Shipping smiles

In a sudden *whoosh* of reality, I realized that it's been far too long since I catalouged life's events online. It's not that I forgot about blogging. Someone in as desperate need as I am of a 12-step program, cannot simply "forget" to blog. In fact several times a week something happened that I would mentally note to blog about it. Inevitably once I got the computer to myself to write, my mind would be wiped as clean as a forgotten chalkboard. Meaning, there's residue lift, but not enough to formulate any words.

Someone somewhere decided that life was to dull, and to spice it up they would change all the house numbers on our street. Unfortunately this wasn't a teenage prank. As such I now have two house numbers and no mail.
Oh sure, the junk mail finds me. I'm pretty sure I could immigrate to Antartica, leave no forwarding address and I would still recieve AMAZING pre-approved credit card offers from companies I have never done business with. In some strange twist, they also manage to consistantly spell my name correctly. It's unnatural.
Of course things that I've actually requested and paid for never show up to the house. To pour salt in the wound the delivery confirmation cheerily informs me that my package has been "delivered", but my post office has no record of it ever coming to them. To say that it made me livid, would be to understate the emotions I felt. What I felt, was white hot ire and cruel bitter betrayal. During deployments and involuntary separations I have contemplated having our paycheck sent directly to the USPS. I mean, it makes sense to cut out the middle man. Let's not even bring up the amount of craft stuff I purchase online and have shipped through USPS.
Our local post office insists that it's not their fault. They haven't seen the packaged cross their facility. It's the sorting office's fault.

I muttered under my breath for days about our postal system. I thought of the exact wording of my response when they told me my packages were never in their facility. I must admit, I'm not proud of my thoughts, or the rants that I railed to my very patient husband as I wrestled with laundry. Finally I broke down and sent my husband to the post office. He came home with the expected answer and the address for the sorting facility.

The next morning I was trying to work on too many things at once when the doorbell rang. I answered the door to find the FedEx man in my porch holding this box.





I imagine the my expression looked something along these lines;



The FedEx guy looked at me nervously while I squealed in excitement. "I'm sorry." I babbled "I've been waiting for this for a few weeks. I was afraid the post office lost it!". He smiled a shakey smile that clearly indicating he thought I was losing my mind. He set the box on my living room floor and sprinted back to his truck as if we had the plague.
Granted if I had gotten that reaction while delivering a breast pump I may have had the same reaction.




I was still on my high about the breast pump arriving, and profusely thanking God that Ameda had sent the package via FedEx, when the door bell rang again. A mail carrier stood there sheepishly holding a bundle of my mail. As he handed me the bundle of packages he said "I guess these got lost with your hold. Sorry about that.".
I could have hugged him on the spot. I would have hugged him, but I didn't want to cross any boundaries and I really want to keep recieving my mail.I settled for repeating "Thank you! Thank you!" over and over like a four year old hyped up on birthday cake.
Although, in my defense, what's not to love about craft supplies and fluffy mail.

Driving skills...

"I need to wear a helmet in the car. Then I can be safe when you drive mama."



Cute, kid.

Just one of those days

Today I ran around the city searching for a plain white t-shirt for Alex to wear. It's his costume for his recital tomorrow. We found white tanks, colored t-shirts, and white t-shirts in every size except Alex's.
Finally, my nerves got to me. Alex was trying to channel his inner shopping cart daredevil and send me into early heart failure. Spain needed a diaper change and couldn't decide whether or not he wanted to eat. Our choices were the tshirts that showed Alex's belly button or the shirts that covered his knees. I grabbed the shirt that went to knees, threw it in the cart and sped to the checkout lane as fast as I could.


When we were back at home, I tenatively started dinner. I was waiting for the sweet husband to call when he needed to be picked up from the office "camping trip".

Guess what's flammable-

Garlic bread.

Yup.

I stuck it under the broiler and set the timer. My brother called, and the next thing I know the garlic bread was on fire. It was like a huge vampire hating candle.

How long have I been cooking?

Climbing Mt Morelaundry

I've been doing laundry for the last two days.

Wash. Dry. Sun. Fold. Hang. Put away. Sort. And repeat.

I have socks stuffed into random cervices. The carseat box that I haven't taken to the basement, has become a perfect place to hide socks. Same for the changing table, and my yarn basket. Oh and the basket that holds the phone chargers...
In case you can't tell, matching socks is not my favorite activity. In fact, I liken it to putting a incomplete puzzle together. It's just not satisfying because you can never finish it.

*deep sigh*

Doing laundry is like washing dishes. You are never really finished.

Note to self

Always always always check the oven before you begin heating it. For future reference, a bag of chips will melt, when allowed to stay in a hot oven. And the smell may turn you off of nachos for a while.

Brothers

Several times I have stumbled upon scenes just like these. Alex snags every chance he can to interact with Spain. He makes up songs to sing while I'm making dinner. Crawls next to us while Spain is nursing for double cuddles. Or like in this picture, will lay down next to Spain and start telling him stories.

A big brother shares his experiences with his younger couterpart.

Pumping with a Purpose

While Spain was in hospital, I once again had the opportunity to become rather intimate with a breast pump, which I jumped on.The sweet husband and I agree that supplying our children with human milk is absolutely a priority. I won't say that breastmilk is best, I think that misleading. I will say that breastmilk is the perfect nutritional substance for infants. It actually changes with your baby to give them exactly what they need.

As soon as I could, I started spending quality time with the hospital's pump. 30 hours after birth, Spain's doctors were concerned that I wouldn't be able to produce enough (He was 30 hours old, but on day 3 of life), so we began to discuss alternatives. We agreed to use donor if needed. After intense calculations regarding the rate of production and frequency of pumping our doctors agreed with us, that we would only need one bottle of donor milk (3 oz), but to be safe we would order two bottles. Thus began the ordeal with trying to get milk form the Mothers Milk Bank of Austin. We were the first family to request donor milk, and as a result no one in the hospital had any idea how to go about getting it. Sweet husband and I called the milk bank for clarification on ordering protocol, the lady handling our case was AMAZING. She was so sweet and sympathetic. I remember thanking God while I talked with her. She assured me that she would call the doctors and they would sort everything out, so I did not need to worry about it. She did exactly that!

A few hours after we had talked. I was sitting behind a curtain practicing kangaroo care with Spain and praying that everything would fall into place, when I got the news that the milk was coming! The sweet husband and I were overjoyed.

Sweet husband I went to forage for food shortly afterward, We were waylaid by the dietitian they had sent instead of the lactation consultant I requested. She told us that she had placed the order for the milk. I asked how many bottles she had ordered, and to my horror she told me fifteen bottles (45 oz), because she didn't count on me being able to produce any milk until day of life six. Never mind that my milk had started to come in.

In addition to being horrified, I felt awful. We had gotten the milk as a safety net, and were given priority because Spain was in the NICU. To top it all off there was a milk shortage!

Spain received less than 1 oz of donor milk. I had no trouble keeping up with the demand. In fact we went home with 30 oz of milk I pumped and 39 oz of frozen sealed donor milk.

Even though Spain is solely breastfeed, I pump every morning after I wake up. This isn't an emergency supply of milk. It's not so that I can sleep in, or go out. This milk is for a baby who desperately needs it. This is my way of giving back. This is my way of thanking the mother who donated to us.

Current pumped total- 74 ounces

26 ounces to initial donation.

ETA: Shortly after I wrote this entry, I heard about a mom who needed breastmilk for her preemie. We were able to give her the leftover 39 oz of frozen milk that we received from MMBA while Spain was in the hospital.

Letters to my child

Dear Little One.

I'm not sure where you got this crazy idea that I won't feed you after the sun goes down. As I haven't been very far from your side since you were born, it does boggle my mind a little. Did your brother tell you something? He is a bit of tease.
I know it's a whole ten minutes since you last nursed. And while you may think you're starving, I want you to know that you're not. I'm not going to lock up the milk, or start refusing to nurse you. That nasty thing making the whoosing noise is just a breast pump. It's not your rival. I'd much rather nurse you than pump. In my mind there is no comparison.

Now my sweet boy, it's getting late.

Morning comes sooner for me than you. I love these midnight cuddles. All to soon they'll be over. I want to imprint these moments in my mind because they won't last forever.

I love you.

Love,

Mama

The unassisted birth of "Spain"

On January 26th around 2:30 am I woke up to a slight pain in my back. I rolled out of bed to use the bathroom. I didn't bother turning the light on, because, well let's face it, the bathroom had become my second home. When I pulled my pajama pants up they were oddly wet, I flipped the light on and was greeted by the sight of blood. Panic seized me. I waddled to my closet to get some fresh clothes, and had to make another stop at the bathroom. On my way I woke my sweet husband up to tell him I was bleeding. When I reached the bathroom I turned the light on, and with a rush of relief I realized that I was only losing my mucus plug. So I cleaned up and crawled in bed with that sweet guy I married. I couldn't sleep, so I lay there cuddled up next to him until he had to leave for PT a few hours later. I was having some contractions, and stupidly I decided to time them. Of course, there was no real pattern.

I got up to continue on with the day. I made breakfast, and started on dinner for some friends that had just had their baby. My sweet husband came home to get ready for work, and made me promise to call him if anything changed. At 9:30 I called his supervisor and asked for him to be sent home so he could take me in to the hospital. It's important to note that without traffic it takes about 25 minutes to get to the military hospital that has the L&D floor. I had one contraction on the way to the hospital.

I got to the "birthing center" and immediately pissed off a nurse when I explained that I would not consent to a cervical check or the EFM, and that my "plans" had been discussed with the head of the OB program at the hospital and he agreed to it. The OB who saw me on the other hand, thought it was great. Turns out his mom was a certified nurse midwife, and he had gone on several rotations with her whenever he was considering becoming an OB. He had never gotten to use a fetoscope, and seemed excited at the opportunity.
The overall consensus was that I was in early labor, but it would probably be a few days before anything happened. The baby wasn't even close to being engaged. My contractions were super irregular, and I was far enough along in the pregnancy that they wouldn't try to stop labor, so I was sent home.

My wonderful husband went back to work (after making me promise to call him if anything changed). I updated my mom, then called our Pastor to update him, and the leader of the Awana program at church to let her know I couldn't fill in for Cubbies that night. Lastly I called this wonderful lady that God sent into my life. We chatted and prayed together. Which really helped to calm me down. I had been frantically praying for labor to stop all day long. I just wanted a few more days to enjoy my pregnancy, and make sure the baby was "fully baked". Alex brought his backpack to my bed, and we started working on his schoolwork, while we waited for the husband to get off of work.

Just before 5:30 I felt another rush of blood, so I scurried into the bathroom. The baby was still high, but the small of my back started aching. I called for Alex to bring me my phone, and I climbed into the shower. Alex brought the phone into the bathroom, and as I was instructing him to call his Papa, the baby turned partially transverse (sidewise). The pain at that point intensified beyond anything I could have ever imagined. I knew the dangers of laboring with a transverse baby and I instinctively dropped to my knees.

There I was on my hands and knees rocking back and forth in my tiny shower stall (The shower in our master bathroom is the size of a standard refrigerator. Seriously.), praying for the baby to turn and trying to find that special sound that vibrates through your body, helping to reduce pain. I heard Alex talking on the phone to my sweet husband on the other side of the shower door. "Papa, mama says you need to come home. Spain is coming."

The baby turned back into the vertex position (vertical, head down) and I slowly stood up. With a "pop" the bag of waters broke and I fell into a prostrate postion. The song "He's got the whole world in his hands" sprang to mind and I kept singing it over and over while I rocked. I placed my hand between my legs and felt the baby's head bulging against my perineum. I knew my husband was only moments away, I tried to ignore the urge to push but my body had taken over. The head began to emerge, and I pulled myself into a squatting position, out of the water's range, In a blink, I was holding a brand-new infant. "Alex call Papa! Spain's here."
I reached up to turn the shower off, then cracked the shower door open and grabbed a towel to wrap the baby in. Alex was shouting joyfully into the phone "Papa, Spain got out! Spain got out!"



My sweet husband flew through the bathroom door moments later. He crouched down in the doorway of the opened shower, next to Alex, and I handed our brand-new baby to him. My poor sweet husband missed the birth of our son, because he stopped to buy me flowers.

I even can't begin to describe how much I love my husband, my oldest son and my youngest son.





We did transfer to the hospital after the birth, just to make sure everything was alright since I wasn't at term. The ER staff cleared us and offered to send us home, but we opted to transfer to the other hospital with the L&D ward, just to be sure. I'm so thankful we did, because Spain was showing signs of respitory distress that the ER doctors didn't recognise. We got to spend a week in the NICU, but that is a series of other posts that will come soon.

Breastfeeding and the Bible

". . .the Lord does not in vain prepare nutriment for children in their mothers' bosoms, before they are born. But those on whom he confers the honor of mothers, he, in this way, constitutes nurses; and they who deem it a hardship to nourish their own offspring, break, as far as they are able, the sacred bond of nature. If disease, or anything of that kind, is the hindrance, they have a just excuse; but for mothers voluntarily, and for their own pleasure, to avoid the trouble of nursing, and thus to make themselves only half-mothers, is a shameful corruption."
John Calvin, commenting on Genesis 21:7

"And she added, "Who would have said to Abraham that Sarah would nurse children? Yet I have borne him a son in his old age."
Genesis 21:7 NIV

"If God Almighty came to you and said, "I myself have designed a special food that will strengthen your baby's body and develop his brain, which will comfort him and cheer his heart, and lay the foundation for his lifetime health and well-being. I have given this food into your keeping; I have placed it in your body; it is my loving provision for your child" - who would reply, "No thanks, no divine gifts, I'd rather give him a can of Similac"?"
Juli Loesch Wiley

Yet you brought me out of the womb; you made me trust in you even at my mother's breast. From birth I was cast upon you; from my mother's womb you have been my God. Do not be far from me.
Psalm 22:9-11 NIV

"For you will nurse and be satisfied at her comforting breasts; you will drink deeply and delight in her overflowing abundance." For this is what the LORD says: "I will extend peace to her like a river, and the wealth of nations like a flooding stream; you will nurse and be carried on her arm and dandled on her knees. As a mother comforts her child, so will I comfort you; and you will be comforted over Jerusalem."
Isaiah 66:11-13 NIV

Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you! See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands; your walls are ever before me.
Isaiah 49:15,16 NIV


Want more breastfeeding related scriptures? Breastfeeding and the Bible.

Mother's milk, time-tested for millions of years, is the best nutrient for babies because it is nature's perfect food.
Robert S. Mendelsohn