I just made an appointment to get Mirena inserted in two weeks.  I had tried toget Mirena several years ago, when I was a student, and the insertion didn’t work out because I was nulliparous, but hot damn, the sounding rod and attempts sucked. I imagine now that I’ll …. parous and stuff, that it will go easier, but can anyone speak to the insertion process as it is postpartum?  I figure I’ll gobble up some advil before I go, but I’ll be fine to like, drive myself there and back, right? (they wanted Dave to drive me when I tried before, but then again, nulliparous…)

Comment or email, if you want.  . .

In other news, I made dinner last night! Like, REAL dinner, and even cleaned the dining room table of All Things Pumping, and ate with placemats.  Granted, my folks were here, so having an extra four hands helped a lot, but it felt really good to do that, almost HUMAN like.

It’s interesting, how I don’t find myself fitting into any one category when it comes toparenting.  I mean, I do a little of everything, and as such, don’t really fit into any one cubby, I think.  I’m too crunchy for ‘mainstream’ folks, and I’m too mainstream for crunchy folks. It’s odd.

I’ll break it down:

We are cosleeping– for now.  it works for us right now, and there are plenty of benefits, but some drawbacks too, and not just the well-meaning comments from people who need to ask "WHERE is the baby sleeping?" (Because really, as long as the answer isn’t "At YOUR HOUSE" wtf does it matter? That’s just looking to make a judgment in one direction or another…) The bassinet has never been a place for Ingrid to hang out in, for longer than it takes for me to pee, but she WILL chill in her crib for a while. I don’t know if it’s because the bassinet has closed sides, or feels more confining, or what, but she doesn’t take to it at all.  This week, I’ve been putting her in her crib while I shower, after spending the first several weeks using the bouncy seat on the bathroom floor for that purpose.  She has her tinylove mobile, which she likes, now that she can see it, and she is usually content while Ishower, and if she ISN’T, I can hear her letting me know that over the sound of the mobile and the shower. It’s a small house.  And when that happens, I’m okay with letting her cry for a bit, while I finish my shower or whatever, and maybe that’s CIO, but I don’t think so, since she never cries unattended for more than 5 minutes, I’d wager.

But while I do like having her with me, I also miss being able to sleep in any position other than on my left side.  We have been getting pretty good at side-lying nursing, which makes her night wakeup easier, but I also miss snuggling up to Dave in the mornings, which isn’t a real possibility in our bed, because Ingrid is in the middle, and our bed is really high off the ground (more than regular height) and I don’t want her on the outside.  The size ofour bed is another reason I’d like to transition her to the crib, in some fashion, eventually. Which is very noncommittal, eh?  But that’s how I am with this whole thing, I said it before, and I’llsay it again, I’m going on instinct. Not any specific brand of parenting, but just "this feels right, now" parenting.

ANother hybrid-mama thing is that I love babywearing, but oh my god, I also love our stroller. Can you imagine!  I wear her exclusively when we go out to stores or anything, but we use the stroller for neighborhood walks, because it gets muggy in Maine, dontcha know.  (I did wear her ONCE on an unusually cool day several weeks ago…)  The stroller has never been in the car, the carseat has rarely been out of the car (I popped out the baby bucket 3 times so far — the first was thedisastrous first trip out, when I realized i was a slingmama at heart, the second was when i went to Andy’s mom’s to swim, and really, only because it has a sunshade on it, and we’d be outside, and the last was yesterday, when I took her to my 6w postpartum checkup, and needed a place to hold her while I was in the stirrups.) and in all of those cases, if I DIDN’Thave a baby bucket seat, I could’ve used the stroller. In hindsight, Iwould’ve skipped the bucket and gone straight tothe Decathlon, which I sat her in this morning(it’s in her room) and so so so wish I couldput it in my car RIGHT NOW, but I don’t want to hurt Dave’s feelings, since he spent SO much time getting the bucket installed.

And as much as I dig slings, I do adore the swing & bouncy seat, as well. It’s a safe place to put her while I do dishes or go to thebathroom, or whatever, and she seems to dig those tools as well. SHe likes the fishie mobile, she likes the buzzy bouncy seat, so, it works for us.  I don’t think she’s going to be a lesser person because she’s been put in either.

We cloth diaper, but at about 80% of the time. She sleeps in disposables, and I keep dispos in my diaper bag, and often if we’re going out for a while, I’ll put her in a dispo. We use the White Cloud dispos, which are cheap and hypoallergenic, but require a trip to WalMart. Whatever, it works for us, you know?  (I still hate WM, but I can’t afford 7th Gen paper diapers, and also, I just made a wrapfrom cheapass WM fabric, so I can still hang on to my principles. Ha! 😀 )

The one thing I don’t REALLY budge on is breastfeeding, as that is, and has been, my number one priority going into this. Of course, I pump and Dave gives hera bottle every few days, because she needs to be able to take a bottle when I’mworking, which brings me to my NEXT "I don’t fit anywhere" thing, in that I have a JOB INTERVIEW in two days. But it’s not a job related to my, you know, ADVANCED DEGREE, so I’m letting down the mainstreamers there by applying for work I’m overqualified to do, but means no outside childcare needs/expense — and I let down the crunchies by applying for work at all.

In the end though, it sort of speaks to one of the qualities I hope Ingrid gets, which is to be flexible. If I hadn’t been flexible going into pregnancy and birth, I would probably be super disappointed right now.  Flexibility is a great thing — I think it’s great that Ingrid likes the sling AND the stroller. I think it’s great that she can nurse from Mama and take a bottle from Daddy. I think it’s great that she can see that education in itself is valuable, and it doesn’t need an immediate financial payout. You know?

So, for now, we’re good. And flexible. And if you ask Ingrid right now, HUNGRY.

Any recs for a decent nursing bra for someone with biiiig boobs? (40 DD/aka E )  Right now I have 3 Target nursing tanks, which are meh, because they tend to roll up at the bottom, and a regular bra from Motherhood, that ends up doing something weird to my boobs, where half of it breaks out between the ‘frame’ part, and the ‘flap’ part, so that I have like, double cleavage. Not Cool.

If only TypePad had an auto-save feature, because it NEVER FUCKING FAILS to lose my longest posts. And I never fail to save-as-draft at that point. Argh argh argh.

ANYWAY.

Basically, I was writing about what works and doesn’t work for us at this point.

Works: OMG, the sling. We each have a KKAFP, and I’ve used mine a ton, and Dave used his in a moment of crisis the other night when I wasn’t here and Ingrid needed serious snuggling to calm down. I was surprised he remembered where it was, but when I got home, she was calm and sleepy, and Dave was, well, hot, because fleece is fucking HOT in summer. And of course, my love of the sling but hate of the hot means that I now have a custom sling on it’s way, made by a WAHM starting a sling business. Of course, that doesn’t keep me from ALSO lusting after a Slingset, because the custom is a non-stretch pouch, and the slingset allows for some cool wrap-like configuring, without the 15 feet of fabric.  Clearly, I have a problem. Anyway, I love the sling.  I’ve gotten some pretty good comments on it, when out and about, but I had my first mama-bear moment in TRU wearing it yesterday, when two women walked by and after they passed, one said "that’s not healthy."  My initial reaction was to tear her a new asshole and ask her just where she got her medical degree to determine what was healthy, and then maybe school her a bit in the correlation between lots of time in the baby bucket and plagiocephaly, but I refrained. After the primal instinct to tell her to fuck right the fuck off passed, I realized that she could have been talking about the fact that Ing had a pacifier in (yep, we’re paci people, who knew? It was that or me making the choice to never, ever wear a shirt again, and I must say, it hasn’t interfered with nursing, not one bit…) or maybe it was about something else entirely, because the world does NOT revolve around The State of Ingrid. Except to ME, of course.  (I still think she was talking about the sling though.)

ALso working, despite really digging my sling, is the stroller — we’ve gone on many walks in the neighborhood (one today even!) and I truly can’t imagine slinging her when it’s hot, and I’m a postpartum furnace, while walking and increasing my body heat, in the heat. Sling is great for cool evenings or stores with airconditioning, but since most people don’t have A/C in their homes (including us) home use is limited. Except in a crisis. (But see, maybe that Slingset would make it easier in hot weather, which is the OTHER allure of it, strechy, but reportedly MUCH cooler than fleece. Know what would really rock, would be a stretchy pouch made of Coolmax. Seriously.)  We like the stroller, and partly because it’s the one piece of baby gear that can be stowed easily in our tiny coat closet.

Ingrid also digs her swing, and this week started tracking the fishies as they spin above her head.  She hangs out inthe swing while we eat, or when I need to put her down to move between floors, or when I do the dishes, both those times. The bouncy seat, less so, but it ends up getting left upstairs more often than not, after it’s primary function as "place for Ing to hang while mama gets a shower and thus preserves her sanity."  She digs it for shower time, staring intently at the Cowgirl Brothel-themed 1972 bathroom vanity. The contrast of the inlaid gold foil on the shiny white laminate is utterly FASCINATING, apparently.  The Boppy gests used quite frequently by Dave, but nursing pillows in general were a flop for me.  The kissaluvs are fabulous (the prefolds are a little trickier, and I’ve USED them, but no poop experience there, and the KLs are just so much EASIER) and the Imse Vimse covers are great, too. And they MUST run huge, the newborn size that AnneMarie convinced me to buy, after saying they run huge, the velcro tabs still MEET, and if it was possible,could probably overlap.  Also digging the liners, we’re using them twice before tossing (once if poopy), and that seems to be okay.  The PackNPlay lives in the dining room, and is baby-central, and 99% of diaper changes happen there. She doesn’t sleep in the bassinet feature or anything, but the bassinet portion is great for stashing dirty laundry! Heh.

What didnt: Nursing pillows… the My Brest Friend was raved about and recommended by anyone who’d used it, but I found it to be a big pain in the ass.  I have a great chair for nursing, and a bed pillow in front of me was suitable for the football hold that we used exclusively at first. Now I don’t use anything at all, and we can use the cradle hold with no problems.

The Snugride. OMG, I hate that thing. The whole ploy of convenience ended up not panning out here, because I can’t open the handle with the SR in the CAR. Well, I CAN, but then can’t get the seat OUT. So, it’s a whole thing of take out carseat, put on ground, extend handle, and then lug awkwardly to destination, and reverse. SO much easier to just take her out of the seat at the car and carry her in the house (granted, we park about 4 steps from our front door) or put her in the sling to go inside. We have a Decathlon (just arrived!) that I’d love to install NOW,but Dave spent somuch time getting the snugride in right, I don’t have the heart to ask him to scrap the baby bucket idea. The only time I can think that it will be handy will be when I have my 6w postpartum appt, because it means I don’t have to sling her during a pap smear. (ALthough, in an OB office, I bet I could find someone to hold her for the moments I physically CAN’T.) 

The things we haven’t used at all yet: the crib & mobile (save for, "OMG, Mama has to pee, you wait here" moments), the monitor (since she’s usually ON us  or within 6 feet at all times), and we’ve only used the glider a few times. I’m glad to have all that, as I’m sure it will get used when she’s a little older (we’re just surviving the 4th trimester here)but for now, not much going on in the babyroom. (As I predicted months ago, I think.)   

But anyway, yeah, and then there’s Ingrid — she turned over from belly to back last night, during a particularly infuriating round of tummy time with Daddy, and today she started to smile at things AND THEN NOT FART. Definitely a different smile than the gas ones, which is fucking adorable. Of course, she is covered in baby acne, from the top of her head to her nipples, basically, and it looks worse when she nurses or cries, but everyone tells me it’s normal.  We love her anyway. If she could do laundry and dishes, life would be perfect.

Holy CRAP, I feel like I’ve managed to get so much done — washed the diaper wraps, emptied the dishwasher, pumped 2 oz and even applied for a JOB today. DAMN, I’m good. (The job is LLBean, seasonal/temp work taking orders at the call center around the corner from my house. I’m hoping it’d be a decent evening P/T mama-job through the fall, while I finish my degree. evening P/T = no extraneous childcare expenses, so, yay. Plus, maybe I could wrangle myself some awesome corporate training gig? One can wish. ANyway.)

So, the feat that places just above "we lose everything we own in bankruptcy/foreclosure because Gretchen doesn’t have a damn job" for Dave is, "we lose everything we own in a fire."  He’s worked so damn hard for every little thing he has, and losing it all in some tragic way is his number one phobia. Yesterday, when I was chatting one-handed with jeanne, and I heard a ‘thump’ in the basement and the power flickered, I got a little nervous about that myself. In fact, I didn’t go to the basement because I couldn’t decide what to do with Ingrid — do I take her and risk the thump being a fire that’s about to take out the stairs (we have no other egress from the basement aside from the kitchen stairs), or do I go alone and risk Ingrid being alone when the stairs collapse? Um, yeah. Mama paranoia, much? So, I left the door open, and kept chatting with jeanne, figuring if it was all about to go bad, at least she’d know what happened right before.

When Dave came home, I was hesitant to tell him about the sound, because if it was just some random neighborhood power bump (did I ever tell you about the time when my mom was here alone, and pushed down the button on the toaster at the exact moment a tractor trailer truck hit a pole down the street, knocking out power to most of the West Side? So she tried to call Dave at work, because she thought she’d blown out the whole house’s power trying to brown some bread? Hee) he would still pace all night, waiting for the worst. I told him anyway, andhe , as predicted, freaked out and started checking everything — inside, outside, upstairs, everywhere. Like, maybe it was a tree branch that fell, or something the cat knocked over, or something. I kept saying (as he passed) "I shouldn’t have said anything, now you’re never going to sleep again, I’m sorry I even mentioned it …" over and over.  On about his 11th pass by, and my 10th apology for needless worrying, he said "NO, you SHOULD have said something."  Apparently, when he opened the door to the hot water heater, he saw this:

Uhh, yeah. A soot-filled box, and melted wires are NOT what the HW timer is SUPPOSED to have. It’s all good, he replaced it today (AND I STILL GOT ALL THAT SHIT DONE!), but, uh, yeah. EEK.

And now, some requisite baby photos. 

Um, the family self-portrait didn’t quite work out. But check out that cleavage!

Poor girl has a spread of baby acne cropping up.

And yes, that’s my nipple. Behold.

The elusive sleep-smile, captured at last. Miss Ingrid loooves the eatin’ round here.

the thing is, even in the most awful hours, when I’m really stressed out or tired or just worried, I never don’t want to be doing this. Our worst night was the night before my last post (COULD YOU TELL?) and even THEN, she woke up and wasn’t exactly grinning, but she was bright eyed and calm and just gazing up at us and OH MY GOD, it’s good. If it were any other baby crying and fighting the breast at 3 am, I’d be all like "How’s about I sell you to the circus, or the Jolie-Pitts or someone" if it weren’t MY kid crying. My kid, I’m just wanting to make it BETTER.

If all I had to do was take care of Ingrid, I would be ALL SET. What ends up sending me to frustration land is trying to do anything ELSE. It took me TWO HOURS to pay four bills last night, in between feeds and changes and "what’s wrong, babybug?" and that was WITH Dave’s assistance. Seriously, to write four checks, get them in their envelopes, with stamps and a return address — TWO HOURS. And, HA! I thought I’d get laundry folded, and no, I didn’t, because the BILLPAYING took so damn long, so there are what, 2? Maybe 3? loads of laundry on the guest bed, waiting to be folded. And thank you notes, those are dangling over myhead as well, and let’s not even MENTION my last papers for school. INSANE.  It will all get done, in due time, right?

Ingrid’s doing well; today is National Spitup Day, apparently, since she’s wrecked three onesies so far, and my shirt, and Kate’s hoodie in the process, so I dug out Ingrid’s First Bib, a cute froggy number from kb (hi, kb!) that her daddy loves because it is frogalicious. And maybe it will salvage onesie number FOUR. She eats and sleeps and poops, and now she spits. It just figures, since I am so ANTI-puke, that my baby is a pukey one. Sigh.

I still love her, though, even when her tiny fists are pounding at my breast in the wee hours of the morning. I’ll be really excited when she makes the connection that the fists pushing me AWAY are her OWN. Seriously.