I will reply to each and every one of your comments on my breastfeeding post, I will, but, well, one-handed typing totally sucks and I have this cute baby attached to one of my arms, so it might take me a while.
Blogging for Weddingbee and then here, on my own, sometimes feels like it could be an arrogant exercise, but then something happens – like a falling apart moment and cry for help – and I’m reminded that I’m part of a community of women who care. We may never have met each other in real life, but man, you all come through like champs, so thanks.
THANKS. THANK YOU. GRACIAS. (times infinity)
I don’t have the words to tell you how much your responses pouring in meant to me yesterday… and today and tomorrow and every time my child is screaming in frustration and I’m trying to figure out what to do. It’s hard to feel alone when you remember that thirty plus relative strangers took the time to give advice and support when you asked for help.
So, today, while I don’t yet have a decision, I do have oomph. Yesterday was a good day empty of regret and angst (well, after the morning breakdown after which my husband sent me to bed to nap, but hey, after THAT things were good). .I pumped a few times – not enough, but some – and this morning called the lactation consultant for an appointment. As long as I’m pumping I have time to make this work, so I’ll rent a hospital-grade pump and keep trying.
Or not. Honestly, I’d give it a better than average chance that we’ll end up exclusively on formula. But either way, my kid gets to eat within a relatively short period after he squalls and I keep our options open, plus the big “how are other people doing this?” question is finally answered.
*big sigh of relief*
That sigh of relief is just in time, actually, because my mom leaves tomorrow after sticking around for two weeks – through the week at the hospital and our first week at home – and we’re likely to have a family cry when she leaves tomorrow, mamas and daddies and babies included.
My husband bought me a new camera lens as a late birthday gift so consider yourself warned: baby pic-a-palooza is underway.
Gotta run, just heard depth charges coming from my sleeping son’s lower regions. (ha) Speaking of: what do babies dream of? Bottles and fast-flow nipples and warm blankies or world peace and big bangs and heaven? I wonder if my son dreams of the same place my dog does, since they both grin and chatter and move their little paws as though they’re running?