know its formula. (On the other hand I won't breastfeed in public either. I will whip them out around female family members or in a public retail women's lounge or mother's room, or even in my car parked at the edge of a prking lot away from everyone but won't find me on a bench int he mall with my boob out flapping in the breeze for the world to see.) (So there I have offended both types of moms with my prudishness equally!).
I have a negative image of formula feeding (that I never had before) due to my own struggle and desire to breastfeed. I'm projecting my own fears, experiences etc. into this one act of parenting becaue of my own dissappointment. The studies and articles about the benefits of breastfeeding over formula swim through my subconcious brain to give me nightmares.
I KNOW its okay. The Dr's tell me his fine and healthy and I'm doing a good job. Everyone comments on how alert and strong he is; How good his disposition and behavior are; how clear his skin; how beautiful of a baby he is. He is getting the immunities and benefits of breastmilk and the intimate bonding of nursing two ounces at a time.
I can go on like this as long as my body produces. If I can make it to 6 months he will still have recieved a lot of benefit from my meager supply. I, however, need to reconcile with myself this negativity. I tell myself that my body sin't a failure. It gave me the most amazing little boy after years of struggle, but this is one more black mark against it. Maybe thats part of the scars of being a bitter infertile. We never quite learn how to love ourselves again (and forgive our bodies) and automatically self loathe when our bodies don't perform the way we want.
I will always struggle with breastfeeding, the way my birth went, and with my body but just as I haven't given up with breastfeeding, I won't give up on trying to forgive me, even while I die of shame when purchasing formula.
Breastfeeding (especially in the first weeks-err months) is one of the hardest things I've done. There was a weekend that I resorted to exclusively pumping because of how painful it was, but I went back to it and gritted my teeth through the pain. I'm 4 months in and my nipples are still tender and sore but not to an unbearable degree. I can still enjoy the act of breastfeeding at this point and appreciate the bonding experience.
I have fought, cried, and emotionally abused myself to breastfeed. Thanks to PCOS, my body does not produce enough to meet my sons needs. In four months my supply has not increased at all. Period. When my milk came in, I could pump 2 ounces. Which was fine for a 3 day old. Not so much for a 3 month old. I have worked with Dr's, lactation consultants, gadgets, pumping regimens, natural remedies, foods and prescription drugs. To this day, I can still only get 2 ounces every few hours. Which means he gets 2-4 ounces of formula every few hours (except at night).
the first time I gave him formula he was 5 or 6 days old and I cried the entire time. I think I cried the whole first week while giving him a bottle. I felt like a failure as a mom and to this day, those emotions and that memory of that moment haunt me.
(Here's where formula feeding moms will really gnash their teeth.) I'm EMBARRASSED to BUY FORMULA. I won't look the cashier in the eye. It's like being a teenage girl buying a pregnancy test or condoms. I'm embarrassed to give my baby a bottle in public because people can see me mix the powder and water and know its formula. (On the other hand I won't breastfeed in public either. I will whip them out around female family members or in a public retail women's lounge or mother's room, or even in my car parked at the edge of a prking lot away from everyone but won't find me on a bench int he mall with my boob out flapping in the breeze for the world to see.) (So there I have offended both types of moms with my prudishness equally!).
I have a negative image of formula feeding (that I never had before) due to my own struggle and desire to breastfeed. I'm projecting my own fears, experiences etc. into this one act of parenting becaue of my own dissappointment. The studies and articles about the benefits of breastfeeding over formula swim through my subconcious brain to give me nightmares.
I KNOW its okay. The Dr's tell me his fine and healthy and I'm doing a good job. Everyone comments on how alert and strong he is; How good his disposition and behavior are; how clear his skin; how beautiful of a baby he is. He is getting the immunities and benefits of breastmilk and the intimate bonding of nursing two ounces at a time.
I can go on like this as long as my body produces. If I can make it to 6 months he will still have recieved a lot of benefit from my meager supply. I, however, need to reconcile with myself this negativity. I tell myself that my body sin't a failure. It gave me the most amazing little boy after years of struggle, but this is one more black mark against it. Maybe thats part of the scars of being a bitter infertile. We never quite learn how to love ourselves again (and forgive our bodies) and automatically self loathe when our bodies don't perform the way we want.
I will always struggle with breastfeeding, the way my birth went, and with my body but just as I haven't given up with breastfeeding, I won't give up on trying to forgive me, even while I die of shame when purchasing formula.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
the Mom Syndrome
I have a whole new appreciation for my mother now that I am one. Growing up there are aspects to a mother you can never understand.She baffles your brain.
She watches TV standing up, never quite having he rattention caught as she's cooking dinner/cleaning/wrangling children at the same time.
No matter how early you wake up, she's already awake (with coffee in her hand.)
While everyone is enjoying a lazy weekend, the mom is still working-making meals, cleaning up, washing the beach towels, etc. (probably nagging for a little help.)
She's almost always the last to bed, making sure dishes are done, food is put away, bags are packed for the morning, turning off lights.
If you ever get her to sit down to a movie, she falls asleep. She is always tired and carries a faint scent of coffee like its a fine perfume.
I have officially become my mother, and as much as I lamented this future as a teenager, its really not a bad place to be. It's exhausting and the work is never done, but I feel accomplished on a good day and the moments of snuggling, the smiles and joy and love on my child's face are worth every yawn & dust bunny, and evn worth becoming my mother, because, hey, I didn't turn out so bad!
She watches TV standing up, never quite having he rattention caught as she's cooking dinner/cleaning/wrangling children at the same time.
No matter how early you wake up, she's already awake (with coffee in her hand.)
While everyone is enjoying a lazy weekend, the mom is still working-making meals, cleaning up, washing the beach towels, etc. (probably nagging for a little help.)
She's almost always the last to bed, making sure dishes are done, food is put away, bags are packed for the morning, turning off lights.
If you ever get her to sit down to a movie, she falls asleep. She is always tired and carries a faint scent of coffee like its a fine perfume.
I have officially become my mother, and as much as I lamented this future as a teenager, its really not a bad place to be. It's exhausting and the work is never done, but I feel accomplished on a good day and the moments of snuggling, the smiles and joy and love on my child's face are worth every yawn & dust bunny, and evn worth becoming my mother, because, hey, I didn't turn out so bad!
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Poop Vs. Sex- A comparison
Never in a million years did I think I would come to appreciate a bowel movement more than sex. (and if that opening line does not grab your attention you might as well hang up reading pregnancy blogs forever.) If you had even suggested I would compare the two, I would have looked at you like you're crazy. These random comparison thoughts are what the late term pregnancy brain is reduced to though.
I've always enjoyed sex. Probably a little more than the average female. this may have something to do with PCOS and having a higher amount of testosterone than most women. Even through pregnancy our sex life has not diminished. (I can feel the horrified glares of seething women as I type this.) I have high hopes that it will resume even during the early onslaught of infant exhaustion (after Dr.'s clearance of course). Pipe dream? Maybe.
Having a regular and active sex life though does result in new breakthroughs grabbing more of the attention. So I really shouldn't be surprised that the pregnancy constipation that has developed in the 3rd trimester to a consistent level takes center stage.
When you have that much pressure and discomfort building for days and then this struggling major release that leaves you weak, exhausted and relaxed, well how do you not compare it to sex? Especially when you have sex more often than a bowel movement?
You think I'm joking but its a sad truth about pregnancy's affect on your intestines. Or else a testament to the exceptionalism of my sex life. Either way, something in my nether region's probably deserves a medal of honor.
I've always enjoyed sex. Probably a little more than the average female. this may have something to do with PCOS and having a higher amount of testosterone than most women. Even through pregnancy our sex life has not diminished. (I can feel the horrified glares of seething women as I type this.) I have high hopes that it will resume even during the early onslaught of infant exhaustion (after Dr.'s clearance of course). Pipe dream? Maybe.
Having a regular and active sex life though does result in new breakthroughs grabbing more of the attention. So I really shouldn't be surprised that the pregnancy constipation that has developed in the 3rd trimester to a consistent level takes center stage.
When you have that much pressure and discomfort building for days and then this struggling major release that leaves you weak, exhausted and relaxed, well how do you not compare it to sex? Especially when you have sex more often than a bowel movement?
You think I'm joking but its a sad truth about pregnancy's affect on your intestines. Or else a testament to the exceptionalism of my sex life. Either way, something in my nether region's probably deserves a medal of honor.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Looking Back ...Looking Forward...Looking Beyond Myself
It's Happening Too Fast. Everything. It's just whizzing by like a speeding Amtrak Train and I can't slow it down. This past week has been crazy. Monday after the babyshower I woke feeling puny. Puny enough to stay home from work and sleep most of the day. Monday Afternoon was my first NonStress Test which stressed ME out after waiting in the waiting room for over an hour watching people come and go. (yea, they forgot about me).
Tuesday I found out my Uncle (and neighbor) died during the night. It hit me hard. He was like a grandfather to me, this giant presence always in my life. I spent the next few days in a haze of trying to finish up Thank You notes from the Shower, Dr's appointments, work during the day, and spending every night with my family next door at my cousins, taking food over, sharing stories and tears.
Thursday afternoon, at the second NonStress Test I had a melt down. For twenty minutes two different nurses could not pick up the heartbeat. Even though I had felt him move on the way there, I lost it. The stress came crashing in and I panicked. Everything was fine though. He was in a wierd position and the machine was having trouble keeping the heartbeat but once he started moving his test came back perfect. They left me hooked up longer because of that though and so I was stiff and uncomfortable by the time I was done. I rushed off to the Viewing Service at the funeral home and stayed till the very end spending time among my family.
Friday was one of the hardest days in a long long time. I had the day off work since the funeral was at 2 so I spent the morning running errands: hem tape for DH's suit pants, dress shoes for him (as this was the first time EVER my husband donned a suit. He didn't even wear one at our wedding!) the post office to mail out TY notes. I hemmed DH's pants and tried to clean the house to keep myself busy but as usual I overdid it. By the time the funeral rolled around I could barely stand but I made it through. It was one of the largest I have seen in a very long time and I cried my way through it. Silent tears streaming down my face, embracing my loved ones.
Nothing can prepare you for seeing your father cry though. My dad is such a strong man and I've seen him tear up but a few times but when he openly stood there staring at his brother's casket and loudly weeping, no one could take it. My sister, mother and I closed ranks and surrounded him and openly cried for him, with him and for the rest. Nothing prepares you for your family growing old. We have buried two uncles within the past three months. My father is the only brother left among his siblings. Two of my aunts are sick and on the other side of the family the numbers are dwindling. I wouldn't be surprised if before this year is over we are burying four more.
How do you make it through such upheavals of emotions in such short time periods? Elation and joy over family coming together to welcome my baby boy to sadness and grief a few days later over losing one of our own? Not to mention the stress in between with the Dr's etc.
Needless to say, I have not touched my blogs in a week or more. It's just been too much. I didn't know what to say, how to form the words. I missed my weekly update but I just couldn't bring myself to post it amidst everything going on.
And now we have return to normal, but I feel like I've forever been changed. My aloof self that was happy in my own little world with my husband and baby and dogs is gone. I'm clinging to my expanded family and I want Matthew to know them. To have those memories of cousins and crazy adventures and not just at funerals and reunions every other year. I want him to know vacations and holidays and all the frustration of leaving right on top of your family, the good, the bad and the irritating. I want him to be part of this craziness and tell stories to his children of yesteryear and days gone by.
Yesterday morning my parents met me at Babies R Us with an old car seat and highchair that they had tried to donate to Goodwill. We traded them in at the "Trade In Event" and even though Mom and Dad had just bought us our Pack N Play the weekend before for the shower, they shelled out the money for one of our carseats and a few small items. I took full advantage of the sale and coupons to pick up the other carseat, the baby tub set, hooded towels, several outfits and a boppy.
So even though the night before we had just celebrated the life and passing of family, the next morning we still looked to the future and prepared for Matthew. We cried for one and cooed over the cuteness of baby things and the circle continued. This morning I went to church, a church that my grandmother helped start and that my family still attends and I was welcomed with open arms by my aunts and the congregation and they spoke of my Uncle and his passing with fondness and admiration and I cried again. One life that has touched so many in his way, and I hope and pray that I can do the same and raise this precious little boy to make such an impact on his family and community.
I hope, I find the strength and the way to keep this generation tied so closely together and loving and supporting each other the way the generation before me did. We have a lot of stories to create, a lot of life to live to come anywhere close, but I've seen how important it is, and Matthew has led me to see the worth in trying.
Tuesday I found out my Uncle (and neighbor) died during the night. It hit me hard. He was like a grandfather to me, this giant presence always in my life. I spent the next few days in a haze of trying to finish up Thank You notes from the Shower, Dr's appointments, work during the day, and spending every night with my family next door at my cousins, taking food over, sharing stories and tears.
Thursday afternoon, at the second NonStress Test I had a melt down. For twenty minutes two different nurses could not pick up the heartbeat. Even though I had felt him move on the way there, I lost it. The stress came crashing in and I panicked. Everything was fine though. He was in a wierd position and the machine was having trouble keeping the heartbeat but once he started moving his test came back perfect. They left me hooked up longer because of that though and so I was stiff and uncomfortable by the time I was done. I rushed off to the Viewing Service at the funeral home and stayed till the very end spending time among my family.
Friday was one of the hardest days in a long long time. I had the day off work since the funeral was at 2 so I spent the morning running errands: hem tape for DH's suit pants, dress shoes for him (as this was the first time EVER my husband donned a suit. He didn't even wear one at our wedding!) the post office to mail out TY notes. I hemmed DH's pants and tried to clean the house to keep myself busy but as usual I overdid it. By the time the funeral rolled around I could barely stand but I made it through. It was one of the largest I have seen in a very long time and I cried my way through it. Silent tears streaming down my face, embracing my loved ones.
Nothing can prepare you for seeing your father cry though. My dad is such a strong man and I've seen him tear up but a few times but when he openly stood there staring at his brother's casket and loudly weeping, no one could take it. My sister, mother and I closed ranks and surrounded him and openly cried for him, with him and for the rest. Nothing prepares you for your family growing old. We have buried two uncles within the past three months. My father is the only brother left among his siblings. Two of my aunts are sick and on the other side of the family the numbers are dwindling. I wouldn't be surprised if before this year is over we are burying four more.
How do you make it through such upheavals of emotions in such short time periods? Elation and joy over family coming together to welcome my baby boy to sadness and grief a few days later over losing one of our own? Not to mention the stress in between with the Dr's etc.
Needless to say, I have not touched my blogs in a week or more. It's just been too much. I didn't know what to say, how to form the words. I missed my weekly update but I just couldn't bring myself to post it amidst everything going on.
And now we have return to normal, but I feel like I've forever been changed. My aloof self that was happy in my own little world with my husband and baby and dogs is gone. I'm clinging to my expanded family and I want Matthew to know them. To have those memories of cousins and crazy adventures and not just at funerals and reunions every other year. I want him to know vacations and holidays and all the frustration of leaving right on top of your family, the good, the bad and the irritating. I want him to be part of this craziness and tell stories to his children of yesteryear and days gone by.
Yesterday morning my parents met me at Babies R Us with an old car seat and highchair that they had tried to donate to Goodwill. We traded them in at the "Trade In Event" and even though Mom and Dad had just bought us our Pack N Play the weekend before for the shower, they shelled out the money for one of our carseats and a few small items. I took full advantage of the sale and coupons to pick up the other carseat, the baby tub set, hooded towels, several outfits and a boppy.
So even though the night before we had just celebrated the life and passing of family, the next morning we still looked to the future and prepared for Matthew. We cried for one and cooed over the cuteness of baby things and the circle continued. This morning I went to church, a church that my grandmother helped start and that my family still attends and I was welcomed with open arms by my aunts and the congregation and they spoke of my Uncle and his passing with fondness and admiration and I cried again. One life that has touched so many in his way, and I hope and pray that I can do the same and raise this precious little boy to make such an impact on his family and community.
I hope, I find the strength and the way to keep this generation tied so closely together and loving and supporting each other the way the generation before me did. We have a lot of stories to create, a lot of life to live to come anywhere close, but I've seen how important it is, and Matthew has led me to see the worth in trying.
Friday, January 7, 2011
Effortlessly Cool
I've always wondered what it is about certain people that have the ability to be cool without trying. Oh they may try to keep up appearances, standards, dress codes etc. but they have this innate ability to instantly join the cool crowd without effort. Whether its the girl in highschool, the "it" blogger, the co-worker who is always front and center.
I'm not talking about the loud boistrous ones who are IN-YOUR-FACE-I'm-THE-COOL-SHIT. Those are usually the ones everyone tolerates for some unknown reason but no one really likes them. They try too hard and are too demanding in their attempt for the spotlight.
It's the unassuming ones who are there naturally and quietly. They can be the life of the party but also the good friend that everyone wants.
What puts them there? Is it genetics? The "it" factor? Don't get me wrong because I'm not talking about physical beauty. Sometimes the most popular aren't remotely close to being the same as the most beautiful although they tend to run in the same groups. You either have the beauty or the innate ability to be popular. If you have both its devastating to everyone around you. LOL
I've never been the popular one. Oh I've never been the complete outcast. I get along well with others when I want but I also don't care enough to try too hard. I make the occasional witty comeback that can endear me to some but I'm bitchy enough to keep most at bay. I'm a bit stand offish. Those that really know me, know how loyal and comforting I can be. They know my funny side, my vulnerable side but the masses don't. So it always leaves me with a group that adores me, most people know me (even if they don't all like me), and a few who despise me.
My husband, he was the quiet one of the popular kids. The one that no one was quite sure why he was in the popular crowd and not everyone quite remembers him being there. The overly tall, nerdy one with the good drugs that was most likey well known because of relative association (his brother and sister). He did the whacky stunts, but never got too close to many.
Between the two of us, what will we pass on to our son? Is the "it" factor hereditary or by shear chance? Will our son, find success among his pears and be a sociable little butterfly that plays sports or will he be the quiet unassuming one who is friends to many and unknown to other's?
All these thoughts are randomly going through my head as I reflect on my friendships and relationships both past and present. What will my son's life be like and what can I do to make it the best possible? What can I do to equip him with all the tools he needs to be not only a success in life, knowledge and love but with people?
I'm not talking about the loud boistrous ones who are IN-YOUR-FACE-I'm-THE-COOL-SHIT. Those are usually the ones everyone tolerates for some unknown reason but no one really likes them. They try too hard and are too demanding in their attempt for the spotlight.
It's the unassuming ones who are there naturally and quietly. They can be the life of the party but also the good friend that everyone wants.
What puts them there? Is it genetics? The "it" factor? Don't get me wrong because I'm not talking about physical beauty. Sometimes the most popular aren't remotely close to being the same as the most beautiful although they tend to run in the same groups. You either have the beauty or the innate ability to be popular. If you have both its devastating to everyone around you. LOL
I've never been the popular one. Oh I've never been the complete outcast. I get along well with others when I want but I also don't care enough to try too hard. I make the occasional witty comeback that can endear me to some but I'm bitchy enough to keep most at bay. I'm a bit stand offish. Those that really know me, know how loyal and comforting I can be. They know my funny side, my vulnerable side but the masses don't. So it always leaves me with a group that adores me, most people know me (even if they don't all like me), and a few who despise me.
My husband, he was the quiet one of the popular kids. The one that no one was quite sure why he was in the popular crowd and not everyone quite remembers him being there. The overly tall, nerdy one with the good drugs that was most likey well known because of relative association (his brother and sister). He did the whacky stunts, but never got too close to many.
Between the two of us, what will we pass on to our son? Is the "it" factor hereditary or by shear chance? Will our son, find success among his pears and be a sociable little butterfly that plays sports or will he be the quiet unassuming one who is friends to many and unknown to other's?
All these thoughts are randomly going through my head as I reflect on my friendships and relationships both past and present. What will my son's life be like and what can I do to make it the best possible? What can I do to equip him with all the tools he needs to be not only a success in life, knowledge and love but with people?
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