Ethan's Age

Tuesday, December 25, 2012

Merry Christmas

For all intensive purposes, this was Ethan's "First Christmas."

Last year, he was only 9 days old, and I was delusional from lack of sleep, and in pain from a C-Section.  I liked this year SO much better, and Ethan had a blast.  We also went to see the in-laws (and my mom, aka Nana, was also there too!)




Wednesday, December 12, 2012

Faux Victoria Secret Consent Line

I'm quite possibly the only person who found this campaign horrible. Yes, it's a prank, but even when I thought it was a genuine VS campaign, I was annoyed by it. I am a survivor of a sexual assault, which I'm willing to admit... clouds my view on this, so take what I'm about to say with that in mind.

First off, there is the obvious... to see these statement underwear "consent is sexy" or "no" (ad nauseum) you already have her undressed. The general issue with this is that if you are being forcibly raped, this stage has already been met with no, or other stopping verbiage. If you are being raped, I'm telling you that a "No" underwear statement will not make your rapist stop, sit back and think "Gee, she has 'no' on her underwear, and therefore I should ponder whether this is the right thing to do... It's probably not, so I'll just leave now." Not going to happen. So, underwear as a preventative statement, no.

Second, I find this idea cheapens the idea of conversation about rape. We as a society don't talk about rape. I am rarely asked about my experience, even though I'm open about it. People are uncomfortable about talking about sex, sexual violence, sexual education, and respecting people's bodies. Making some underwear as an idea that it will somehow open the door to conversation? Not buying it at all. (This will also make me unpopular, but I find the same goes for the "walk a mile in her shoes" events.) Finding ways to trick society into talking about a hard-to-talk about topic is stupid. Let's have an open conversation about it. As time passes from the time of a sexual assault, I've found that many women DO want to talk about their experience, and have honest conversations about it. Much like we never ask Veterans about their experience during war, people don't ask about the experiences of sexual assault. Do you know how we heal? Talking about it. 

Third, I have one redeeming thought for this campaign. The only good thing I found was the use of women of color and normal sizes to model for this campaign. This is not an authentic product line for VS, but rather a prank of sorts, but I did like that they used normal girls. So, for that, a tip of the hat.

So finally, my main reaction to this is a major wag of the finger from this survivor of rape. Obnoxious, misleading and misinformed. Sorry guys. Good try. Next time, let's raise some money for your local rape crisis center... or for RAINN. If you want information about how to best give your money or time to an organization that can actually do good in informing, educating and healing the public with regards to the impact of rape let me know. I have plenty of people who need the support.
 

Tuesday, December 11, 2012

Full Circle

Ethan's first birthday is this weekend, and I felt it was about time to take him to meet a fantastic woman, Dr. Awesome.

Since this is a public blog, I am not posting her real name, unless she chooses to let me know that's ok.  But, she is an RE/Surgeon here in the Portland Metro area.

One of the first things she told me after all the testing I went through near the beginning of my infertility journey was "You will be a mom."  I took a lot of solice in that and held on to that idea through the couple of years it took, the hundred clomid pills I took, the surgery I had, the MC I had... and finally the scary first trimester of my baby boy.

The last time I saw her was when I was 8 weeks pregnant.  (Sometime in April of 2011.)  It was like old times... except without having to be half naked and worried about what my follicles were up to.  We chatted about life, and Ethan.  About her experience with her kids, and my labor plans and subsequent throwing out of those plans.  My hopes and dreams for more children, and Jon's satisfaction with one.

She asked me if it was weird to come back to the RE office.  It was, but I didn't really realize it until later.   I was uneasy sitting there, where I had sat no less than a couple dozen times along the years.  All of those times I was stressed out about what my body was doing.  Two of those times were during my MC.  Multiple times, I cried there.  Multiple times I laughed.  But as I sat there with Ethan, there was a peace of being in the office without "needing to be there."

What I didn't say was how thankful I was.  I tried to hold back my feelings, and I was concerned that I would cry, but we ended up chatting on a friend level about life, rather than her having to play Dr.  What I didn't say was how much she impacted my life... she helped me to become what I always knew I was meant to be.  She helped to bring the joy and light of my life into being.  For that I will always be thankful.  Always.

So, cheers to you, Dr. Awesome.  I truly love you, and you've made such a difference.







Monday, December 10, 2012

Monday Snaphot



I've now decided the following:
1. He obviously watches me. But Juice and Sleep Aid? I need to teach him how to really do this in style. By that I mean Margarita style.
2. He has no reason to be waking

up in the middle of the night any more.
3. I need to teach him how to operate child-proof caps. I keep having to open them for him. What a free-loader. I also fill his sippy cup. Lazy Baby.
4. There is a remote possibility he is suicidal. I've tried talking to him about his feelings but he shuts me down with his incessant weeping and babbling. Obviously he is emotionally disturbed... and so am I from the lack of sleep... so, we average out.
5. And since we are on the topic... I have the pills, and I fill his sippy cup... does that make me an accessory to suicide?

Monday, December 3, 2012

Happy Blogiversary PAIL!

In celebration of the 6 month Blogiversary of PAIL, we are all doing a Vlog- A Video Blog!

We had a few questions to answer, and here they are!
1.  What region/state are you from?
2.  What is your favorite moment of the day?
3.  What is the first thing you do in the morning?
4.  How has inferility affected how you live/parent?
5.  What do you wish people would know about infertility and parenting?

So without further ado... My VLOG!


Saturday, November 24, 2012

He did have the harder job... right?

Jon: I don't mind comments about football during the game usually. But when it's an intense game, it's less funny.
Me: I'm showing an interest!
Jon: It's like, if in the middle of labor while you were pushing with Ethan I asked "When does lactation begin?" It would be hard for you to actually respond.
Me: Do you mean like when you kept yawning while I was in labor?
Jon: Well, I was up for three days straight!
Me: SO WAS I!!!!!!!
 
Bonus quote:  
Jon: I love you. You say weird things.
Me: you love it. I'm unpredictable.
Jon: I'd go with unstable, but unpredictable works too.

Wednesday, November 21, 2012

Amazingly Accurate Article

Original Source: 

My husband flicked the syringe to remove the air bubbles. Aside from hipsters lounging at candlelit tables across the street, the sidewalks were clear. If we worked together, I could shoot up before anyone walked by. By the glow of the dome light, I pulled up my shirt, unbuttoned my pants and swiped an alcohol pad across my stomach while he prepared the injection.
I held my breath, and he plunged the needle in my belly, ringed with the bruises that marked his love for me. For an upcoming fertility treatment, I had to inject myself that evening, during the hours I attended a book reading in Los Feliz. By the time my husband and I left the reception — where the two of us going into the house’s sole bathroom would have perplexed guests – it was too late to wait until we returned home.
We’d been trying to get pregnant for more than a year and a half, starting when I was 33 years old. The cause of our infertility remained a mystery, and I couldn’t help but feel my body had failed me, the athletic and dependable body that had carried me through a triathlon, a marathon, hikes in the Sierras and reporting trips in Asia and Latin America.
For months, I faithfully, blearily charted my basal temperature upon waking and tracked my ovulation by urinating on a tester, even while backpacking, crouched over a pit toilet. I stopped logging onto Facebook, after crumpling inside each time friends posted photos of their belly bump or their newborns. When a close friend called with news of her pregnancy, I congratulated her, trying to keep the quaver out of my voice. I had to hold it together because I didn’t want to spoil her joy, but as soon as I hung up, I burst into tears. My husband took his hand off the steering wheel and squeezed mine. “You were strong.”
I began taking fertility medications with side effects of nausea and bloating, which cruelly mimicked early signs of pregnancy, filling me with hope until I felt the familiar ache in my legs and my skin turned oily, signaling my period. Hours each day, I searched online, hoping to uncover secret cures. I tried acupuncture, and washed down mysterious little black Chinese herbal pills with a witch’s brew of foul teas.
I told no one, feeling ashamed, abnormal, betrayed by my body. For the most part, I’d also abstained from drinking alcohol during the two-week wait after ovulation and before it was time to take a pregnancy test. Maybe I shouldn’t drink at all, my husband said, to improve our chances. He promised not to drink, in solidarity, so I wouldn’t be tempted. I told him not to stop. Why should we both be denied?
I, not we. I shouldered most of the responsibility for the treatments. That was the reality of the female anatomy: my eggs, my uterus, my pregnancy.
Friends and family would ask if I’d like a glass of wine or a cocktail. Everyone but me, everyone including my husband, had a drink.
Just water, please, I’d say, feeling conspicuous. With a slice of a lemon.
“Wait!” they’d shout, narrowing their eyes, and ask if I were pregnant.
No, but we’re trying, I’d say, which led to more questions, including the most upsetting one: “For how long?” They’d reminisce how they or their friends easily conceived and would offer unsolicited, well-meaning advice: “Try yoga,” “Fall asleep afterward” or “Have a few drinks beforehand.”
To ward off questions, I’d claim to be abstaining after over-indulging, on antibiotics, or getting over a cold. Often they still suspected, and they asked about our progress. Among my friends, many had persisted in drinking up through their pregnancy test and in later trimesters, imbibing moderately with the blessing of their doctor. I also had friends who cut off consumption of alcohol, sushi, coffee, and soft cheeses while trying to conceive. Drinks or no drinks, they all had healthy babies.
While attempting to start our family, my husband and I had deferred trips and let go of plans and opportunities. I had understood my life and its attendant freedoms to drink, eat, do and go where I wanted would change as a mother, but I’d never considered the limbo in which the precautions would turn out to be pointless, month after month. Sometimes I drank, a glass or two, only at dinner, and only on the weekend. To pair with the meal, to relax and for a chance to feel as if my life hadn’t been put on hold for a future that might never come.
My husband wasn’t pleased. After I sipped half a glass, he took the drink from me and finished it. He’d shake his head, as if I were abusing our theoretical child. Sliding my drink away before I became too inebriated had been a flirtatious gesture he’d started while we were dating. I was a lightweight. One drink before dinner, on an empty stomach, would get me tipsy; several more and I might heave. His protectiveness had charmed me then, but now it felt controlling.
“What if” – he asked several times – “you were pregnant and miscarried because of your drinking?”
Although I’d wondered the same myself, I said – increasingly defensive – that I found no evidence suggesting a drink or two posed an unacceptable risk. Still, I felt guilty, and I resented him for policing me, for scolding me like a father whose daughter missed her curfew. In return, I reprimanded him in the tone of a frustrated mother disciplining her insubordinate son.
As we continued trying, the list of his suggested prohibitions widened. Perhaps I shouldn’t run or go swimming, my husband said, because exercise might threaten implantation. A concern I’d shared, along with many would-be mothers who posted similar questions online. After my doctor cleared it, I continued exercising, but less often, less vigorously and with fear. I felt like one of King Henry VIII’s six wives, confined to a locked room, reduced to a single purpose: to produce an heir. Like those unfortunate women, I alone would be blamed and beheaded.
When we underwent IUI – in which sperm is injected into the uterus – our clinic advised against exercise except for walking until the pregnancy test. I chafed against the half-month restriction and the denial of my runs, the wind and sunshine against my cheek. The moratorium against exercise, I discovered, wasn’t consistent at every clinic, and critics said it unnecessarily led women to blame themselves if the pregnancy didn’t take hold. Still, I resigned myself to power-walking grimly around the park listening to ‘80s dance hits.
After four rounds, I didn’t get pregnant, and the clinic’s – and my husband’s – advice seemed about as helpful as when my father told me not to go out after dark in New York when I interned at a magazine in college. An overly cautious rule, to be flouted.
Between treatments, I rebelled with runs and an occasional drink, and when my husband took my glass, what once had been playful now seemed paternal. Perhaps no surprise, because I’d married a man much like my father: thoughtful, meticulous and responsible.
While we were dating, my husband won over my father by mentioning that he’d read the manual that came with my new car. “I ask my wife, my children to read their car manuals, but only you do!” my father exclaimed.
But I wasn’t a teenager. I didn’t follow traditional Confucian precepts in which a virtuous woman must obey her father before marriage, obey her husband when married and obey her son in widowhood. My husband and I had to be united, not divided, to survive the trials of infertility.
“I feel so helpless,” he said, apologizing. “I know this is hard on you. That’s it’s all on you.”
We promised to do better. We had to do better. If we were fortunate enough to conceive, we’d make decisions together for years as parents, as equals. Eventually, we tried IVF, which we’d resisted because of the expense and because it seemed invasive and sci-fi spooky. Then the IVF pioneer won the Nobel Prize in medicine. Four million children had been conceived worldwide, thanks to the procedure, and maybe ours could too.
For many couples, undergoing IVF can be a heart-breaking, divisive process – the kind of stress that can break up a marriage – but that’s when we drew closer together. For weeks, my husband prepared my injections. I swabbed my belly for one shot. He iced my butt cheek for another kind and used a warm wet washcloth to massage in the dose. Before he left for a business trip, he coached me how to inject myself on my own.
Before the nurse wheeled me in for the egg-retrieval procedure, he waited with me, holding my hand. And he held my hand when I woke up from the anesthesia. Two weeks later, he drove me to the clinic for my pregnancy blood test, and a month later, he drove me to the first ultrasound, when we discovered we were having twins. We marveled over their gummy-bear profiles and listened to their galloping heartbeats. At last, at last, at last!
During the pregnancy, he poured me bowls of peanut butter Puffins when midnight hunger struck, massaged my swollen feet and spoke to our boys, his lips hovering above my belly. After their birth, in those hazy first few months, he helped me settle the twins each night. He’d hold a twin upright on the couch, in the cold dark, until his body went stiff and sore. Sometimes he’d don a bright orange wrap, giving him the appearance of a Masai warrior, and slide a twin to his chest. If the baby stirred, on the verge of waking, he said, “I take a deep breath, to let him know I’m there.”
When we left the house, we learned to do so with the crack timing and logistical know-how of elite commandos. Departure, 0900. Diapers, check; wipes, check; pacifiers, check; nursing cover, check; receiving blankets, check; deux Sophie le Giraffes, check; spare onesies, check. Check, check, check, check.
In their first year, we learned how to parent our children – and not each other.

Thursday, October 4, 2012

Aren't you concerned?

Jon: pretty sure moving from your girlfriend isn't the worst pain ever. 
Being burned alive would hurt a lot more. 

Julia: or being tarred


Jon: and feathered


Julia: well, that wouldn't be that bad. Actually it could be pleasant, soft and all that. Unless they were attached to something. Like a velociraptor. That would hurt. 


Jon: that true, but I think anything attached to a velociraptor and throw at you would hurt. 


Julia: and those are the things we should think about. People just aren't concerned enough about things attached to velociraptors being thrown at you.

Wednesday, September 26, 2012

"He looks just like his dad!"

I'm not going to lie... my son is the cutest baby of all time.  Am I biased?  Damn right I am, but he's SOOOO cute.



But, this cuteness comes at a price.  Whenever we visit with friends or family, the first thing out of their mouths tend to be "he looks just like Jon!"




Now, don't get me wrong.  I love Jon very much, I love Ethan very much... but every once and a while I get a tiny twinge in my heart that screams "JESUS, I BIRTHED THIS BABY!!! I should get SOME credit for cooking him.  Can you just LIE to me and say sometime 'Wow, Ethan has your _______' *insert likeness here*?" (I'm not even sure how to punctuate that sentence, so forgive me.)

If I didn't know that Ethan was pulled from me, I'd wonder at times whether I am the mother.  It's not a question that he's his father's son.

Maybe that's a good thing?



But, one thing is for sure, Ethan has my nose. (And, I have an addiction to commas.) 

And I'm pretty sure The Bloggess and I are sisters:



So, put that in your pipe and smoke it!

Tuesday, September 4, 2012

You mean it's not normal?

For people who know me, it might seem a surprise that I am a socially anxious introvert who generally has issues going new places or talking to new people.

I get away with this by acting.  I go to groups, I hang out in mom's groups... after several weeks of arriving early and watching people go there so I know I'm in the right place.  I get to restaurants early and make sure the people I'm meeting get there first.   That's how weird I am.

Large crowds make me nervous.  Meeting new people makes me nervous.  I can't be around knives without feeling on edge.  I can't have people walk behind me ever.  Stairwells make me walk along the edge so I can see everywhere. All of it is just odd.  I have to laugh sometimes... I plan my entrances and exits to places and pace my exposure to people. 

I also people watch.  Though in groups I am seen as a talkative extrovert, I'm actually analyzing each one of you.  Does this make you nervous? :) 

I've found that this is quite common among people dealing with PTSD and people who have gone through various traumas.  Really, I enjoy most of it, as I can pretty much peg everyone I've met and tell you all about who they are.  Could be a useful party trick right?

People like The Bloggess give me hope.  Maybe I can channel my weirdness into a hilarious book about how my father is a taxidermist (not true, or at least I don't think so... as I've not seen/talked to him in years) or how I have a large metal chicken in my backyard (I don't, I do have a large dog... not taxidermied, and a garden gnome though.) Or how my mother made me bathe in toxic well water in rural Texas. (Not true, but she made me drink powdered milk which is worse.)  These people who are similar to me help me think that maybe I am the normal one... and you all are not. 

So, until then I will continue to make snarky observational comments about the world around me and find the people who go unnoticed and sneak a little knowing smile... and maybe a dead animal or two. 





Try not to look at me too weird.  I'm just like you... just with some quirks.

Wednesday, July 18, 2012

#whenjesuscomestothedoor

Uh.  So I let fly on some jesus people today.

So, I just put down Ethan for a nap, and it was a rough time.  He had just started to do zombie baby noises, when I hear a loud knock on the door.  It's two jesus people with their bibles.  (One nicer looking young gal, and an older matron.)  Obviously, Freu barked, and since Ethan was on the edge, he started crying.

I knew Ethan would chill out, so I made Freu sit, and went out to talk to them.  The young gal was very nice and asked about my experience with church (HEH) and I didn't go into it, but she asked if I read the bible, etc (but she was VERY sweet) and I replied with no, etc.

NOT THE POINT OF THE STORY.

So, I ended the conversation, and as they started to walk away, I said, "just for future reference, if there is a no soliciting sign, you shouldn't be knocking on my door. My infant son just woke up because you guys knocked."

The younger gal was immediately looking apologetic, and then the matron kicks in with; "well, we're not selling anything, so we will still be knocking!"

OH NO YOU DIDN'T.

I replied, "well, actually, you aren't selling a 'thing' but an idea... so you are still soliciting."

She said, "Most people don't mind if we knock on their door, and also don't really know they have a no soliciting sign.  It is our organizations policy to knock anyway. So maybe you need to put something like 'baby sleeping' underneath so people don't knock on your door."

At this point I was fired up, because WTF??

I replied "so, you saw my sign and knocked anyway and now you are saying it's my job to amend my sign to make it so it looks like 'I really mean it?"

She says "well, its our organizations policy to knock anyway" (With a snarky face, like 'yeah? so?')

To which I immediately replied, "so, you should change your policy, I shouldn't have to add a bunch to my sign to make sure that it looks like I really mean it."

She then said "well, thanks for your feedback, but we won't be changing our sign."

I look over at the younger gal (maybe our age) and she is mouthing to me; "I'm SO sorry!"  (To which I smiled and made sure I acknowledged that towards her.)

I WAS SO PISSED that this lady from the church, instead of being understanding (uh, like Jesus?) was being combative and arguing about the nature of my sign.

She HAD NO IDEA what she was getting into when she decided to engage me.  Mix in waking up my son with religion and an argument about what my sign DOES OR DOES NOT MEAN???  OOOOOOPS!

I wish I knew what church they were representing, because I'd send a very serious email.  But, I did put a note on their car (which is parked on the side yard) to let the younger gal know that I'd be happy to chat with her via email, as I'm hoping to make sure their church (that they are representing) knows how this other lady came off to me.

OY.  Fun times at the my house.  Got my blood BOILING.


EDITED TO ADD:
I got an email back from the sweet gal who knocked on my door.  I've taken out names, but I was so impressed that I wanted to put it here also. It was well thought out, kind, and genuine.  (Names, numbers, email addresses have been taken out)

Julia, 
this is the young lady who knocked on your door this morning.  First things first, I am so sorry to have awaken your son and to have put that burden upon you, interrupting your short time to get things done while he was sleeping, to have to stop and calm him down again.  I understand that must have been very irritating.

     I also apologize for my friend xxxxx.  Although she has been apart of this organization for longer than i have even been alive, this is really the first time that she is expanding in the bible ministry  to the fullest and has had some training but is going to an extensive class in a couple weeks.  Along with that class, I asure you that I will be speaking with her on Friday, that her response to you was completely unexceptable.  Trust me, we are trained to be polite, respectful, and to take our leave and keep the peace than to argue or prove a point.  Romans 12:18 says, "If possible, as far as it depends upon you, be peacable with all men."She means well and has a good heart, but she needs to be trained in how to speak with others and keep cool.  Once again, I am very sorry for her actions as well as waking your son.

   On another note, I would love to make arrangements to meet when convenient for you.  Here is my information: xxxxxxx7@yahoo.com
cell: (xxx) xxx-xxxx feel free to call or email anytime.  


My name is Jolyn.  I am sorry we met under such circumstances, but I am looking forward to meeting again at better timing. I am very interested in your experience and hope i can be of help. Would Friday or Saturday work at all for you? If not let me know whenever and I will schedule accordingly to meet you.  Until then, take care Julia.

                                                                         -Jolyn  


To which I replied:  (With some personal details taken out)

Jolyn,

Oh good, I'm happy you got my note, as I noticed the gals with the car I put it on were different... but also holding bibles, so I hoped you would eventually get it!

I wanted to make sure you knew I wasn't upset with you, as I could see you genuinely understood the situation.  I also apologize for my inability to just let the matter drop, and for engaging xxxxx in an argument that really didn't matter in the long run.  Motherhood does weird things to you, let me tell you!  Naps are golden in my house and the precious few minutes to drink some coffee and watch silly tv shows like Big Brother are invaluable.  I was caught at a bad moment. I too understand how difficult it is to take the time to speak to unknown people about something you believe in.  You never know what you are going to get when you open that door, and I regret that my last impression was one of intolerance as that is truly not a reflection of who I am.

You see, I was once very embedded in the church, high up in the youth leader ministry of a local mega church in Portland.  I was actually enrolled in bible college (but didn't get around to attending.)  My dream was to be a youth pastor.  I believed very strong in what you were talking about, once.  Sadly, that all ended on a day in 2000.


(Personal details about my story with the church have been omitted, but I'm happy to share them if you email me.)

After many years of soul searching, therapy, and opportunities to support youth who have gone through the same thing, I feel I have integrated my experience into my life and made it work for me.  It has opened many doors to befriend women who have gone through similar experiences, and helped my heart to be soft towards those who have dealt with trauma.

There is a part of my heart that is empty, that was once filled with the feeling of belonging to a large group with a similar mission, purpose and heart for others.  However, since then I've been unable to walk through the doors of any church out of fear for my safety.  Most would find that statement quite odd, but I know better.  

Do I blame the church as a whole?  No.  But those who speak for the church, the ones that were supposed to protect me, and other youth who have been hurt within it's walls.  There are quite a few of us out there, sounds like to some degree your mother was burned by the church in one way or another.  The problem with hurts caused by the church is it isn't just emotional, it's spiritual as well... and it leaves people struggling to find out who they are and what they believe.  As for the former, I am a whole person and happy with how I've turned a horrid situation into something meaningful.  As for the latter, I am always seeking that which I have lost, even if it from a pulpit.

Anyway, that's my story.  Tell me about yours if you wish?  Why are you doing what you are doing?  Have you always been in the church?  What makes yours special? I enjoy a good conversation.  Sadly, with my son at home, one in my home can be problematic (not to mention my gigantic dog.) So email is probably the easiest :)


Sincerely,
Julia

Thursday, July 12, 2012

Are you going to give Ethan a brother?

Linking up with the monthly theme post at PAIL; Considerations on Family Building

Barely a few days had passed since Ethan's arrival before several people asked, "So, when are you going to have another?"

The answer is... We aren't sure we are going to have another.

This topic makes me feel sad, honestly.  We worked so hard for Ethan, I just felt like we 'should' have another.  I mean, we put in so much time, pain, money, and heartache into the process... and now apparently my body is capable of listening, why wouldn't we?  Part of me wonders if it is the fact that my birth plan wasn't what I hoped.  Maybe if I had another I'd be fulfilled.  Part of me wants to have a sibling for Ethan.  Part of me just wants to have another for no explainable reason.

My role of being a mother is fulfilled, though.  I'm thrilled with my son and couldn't imagine my life without him.  But part of me longs to have a second.  The details are complicated though.  Do we have the financial ability to add another?  Do we want to go through those impossibly trying first months?  Do we have enough time to be the best parents possible to two?

The answer right now is no.  One thing we enjoy about our lives now is that we are able to juggle three roles very well.
Individual Jon and Julia
Husband and Wife
Mother and Father.

Adding another would upset the balance we have worked 7 months to create.  We have an amazing system for taking care of Ethan, while still giving us married time and time to be ourselves away from Ethan.  I think that's what makes us the parents that we are proud of.

I stay home and take care of Ethan all day long.  Then, M/W/F when Jon comes  home, he takes on Ethan (taking care of him in the evening, giving him a bath, and then putting him to bed.)  T/Th/Sa are my days, then we switch off Sundays.  It works awesome for us, allowing us to have time on and off.  This gives me a chance to go out and be an adult sometimes, which I crave after being around a baby all day long.  But, with another child, we'd always be on.  Always. 

I am open to having another, but right now we are so content.

And who wouldn't be with a handsome man like this?


Tuesday, July 3, 2012

Formula Moms are not the Devil...

It's been a long time since I've posted.  There are several reasons for this.

First off, I am busy with my son all day.  I read some blogs where they are able to post daily or at least several times a week, and I wonder... how the hell do you find the time to do this?  I'm amazed!



Secondly, I've felt a bit torn about what this blog will turn into.  I don't want it to become a mundane daily vomit of all the neato things my kid does (have I mentioned that he sits now?)  I certainly don't plan to discuss all the gross things he does either (potty talk anyone?)  I spent the afternoon at a Young House Love blog talk and realized, they have a specific focus for the blog, which is what makes it successful for them.  For me, other than my over-use of commas, my main focus was my journey through infertility.  However, sitting with my adorable little man has made this focus less of a need for my blogging... and now I find myself with little to say.  ZOMG MY KID IS SO CUTE.



Thirdly, I want to make sure everyone knows that I am reading many of your blogs.  I keep up with them daily, and try to comment from time to time too.

Which brings me to today's topic.  Breastfeeding.

Now,my intent when bringing my little dude into the world was OF COURSE I'LL BREASTFEED!  However, the world had another plan.  With him losing much weight near the beginning of life, and us having trouble finding a groove for many weeks... I made the heart wrenching decision to supplement, and then finally go completely to formula.  I've not talked much about this, because the general concensus is that formula moms are lazy, and generally aren't conscious of the OMG HARM they are doing to their kid.  Before I get into that, please note that my son (who is the cutest kid of all time) is doing great.  He is well fed, meeting milestones, not overweight/underweight and probably will be a model for awesomeness. (Note: yes, breast feeding is best.  No argument here.)




However, over the past few months I've fielded ignorant, judgmental comments about how awful it is to make that choice and I'm setting him up for basically failure.  (Sort of like cooking him, which I've tried.)


The last straw for me, and the reason I'm posting, is this article. (Posted on facebook by a friend who had the best intents, but it set off a fire in me.)  I'm sure the author had nothing but good intents, but I found it really horrid to read.  What I got out of it (admittedly, I'm defensive on the topic, and thus no doubt found it much more adversarial than most) was that breastfeeding was great (agreed) and if you don't it's cause you are lazy and don't try hard enough... not to mention that you don't love your kid.  (Or love bonding with them.)



Speaking as a formula mother (and hopefully more of us will come out of the woodwork) my son and I bonded just fine, and we are in love with each other.  Another side effect of bottle feeding is that not only am I in love with my son by sharing feeding time, but so is my husband.



So, those of you out there who:
-fought hard to breastfeed and couldn't...
-weren't able to make that choice because of circumstances out of your control
-adopted your little one, and thus it wasn't an option
or otherwise had to make a gut-wrenching choice.... You are ok.  Your child is ok.



Those of you who are breastfeeding... good for you!  I envy you.  However, stop judging us.  Or at least know that if you say something to us that is ignorant or hurtful, we will respond.

Yeah.  That's a Formula 'Stache

I love my son more than life itself, and to imply otherwise will awaken the beast.  Remember, don't anger the makers of the tiny humans... they will eat you alive.


Wednesday, May 9, 2012

Weekly Weigh In

Brutal!  It's been a long time since I posted this, mostly because weight loss was on the back burner... and I was being lazy.  However, this week I was thrilled when my husband had an epiphany that shoved me back into gear again.  I'm now back on track!

Starting Weight: 170- Immediate Postpartum Weight
Last Week's Weight: N/A
Current Weight: 159

Starting BMI: 29.3
Last Week's BMI: N/A
Current BMI: 27.9


1. Reiterate my goal and where I stand in reference to this goal: 

I'm 5'4', and my goal weight is 135.  Which would put me at a BMI of 23.2.  I ideally would keep going, but would be thrilled to be at that point.  So, I've got about 24 pounds to go.

2. Discuss what I am going to do to achieve my goals:

Progress on last week's activities:

I started the Couch to 5K last week.

Activities & goals for this coming week: Same as last week!

- Complete Week 2 of the Couch to 5K- Running the last interval at a 6.0
- Complete Week 3 of the Couch to 5K- Running the last interval at a 6.0
- Do 2 other workouts of some sort (30 Day Shred, Yoga, an extra day or two of running)

On-going Life Style Goals:
Drink at least 4 waters a day.


3. Post a (reasonably healthy) recipe that I've tried, a cooking tip, a new idea for working out for people to try, a photo update of my weight loss, or anything else I feel like sharing.

I'm making sure to eat breakfast, and allow myself to have a mid-morning snack.  This has helped stave off eating unhealthy in the afternoon. 

Sunday, April 29, 2012

4 1/2 Months!!

1. How old is your little one?
Ethan is 4 1/2 months!  I've lost track of weeks now!

2. What new things or milestones happened this week?
We went to his 4 month appt.  Shots.  Ew.  More on his appt later!  Also, my husband got me a FANTASTIC camera... which I've been craving for YEARS.  Picture below!

3. What challenges are you facing this week?
I'm hoping to get out for a happy hour this week.

4. How are you meeting your physical/emotional needs this week?
I am heckling a girlfriend for a happy hour!  I also re-started the couch to 5K.  I missed running!

5. If you could pass one piece of wisdom on to the group this week, what would it be?
Accept stuff from others.  Seek out swap meets, or friends with older kids who might be willing to pass down items!  We've yet to buy any clothing (except socks!) and we just got a boppy, pack and play, mobile, clothes, toys and other items FOR FREE from a local "trash to treasure" event!

6. What resources have you used this week either for yourself or for baby care?
This week, I met with our dr.  I love her, and I want to keep her in my pocket for always.

7. Baby picture of the week!




8. Baby Movie of the week!
Weirdly enough, I don't have one this week!

9. Height/Weight of your kiddo!
I can do you one better- I've got percentiles!
Height- 26" (78.49%)
Weight- 17 lb, 3.7 oz (83.63%)
Head Circumference- 44.8 cm (95.36%)

Saturday, April 21, 2012

4 Months

My son is now 4 months old!  I can't believe it!
Here's what's new for him in the past month or so!
-  He has hair now.  I managed to hair spray it into a mohawk.  I'm trying to keep up with the prissy girls who decorate their infant girls in my mom's group.  
-  He is laughing up a storm!
-  He is taking a break from sleeping through the night, but still only getting up once.
-  We are working together to create a nap schedule.
- He is working on sitting.  He can do very well with holding my fingers, and doesn't use me the majority of the time!







I decided not to participate in ICLW anymore, as really, the work I put in with comments only brings a couple of people over.  But, thank you, and welcome to the couple of you who did join in the fun over here! 

Thursday, March 22, 2012

Welcome!

Hi everyone visiting from ICLW!  

Feel free to check out past posts, either through the "Best of the Blog" link on the side, or from the side bar "Most Popular Posts."

1.  We acquired some new/old furniture, including an old desk that used to be mine, and my uncle's and it goes back quite a few generations.  This piece has rounded out our kitchen area providing a great place to store things that no longer need to live (and be eaten by our dog) on our counters!

2.  Ethan is now 3 months old.  I can't believe how fast he's grown!  Right now he's 15 poundsish, and currently is VERY Grumpy.  (And has been for a few days now.)  I'm trying to keep my cool, and try not to get too stressed.  But, the days are long here at home with him being so fussy. I'm sure he just doesn't feel well, so it's hard to get too frustrated, but I'd love to unclench my jaw for a bit of time.



3.  Working on starting some new books to read to stimulate my brain, as being at home certainly doesn't do much of that. (But I love the opportunity to watch Grey's Anatomy.)

4.  I'm making a vow to not ever update my Facebook status with anything to do with Ethan's bodily fluids.  Puke, Pee, Poop, Toilet Training???  Nope, no one wants to see that.  Ew.  (I don't promise to not talk about it here though... cause you are all willingly reading this.)

I'm working on the Life List (And you can find it on the side bar.)  What's on your life list?

Wednesday, March 7, 2012

Creation of a Life List

Over the past few years, I've come up with several ideas about what I'd like on my own Life List.  Some of them are actually those cheesy "would like to go skydiving" sort... some are not. 

Sadly, I come up with things to put on the list, but have never actually written them down... thus, I've lost several of my wishes to the air, and forgotten what they are.

Now, I'm going to actually have a list here (on the side bar, and maybe every once and a while I'll make it a post, but not too often in order to not be obnoxious), so I can keep track of everything I want to do.  If I ever actually do something, I'll also add a comment about it, or a photo!!

So, let me know... what's on YOUR life list?

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Beat Bopping and Scatting all Over the Place

I've realized my updating has been spartan, so I commit to getting a bit better with this.

We've both reached the point now (being that Ethan is almost 10 weeks old) where we've moved past the honeymoon stage.  That stage where we tiptoe around each other during our time at home taking care of Ethan.

I'm super thankful that Ethan is such an easy baby.  He's sleeping with only one wake up during the night most nights, and going around 6 hours between feedings.  He's at the 80th percentile for weight (big boy at 13 pounds!) and 60th percentile for height.  He's presently fighting off a cold so he's been more grumpy in the past few days than normal, however... which inspired last night's blowout.

Jon and I have an exchange, where he takes Ethan's feedings if he wakes up before 2 AM, and I take it after.  Last night, we stayed up later to have some adult time watching some TV and having snarky banter.  I missed this part of our marriage, and though I knew I'd regret the lack of sleep.  And I did.

It typically takes me hours to fall asleep, so in bed by 10 means no sleep til one or so.  That is about when I feel asleep, with Ethan waking up at 1:45.  Jon got up to feed him, and I battled to fall back asleep.  I managed to fall asleep right before Jon came back to bed.  I woke up to a gigantic dog seemingly being shoved onto my side, and my husband flip flopping like an angry fish on the deck of an Alaskan fishing boat.  You know the flop, the "I'm turning around from side to side, but making sure that I launch myself into the air on the spin over"?  And then Ethan started making noise.  It was now 3:15 AM, and I was officially on duty, and I had been woken up, yet again.

I prop myself up on my arm and go, "Jesus, Jon, what the hell? I just fell asleep, and you're going crazy over there"  (Or something to this effect, in a very assholic tone of voice.)  "I just fell asleep and you are just tossing and turning and shoving the dog on my side! Seriously??!!"

Now, naturally, Jon wouldn't let that slide without a wonderfully matched angry retort, which I can't remember at this moment, but I'm sure it was wonderfully witty.  But naturally, I KNEW what happened was Jon just trying to make a point about how peeved he was that he had to get up 15 minutes before he was off shift.*

As I seethed, and teared up a bit, I dreaded how fast morning would come, where again my day would be full of diapers, feeding, a grumpy baby and playing the "what the hell do you want from me?" game.

This was my night.  And this is now my day.  I love you Jon & Ethan 

DRINK PLEASE.



*What ACTUALLY happened: Jon was trying to get the dog off his side of the bed, which caused the dog to roll on my side a bit.  Jon then lifted the legs of the dog, so he could at least get under the dog and go back to sleep... and since the dog was on his side he couldn't turn well, causing the awkward flipping and flopping.  But, it was way more fun to imagine he was spiting me by throwing the dog on my side, and obnoxiously trying to break our box spring by doing belly flops.

At least we could both laugh about it around lunchtime.

...Damn baby.

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

 
There are a bunch of bloggers who are participating in "Weight Loss Wednesdays," and I thought I'd join in!  You can usually find a full list of participants on Josey's Blog!  Feel free to join in, and let her know you are doing it too and she'll add you to her list!


1. Reiterate my goal and where I stand in reference to this goal: 
Goal Weight: 135#  so I have 21.5# to go.

Starting Weight:  170# immediately post-partum
Last Week's Weight:  158.6#
Current Weight: 157.4# --> 1# loss


2. Discuss what I am going to do to achieve my goals:
Progress on last week's activities: (EXAMPLES)
Walked around the neighborhood (roughly 2 miles)- Check!  Did this 3x last week
Drinking more sparkling water- Check!  Drank at least two of these a day. Would like to increase to 3x day.

Activities & goals for this coming week: (EXAMPLES)
Walk around the neighborhood with Ethan 3-5x this week
Drink at least 3 sparkling waters a day
Start the Couch to 5K

On-going Life Style Goals: (EXAMPLES)
Get out of the house at least 5x a week in some fashion.

3. Post a (reasonably healthy) recipe that I've tried, a cooking tip, a new idea for working out for people to try, a photo update of my weight loss, or anything else I feel like sharing.

Sadly, I didn't get to the running this week.  It's hard to do when it's pouring rain, and I don't have a treadmill!  Sigh.  However, I'm happy there was a loss of a pound regardless.