Accepting...

...this postpartum body is easier than I remember it being. Although, I find myself utterly annoyed by the extra skin congregating around my midsection, and the extra 'breastfeeding fat stores' hanging out on my thighs, and my shirts not fitting because...well we discussed that in another post. I am much more accepting and much more appreciative of my body than I've ever been before.

Maybe that's because it has bore me 3 healthy, gorgeous children, but maybe it's because I just don't care anymore. I'm going with the first option. Since I get to choose if I'm happy or not...the first option seems 'happier'.

I feel strange saying that I'm okay with the extra poundage, but I truly am. My body tends to hold on to extra weight while I'm nursing.

Isaiah breastfed 7 months. Then he quit on his own, and I lost the baby weight by the time he was a year old.

With Jayme, when we got home from the hospital I weighed nearly 20 pounds less than I do right now. It's hard to believe, and I really don't think being that thin was good. Looking back at pictures, I looked pretty unhealthy. She quit nursing at 3 months old due to me being heavily medicated from a kidney infection that nearly shut down my kidneys. Not fun...and nursing was a battle with her anyway.

So this time, I am determined to not be bothered by the extra weight because I know it's helping with the whole breastfeeding success . And my goal is to breastfeed this kiddo until she is at least 18 months old...maybe even longer.

This doesn't give me an excuse to eat whatever I want, and to not exercise. No, it sure does not. I'm doing body weight exercises, and yoga. I'm eating gluten free, and mostly dairy and sugar free. It's tough sometimes, but I find myself wanting less and less dairy and sugar...gluten is easy because it makes me want to die most of the time. And dairy is usually easy because Madalynne throws up what looks like whole containers of cottage cheese when I eat dairy. Nasty. Sugar on the other hand...ugh. Sugar. I made fudge last night and it's amazing!! Anyway...

Here we sit, 12 pounds from my goal weight, with 22 pounds lost...well not lost, because I don't ever want to find them again. So 22 pounds gone. For good. I'm losing weight slowly...so slowly it's almost annoying. But again...Madalynne has made it SO far in this nursing expedition. It makes my heart happy...and there is a pride that comes with being the only one that has nourished my child for so long.

Anyway...I'll gladly wear different shirts, and buy a larger size of jeans. These beautiful children, and all the joy they bring me is so far past worth it I can't even begin to tell you.

Nursing Mother Problems

While I really do LOVE  breastfeeding Madalynne, this had to be written.

I'm beyond grateful that my body and the babe have cooperated this long in our breastfeeding journey. She's such a nursing champ. However, there are a few things about nursing that drive me bat sh*t crazy.

Nursing mothers will know exactly what I'm talking about.

Before you leave the house, it is imperative that you check the nursing ability of EVERY outfit. If said outfit does not meet the necessary requirements, one must change. Pushing straps down. Pushing fabric out of the way. And still making sure you don't flash the ENTIRE world while trying to feed your tiny human. While still maintaining a bit of variety in your wardrobe. It's comical. Or sad. I'm not sure which, at this point.

While getting dressed, I attempt to wear clothing that contain the 'nursing knockers.' I try to be conscious that not everyone is quite as much of a fan of them as my husband. While they are great, it's really challenging to find clothes that fit right in the chest while not swimming on the rest of my body. Typically, when I get dressed in the morning, my top fits really well. It's not revealing, and everything is where it should be. As time passes since the last time the babe nursed, said 'knockers' get larger and larger. And said top becomes more and more slutty (please pardon my description....this is hilarious to me, but it's late (for me) and I'm having a hard time coming up with 'appropriate' words). It's just challenging. I've thought about just wearing Jon's t-shirts ALL the time until Madalynne is weened, but that seems a bit dramatic.

This one might be the most annoying of all. Madalynne has reached that age where she CAN'T miss anything. Heaven forbids something fascinating should happen during the 15 minutes it takes her to completely drain both sides. Oh no...she has to get let down started and unlatch 45 times during each feeding. I'm going through a lot of nursing pads. A lot. On a side note, Isaiah and Jayme find the 'let down shower' hilarious...which is, of course, not helping with the whole distraction thing.

Oh, and clogged ducts. If you were unaware of such a thing, let me inform you. It's AWFUL!!! I mean really horrible. I've gotten more than I can count this time around. It truly feels like she's trying to suck milk that resides in my feet. I'm not kidding...that's really what it feels like. And if I happen to leave the babe with someone, and need to pump, it's guaranteed that I will have a clogged duct for the next 3 days. Miserable. Luckily, not one of these clogged ducts has turned into mastitis.

This one is new to me...milk blisters, or blebs. That one is more painful than clogged ducts. It makes me want to cry just writing about it. So if you're super curious...Google it.

Anyway, this is what I have chosen to put up with to provide my baby with the best nutrition I can. I'm embracing it, laughing at it...and sometimes swearing at it. But, among its' many benefits, it's on tap, it's the perfect temperature, and it provides me a reason to sit and rock my baby sometimes 20 times a day. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

48 Hours

I've decided to call my new journey of using gentle tones and kind words 'Spoken Softly'. 

The first 24 hours of 'Spoken Softly' were fairly easy. 

Then, yesterday mid morning (ish) both kids decided that they were not going to eat any of the foods that they asked for. They started defying everything and anything I asked of them. They both picked yesterday to throw the worst temper tantrums I have ever seen from either of them. It was horrible. They took early naps, and I made a pot coffee during the middle of the afternoon (which doesn't usually happen anymore...I know you're thinking it does. 

But still, by around dinner time I was losing my cool. 

I wanted to cry. I didn't. 

I wanted to yell. I did. 

See what I mean about not being perfect?

Jayme burst into tears. I thought Isaiah was fine, but then I found him in tears in his bed. 

Fail. 

After saying I was sorry, and a fair amount of coaxing, they both came to sit with me. We read some stories, and cuddled for awhile. The rest of the evening was like walking on egg shells, but we made it through without me flipping out again. 

Today, I will pay close attention to triggers that push me past my limit and I will adjust accordingly. 

I feel like yesterday was a break through, even though it wasn't deemed a 100% success. 

I made it 36 hours without yelling or losing my cool. It's a start. 

Today I will do better. 

Here I Sit, Making A Vow

Here I sit on the kitchen floor, among the spilled cocoa puffs, holding a crying three year old because I have, once again, lost my cool. Not entirely over the spilled cocoa puffs, but it was the last straw.

Both my children have such tender hearts, one harsh word sends them into a cascade of tears...and it breaks my heart every time. Yet the harsh words still flow out of my mouth before I can cram them into nonexistence.

I hate the part of me that allows that to happen.

My children are so very forgiving. I suppose God made children that way. Still the same, it doesn't make it okay to speak to children, or anyone for that matter, in a harsh or 'ugly' tone.

So here I sit, making a vow to always speak to my children in a loving, gentle tone, unless their very lives depend upon me yelling or speaking loudly.

Now note, that this does NOT mean that my children will be undisciplined.

I'm a prideful person. It takes a lot for me to ask for help. Usually help is right there for me to grab at, but while struggling with other things that are currently in my life, I know I need it more than before.

As my readers, will you help me with this? 

Remind me. 

Let me have a break. 

Speak encouraging words to me. 

I'm a little hesitant to admit being harsh with my kids. It is another one of those things that isn't talked about because parents are afraid to let other people see that they aren't 'perfect' parents. Stupid, really. 

I really wish we lived in a society where 'village parenting' was more active. I'm thankful for the people around me that don't mind 'parenting' our kids when we're not around...or even when we are around. Sometimes, I get cranky with these people because it feels like they feel the need to step in because I'm not doing my job.

I know this isn't true. They're just trying to be helpful.

I haven't had any uninterrupted mommy time in over 2 weeks. It's due. Way past due. Not that I'm making excuses. Anger and frustration should never be taken out on others, although that is what almost always happens in our society. 

If we lived in little villages where moms were around each other near constantly with their children while their husbands were at work, the stress levels in homes would be so much lower. I'm pretty sure it would be anyway. 

Back to my point; I intend to have a relationship with my children where they don't feel criticized. Where they feel loved regardless of mistakes, messes or otherwise. And I am certain that the best way to do this is to show them the respect of kind words, even during discipline and correction.

Children learn best through example, right?

The Spit-Up Chronicles

I fed the babe, this morning, after getting ready for my day because she slept in a bit. A regular occurrence, but still lovely. After eating like she thought she was dying of starvation, she puked all over me. And not just a little bit. It was all over my shoulder, my arm, and filled my lap. Also, a regular occurrence...but it usually happens before I'm all dressed and ready for my day, so I don't mind changing, but as I mentioned previously, I was already dressed.

So I wiped up what I could, and then found myself spraying pet odor destroyer on my now sour smelling pretty blue shirt and capri yoga pants, the perfect staying at home summer outfit, because I didn't want to change. It did help some...but it still smells kinda icky. I guess I'll just spray more on.

Then after I got that ordeal cleaned up, I set the babe on my hip facing out...she hurled some more as I turned around. I heard it hit the floor, but I still haven't found it. It just disappeared. I'm sure I'll find it somewhere after it's already dried and crunchy.

On a more regular basis than I'm comfortable with discussing, when the babe burps, the dogs come running because they KNOW that it will take me a couple seconds to reach the spit up that inevitably lands on the floor...so they get the clean up privileges. Nasty, I know. I just gagged writing about it.

Then you have the spit up that seeps into the chubby baby's neck rolls, and the only reason you find it (hours later) is because it smells so horrific.

How can a baby so adorable smell so terrible?

So gross. The worst is knowing your baby threw up, a lot, and not being able to find it...then finding it later, when you're out and about, of course, stuck to the back of your shirt. Why? No really...WHY???

I'm thoroughly convinced that babies are cute and all that because if they weren't, human population would pretty much just die off.

Babies are gross pooping, puking, peeing messes. But they're so freaking cute nobody cares too much. Well that's a lie. Some people care a whole lot...but not me.

I'm almost embarrassed to say that I live for this. The cute, puking, adorable, pooping, peeing, heart melting mess of babies. Almost embarrassed, but not quite.

Messes are Opportunities...

Messes are opportunities for creative expression, for delight and discovery, and for pleasure and celebration. Messes are real. They are how we live. And they can be beautiful.

- Amy George Rush -

This quote fits motherhood so very well. Most days, I walk around in a trance wondering how my house got so messy. Or how the floor is so freaking dirty even though I mopped it 6 minutes ago. Or why there is SO much laundry to fold. 

Then I see how dirty the door handle on the fridge is, and that my child has cut her own hair...and barbies hair, too. I discover water all over the bathroom floor because the boy was filling up water balloons. I look around and see the toys, the dirty cereal bowls, a spit up stain on the floor, coffee spilled in the kitchen, coloring pages all over the kitchen table. 

There is a shark in the kitchen. Barbie is in the toy oven. There's a penguin in the couch cushions. I found a toy car in my coffee. There is marker all over the toddler. Someone sprayed the new TV with a quirt bottle and ruined it.

So on and so forth.

I remember the very first time my Daddy came to see our house when we first moved in, right before Isaiah was born. There was stuff everywhere. It was a disaster. The bed wasn't made, the dishes were not done, there was laundry everywhere, and I needed to vacuum. I apologized for the mess and he says "It's not messy...it's just lived in."

Yes...very very very lived in. 

Without these tiny humans, these beautiful children of mine...none of this would be possible. 

The humor (because if you don't laugh, you will indeed cry) that surrounds my every day life is so overwhelming. So I smile (most of the time...sometimes I cry instead) and ask myself questions like "Why is barbie in the oven...bald? It's like toy story all over again." There are no answers except that these tiny humans are learning to be people. They are growing and changing every day. So very quickly that it takes my breath away if I think about it too much. 

And that, my dear friends, the growing up of children, is so very messy. And therefore; one of the most beautiful happenings of all. 

Now, lets see if I can remember this while scrubbing the poop stains out of the carpet...

I Never Thought...

(You'll probably think this is gross so don't say I didn't warn you)



...I could do it, but I did. I encapsulated my placenta. I took 2 capsules twice a day for 3 weeks, then 2 capsules once a day for 3 weeks. I have a few left. I take a couple whenever I'm feeling particularly moody and emotional.

They're a HUGE help. It might be that whole 'you believed it was going to work, so it did' thing. But I don't really care. ; )

After Jayme was born, postpartum bleeding lasted for over 2 months. To be honest, I never thought it would stop. Horrible. I wanted to die....or at least just sleep until it was all over.

This time around, I wasn't going to 'suffer' for 2 months. No way!!

So, I did something society sees as disgusting and borderline cannibalistic. I consumed my own placenta. And it was totally worth it.

Postpartum bleeding only lasted 3 weeks. I was much much less emotionally unstable than with the other two. My moods were more stable. So on and so forth.

I cleaned it, took the sac off, cubed it, and dehydrated it for 12 hours. I then ground it up in a food processor and used an encapsulation machine I found for cheap. I kinda of felt like a drug pusher while I was filling the capsules with placenta powder. Odd. Anyway, I put the finished capsules in a jar and labeled it Happy Mama Pills. And that's exactly what they are. Happy pills.

Do your research before you freak out. Humans, besides whales, are the ONLY mammal that doesn't consume their placenta. Maybe it's because animals are well...animals, or maybe its because animals are smarter than humans. I don't really know. Regardless, I would recommend this to just about anyone.

P.S. If you're really curious, I took pictures. I'm totally fascinated by it...a little grossed out, but mostly fascinated. I'm pretty sure the general public has no desire to see it but, if you want to see the weirdness that is my placenta, I'll totally share pictures.