the end

As I peck this post out one-fingered, I am pumping for what will probably be one of the last - if not the last - time.

You all know how much this means to me. Didn’t I subject you all to the endless obsessive details?

I think we had a pretty good run, in the end. Considering. BB weaned himself at ten months, but I have continued exclusively pumping for another six. That’s sixteen months altogether. Sixteen months of breastmilk for my son.

Lately, though, it’s been becoming more of a hassle. I’ve been frustrated by the extra time needed every morning and the sacrifice of my own time in the evening. I have found myself worrying about the possible effects of ingesting high dosages of domperidone for more than a year. I have been plonking BB in front of bad television in order to buy myself time to pump his bottles.

Enough is enough. He is old enough for cows milk now, or soy milk. He doesn’t care what squirts out of that rubber teat. It is time to cut myself some slack. I know it’s time.

But that doesn’t make me less sad.

 

I just, like, posted on my old blog.

I kind of miss it.

Some dotpoints, without the dots:

Work has been ok. Weird to have new role, and be working under someone. Know so little so as to not even know what I don’t know. A somewhat uncomfortable position.

Attempting to navigate through online study and being unsuccessful and freaking out.

Going to two yoga classes a week, which helps.

Still struggling with smoking.

Organising BB’s first birthday party, in two weeks. Argh.

Pumping twice a day.

Still sleeping with BB for the second half of every night. He is settling better overall but is still wakeful unless I’m with him. But he doesn’t hate his cot quite as much as he did, I think.

And well, I have no time. Absolutely no time. Apologies to those who have emailed and/or facebooked me without reply. It’s all just that bit overwhelming right now.

I was going to write a long -overdue update, but I can’t stop thinking about what Mary Ellen is going through. And that’s far more important than anything I could have said.

Protected: Continued: feeling a tad maudlin today… (image)

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little white nubbin

Last night was a killer.

The (divine, fat) Buddha Baby was up all night.

Actually, I lie - He slept non-stop from about ten to about one.

After that he woke up routinely every half-hour to an hour, even after I brought him into bed and my poor husband relegated himself to the spare room.  Buddha Baby seemed to think the middle of the night was a good time to cry hysterically and to practise rolling and pushing up onto all fours.

In fact, the only way I could get him to sleep at all was if I let him fall asleep on the breast. Without taking him off, I mean. None of this gentle “slip it out while he’s sleeping” business.

That must have been a sight; the two of us lying there belly to belly half the night, with his mouth suctioned onto me.

Well, then…

I was not at all surprised this afternoon when I put my finger in his mouth (to retreive a piece of soggy, compacted bread) to feel in there a little nubbin poking up from his lower gum.

His first tooth.

Finally, a tangible reason  for the recent night-waking. Something I can state with certainty when my mother asserts yet again that “he ought to be sleeping through by now.”