The New Body

A couple of weeks ago, I put the kids down for their afternoon naps, hopped in the shower and went about my regular bathing routine.  Unsuspectingly, I got out, dried myself off, towel wrapped my hair and turned around to face the mirror.  That’s when I noticed them.  The saggy, limp and what I can only describe as noodles hanging off of my chest. 

I ran buck naked across the house, charging into Jared's office.  He swiveled around in his chair and a smile slowly crept across on his face...it’s not often his wife comes streaking into his office mid-day on a Tuesday. 

“Wipe that smile off of your face and look at me!” I yelled.

“Um, I am” he said, confused as to what the hell was going on.

“No!   Look at me.  Or more specifically, look at my boobs!”

I saw his eyes slide down my body that was so familiar to him when the shock hit him. 

“What happened?!?!?” Jared exclaimed. “They look so weird.  They’re, like, deflated.”  He then realized what had come out of his mouth and tried making up for it by saying, “No, it’ll be great - something new and different!”

All I could do was look at him and say, “YOU did this to me!  You and that penis of yours!”

As you probably well know, since 2009 I've gone from pregnant to breastfeeding to pregnant to breastfeeding.  I had just weaned Cito two weeks before and this “change” happened overnight.  I had always been told that motherhood would ruin your chest but in a mere 24 hours, I went from bouncing grapefruits to deflated water balloons. Not only that, but they are concave – like a big hollow canyon with a mound of fat at the bottom!

I have always had a love hate relationship with the twins.  The days of sixth and seventh grade dances come flashing back when I was flat as a wash board.  No one wants to slow dance to Guns and Roses “September Rain” with the flat chested girl.  Then in eighth grade, I took little notice to the fact that those mounds were growing at rapid speed until Ross Nobles began calling me “Tissue” and telling everyone that I stuffed my bra.  From that point on, those suckers never stopped growing.  Finally, I hit my junior year of high school, was 5’7” weighing 125 pounds with size E knockers….oh, and I ran cross-country.  That sucked. 

So I made the decision to chop ‘em off.  I remember going to the plastic surgeon for my breast reduction consultation and he efficiently explained how they would do everything possible to save my milk ducts so that I could possibly breastfeed one day.  My 17 year old self promptly responded by saying that I had no plans of breastfeeding any child.  That was disgusting and he could forget that idea.  Thankfully, he realized he was speaking with a 17 year old who had no clue what she was talking about.

Post-surgery, I was always told there was a 50/50 chance I could breastfeed and I wouldn’t know until I got there.  Little did I know that Harper would be born with a birth defect that would make my first experience in motherhood so different than what I had dreamed it would be. A 2 1/2 month NICU stay, not holding my baby until she was a week old - it was not the fairytale-like motherhood I had signed up for and I yearned and longed for normality. 

And guess where that normality came from?  Yup, you guessed it.  Those mounds on my chest that, by that point, swelled to gargantuan proportions.  They did the job the good Lord intended them to do and I began producing milk like I grazed in a pasture.  While my lactating began with the help of a pump (whomp, whomp, whomp,whomp), I can remember the thrill of seeing those tiny drops of liquid emerge.  And a few days after holding her for the first time, I was given the green light to attempt breastfeeding.  I remember crying my eyes out when she latched on and began sucking with all her might. 

So I nursed Harper throughout her infancy.  The same month that I weaned her I became pregnant with Harris and have been nursing him since March. 

But after all of that use, those two lovely blobs have become….not so lovely.   Have you ever put a tennis ball in a pair of pantyhose and swung it around your head?  Well, now you know what I look like naked. 

After the initial shock of seeing my now deflated boobs wore off, I took some time and examined myself in the mirror.  Saggy boobs, paunchy stomach, C-section scar, hips a little wider than they use to be - the marks of motherhood.  But I must admit, I can look at my body and think it’s glorious when I see the little smiles that look up at me and know that this body made them.

Thoughts on pregnancy round #2

Here I am, 25 weeks/6 months into this pregnancy and I think it's appropriate to write down some thoughts about pregnancy with Número Dos.

- Second children really do get a bit of a raw deal. With my first pregnancy, I was SO in tune to everything going on with the baby. I could tell you details like when the baby was forming fingernails, when it could begin to see the sunlight or bright lights shining through my belly and when it started taking practice breaths. Someone would ask me how far along I was and I'd answer "23 weeks and 2 days". I checked my pregnancy app on my phone daily to find out little details about pregnancy and what I should be doing. This time around, I've literally had moments where I have to remind myself I'm pregnant. Ask me how far along I am and I'll probably give you a look of confusion and answer, "Uh, I'm due in March so, what? 6 months?". We haven't made any nursery purchases, nor have we decided anything about his room and he will, most likely, be wearing his sister's pink pajamas when he arrives. And while I'm being careful about what goes into my body, I'm definitely not being the deli meat Nazi that I was the first time around.

- There is no scientific research behind this next statement but purely my own theory. I think carrying a boy and, therefore, having testosterone in your body that you aren't use to can make you a crazy, raging psycho. My patience level is just about non-existent. I can go from happy as a lark to stark raving lunatic in about 2 seconds. Don't believe me? Ask my poor husband. Wow. There are times I surprise myself! And I'm chalking this up to the testosterone. I was not like this with Harper. I was peaceful, happy and hungry. Now I feel like everyone around me is trying to push my buttons...and I'm still hungry. So if I snap on you or you walk away from an interaction with me thinking, "geez, what a hag!", I apologize in advance and promise to be normal again in March. Well, make that May when I have some sleep.

- Jar and I are both a little baffled that we saw this little guy in our last sonogram at 18 weeks and now won't see him again until he's here in person. You have to remember that we had weekly sonos with Harps so got to see her all of the time. This time, we hit the major check points with the anatomy scan and that was that. Kinda weird.

- We're also freaking out a little that we really don't know what it's like to have a newborn at home. Harper was over 2 months old when we brought her home. She was sleeping through the night and we didn't have to deal with those awkward moments like when their belly button falls off. Do we need to be taking those parenting classes at the hospital???

- My boobs are huge. And not in a good way. In a way where I have cleavage wearing a turtle neck. My husband might disagree but I am not amused. Why couldn't I be waif-like with size A cups?!?!

- Please don't tell me that we won't be as lucky with this baby as we've been with Harper from a personality standpoint. I realize that Harper might be the most easy-going child on the face of the planet. You are right, we might not get "that lucky". I would prefer children with unique personalities and things that make them special. We might have another mellow mushroom but, then again, we might not. But for some reason this statement always rubs me the wrong way. It makes me think people are wishing us an unruly child. You might get to see that psycho crazy I was taking about earlier if you bring up the "lucky" thing.

- I'm eating way too many pepperocinis for it to be healthy. If I haven't burned a hole in my stomach, I'm a little surprised. I set a jar out while I make both lunch and dinner and munch away like they're popcorn. I go through two jars a week - seriously. This kid is going to like spicy food whether he wants to or not.

- Confession: If I'm wearing a blousey shirt and you might not totally know if I'm pregnant or not at first glance, there have been times where I grip my stomach like I feel a kick, just so the person behind me at the grocery store knows it's a baby belly, not a taco belly. And no, there probably was no kick.

- All this being said, I still really like being pregnant. I love those bumps and kicks. They make me smile.

Free at last, free at last! Thank God Almighty, I'm free at last!

Okay, so maybe using the historic and timeless words of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. is a little tacky when I'm referencing my boobs but what can I say? The pump is officially retired!...at least until another Meabon baby decides to come into this world. I have to say I am not missing that wheomp-wheomp-wheomp sound throughout my day and I suddenly have 30 minutes every 4 hours where I don't have to have milk squirting out of my chest. Wahoo!

My goal was originally 6 months but since that fell right at the end of cold and flu season, I pushed through two more months. Over the last couple of weeks, I've been cutting out a pump slowly and mixing formula with b-milk in Harper's bottles to get her use to the transition. Its been fairly painless and, as of now, I'm just doing one feeding every other morning. I should be able to officially retire the boobs in the next week.

Unfortunately, Harps doesn't seem to be as big of a fan of the formula. And I don't blame her! Have you tasted breast milk? Oh, come on, don't act like you haven't had a drip slide down your finger and out of curiosity you stuck it on your tongue. The stuff is like sugar water! And no, I'm not one of those "people" that has been flavoring my coffee with the liquid gold...or making butter out of it like that freak-show chef in New York. So the girl is working on choking down the powdered stuff.

And while I am so happy to not be a slave of the pump, I am feeling more torn about this transition than I thought I'd be. I've been so happy that I've been able to keep Harper on full b-milk for 8 months. A year ago, I wasn't even sure if I'd be producing due to the fact that I had a breast reduction. But that I could produce and have enough for 8 long months was such a blessing. Harps had that small episode with RSV and I truly believe it would have been much worse had she not still been on breast milk. Other than that, she's been cold and illness free and I contribute it to that mighty Mama's milk.

I hope that with future babies, I'm just as lucky that they can tolerate my milk and I can produce enough. I'm equally as hopeful that future babies will be able to straight breast feed and I won't have to pump almost everything they take. I might have convinced myself to make it to the one year mark if it hadn't been for that damn pump!

So I look forward to welcoming the new, ummm, deflated lumps that will greet me. Maybe they won't look as good in a bathing suit and maybe I will be able to hold a pencil (or five) underneath them due to their new-found gravity pull but I'm happy and proud to have been an 8 month member of the cow club! I'd like my medal now please.

Pump It Up!

Welcome to our new world – pumping! I have learned a whole new vocabulary that one week ago was so foreign to me. Shields, membranes, cc’s…I could go on and on. I’m now pumping every three hours so every time I look at my watch and think, “Hmm, how much longer to I have?”, it seems to be that time. But the good news is, Harper’s close to being on full breast milk and off the formula. And the even better news is that she started bottle feeding yesterday at 4pm. We started on a very low dose of 10 cc’s of breast milk by bottle every four hours and still feeding her 17 ½ cc’s per hour continuously through the feeding tube. She’s taken to the bottle like a champ and loves seeing that little yellow bubble headed her way. She’s done so well that she’s being bumped up to 15 cc’s tomorrow and bringing the tube feeding down to 15 cc’s. We hope this will continue until she can take all bottles - get gone with that tube girl!

We’ve already covered that Jared and I have established the FACT that Harper is a genius and will be Ivy League material. We’ll our little 1600 SAT has now figured out that pacifier just doesn’t quite cut it. She wants the real stuff. She’s even started licking off the sucrose or breast milk that we’ve dipped her paci and then spits it out. Hello??? Who wouldn’t question this child is a genius???

She’s starting to show signs of hunger just before bottle time. Another great sign. Strangely enough, the only thought that keeps coming to mind is “wow, she’s just like a real baby”. And, that folks, would be total and utter exhaustion talking! We are tired and I hope that this routine that we’re developing finally allows for sleep. Peace of mind just doesn’t seem to set in when you’re up every 3 hours. So to you exhaustion, I say, “wow, I’m just like a real mother”.

I want to thank everyone who’s offered to bring us meals over the next weeks. Jared and I came home today and picked at cereal and left over cold rice, just not having the energy to stop and pick something up or make something when we got home. I can’t tell you what a gift this is and how it makes our small amount of time home that much easier. Tonight was one of those nights that I let get to me and have broken down in tears about 5 times for no particular reason. Again, sleep and preganancy hormones - ugh!

And let’s not forget what tomorrow is – Harper’s first birthday! Well, one week old that is. I feel a birthday blog coming on. Or maybe just a picture montage? Either way, I promise to post some more pictures tomorrow of our little champion but for now, I NEED SLEEP!!!

Wishing us all sweet dreams,

Brooke