a domestic housewife = perfection.

You might think that you'd have MORE time when you're not working.  The exact opposite is true for me.  Remember that "toddler" I was talking about?  Well, she's become a wrecking ball.  That's what Seth nicknamed her the other night.  She's everywhere and into everything.  I'm actually quite pleased that we have a small house during this time of her life.  While in some ways it might be nice to have a little more room for her to run herself tired, it's nice having a small area to keep her in.  It means LESS mess to clean up.  I'm really enjoying being home with her though.  My life has been overtaken by purely domestic duties and I am happy with it.  Okay, so I still don't love to cook, but at least I now have time to do it and we are eating before 7-7:30 each (read most) nights.  Maybe it won't last and maybe I'll get bored (I don't foresee it but you never know) but for right now, it's perfect.   

growing up.

This morning while drinking my semi-cold cup of coffee and "facebooking", I watched Delia occupy herself with one of those learn to walk push toys.  She got it for Christmas from Nana and Pop Pop (my parents) and while she's played with it here and there, she's never spent this much time with it until today.  She talked and laughed to herself, pushed it around into the couch and wall and figured out how to back up or turn it in the direction she wanted it to go.  It's then that I realized how big she really has gotten.  She's definitely out of newborn and infant stage.  She's a toddler now.  She's walking and exploring things on her own.  She's getting into my kitchen cabinets, trying to climb up stairs and destroying every room she's in.  She laughs at the dog.  She tries to immitate some of the sounds and words that I say.  She kisses me goodnight.  She's far from the tiny little 7 lb baby I brought home from the hospital.  She will always be my baby though.  It's now that I understand why parents hold on to their children as tight as they can.  I know it's a ways off, but how will I ever let go?   

first week home - halfway over.

We are on day 3 of of our first week of "stay at home mom" status.  My life previous to this week was exhausting and I have to admit, not much has changed.  I find things to be just as exhausting, except in a different way.  Delia decided to christen our new schedule (which we are still trying to work out) by several hours of awake time on Sunday night.  I knew something was wrong with her but I didn't know what.  No fever, no vomiting, nothing.  We snuggled on the glider and then on the couch together, she played for about 20 minutes and then she fell back to sleep.  Monday morning she was whiny.  That paired with her coughing and a constant runny nose prompted me to take her to the doctor, just to make sure.  Turns out she has a slight case of bronchiolitis and a right ear infection.  BIG sigh.  I guess those tubes won't keep infections at bay.  Sickness means ear drops and antibiotics.  Antibiotics means diarrhea and that means bad diaper rash and disposable diapers.  I know it's necessary, but I hate when she's on antibiotics.  I hope that they clear things up quickly and we get back to regular life soon.

In all the craziness that was Monday, I completely forgot that I was supposed to make a meal to a friend who recently had a baby.  I feel SO awful about it.  In my mind, I kept thinking Wednesday and obviously I was wrong.  Fortunately, she was very understanding and I will be taking a meal to her today instead (ha, Wednesday).

I managed to fit in a 30 day shred yesterday!  I have not worked out in a long time so I know the pain that accompanies a new exercise routine will hit me soon.  I felt a few small twinges this morning but it usually takes a good 2-3 days for the full body pain to settle in.  From past experience, I just need to get through and the good stuff will follow. 

The fact that my job ended still doesn't feel final.  It doesn't seem like I won't be going back after a week of vacation or something.  I'm thrilled that I'm not, but it's a strange feeling.  I'm not focusing on it, but I thought it was worth a mention.  I'm so happy to be home with my daughter.  I love not having to rush around in the morning, squeeze in dr appointments before work and be overwhelmed by having dinner on the table every night (to name a few).  This is a very different life but one I am welcoming with open arms.  

why i breastfed my daughter.

Recently, for whatever reason, I've seen and heard a fair amount of negative reactions to breastfeeding and doing so in public.  I know it's a controversial topic so I don't plan on getting into that aspect, but it's caused me to reflect on my experience and so I decided to share a little bit of it with you.

To say that I chose to breastfeed Delia (and any future children) is not entirely true.  To "choose" implies that I carefully calculated my options and decided that breast milk was the best kind of food for my baby.  The latter part is true, but the action of feeding her this way is not something I chose, but rather just did.  I never considered another option.  When my OB office asked me at my first prenatal visit whether I planned to breastfeed, I was prepared with a quick "yes".  I grew up surrounded by women who fed their children in this completely natural and intended way.  My mom nursed 11 babies and I also witnessed several aunts and family friends nurse their babies as well.  It was always assumed that I would do the same.  I'm thankful to say that Delia and I didn't have many issues creating this relationship.  She was a trooper from the start, ate well and gained weight which means my body was producing enough.  There's something to be said for being the sole source of nutrition for your baby.  It's something to be proud of.  Now here's where my brutal honesty comes in.  I did not immediately feel that bond that I kept hearing about.  Breastfeeding wasn't quite exactly what I thought it would be.  Early on, I found myself frustrated and not believing that I could make it to 6 months (my true goal) or even 4 months.  It only got harder when I went back to work and had to pump 2-3 (sometimes 3-4)  times a day.  I can't begin to explain the emotional and physical exhaustion that comes with meeting that need for your baby.  I was on call 24/7.  I was the one to do the night feedings because really, is it worth it to have my husband give a bottle of pumped milk when I still had to get up and pump?  After 9 months of carrying my baby inside me, I dreamt of having my body back to myself.  That doesn't happen while breastfeeding.  Your body still belongs to your baby.  I couldn't wear all the same clothes that I could wear normally.  I was always thinking about what people I would be around and how easily it would be to nurse in a specific location.  I'm sure a part of that was first time mom uncertainties and I hope that with my next baby, I will feel more at ease.  Not to mention having to lug a pump around with you everywhere.  I remember sitting in the back of our car in a sketchy philadelphia parking lot outside an Eddie Vedder concert.  It definitely wasn't fun, but it was necessary.  At one point I happened upon an article online that made me rethink my attitude.  It wasn't about me.  It was about her.  Her needs and health.  It put everything in perspective for me and gave me that extra push to get through to 6 months.  I'm sad to say that I started to have some supply issues despite my attempts to keep things going.  I even ate oatmeal every day and took fenugreek.  I finally hit a breaking point with stress and I knew I had to switch her to formula.  That's when those crazy emotional ties that I didn't think I had to breastfeeding came to light.  My husband and a few friends will tell you that I was a wreck inside.  It took me a good two weeks to accept what was happening and allow the weaning process to take place.  The first day that Delia had a bottle of formula, she didn't even bat an eye.  Fortunately, I didn't have to be there to witness it but all these fears I had created somewhere in my mind where null and void.  She was adaptable from birth, I knew this, and she was fine.  In a matter of a couple more weeks, I was fine too.  Although looking back, I wish I could have gone longer, I have no regrets.  I walked away from this experience with an idea of what to do next time around if I have to be working full time again.  My wish is that I won't have to do that but I know it's a very real possibility.  In any case, I know that I will breastfeed my next child regardless of how long it lasts.