Saturday, May 31, 2014

I'm Irritated

"Hubby's home, you can sleep now!"

"It's the weekend, you can catch up on sleep!"

"I'm giving you at least 4 hours of sleep."

Sleep.  Without it we literally go crazy.  Or we snap and become enraged beasts.  It's extremely important to have.

Throughout the week, I allow my husband to sleep because he needs it to fight traffic and work and do some things in the house when he gets home, like help me with chores and the kids.  I get him sleep by further exhausting myself.  He needs it more in order to keep a roof over our heads and food on the table.

When's mommy going to get hers?

On the weekend?  Sure.

Haha, nope.  I think going into the weekend with the delusion of sleeping is even worse.  During the week, when i climb into bed, I know that Vin's going to wake up as soon as my head touches the pillow.  I know that if he stays asleep, I'm only going to get less than an hour to rest before I need to feed him again.  It's worse when you go to bed thinking that you're going to get at least two hours of deep sleep, only to realize that your husband's a seflish prick and none of that's going to happen.

When Vin wakes up, I get up out of bed, almost instantly because I don't want his cries to wake up my husband.

When Vin wakes up, I have to wake up my husband on his turn.  Sometimes repeatedly!  Often I don't get a break.

I know that Vin wants food, so I waste little time getting him a bottle.

Dave will prolong the screaming and the crying, by trying to use a binkie because he too fucking lazy and tired to make him a bottle.

The only time I bring a crying baby to the bed is to change his diaper or to get help from my husband.

My husband doens't exhaust the other options of swing, rocking chair, or bassinet.  He just brings this child to bed, KNOWING that I can't relax with a baby in the bed, because I'm worried about rolling on him, I'm worried about my husband rolling on him.  He knows this akes me uncomfortable, but he does it anyway.  Every time one of us moves or I remember Vin's in bed or have a horrible dream, I wake up.  I don't sleep at all.

Hubby doesn't care.  He'll bring the screaming baby to bed.  He'll prolong the screaming by not getting up sooner.  When he does finally get up for the bottle, he put the screaming baby by my head.  Or he takes his sweet ass time getting the bottle, which forces me to try and sooth our son.

I try to be considerate of my husband's need for sleep.  However, he doesn't give a shit about my needs when it's his turn to take care of the baby.  He's incredibly seflishf when he's tired.  When he just wakes up.  Like, you can't be thinking about yourself when this child wakes you up.  You're on his time.  Yo're his slave!

Like right now, he's choosing to close his eyes and catch a few winks with both kids on the bed.  WTF?  Fucking asshole.

I'm just going to follow my week rules on the weekend: GO Until I crash. Which is funny when I do crash, because hubby wakes up bitching and name calling.  He acts like I deprive him of sleep.  He acts like me asking for help sometimes, just so I can sleep, is soooooawful because apparently, I never let him sleep.  I'm so inconsiderate of his needs.

I just want him to walk a day in my shoes.  To see how much I do for him.  Giving me 4-6 hours of sleep isn't enough, because I give him so much more so he has the energy for work.  But he acts like it is.  He acts like he's sacrificing so much when he allows me to sleep for 4-6 hours, despite that I don't really sleep.  Anytime a child cries, I wake up.  Anytime he places a screaming child in my face, on the bed, I don't sleep.

Sometimes I even do his chores for him!  Although that's more out of necessity, because he doesn't do them in a timely manner, he waits until we run out of clothes or until the garbage is dangerous overflowing.  I'll do most of the chores so he rest and relax.  I let him nap after he comes home from work because I know he's tired.

When I ask him to do the dishes for me, it's like pulling fucking teeth.  "Maybe."  "I'll do em tomorrow."  Eventually, i get tired of waiting and do them because I can't stand clutter and it'd be nice to have some fucking clean dishes.  Which doesn't really matter for me because I don't really eat anymore.  And yet, "Hey, what's for dinner?"

"Which do you want to do?  Pick up toys or goldfish crackers?"
"Don't worry, in another 2 months, he'll be sleeping through the night and then you can get some sleep."

He's such a fucking, selfish, greedy, prick.  He thinks buying me carb loaded foods and junk is making it up to me.  He knows I'm on a healthier diet, and yet he still brings home crap I can't eat.  Which is part of the reason why I don't eat because everything is bad for me.  Or I have to cook it.  The concept of e eating healthy on the go doesn't occur to Dave because he puts the fucking DUH in Dave.

Now when he asks what I want, I say, "Nothing.  I'm fine.  If you want something, get it.  Do what you want."

You wanna spend your earned money on a new PS3 controller, 2 games, and go see a movie (that I really wanted to see) with your BFF (while I stay home because we can't find a baby sitter), do it.  It's your money.  Do what you want with it.  Me?  I don't want anything.,  I didn't earn that money.  It's not mine.  He hates it when I have this frame of mind, when soetimes that's the way he makes it seem.  Whatever, I'll spend my own money when i get a job in two months.  You go have fun because you earned it.  Apparently, I still have to work for it.  I have to work harder for sleep and fun.  Okay.  I will.  I'll pull my weight around here since I'm not doing enough anyway.


Be a fucking father.  I don't care about the husband part, just act like a fucking dad.  You helped make this fucking child, now do your part and help me without me having to ask.  Without you huffing and puffing and whining like that all I do is nag you.

I get it, he needs sleep too.  We both work hard: I keep two humans alive and he brings home income.  Just a little consideration from time to time would be nice.

I do more for him than he fucking realizes or wants to admit.  What's he do?  HUffs and bitches and whines.

Tuesday, May 27, 2014

Yay Babies!

Congrats to my cousin and his wife on the birth of their twins, Eliel (4 lbs, 12 oz) and Audreé (5 lbs 3 oz).  Eliel was born first, vaginally, but Audreé had to be born via c-section.  He's fine, and she's in the NICU at Dublin Methodist Hospital, where Vin was about a month ago.  Audreé is on CPAP (same as Vin) and needed a blood transfusion.  That little girl is in good hands, the NICU team at DMH are fantastic.

Momma's doing fine.  :-)

My friend, Shaun, is having contractions, and is sure that her little girl is going to be born if not today, then tomorrow.  We'll see.  :-)

And yesterday, we  learned that two of our friends are expecting, finally!  They've been trying to get pregnant for, like, 5 years (I'm not sure).  They're going in for an ultrasound in a couple of weeks to see how many might be in there, since she conceived with the aid of fertility treatment.

Monday, May 26, 2014

The Chosen One

All right, so after research and reading many different customer reviews, I've ordered a double stroller!  Not Graco, because they seemed to have too many unhappy customers, or enough for me, anyway.  The major complaint being bulkiness and not fitting into some sedan models' trunks very well.

After learning that the Graco car seat model we have is compatible with Baby Trend strollers (despite that we had issues with our single), this is what we've ordered:

Baby Trend - Sit N Stand Double Stroller, Carbon

After we fix the tire blow out on our Baby Trend Single Jogger, we'll sell it to Once Upon a Child.  Hopefully we won't have too many trunk issues (as well as we take off the front tray).  I also bought a side storage, because even in my single jogger, the storage was severely lacking.  So I bought some extra space.

* A major thanks to my mom and a friend for this much needed, greatly appreciated gift!

Thursday, May 22, 2014

Pumping, Shortage, and Tips

Pinter find, tips for pumping.  I saw the image on Pinterest of a freezer FULL of breast milk, and became super jealous.  I like the tips, but I just don't have the time right now.  However, I've bookmarked the image for my third child.  Hoping that experience will be better.  With Vin being so clingy at the moment, I'm not able to pump as often and my supply is decreasing.

Not to mention, my stupid landlord and maintenance crew are suppose to be out, but they're not giving us dates or times, so I don't want to be in the middle or beginning when they show up.  The landlord, I can't just tell them to come back; and the maintenance, I don't know that they will come back.  So far, both parties have proven to be flaky as fuck.  Like, to the point, that we're thinking about hiring a lawyer.  But that's another story for another time.

Naptime Tales: Pump Pump Pump It Up

Naptime Tales: Why is my Supply Decreasing?

Naptime Tales: Increasing Your Milk Supply

Do I Look as Tired as I Feel?

At night, Vin makes it very hard to get anything done, even just surfing the internet or writing is hindered. Why? Because he insists on sleeping on my chest. If I put him anywhere else, he wakes up crying. At least until the morning, THEN I can put him in his bassinet....usually.

I wonder if he chooses my chest because he misses listening to my heartbeat all the time?

Wednesday, May 21, 2014

So My Bassinet...

It's awesome and all, but the vibrations, music, mobile, and nightlight only stay on for 5 minutes!  What?  Why?  That's dumb.  What baby is soothed and asleep after only 5 minutes?  So annoying.

I've looked and read the manual, and there's nothing on there about being able to adjust the time for those features.  I'm so annoyed.  What's the point of having them if they have such a short life?

Also, we can't find the power cord for our swing, so that means it's all about the batteries.

And little man is making it very difficult for me to have pump time!  Vin's become super clingy.  Always wants to be on me.

This weekend, my mom's taking the kids, and I'm so happy.  Hubby and I are going to see the new X-Men movie.  I really want to go to the drive in, because watching movies that way is sooooo much better than going to a theatre, depending on heat, humidity, rain, and mosquito index, anyway.  I wish that Malificent was out already, be awesome to do a double feature of X-Men and the most badass Disney Villain of all time.  Even with Marvel being owned by Disney, she's still the most badass.  I just hope the movie does her justice (but then I do love Jolie; she's yet to disappoint me!).

Wednesday, May 14, 2014

Toxic or Just Selfish?

My step mom was over on Saturday, her and a family friend.  In our living room, as I mentioned in the post before this one, we have very limited seats and our bed is in our living room.  Maybe this is just me, but I don't sit on someone's bed unless they offer, I don't care if the bed is the only place to sit, simply because it's a person's bed.  Maybe I'm just being weird about this, but instead of sitting in the rocking chair, she sat right on our bed.  I just see it as super disrespectful.

I was in the recliner, holding Vin (lately, he's gotten clingy, and has even kept me from pumping for the past 13 hours [I have been able to pump once, though]).  The recliner is right beside the bed.  I get that she wanted to see him, but damn lady, have some boundaries!  Not to mention that every time I shifted or adjusted Vin, I (and my husband) often saw her reach for him.  What?  No.  It was pissing my husband off, because he was waiting for her to just snatch him from my arms.  And she kept getting closer and closer to me.  It was uncomfortable.

I did let her feed him, after having to repeatedly tell her to not jam the bottle down his throat.

Fuckin dumb, man.  I don't get her.  At all.  She's like a three-year-old sometimes.

It gets better.  Today, my aunt sent me an email, asking me if we had gotten a birthday present for Lycan.  I told her that we received the bag of clothes for Vin, but nothing for Lycan.  My step mom has a habit of doing this.  It's annoying.

When it comes to gifts, she'll get herself or "the house" awesome items and then gift you with crap.  I wish I could say "it's the thought that counts" but she's clearly thinking of herself.  Regarding gifts, I just don't care anymore.  I'm used to it.  But a few years ago, another aunt had gotten me a bunch of awesome Halloween decorations for my bridal shower.  No shit, my step mom tried to take the ones she wanted and leave me with the crap!  My aunt straight up said to her that she bought the decorations for me, not her.  Step mom huffed and puffed.

Apparently, she's not just doing it with gifts meant for me, but also with gifts meant for my kids.  She didn't tell us about the gift from my aunt that was intended for Lycan's birthday because she wanted to keep it at her house.  I wouldn've even known about the gift if my aunt hadn't said something!

I-I don't...even...

Since my brother and I started having kids, she does this thing where she buys the kids gifts, but they have to leave them at her house.  Nice gifts, too.  You can take the cheap toys home, but the cool toys have to stay at her house.  What?  No.  That's not the point of getting someone a gift!  It's her way of trying to get the kids to come over to their house more often, except my brother and I don't trust our dad around them (or really her for that matter), so we don't bring them around so much!  No amount of toys is going to change our minds.  However, I know it's going to be a manipulative ploy when the kids are older.  And it's going to be damaging to them!

"Look, Johnny, I got you this toy, but the only way you can play with it, is if you come over more often."

Who the fuck does that?  Oh, that's right, my dad was like that.  Manipulated us kids through toys and crap.  Eventually it stopped working when I realized what a manipulator he was.  That's where she learned it, apparently.  Knowing this, we're going to have to teach our kids, warn them, so to speak.  Hopefully, we can teach them to not be materialistic, but we'll see.  I know talking to her won't help, because we've tried already.  She just doesn't understand or care.  It's ridiculous.

It's just going to be unfair to them when they don't understand why they can't take a gift home, a gift that was meant for them.  Until they can understand, it's going to come down to us parents and how we handle the situation.

It's just a sticky childish situation.  Anyone else have family like this?  Got any advice?  Sometimes I take a step back and look at my life and ask, "This shit really happening?"

My husband says that she treats me like this--has little respect for my boundaries--because of how she views our relationship.  Which I don't even know how she sees it.  But I know that anytime I would make an awesome art piece, something that I was really proud of, she would take ownership over it, without even asking me.  When I'd say something, she'd retort with, "Well, I bought you the supplies.  I get first dibs."

The fuck, lady.

It's like she thinks she owns me or something.  What's mine is hers.  Honey, we ain't married.  Back off.  I'm 30-years-old, happily married, with two kids.  We ain't bestest friends either.  I ain't your daughter, I ain't your piece of property.  Back the fuck off of me and my family; stop being so damn possessive and controlling.  My dad is possessive and controlling over her, so in her head, she can do it to me, and like her concerning him, I'll just take it.  Like no, sweetie, that's not how this game of power of works.  You drive me away, I'm going away, and that's it.  You try to manipulate my children, you ain't gonna see them anymore.  Got it?

Try to explain that to her and she doesn't listen.  She's in denial.  She becomes even more overbearing.  Maybe I just need someone else to talk to her?  Or someone else at my side when I talk to her?  This shit is crazy.  Can't trust her or my dad with my kids.

About to Have More Space Than I Know What to Do With

Wow, that title didn't seem that long in my head....

Another piece of furniture bites the dust!  When my oldest was born, we had lots of furniture and no space.  With my second son, we have the opposite!  A recliner and three dining chairs.  Our rocking chair broke today.  Good riddance, to be honest, damn thing was unforgiving when it came to bumps and other such ouchies.  Hated that damn thing.  Well, there's plenty of floor for people to sit, I guess.

This Saturday, we're re-homing the ferrets, cage and all.  So that'll free up more space.  Eventually maintenance will finish our bedroom ceiling, which means the bed (and bassinet) will return home.  Which means a lot more space for the boys to roam!  It's good because I'm not a fan of clutter, but I also like to have an inviting home.  It's not very inviting to have to sit on the floor, but another couch will come along eventually!  I figure once Marsden's gone, I'll put the swing where his cage is.  That's really the last large piece of baby furniture left to set up.

So it happened, had to use some formula for Vin, this kid is sucking me dry!  I can barely keep up!  But I didn't stress about it, just gave him some formula.  Which didn't seem like it filled him up.  I gave him the same amount of formula that I give with breast milk, and it didn't satisfy him.  Not until I gave him milk did he fall asleep.  No spitting up.  No gas.  No fussiness, just sleep.  It was nice.  Course not like I was sleeping, had some Starbucks earlier and I've been wired every since.  Learning the art of pacing my energy instead of blowing it all on a cleaning rampage.  And I still have some left in my cup.  Coffee, I mean.  At the risk of a horrid crash, I'm going to attempt to pump again, then feed Vin, THEN try for some sleep.

::watching Adult Swim, wondering how some of these stupid ass shows keep getting renewed::

I'm hungry....

Oh, and today, Vin's "corrected age" (gestational age) is 37 weeks.  His brother was born at 37 weeks 0 days a little over 16 months ago.

I don't think that I'm that sleep deprived, but I must be, because I keep hallucinating, seeing crawling bugs and flying insects when there aren't any.  Hopefully, I'm not just losing my mind.  Doesn't help that hubby found a flea on himself today.  And I found a flea bite on Lycan, learning that he's allergic to their bites like I am.  Our bites turn into blisters.  Great.  I'm hoping it's nothing bad, just a wanderer from outside.  Seems to be typical occurance every spring, a flea finding its way into our home.

With bugs on the brain, it doesn't help that my dry, hormonally rashy skin is acting up again.  Ugh.

Okay, that crash is starting to hit me.  I need to get my pump on right quick!

Monday, May 12, 2014


After a much needed vent and 5 hour nap, I'm feeling better.  And I pumped out 6 ounces this evening!  I've realized that pumping every 3 hours or so isn't my boob's thing.  Pumping 3-4 times a day is what's best for me.  Yeah, my boobs are huge, sore, and engorged, but I get a lot more milk a lot faster.  Now it's not something I'm going to do a lot, simply because engorged boobs are no fun.  And 6 ounces is probably my daily average milk yield.  But it seems like a lot for one sitting.  It's psychological, since I have a habit of mind fucking myself.

And I've realized that I have formula.  If I need to, I'll supplement.  He pukes less with just breast milk, but I gotta do what I gotta do, right?  I can't be expected to take care of them, if I can't take care of myself.  Definitely less stressed now.  Now, when I need sleep, I don't feel trapped by my pump.  I can sleep, then supplement if I need to.  Hopefully I won't need to, but it's an option.

Peeps Just Don't Understand

Ugh, I just need to vent.  Vent about what, you ask?  Breast milk. My boobs.  My production.  Marital frustrations.  Everything I'm doing and apparently not doing.  Looking for support in all the wrong places.

My son is a milk monster, eating 1.5-2 ounces a feeding, every 1-2 hours.  My boobs can't keep up with it.  I was doing great in the beginning.  I was producing a lot and producing fast.  I had built up a nice reserve in the freezer.  I was adjusting to everything.  I was on top of it!  Now...I'm having issues.

It's only been two weeks.

The last time I tried using my own milk, I had issues from day one.  I wasn't producing as much, or as fast.  And I only produced for 3-4 weeks.  Frustrations and stress are what lead to that psychological mindfuck.  This time I'm trying to not mindfuck myself or my boobs.

I understand why some women choose to not breast feed/pump.  It's exhausting.  Sucks to have to choose between sleeping and pumping.  In rest for myself or making sure my son has something to eat.  When you put it like that, the choice seems so easy, right?  But behind the simple wording, it's not that easy.  I'm getting 1-2 hours of sleep a night (if that), when my husband's sleeping.  I get small cat naps throughout the night, mostly falling asleep during a feeding, a burping, or just trying to keep him calm.  Any where between 8am and 11 am, I have to stay awake and be interactive and all super mom and awesome teacher for my 16-month-old.  When hubby gets home, sometimes I get 1-3 hours of sleep, depending of whether or not I see a pumping opportunity or an eating one.  Or he'll choose to sleep instead, which pisses me the fuck off.

"Well, I've worked all day.  I'm tired.  I only got four hours of sleep last night."  Or "The baby kept waking me up."

Excuse me?  The fuck you think I'm doing all day AND all night?  Sorry that I'm not bringing in income.  Sorry my main and only priority is keeping two humans alive.  Sorry none of that can pay the bills.  Sorry you can't come home and play PS3.  Sorry that I need breaks!  Sorry for some reason you're having more and more of these typical male pig moments!

Oh, then he'll get huffy when I ask him to cook.  Or last week, he was going to stay home with Lycan while I took Vin to his check up.....Nope.  I made his lazy ass go.  He wasn't taking advantage of Lycan's nap time (which I learned that he actually wanted to go play with one of his friends). I was exhausted and didn't think I'd be able to drive.  The entire time, he whined about being there, especially when Lycan was fussy from being sleepy or after he busted his lip on his cup after a fall.

"This would'n've happened if you'da let me and Lycan stay home."

Nah, you're right.  He could've gotten into one of the various pieces of trash you leave laying around the house.  One the various pieces that I apparently "nag" you about throwing away because I'm your nanny, maid, and fuck buddy.  Wait, I can't be that last one because I'm fucking prude and am withholding sex just to annoy you, because I'm just a tease.

Sometimes it feels like I'm the only person who gives a shit about keeping objects out of our oldest's reach.  My husband claims to forget so often.  So yeah, I nag him.  He huffs and gets all pissy.  Says he does care.  "Prove it.  Pick up after yourself for a change."  Or maybe I'll leave post it notes around for him to help his memory and motivation.

Or I could've got into a car accident due to not being able to stay awake.  Jeez, let's fantasize about all of the scenarios that could've happened!

"That would've happened because you're a great driver and Vin would've been in the car."

Thanks for the added guilt if would've happened.  This happened because you don't care about Vin!  Or something similarly stupid.  The guilt game is just back and forth, back and forth between us.

Exhaustion sucks the support right out of the air, doesn't it?  All you want to do is hurt the other person.  Make them feel like shit for being tired.

I get that he's tired, I do.  He's working, fighting traffic, then coming home to be super dad to the boys, does laundry, worries about our mounting debt, paying rent, keeping our power on, and putting food on the table; and takes out the trash, when all he wants to do is fall back into routine of coming home and relaxing in front of the PS3.  But that's old news.  He huffs, whines, and makes more and more bitchy, pig headed remarks to me nowadays. Trust me, I want to say more hurtful things to him, but I don't, because it wouldn't be fair to him.

Sometimes he doesn't think before he insults or insinuates; always goes back to the same old "We wouldn't be in this mess if you had a job."

I had a job, but then I got pregnant and had to quit due to morning sickness, because we BOTH allowed our horniness to get the best of us and not use a condom.  I will get a job in the fall.  I have plans but time needs to pass first.  Things need to fall into place before I can act.  But to him, that's wasting time.  He's all about here and now.  Do do do.  I'm not like him and he doesn't get it.  That frustrates him, when I don't do it how he does.   It's not fair.  But that's life, ain't it?

I have to cook, clean, pump, provide sexual favors, and take care of our kids for my poor, sleepy working man of a husband while he naps, plays PS3, watches ESPN, and helps out with the boys.  Can we return to 2014 for a little bit, please?  When I agreed to marry your ass, I did so because I thought this was going to be an equal partnership.  But because I'm not bringing in income, being a SAHM means nothing.  All I do is sleep, play PS3, and Facebook while he's working hard to keep a roof over our heads!

"All right, we'll go with you, but this is your Mother's Day gift."

For fucking real?  Thanks, husband.  Mother's Day is fucking over rated anyway. (which btw, he did cook dinner for Mother's Day)

So yeah, pumping.  I'm doing everything I can.  I'm pumping often, longer, I'm eating right, staying hydrated, kangarooing, warming my boobs, self expressing, eating/drinking lactation promoting foods, alternating between pumping and self expressing, and yet production is slowing down.  I was getting 4-8 oz a session, now I'm down to 2-4 oz.  I had a nice reserve going in the freezer just for this reason, but my husband depleted that reserve because instead of just telling me, "Hey, we're down to 2 bottles in fridge," he'd just pull and thaw from the freezer.  Now we have no reserves.  It's frustrating.

I'd voice my exhaustion and be met with the same old bullshit:

  • "It's what's best for him."
  • "You're not doing it right."
  • "You need to pump more often."
  • "You need to pump through the pain and exhaustion."
  • "Nipple blisters?  Stop being a baby."
  • "Are you drinking enough water?"
  • "Are you eating enough?"
  • "Are you getting enough sleep?"
  • "Suck it up."
  • "Just work with him more with breast feeding."
  • "Pump more, bitch less."
  • "Are you kangarooing with him?  Do that more."
  • "You should do this, this, this, and this."
  • "Do that, that, that, and that."
  • Or the ever popular, "I don't want to hear about it because human milk is gross!"
  • And, "God, Kristy, TMI!"
I'm getting it from people who didn't/can't/incapable of producing milk and from other pumpers!  For my fellow human cow friend, she's adjusting since she just went back to work, so she feeds from the boob at home, then pumps on her breaks and lunches.  You can read the exhaustion in her texts.  I'm not frustrated with her; she's actually given me a lot of great advice and warnings.

I am working with him, but every time, he just tastes the milk, but doesn't do anything with the nipple.  

It's getting to the point where I'm feeling inadaqute again.  Feeling like no matter how hard I try, it's just not good enough.  If I stop trying, then I'm going to halt his amazing healing process.  That's certainly how others are making it sound.  I'm being selfish if I stop.  He's going to regress if I stop.  

I decide whether or not my boobs produce enough milk, apparently!  I fucking wish.

How can yall expect me to do all of this?  Pump/feeding is demanding.  There are no breaks.  It's pump/feed or make a bottle of formula.  Either way, that kid has to eat.  

But my boobs are stopping on their own again.  I'm trying and trying and trying, getting more and more stressed and frustrated.  All I want to do is vent to my friends and family, vent and get support, but all I'm being met with is me being selfish, me not trying hard enough, me not doing it right.  That might be support to them, but it's not.  I just feel awful about not being able to get enough for Vin.  Just like with Lycan.  I was doing great.  Staying positive and everything.  I was hoping to produce enough for three-six months, but now I'm hoping that I can at least provide enough for him for 2-3 more weeks.  Or shit, just last long enough for this week!  It's going straight from the pump to his mouth!

I'm not allowed to vent, to them that's weakness, it's not normal.  It's negativity.  It's not healthy.  

Well, hate to piss on your parade, but venting is healthy and normal.  When I do it, I'm not looking for guilt trips, I'm looking for support.  Just listen, even if you have nothing to say.  Just let me get it out.  Let me feel better about myself.  About my disappointing boobs.  Let me relieve this stress and refocus.  Just let me reboot for a second.

Well, the Milk Monster calls.

Thursday, May 8, 2014

Eh, An Ugly Confession with a Happy Ending

I lost out on my nap today due to a death in the family.  My husband's childhood dog died this morning, about 10 am; he was a 14-year-old lab-chow mix.  He'd been suffering for the last 1-2 weeks: shortness of breath, heavy breathing, and other signs of impending heart failure.  My husband's mom called last night, asking what she should do.  We said to have him put down.  She said she couldn't do that.  I'm glad that nature made the decision for her, otherwise Bear might still be suffering due to her selfishness and fears.

He was 14-years-old, lived a long, good life.  For the most part, he was a great, obedient dog.  He lived with us for a couple of years, and I had never felt safer!  He was protective, intelligent, and well trained.  He saved my BFF from a sexual predator once upon a time.  You could leave a plate of food on the floor and he wouldn't touch it unless you told him.  He was a good dog.  Simple as that.  I'm glad that I got to know that side of him.  I loved younger Bear.  Still do.

As he got older, the Chow-Chow in him began to rear its ugly head more and more.  For some reason, he started to challenge me more often.  I have a very low tolerance for disobedience when it comes to dogs.  I have a very pack oriented mindset, it's how I was raised and how I was taught to think when it came to training dogs.  What would an alpha wolf do?  They'd discipline and banish, if it came to it, said beta.  That's what happened when Bear challenged my position as alpha.  On the night we brought my first son home, he got between me and my newborn and snapped at me, completely unprovoked.  If my son wasn't present, I would've broken our dogs neck.  Zero tolerance.  He's a dog, he's not a child.  He has a dog's mind, not a humans (although sometimes, i wondered).

Within the week, Bear was returned to my husband's mom.  I wanted nothing to do with him.  Couldn't trust him anymore.

After this old dog had snapped and bitten a couple of the kids, unprovoked, instead of having him put down, they kept him around because he was a good dog.  The family felt that they owed it to him to let him live out his days with them, completely ignoring the problem.  I was focused on the kids and their safety.  They were focused on his last years.

What?  Whatever.  However if he had ever bit my child, I'd kill his ass without even thinking twice about it.  And I'd sue the party responsible for seeing the problem and not doing anything about it sooner.  I don't fuck around when it comes to my children.

I disconnected from Bear after he challenged me.  I didn't feel safe, especially with my son present.  There was only one time where Bear was around my son, but it was brief.  Bear spent most of that visit outside.  I showed him very little attention, despite that he craved it.  He was practically dead to me.

Fast forwarding, even though I didn't like Bear anymore, he still didn't deserve to suffer as long as he did.  But it's done.  I was told over over phone, but it didn't impact me because I was expecting it....and to be honest, I don't have that same connection that I once did, you know?  I still tried to be sympathetic to hubby and his family, because Bear still meant a lot to them.  I tend to wear my heart on my sleeve, so it was hard not to sound indifferent.  Especially when hubby sacrificed my much needed nap time to dispose of Bear's body with his brother (originally, Bear belonged to his younger brother; his brother watched as Bear killed over.  Seemed fitting, to be honest, Bear was his dog.  He should've been there when Bear passed on.).  I was fine with him going over there--he needed to say his goodbyes.  However, didn't realize that it meant that I wasn't going to get a much needed break from our toddler and newborn.

To me, he's just a dog.  To them, he's family.  Nap time sacrificed, I kept my annoyance to myself, for the most part, because my husband was hurting.  But overall, I don't really care.  I'm glad that he's no longer suffering, but you know, I just don't care.  I lost respect for that dog when he got between me and my son.  When he viciously challenged my position as Alpha.  I wanted him put down then, but my husband and his mom fought me on it.

Whatever, they got him his last years.  Shame, his last years were spent around an annoying bitch (she-dog) and an abusive toddler (my nephew).  But he had a backyard--where he died.  Bear loved being outside.  I'm glad that he died out in the yard, alone with his original owner.  I'm glad that my husband also got to say his goodbyes, and that the brothers took Bear's body to the humane society together.  It was something they needed.

So nap sacrificed.  Confession admitted.  Although I didn't agree with many of their choices, and am glad that none of the kids were seriously injured, Bear's no longer miserable or suffering.  I'll place a picture of the Bear that I loved on our Ancestral Shrine, along with Wilbur, Hugs, Sneaky, Blitzer, Siam, Brutus, Ares, Plague, Kelli, Sheba, and Gracie.  I'll honor those memories, instead of ugly last couple of years, because overall, he was a fantastic dog.  The second best dog that I've had; the best dog in my husband's life.  He does deserve to be remembered as the great dog he was, not the grump he became.
By K. Wren (Mar 2011)

(also posted on Scorched Ice)

Tuesday, May 6, 2014

Baby Boy's Home!

As of yesterday evening, because I realize that it's now Tuesday.  lol.

Parental Bootcamp Pt. 2 has started!

My Little TMNT!

Sunday, May 4, 2014

He Gets It

Lycan has a basic understanding of pumping. The other day, he was watching me, climbed up on my husband, pointed to his boobs, then looked over at me. Hubby said, "Daddy doesn't give milk out of his yet."

Yesterday, at the hospital, while pumping, Lycan grabbed one of the containers, put it between my boobs, then took a pretend drink from the container.

A little bit ago, he put one of the containers up to his little man boobs.

After that, he put the container up to the pump itself and pretended to drink from the container.

Yes, my son, I am a mobile milk dispenser.

As for Vincent, I tried breast feeding with him last night.  He wasn't into it.  Didn't get frustrated, just didn't know what to do with the nipple.  Wasn't the right type of nipple.  We'll try again today, but if he doesn't take to it, that's fine.  We have bottles and mommy is producing lots of milk.  I'm up to 6-8 oz a sitting now!  That's awesome.  

Saturday, May 3, 2014

What a Difference a Week Makes!

Now I don't want to get ahead of myself, but I've gotta to share Vin's before and after pictures.  Here's 1 week ago, on April 26th:

And today, on May 3rd:

He's making leaps and bounds!

Why the Fuck Did You Say That For?

I'm taking this NICU thing one day at a time.  However my husband isn't and just wants to know about the future, despite that I've asked him to keep those thoughts to himself.  We literally just talked about it last night.  So he asked when Vincent might be home, and we're to start the discharge process tomorrow by watching videos and taking CPR classes.  I'm grateful for the CPR classes, I had taken some in high school, and still retained some knowledge concerning infant CPR.  A refresher will be quite useful and calming.

It just seems like whenever we think about the future something bad happens.  The universe just takes a dump on us.  It'd be really fucked up if the universe did it again in this situation.  I just want to do this one day at a time!  I really wish my husband hadn't said anything.  Or at least waited until I was out of the room.  

Then, to make matters worse, one of my friends said that he might need glasses, which doesn't actually bother me.  But also that I would have to keep him away from other sick people for a year.  How the hell can I do that with a toddler?  A toddler who almost always seems to catch colds from his cousins and my mom?  What?  Am I supposed to just keep Lycan inside and away from other kids for fear that he's going to get sick and kill his brother?  Put Vincent in a fucking bubble?

Why the hell did she bring that up?  Now I'm scared shitless!  Now I don't want to bring him home for fear of the future.  

I was fucking fine!  Taking things day-by-day, but now I'm thinking about the future and about health problems he might have or colds that might do serious damage to him!  Every time my son sneezes lately, I worry about Vincent catching something and having to stay longer.  Or me catching something from my son and not being able to see Vincent.  

What a fucked up thing to do, because I don't already have enough going on.  I'm trying to hold it together.  I have so much guilt.  Doesn't help that I just read on Baby Center that they think that one reason women have preterm births is due to having kids 18 months or less apart.  Thanks!  Now I feel even worse about not wearing that condom.  

I feel guilty about feeling guilty!  The fuck!  

I'm just trying to focus on Vin's daily achievements.  I'm not trying to think or fantasize about the future or about tomorrow even.  I don't want to be let down.  I'm just trying to take care of my oldest, giving him love and attention, making sure that I'm producing enough for my youngest, visiting him in the NICU.  I'm recording his progress daily while I'm there.  Holding him.  Participating in his daily life.  Giving him love, letting him know I'm there.  Be proud of his accomplishments.  Then tearing myself away when it's time to go home, while keeping it together.  Especially for my older son who doesn't understand why mommy's crying. 

I go home each night.  Have mommy-Lycan time before he goes to bed.  Eat.  Upload photos and updates to Facebook.  Pump.  Go to bed.  Then get up and start a new day.  Each day I look forward to seeing my baby.  But each time I walk inside that hospital, I'm scared of what I might see when I go into his room.  Regression or progression?  Although I know that if there's a problem, the doctor will call.  

Even then, when the phone rings, I wonder.  I worry.  Is it the hospital?  Has something happened?  I'm just trying to hold it together.  To not think about the future.

I don't want to think about possible problems he might have, or essentially putting him in a bubble.  I just want to take his daily picture, write down his daily accomplishments, and focus on how well he's doing.  On how strong he is.  And how he looks like his brother more each day.  I don't want to worry!  I don't want to fear!  I don't want to stress!  Just let me fucking do this my way!  Keep your fucking thoughts to yourself!  I'm so fucking fragile right now.  I don't want warnings or bad news.  I just want updates on how he is.  To hold him, look into those blue eyes, and see this healthy, handsome baby who's most content when mommy's holding him.  I want the moment.  This moment:

I look at this and I see potential.  A healthy child not plagued by illness due to his moms body's inability to  keep him inside for a couple more weeks.  That guilt just goes back to the miscarriage and my body's inability to keep that embryo alive.  

I'm not strong enough for worry or guilt or fears.  I'm not.  I'm not strong enough to be faced with my little boy having health problems due to being preterm. Because of me.  I don't want to think about the maybes, the uncertainties, the possibilities.

I'm just going to look at this picture and be in that moment.  Take this day by day.  Not let others knowings and wishes and fears get to me.  Just me, Vincent, and his care givers.

As of today, Vin is a week old.  Good job, little man.  You've come a long way already.

Friday, May 2, 2014


Due to my own ignorance about breast pumps, I now have a cluster of new friends: friction blisters, right on the tip of my nipple.  I mentioned this, rather PG-13, on Facebook and my husband said, "Kristy, your are the epitome of TMI."

To which I retorted, "Yeah, to men."  Since I had posted a picture of my first successful bottle of breast milk.  Just the bottle of milk from my boob, not the boob itself.  And my Uncle pretty much said it was gross.  What?  How?  It's natural.  No different than a glass of cow's milk, except it's from my teat, instead of a cow's.  How's that gross?  And it's benefiting my child greatly.  I'm proud of it.  So I shared it on my son's album....and yet it's gross?

(You know I can be a prude when it comes to public breast feedings; I just don't like to see other women's breasts.  Period.  I have my own, I don't want to see yours.  Be considerate of others who don't want to see your boobs, or have their kids see em.  Whether she's topless, wearing a bikini, has way too much cleavage hanging out, or is breast feeding [unless covered].  Love it or hate it, that's how I feel.  Before some of yall start wigging out, I don't attack those who do.  I browse, scroll, and look away.  I certainly don't to it in public because I believe in being considerate to others.  It is what it is.

However, I don't think that breast feeding in itself is gross.  It's natural and for your child.  I don't get how it's disgusting.  Oh, that's right, because it's not.  Eh, people will be people.  Can't make us all get along or accept the same things.  Clearly.)

He said, "Well, what about the women who haven't pumped yet?"

"Well, then they've been warned, haven't they?"  I wasn't.  I didn't know you could get blisters from pumping or nursing, for that matter.  This is the first time I've even gotten blisters on my nip!  Be them milk blisters, friction blisters, or what have you.  My Lactation Consultant, who rented the pump to me, never warned me about them.  She never said, "Now be careful on how strong your setting is, because you could get blisters."  Nope, never said it.  I had to read in my NICU booklet about how the hospital grade pumps are mainly used just until the milk starts to come in.  After that, you're to use a lower grade.

I think that's important information to mention when renting a hospital grade pump out, yeah?  Oh, and how to treat them would be great to know, too, since I just can't stop the flow!  Can't shut down half of the factory.

Now I know and I know that they suck ass.  Or tit.  Nah, not tit; if they sucked tit, I wouldn't have this problem, would I?  This conundrum.  I don't know how I'm going to pump later when my boobs re-inflate.  I'm definitely going to switch to my pump, instead of using this hospital grade one, namely because mine's not as powerful as the one I rented.  Not even on its highest setting.

Tomorrow, I'm going to see if I can talk to the Lactation Specialist at Dublin, or see if any of the RN's have tips to help ease this pain.  Cause I need to keep pumping, otherwise I'm going to get engorged, among other boobie milk problems (which I did know about before my problem came along and I had to go hunting for more information).

I have learned so much in the past week.

Thursday, May 1, 2014

My Thoughts Exactly

Taking It's Toll

This week is really taking an emotional and physical toll on me.  I'm trying to stay strong and have faith, but sometimes it feels like I'm breaking.  Especially when I have to say goodnight to Vincent and leave the hospital.

Just trying to make sure that I'm pumping enough for him to eat (every 2-3 hours), while making sure that I'm eating and keeping myself hydrated, and rested for my big boy.

Lycan hates it at the hospital.  Now jealously is kicking in and he really hates it when one of us is holding Vincent.  I know that was bound to happen.  Sibling rivalry and all.

Lycan had a tough few days: had a high fever on Sunday (teething), his world was thrown upside down, his routines interrupted--well, dashed to pieces, and had been going through a growth spurt.  Nearly every waking moment was spent crying because of the pain (despite having taken medicine), and not eating a whole lot.  That and he slept a TON in the last 48 hours.  Now he seems to be getting back to his old self.  Hopefully that molar's broken through.  But all of this was made worse due to my inability to lift him up.  It's hard when your baby is reaching for you, crying because he's in pain, and you can't pick him up.  Sucks.

Then we go to the hospital and he cries when I get out of the car (because my husband drops me off).  I'm excited to see my baby, but heartbroken by my little boy who doesn't understand.  Separation is healthy for the both of you, but not when dealing with all of this.

Hopefully one of these days will be nice enough so we can take Lycan to the park in the morning, then see Vincent in the evening.  I know I'm not, but part of me feels like I'm neglecting Lycan.  I haven't changed a diaper--well a pee diaper on Monday--since Friday.  It just seems like whenever he's awake, I'm pumping.  I'm spending a lot of time at the hospital, too.  But I'm afraid to leave Vincent alone (despite knowing that he's not alone--the staff at Dublin Methodist Hospital are amazing), like, I have to see him everyday in case something happens.  I have to be there for him, too.  I have to drop off milk and do skin-to-skin.  I have to.  But I'm missing Lycan, too.

I'm just exhausted.  And it's only five days into this ordeal.  This shit sucks.

I've replaced my diabetic eating schedule with a pumping one.  One that's more demanding.

I'm trying to take this day-by-day.  I don't want to think about the future too much because I know good things can turn quickly with premature babies.  It sounds morbid, but it's realistic.  But I know Vincent is strong and is benefiting from my breast milk and our skin-to-skin time together.

I think I'm going to give weekly updates here.  If Vincent would've stay in the womb, he'd be at 35 weeks today.  Technically, 35 weeks is his Corrected Age, concerning milestones and development.  I've been reading a lot about the NICU and preemies thanks to informational binders in Vincent's room.

Ugh, well, I have to go pump again.  But I'm leaving off with a hopeful picture, taken today.  Vin got his SiPap off this morning (he's breathing through a nose cannula now) and I was able to change his diaper for the first time.  :-)

My little handsome warrior.