Breastfeeding...

is for the birds...seriously.

I'm a wimp. Its fine, whatever. I survived 37 hours of labor, 28 of it sitting at home, breathing it out WITHOUT meds mind you. So, my boobs, my heart and my kid could not take more than 11 days of breastfeeding. The litmus test for boobie feeding seems to be 3 months. My cousin lasted 7 weeks. Had I tried to do it for a month I might have had to cut my boobs off.

The first night, it seemed really easy. Eli and I seemed to get into a rhythm of things, he was feeding, I was feeding him, we were both really happy. Day two went really well too, he ate, slept and pooped. I ate and slept.

Then, there was night two. When suddenly, Eli had a fit. Its fine, to an extent, except that hearing my child SCREAM cry is not something I can remotely handle at all. It kills me quite frankly. I can deal with him crying in general, and I can deal with some moaning and whining, but screaming? Nope, not happening, breaks my heart. So, when he did it that night, and I couldn't seem to calm him down to save mine or his life, I freaked out. I was exhausted. They took him from me to do some tests and I slept while he was gone. When he came back, he was sleepy and so was I, but the nurse insisted that I had to feed my kid, who was asleep. It was a rather painful feeding and Eli seemed to struggle through it. Something was off from the night before.

The next day, the day we were released from the hospital was even worse. First off, they circumsized him, poor little guy. When they came to get him for his circumsision, they took him in the middle of a feeding, so he only got to eat for 15 minutes and was STILL HUNGRY! After they did that, he was obviously upset, but instead of bringing him back or waiting until I was done feeding him to take him, so that maybe he would've handled it a bit better, they gave him sugar water! WHY ARE YOU GIVING MY KID SUGAR WATER WITHOUT MY PERMISSION??? By the time they brought him back to me, 3 hours later (because he had to have other tests done), he was passed out from the stress of it all, and didn't want to eat. 2 hours later, Eli finally wakes up and he's PISSED! He's upset, i'm trying to eat and feed him, he seems to be having trouble latching on, and on top of that, he keeps pulling away from me and SCREAMING! Ack! I'm starting to freak out, because at the rate we are going, we are never going to be able to leave, because I can't feed my poor kid. On top of everything else, breastfeeding is a bit of an art form, and if your kid doesn't latch on right, you are asking for problems, i.e. my nips cracking! Owwwwwwwwwww! Some how or another we got through it, and made it home. That night was exhausting, with lots of crying on both his and my part, but we sorta made it through it.

Here was what pushed me over the edge...

1. My kid crying relentlessly and fighting me constantly to get on and off the boob. First, he'd cry to get on, then pull off and cry some more. Who has time for that fight?

2. Eli developed the worst diaper rash in the world. I mean, his butt turned bright red and it started blistering. My son literally scooted away from me at a week and a half old to have me avoid touching his ass with a diaper wipe. Ummm, I'm not sure that's entirely okay with me.

3. We had a 4 day stretch of the following scenario. 5 to 7 hours of...eat, poop, sleep for 10-25 minutes, wake up, scream to eat, poop, sleep, eat, poop, sleep, eat, poop, sleep...Don't get me wrong, babies eat, poop and sleep. That's what they do. Its fine. But doing it without a relentless break for hours on end. I'm sorry, i'm not a strong enough woman to do that. And quite frankly, neither are my boobs or Eli's little butt.

I finally relented when Ray lost his mind and told me to end it, because he couldn't take coming home and finding me and Eli both crying. Fix the problem. We first tried regular formula. That ended lovely when me and Ray took him to his first doctor's appointment, fed him while we waited for the doctor and then first had Eli spit up all over daddy and not just a little bit, but quite a bit, and then while Ray was cleaning himself up, had Eli spit up all over me...down my shirt by the way. The doctor was a bit concerned and suggested we try another formula. Ray went and bought soy and two days later, Eli's diaper rash cleared up, we had no more 5 hour stretches of relentless eating and both me and Eli started eating and sleeping better.

I understand the wonderfulness of breastfeeding, don't get me wrong. Its healthier for mommy and baby, its cheaper (to an extent), and a whole host of other things you get told when they are first trying to convince you to breastfeed. However, at the end of the day, I can't help but feel like the best decision I ever made for me and my son, was to switch to the bottle.

I never thought...

I'd have a child. There. I said it.

Most women, when they think about their future, usually have a long term plan. It usually involves, at the very least, a career of some kind, a place of their own to live in, friends, and eventually, co-habitation with a significant other, maybe leading to marriage and eventually, if you like them enough, kids. These last two things I pretty much planned on never happening to me.

Dating never happened much for me in high school or college. Most people who knew me I think got pretty used to me being perpetually single. This was not a bad thing necessarily. I did a lot of things, I had a lot of fun. But, was I lonely when I looked at my attached friends and knew I was going home to an empty bed? You bet I was. Sometimes, I felt like the loneliest person around. For goodness sakes, I was 26 years old and a virgin, so how attractive could I really be to the opposite sex? After a long time, I did my best to not worry about it, because what was the point? If I was meant to walk through this life alone, that was what I was meant to do.

I became further convinced of this, when I found out I had Poly-Cystic Ovarian Syndrome or PCOS. Along with giving me the WORST menstrual cycles of my life, and potentially leading to other problems such as diabetes and high blood pressure, I was also told it would be next to impossible for me to conceive and carry a child. I hid my emotions at the time, because I was in college, but I was devastated. I would never have a child. Never be able to experience pregnancy. It is, in my opinion the most heartbreaking news a woman can receive in her life, especially, if eventually, even for a moment, she contemplated having kids.

So, I moved forward. What any normal person does their best to achieve when they are dealt that kind of news. I focused on finishing school, finding a career and trying to improve my financial situation, so I could eventually move out of my parents house and live on my own. You know, attempt to be a grown up. It wasn't easy. I wasn't making much money in my choice of career, even though I experienced some of the most amazing moments of my life at my job. Without making a lot of money, I had a lot of trouble moving out on my own and worked towards finding a second part-time job to help with the lack of money. I still had fun though. I went out with friends, I traveled some, I had experiences and adventures. I was happy, or as happy as I could imagine myself being.

Then, enter Ray. (i.e. the boy) Some people claim things happen for a reason. The other half of the world claims it's bahooey. I think things happen for a reason. Had I moved out of my parents house, would Ray and I have ever met? Or re-met, considering we went to the same elementary school, rode the same bus and the same middle school too. I don't know. It really doesn't do any good to play that game. But, we met or re-met. And, we started talking. I wasn't sure how I felt. I liked him, but getting my hopes up was normally reserved for things like Buy One, Get One Free Cupcake days, not for things like love. I had became very insistent that I was going to be alone, for well, ever. Ray changed that for me. I know its bad to an extent, but he helped me to believe that I was beautiful, worth going after, and lovable. He was, and still is, my comfort, my calm when chaos is reigning supreme. I can go to him, and talk to him, or sometimes not even talk, just sit and just be with him and things will be better or will get better eventually. That was the deciding factor, the final push I needed to know that in spite of my own emotional misgivings, that I would find happiness with this person.

Don't get me wrong. Nothing is perfect, not even a relationship. Its good, its great even, its fun and exciting. Heartbreaking and unforgiving. You get in fights, say things you don't mean, sometime say things you do mean. You learn to live with a persons' good and bad parts. You know, all that crap. You go through the ups and downs, you have debates about changing things and improving your lives together. You find yourself making decisions together. You get happy when you feel things coming together.

And, then, you are thrown a loop, you'd never in a million years expect. Even weirder, when you make the discovery at your local Target bathroom, while your friend's two year old tries to peek under the door to find out what you are up to. A baby. Of course, I automatically think this is a joke, maybe a false positive (very rarely do those exist by the way). Instead, its a baby. Growing inside me. A person that Ray and I created together. I wouldn't have believed it, if I hadn't had it confirmed via ultrasound. I was still on birth control. (Because, obviously, YOU NEVER KNOW.) Again, things happening for a reason? I mean, a million in one shot almost. Yet, there I was, pregnant! HOLY CRAP!!

Pregnancy was really crazy. Overwhelming and stressful at some points. Hormonally deranged, terrifying, back and forth on what you want to do, how you handle things, how you REALLY feel about it. If your honest, you're excited, scared, shocked...there aren't enough words to describe the emotions. How could I not be overwhelmed? Then, the problems start. Gestational Diabetes, easy to manage once you know what you are doing. Then, concerns over his growth rate, which was smaller than expected. That made me cry. My little boy, smaller than what he should be. How could it be? I was trying to be so careful. I was trying so hard. How could this happen? Was he going to survive all this? Delivery, life outside the womb all together? Only one way to find out...

He was supposed to be arriving last Tuesday. He decided to start heading out last Sunday, and arrived last Monday, a week before his due date. 6 pounds, 11 oz. 20 inches long. A head full of hair just like me. He's little, so little, but he's strong. One hell of a temper. My little Elijah. Eli for short. Ray, me and Eli. A little group of 3. Ray loves him so much, he so proud to be a dad. I can't believe I'm a mom, especially to this little tiny bundle. I never thought I would have him, and I wasn't sure he was going to survive. But, he's here. And, I don't know how I've lived without him.

Reality Check...Part 2

REALITY: You will never be more terrified, excited or aflurry with as many emotions as you will be when you get ready to give birth to your child.

I'm crazy. I admit to it. I went to work, in spite of my better judgement, and was going along fine. Then came 5:45. And, an almost heart stopping braxton-hicks contraction. (I.E. False Labor) Oh, its fine, i'm cool. Almost an hour labor another heart stopping contraction. Come the third one in the 7:00 hour and it hits me...I am in the early stages of labor. Grrreeeeaaaaat!

Terrified. I'm going to completely mess up my child and destroy him some way or another. I don't know how, I just know I will. Oh sure, I've babysat. I worked in the kids camp at the YMCA. I took care of the boy's nephew all last year from 2 months on. But, i'm about to become a mom. Why in the world would God let ME become a mom?! I'm a walking disaster case. I'm selfish. I've only cared about my career before this point. My life will never be the same EVER AGAIN!

Excited. Oooh, he's finally almost here! Probably 24-36 hours at most! I finally will get to see my lil jellybean! I hope he's cute! I wonder if he'll have a lot of hair like me. Do I have everything? Did I take care of everything? I need my checklists! Do his laundry! Hell, maybe I should do my laundry! EEEEEEEEHHHHH!!!!

Anger. I need more time. Who the hell does this kid think he is? I'm not ready. The boy's not ready. WE are not ready for this! How dare he! (This emotion really only lasts about 5 seconds when you remind yourself its not your kids' fault he's coming into the world.)

Its all there. All these emotions. Spaz attack central. As of this point, we're estimating i've been in labor for just over 12 hours today. I'm still at home, obviously. They don't want me to go in until my contractions are 5 minutes apart for an hour. Right now, i'm at 23-25 minutes apart an hour. OMG! This is gonna take way too effing long. But, we are hitting the home stretch.