Good yummy

It's been a few weeks -- I've lost count, not wanting to count -- since you nursed. You held on for a long time, my boy. You wanted that comfort only mama can give you as you fell asleep -- the holding, the contact and the precious food that was too good to be called simply "milk," so it had to be called "yummy." Good yummy. Our own special term.

But it was time. Even as you nursed, you thrashed, you bit, you slapped. I think that meant even you knew you were done nursing, even if you didn't want to totally give it up. My breasts already tender from carrying your soon-to-be sibling, it was your biting that made the decision for me: no more good yummy.

I thought you were going to wean much sooner. Many people probably assumed you were already weaned. But you held on.

And when you asked for your yummy at night and naptime, I had to turn you away -- tearfully at first, then with logic you probably don't possess and then with gentle cajoling. Eventually, you just stopped asking. Now, you haven't asked in weeks.

You are weaned.

I know you must understand by now that I am so much more to you than just my breasts. Tomorrow, you will turn two and a half, and you really don't need them anymore. They might have needed you, but they're now looking forward to nourishing a new life soon.

And even though you don't have mama's good yummy anymore, I wish you all the good yummy that your life will bring you -- whatever in life sustains you, comforts you and fills you up.

It's a girlfriend getaway -- break out the Silly String

Mind clouded and fuse shortened from lack of sleep, and feeling like a martyr for changing my diet so my breast milk wouldn't make Fly sick, last year I declared that when Fly was weaned, I was going away to a hotel room by myself to sleep and to eat whatever I wanted -- mainly a forbidden chocolate peanut butter sundae and a real-milk mocha venti. With whip.

Then it was just a dream. A far-off, unobtainable goal.

But.

Now Fly is nearly weaned.

And tonight, I am leaving for a weekend retreat. I know that sounds like I am going to be in a cabin in the woods singing Kum Ba Yah, but really I'm going to a resort on the beach a couple towns away where it's just a bunch of women hanging out by the pool and having a fun pajama contest -- like a large girlfriend getaway. And I am going to sleep all I want, and I am going to not dress for practicality, and I am going to eat whatever I feel like (mostly because I won't have to cook), and I might even jump on the bed a little and squirt someone with my secret stash of Silly String.*

And I'm going to miss Fly and JP a whole lot.

I didn't know if I could leave Fly knowing he wouldn't be able to nurse to sleep -- but he doesn't really need to nurse (I don't think he's getting any milk anyway), and I know he will be fine with JP. It will give JP and Fly the chance to spend a lot of dad/son time together. And I won't be far away if something awful happens, which it won't.

It's my first time being away from my little one, though. And I just have mixed emotions about that. I don't know if that can be cured with a chocolate peanut butter sundae and Silly String. But I will find out.

*I know you're wondering why I don't act my age sometimes, and I wonder the same thing too.

Weaning myself

My baby is slipping away.

Oh, I know in my head Fly isn't a baby anymore. He hasn't been a baby for months, really. Babies don't run, jump, dance. Babies don't climb up and go down the playground slide all by themselves. Babies don't spontaneously give hugs, and they don't try to sing the ABC song. I know that.

But in my heart, Fly has still been a baby to me.

I still call him a baby.

And I still nurse him like a baby.

Or, I did. I feel him pulling away from me, though. Since November, Fly has nursed just to go to sleep. But lately, he doesn't nurse as long as he used to. Sometimes, he doesn't nurse at all. And most of the time, he doesn't fall asleep nursing, so I put him in his crib when he's done so he can fall asleep on his own.

I know in my head it's for the best. But my heart hasn't caught up yet.

I have been keeping a secret. I believe my milk has been gone for a while now, so I have nursed him just for comfort -- a habit that helped him drift off peacefully to sleep. Fly seems to be outgrowing that, though.

Fly is weaning himself.

And I have to wean myself from this last little thing that is keeping him a baby in my heart.

Morning surprise

In the midst of parenting you -- a high-need, active child with the energy and will of two toddlers -- there are some quiet times with you that I cherish and drink in, wanting the moment to stretch out all day while we enjoy the time with each other.

You gave me a moment like that this morning. It rained all night -- thundered, actually -- yet you slept for 11 hours straight. When you finally woke up, I was there, and you jumped up and down, exuberant to see me. You pointed to the window, and I raised the blind and opened the shutters to let the dim, misty light into your room.

Then you surprised me. You buried your face in the velvet-slippered Boppy, the soft light not too faint to make your pale curls shimmer. You patted the rocking chair with your slender fingers -- your signals to nurse. Even though months have gone by since you nursed in the morning, I couldn’t deny some sweet time spent with you. Content to lie in my lap on the Boppy to nurse and look up into my eyes, I smiled and sang our secret songs. With my hand resting lightly on your chest, I imagined your heart beneath it, beating so closely to my own heart. Then you reached up to rest your hand there. I stroked your gossamer hair. Then you brushed a few of my strands away from my face.

Moments like this are what mothers imagine, hope for and dream of, I thought in this quiet dew-lit morning. And I knew I had never loved you more.

- - - - -

This post is a cheap imitation of the real thing, written by Amanda at Tumble Dry. If you want to read the real thing, go here. And if you want to write a post in the style of another blogger, please do -- and share!

You asked for it, you got it

After my Breast Fest post last week, some of you blog mamas suggested you'd love a "I love the smell of breast milk in the morning" T-shirt.

Well, guess what?



It's a reality.

Click on over to the Growing A Life Cafe Press shop for a bib, onesie, T-shirt or mug with the "I love the smell of breast milk in the morning" line. What do you think? Is it ugly? Too plain? Would you like a picture? Feel free to leave anonymous comments.

All profits are going to help breasts everywhere (lactating and non-lactating) in the Susan G. Komen for the Cure organization.

Breast Fest

Today is the Great Virtual Breast Fest sponsored by the League of Maternal Justice. The LMJ wanted moms to nurse live on their blogs, but I'm just not that techno. In lieu of that, I have some nerdy attempts at humor entertainment planned.

People who think babies shouldn't breastfeed in public or that breastfeeding photos are obscene don't know who they're dealing with. Babies can be a very demanding population. Why, just yesterday, Fly led this demonstration:



This stuff is like caffeine for babies.



Fly has even been known to declare:



I bow down to the Queen of PhotoShop. But I just couldn't resist a little fun.

Curses! Foiled again!

This past week, I missed an important conference I should have been at. It's related to my book. But without support from JP (more on that later), I knew going to the conference would be tough.

First, it's a five-hour drive (without a child who hates sitting still strapped to a seat in the back of a car). I'm not a good flyer, and anyway, there isn't an airport nearby, if you can believe it.

Then, it's a question of what JP and Fly would do in the relatively small town while I was in the conference. I couldn't leave Fly home because he's not weaned yet, and JP didn't want me to take Fly and leave him alone.

So when the conference sign-ups were going on, I wasn't sure if I would have Fly weaned by this time yet (he's not, but we're down to a few times a day). And the last time I did a book-related thing, I ended up nursing Fly in the car in the parking lot because it took place at a community college where there wasn't any place to nurse him. (They opened only one little section of the college on the weekend.)

It was a little heartbreaking, but the easiest thing to do was just not go.

Well, I just got the news that a longtime associate of mine was elected president of the writer group putting on the conference. So I sent him an e-mail to congratulate him. I told him I wished I had been able to go, but I'm nursing and blah blah blah . . . .

And Mr. President responded, "Well, Myrtle Q. Snookenfouz came two years ago and nursed her baby through the whole week of the conference."

At this point, do I:

A. Reach through the computer and slap the man
B. Calmly tell myself he's a man and doesn't understand
C. Kick myself all over again for my clumsy breastfeeding style
D. Kick myself for not having weaned Fly already
E. ???

And don't you just bet that Myrtle Q. Snookenfouz had a young, easy baby who slept a lot, and not a high-need toddler like Fly....

Don't read this post if you don't want to see a breast

If my stepmother, Anne, knew I was doing this ... wait ... if any of the women in my family (except my sister) knew I was posting a photo of myself on the INTERNET! with my breast even partially exposed, well, have mercy on me.

But it's for a good cause.





In my state, I have the right to breastfeed my baby in public even if I might happen to expose a little flesh while making sure Fly is fed. All states have laws that allow a woman to nurse her baby in public, but the details vary. So why should it be any different to post online a sweet photo of baby nestled up to his mother? You see more flesh at the beach or even the gym -- and those people are advertising, not trying to feed a baby.

There's a huge online uproar now against Facebook for taking down photos showing women nursing their babies. And the uproar people are advocating deleting your Facebook account and telling Facebook exactly why. Well, I didn't have a Facebook account to delete. So I signed up. And then I deactivated my account, just for the pleasure of telling Facebook how backward they look. I'm not even going to link to Facebook in the post.

Learning to breastfeed Fly was really, really hard for me. Fly is a year old now, and I still nurse him (although I'm trying to wean him, and we're down to about three times a day). I have told people that I rank breastfeeding with getting my college degree in terms of how hard I had to work at it.

So you think I'm not going to celebrate a major accomplishment like that?! People take photos to celebrate milestones and to capture memories. Then they share their photos with one another, frame them, spend megabucks on srapbooking supplies to preserve them. Something as important as breastfeeding shouldn't be left out of that.

And that's why I'm sharing my photo.

So not a comedian

Hey, I just thought up a new joke while nursing Fly to sleep!

Fly came over, had a double and passed out!

Har!

Groan....

Momivore

Love bites

How to know you've gone too long without nursing your baby....

(That's my shoulder, btw.)

In which my bust goes bust

I could be returning from a nice lunch at Olive Garden with a group of cool moms from the Baby And Me class that Flybaby and I go to every Wednesday morning (naptime permitting). But instead, here I sit at my computer with a bowl of couscous and chickpeas while Fly sleeps.

Let me back up a bit. Baby And Me gives me Flybaby the chance to get used to being around other people. We sing songs and learn baby sign language and talk about our babies' development, sharing tips and ideas. Fly also gets to play with toys he doesn't have at home, like the ball pit:



It's fun, and yet it's a little bit like high school*. I feel like I have to make myself and Flybaby look presentable. And there's a group of "cool moms." They're not stuck on themselves. They are friendly with everyone, so they aren't exclusive. But you can just tell there's a trace of a little clique there.

So when the cool moms asked if I'd like to go to lunch after the class, I was like, heck yeah! Except, the cool moms asked me this as I was leaving, early, with a very unhappy Fly wriggling in my arms.

No problem. I'd whisk home, nurse him and zip right on over to Olive Garden, getting there about the same time the other moms probably would.

Except Fly wanted to nurse an exceptionally long time. And he eventually fell asleep. And it was noon already. I didn't know whether to go to the restaurant (and be late) with my sleeping baby, or just let him sleep peacefully at home, and miss out.

This isn't the first time I feel I've missed out on something because Flybaby needed to nurse. I have shared too many times to point to about how clumsy I am at nursing, and how I almost quit, many times, because I was so bad at it. Now, breastfeeding is great, but I still feel awkward, especially in public. Not because I'm afraid of people's stares, but because I just can't get myself and Flybaby comfortable without at least a couple of pillows for support. Fly is a big baby, and yet too young/small to support himself. (He also gets distracted easily while nursing, so it might not even be possible to feed him at a table surrounded by other women and babies!)

And so, I am the dweeb of dweebs, the geek of geeks, the nimrod of nimrods. (Sorry, Oh, the Joys, but I think I just might be more of a dork than you.) I cannot be a cool mom. Which means Flybaby will likely not be a cool kid.

*Yes. That means completely unlike high school, my boobs are my downfall.

This post brought to you from my amygdala. I had a brilliant post to write, but my cerebrum ate it....

All I need is the air that I breathe and to love you (and maybe not even the air?)

No dairy. No citrus. No corn. No wheat. No nuts, soy, chocolate, caffeine and take your pick of gassy vegetables.

I am going to try to stop eating, basically, for a few days to see if Flybaby will stop spitting up my breastmilk. Right after Fly was born, my pediatrician told me not to change my diet, so I haven't. Until now. Because I just have to do something. The spitting up is getting out of hand. (Oh, and have you ever heard of giving a baby iced tea to settle his stomach? That's the latest bit of advice from a friend. Hmm.)

Are there other things I should give up? Air, maybe?