This week has been all about the uncharted territory of childcare for Ingrid. First, we had our introductory visit with the sitter. Ingrid did marvelously, the sitter is a total pro, beyond pro, and I know her and trust her, so we’ve set up a regular gig for my class days, where the sitter comes early so I can go to school and work on school stuff. She’s also going to do some other times, as needed, but I’m really glad to have a sitter for when I need it. 

In addition to that, I also investigated daycare centers that offer infant care, and for the most part, that was depressing as shit.  Several religiously affiliated places that I refuse to support (one, a chain owned by a guy famous for his homophobic politics, so, um, HELL NO), a whole bunch of in-home places that scare me on PAPER (Like Grammy’s Day Care, which boasts a 1:12 ratio, and yes, that’s legal, and no, Ingrid will not be one of 12 fending for herself while Grammy takes a pee) and only one new lead, owned by the parents of a student I had in school, and so I know them, and they are great.  I called there, and there was an opening in October, but then probably not til spring, so I got on their list anyway. October isn’t right for me, not for full time.

In addition to that, I called the in-town center that I’ve been listed at since I was 7w pregnant. They are affiliated with the hospital, so maintain TWO lists, one for hospital employees (who get dibs) and one for the public, which is me. the director sort of laughed when she saw the date I was listed, vs Ingrid’s birthdate, and even THEN, when I said ‘maybe january?" for when I need it, it’s still a huge list.  I did say I would take part-time (the other place doesn’t offer it) just to get my foot in the door. If that happened, I would hope it was day-by-day part-time (often, it’s like a nurse who only works Monday & Tuesday wanting to split the slot with someone who wants W-F) because if THAT was the case, I could sub until full time was an option.  And that wouldn’t be so bad, subbing is good pay for a 6 hour day, and it would be a decent transition to childcare for Ingrid.

But, that’s how fucked up it all is, when you don’t have family or a friend with same-age kids to do that infant-care bit. There is a huge need for infant care, and toddler care, really, that I’d figure out a job around childcare availability instead of the other way around. (And before you ask, Awesome Babysitter is a college student and not able to do full time care.)

Now, if a big bag of money were to fall from the sky, AWESOME, and I don’t have to worry about any of this. But instead, a big bag of money fell into my car, in the form of a fuel tank leak that needed to be repaired, and while we can afford it now, it sort of lit a fire under me to try to find more options, just in case.

(Also, new pics in the August folder…)

I just got to wondering if I’d posted anything on May 19, 2005, since I would’ve been in the middle of my miscarriage right about then, and if I had, if I’d remember that day as clearly as I now remember May 19, 2006. Hoo doggy, do I remember that day.

It was obviously ultrasound day, the place was filled with couples
where the woman was rubbing her big belly and grinning.  And me.

I so totally remember that day. Clear as a bell. And how odd, that, a year later, to the day, I’d be the one that the OB was checking on through the day, fitting me in after work (on that day, she stayed til 5:30 to see me), only this time, to deliver Ingrid. An hour short of a year earlier, I wrote that post. How weird. Or something.

In other news, OMG the gas. The gas isn’t KILLING me, but I am sooo gassy, and poor Ingrid has been gassy and sad all day, and probably from my big yummy full o’ folate and iron and stuff spinach salads I’ve been eating. Poor bug.

We daytripped to MDI today, and found two new free things, which is always good.  One is a path that one of Dave’s clients tipped him off to — it’s just off main street, but there’s no sign, just a small parking area (12cars max, maybe) and a roadcone. Anyway, we turned in there and wandered down to a cliffy area overlooking the water. You could scramble down to a few rocky beaches (and plenty of people had) but in tevas and with Ingrid in the new wrap (yay!) I didn’t feel too confident in doing that.  Either way, it was a great little walk, Ingrid saw the ocean for the first time, and we had fun.  After that, we drove around and ended up at a public beach that we’d never seen before. We’re big fans of Lamoine Beach, which is pretty secluded and away from MDI traffic, but more of a rocky beach than sandy one. The beach in Seal Harbor is broad and sandy, with a really low grade entry to the water, which is crystal clear. We were there at low tide,and the sand went right from the road to the waterline and beyond.  The parking was free, AND there was a bathroom. Score!

Another geeky thing is that our carseat can be tethered rear-facing, unlike many. BUT, you have to find a spot to do that, and I’ve half-assedly looked, but it’s usually when I’m putting Ingrid in the seat, or taking her out, and I’ve never really dug around much. Today, though, I found a great spot to tether, so I did, and now her seat is rock-solid. YAY. Especially since we saw a couple accidents on our way to MDI today, which freaks my shit out ten times more than it ever did. BUT, my arm is all sore from doing the "fuck, she spit out her paci and is crying, so I’m going to try to look in her baby-view mirror to find it, while wearing my seatbelt, but because I’m short, it means the middle of my upper arm is the fulcrum for this often fruitless maneuver." Ugh. I think we might use the paci-leash next time, so at least I could reel it in and not be digging for it. (And, oh yes, we had two in rotation, so when my backup disappeared from reach, too, we pulled over. Sigh.)

But what a cool day! And today Dave carried the camera, so there’s all kinds of pictures of me! Many unflattering, but hey, a nursing tank + wrap + 11weeks postpartum + you know, not a prime physical specimen PREpartum = "eww, my back looks like THAT?"  Oh well. At least the baby’s a beauty!

And on that note, as the fourth trimester starts to wrap up, I have so much more energy and ambition to eat food that involves more than pouring rice milk onto something, or hitting "toast."  this week I put together a salad o’ the week, like I used to, with some edits — baby spinach instead of romaine, no broccoli (sigh. My favorite scrubbing bubbles vegetable!) and avocado. And since I’m eating it at home, I just cut up a vine ripe tomato with each serving, which helps the salad keep. Basically, I filled a large gladware box with baby spinach, chopped up cucumber and orange pepper, and then added a vine ripe tomato and 1/2 an avocado and cubed cheese stick to each serving. DE. LICIOUS. I’ve also been adding frozen berries to my morning cereal, and flax meal as well, if I’m eating oatmeal. I’m thinking I’ll dig out my old Weight Watchers stuff soon, and make a more concerted effort. I am 10 pounds below my pre-preg weight, though, so that’s cool.

Oh, and new pics (most from today, and don’t even get me STARTED on how she sleeps, it freaks me out too) over there on the right, and albums will be updated monthly now that we’re rounding the bend from the fourth tri. Yay!

The other day, in an IM conversation, Jeanne and I were talking about nursing. One of the things that came up was the concept of mama getting "her body back," after pregnancy and nursing, etc. And that comment stuck with me, because for me, nursing IS getting my body back, in so many ways.

For one, I don’t use the word breastfeeding. I don’t like it. It sounds clinical and removed, and I’m sure it’s probably rooted in some political correctness ideal, but we don’t say "hey, check out the giraffe breastfeeding her calf," or "lookie! The panda is breastfeeding!"  For other mammals, we say nursing. Nursing to me, conveys so much more than ‘breastfeeding.’  Nursing conjures up a sentiment, and not just an activity. It more closely matches the feeling of feeding your baby from your own body, the physical act and bond that IS different than using a bottle.

(Okay, disclaimer city, if bottlefeeding is your bag, that’s totally cool, "feed yer baby" is the first rule, so please don’t get upset with me pontificating about how *I* prefer to feed my baby, because I know that I am fortunate to be able to do so.)

So, when Jeanne mentioned the concept of "getting your body back," it was odd for me to think "but, I DO have my body back."  Here’s the thing: nursing DOES give me my body back. My body is totally changed after the experience of pregnancy. My pregnancy wasn’t all wine and roses, as anyone whose read knows, what with the low progesterone, miscarriage history, back spasms, gestational diabetes, leg pain/sciatica, etc — but it was pretty damn cool. I really LIKED it. I really mourned the physical state once it was over, because I knew that I would only ever experience the feeling of my own child moving within me twice, if I’m lucky and things work out. Maybe that was the only time I’d feel it. WHo knows. What I do know, is that I really, really loved how my body morphed in that time. Not the look, because good lord,maternity clothes blow, but the feeling of "THIS is what my body has been made to do."  I’m not an athlete, I’m uncoordinated as all fuck, I had to have SPECIAL GYM when I was a kid, because I wasn’t getting what I was supposed to get out of regular gym.  So, yeah, me and my body have a long history of opposition. I abused it with smoking for ten years, I’ve never been a regular exerciser, and when I quit smoking, I had a struggle with weight. In my last journal, I wrote about wishing I could remove my head from my body, because my head — my head was in good shape. I had a good brain. A good sense of humor. It was my strong point. My body? Get rid of it, because it’s useless, except that it keeps blood flowing to my brain.

Pregnancy changed that. Pregnancy connected my brain to my body (in fact, it sucked a lot of my brain directly into my uterus, I think) in a way that had never, ever happened for me before. Cartwheels? I can’t do. Gestate? BRING. IT. ON.

And when pregnancy ended, with that last push that sent Ingrid into the world, I temporarily lost my body for a minute. It actually morphed into an entirely new entity, one that could still do it’s job of growing a human, but the human was now on the outside. At first, I was flailing like every attempted cartwheel. In the labor room, I panicked at the sudden split of my new body, terrified that with Ingrid on the outside, I was doomed to fail again, to end up in special gym, shrugging and saying "well, at least I’m smart."  It took a few days, my flat nipples slowed us down a bit, but after a few days, we were off running, no restraint, no special gym.

And when I’m nursing Ingrid in the middle of the night, her sleepy body a different one than that of the day-nursings, she stretches against me, puts her hand flat on my breastbone, or wrapped around my thumb, and her legs roll against me, I realize: This is my body now. My body isn’t back.  My body is finally here.

Ingrid giggled yesterday! She’s been laughing, kind of a one note "heh" for a few weeks, but yesterday during our American Bandstand hour, where we dance infront of the mirror with the OTHER family that looks back at us, she totally giggled. Dave and I were both right there, and we couldn’t get it again, but I’m glad that the first giggle was shared by all of us. GIGGLES ROCK.

We also visited MIL (just Ingrid and I, because I NOT EVIL) because we were gone for her birthday, and visiting after Dave gets home from work = fussy hour. She did pretty well; I had to nurse her while I was there, which obviously made my MIL a little uncomfortable (she offered me a towel, heh) and when one of her friends stopped by and asked "what brand of milk is she on?"and I said "Oh, I’m nursing!" as though her question was totally ludicrous (a little passive aggressive lactivism, you know) she got a little weird, too. I have a whole post i want to do on nursing, but I’m getting more and more lactivicious as time goes on. We nursed at the conservation award thing! And screw discretion, when you’re dealing with boobs like mine, there is no discretion if no one is there to hold the baby while I undo and redo my bra. Boobie everywhere! But, it was a tentful of conservationists, so they dealt pretty well.

Anyway, Ingrid fussed on and off, but did give MIL a few good grins, and then she started really cranking because she was tired, so I said as much and scopped her up to leave. She cranked down the hall, and when we got in the elevator and the doors closed, she looked up at me, spit her paci out, and grinned at me. I felt like we’d conspired to escape Alcatraz, and just laughed the whole way down. MIL gave me Dave’s baby book, which was kept by his then 15-ish year old sister, and then by him, which is so sad, to see his little crazy kid handwriting under "2nd birthday presents" scrawling "I GoT a BORTHDAY CAkE" or whatever. Poor guy. But, his sister loved the record keeping, and we know that Dave was an early teether (4 months!) and an early walker (9.5 months!) and i’m sure just as soon as Ingrid pops a tooth (teething ages can be genetic, so we might be in for early-ish teeth here) my MIL will be horrified that I continue to nurse. Next thing you know, Ingrid will be asking for it! (Which reminds me, I need to get some Baby Sign stuff…)

Today I got annoyed when my new diapers and a wrap I’d purchased had STILL not arrived, after being ordered almost two weeks ago and shipped priority. I emailed the seller of the wrap (it was a FSOT purchase) just to say "hey, I know it’s not your fault, but do you have any dates I can use when i call the PO?" and not only did she have dates, she had a TRACKING NUMBER which showed that the mailman had tried to deliver last week, and he left a note to reschedule delivery. WTF? I called the PO, and sure enough, 2 packages have been on the shelf for a week or so, and they’ll be coming today, but neither required a signature! And I’ve NEVER had to schedule a delivery (since then, 2 other packages have been dropped off at the doorstep with no problems) and I’mhere every day, AND the mailman always SEES me, because I keep the front door open all day and evening, to let fresh air through, and a lot of times, we even say "hello."  The day they tried to deliver was the ONE day I wasn’t here, and the mail was late that day because Istuck around til 3:30 waiting for it, before finally leaving for the lake. It must’ve been a sub delivery person or SOMETHING, but whatever. My stuff comes tomorrow! Yay!

Also, if anyone wants a really nice, not-so-big house in a great neighborhood (mine!) let me know. My next youngest neighbor on the street and her husband are selling their house to move closer to their grandkids. (Yes, she’s the next youngest in age to me. And a grandmother.)  It’s a really sweet house — a mirror image of ours with some edits — new roof/siding/windows, they turned the garage into a den/dining area and have a detached 2car garage instead, the whole place is neat as a pin — and I have no idea what they are asking, but I’m really hoping that a cool younger family moves in. When we bought here, it was with the hope that there would be some turnover while we were here, so that our future kids (now Ingrid! whee!) would have local friends, and now it looks like it’s starting to happen. Of course, there are several houses for sale in our larger neighborhood, that have been for sale for some time, so who knows if it will move quickly. (Really, though, great house! great neighborhood! great city — our taxes are going DOWN here!)

And that is my update of many random things. Yeehaw.

Ingrid recieved a package yesterday, from my dad’s cousin (and well, mine too, but he and my dad are the same age) and his wife, that was an explosion of pink. Pink pink pink. A few things are already too small, the onesie that says "pretty girl" will probably fit, and it IS the thought that counts, I know I know I know, but on top of this box o’ Vagina Wear were three of those skull garters, which I despise. DESPISE. But, I was bored, so I figured I’d snap them all onto Ingrid’s head.  Her reaction was not one of glee.

Then she started throwing gang signs around.

Fight the Power!

And when I took them off, there were dents in her head.

Those things totally suck.

In other news, our trip home went well, and one night Ingrid slept 13 hours straight.It was not repeated, and my tits woke me up long before she did, but holy lord god, THIRTEEN HOURS?!  I think she has dropped to one night feeding since then, though, which is cool — I put her in bed around 8, she nursed around 2:30, and then Dave brought her in to bed at around 5, where she snuggled down and slept til 8.  I am fully aware that these things can change without notice, but it’s been pretty good so far.