I know how lucky we are. Every day I thank the universe for being so very good to us. But still, I occasionally get hit with moments of total disbelief - moments where my life is just really freaking surreal in how awesome it is and how lucky we are to have Moe.
Yesterday, when I bought a small pack of birthday candles at the grocery store, I had one of those moments.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Monday, January 24, 2011
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Dear Moe (11 Months)
Hello, sweet baby doll. In a few days, you will be 11 months old. It’s pretty much blowing my mind how quickly the time is passing. We have had a very eventful month.
You had your first Christmas, my love, and it was wonderful to watch you enjoying the day. A very special visitor was there to greet you when you came downstairs on Christmas morning - Mrs. Claus! You had a nice little visit with her, then she left and Grandma showed up right away. We opened your stocking, which Granny made you, and were a little stunned by the amount of gifts under the tree that were for you. We opened them slowly throughout the day - the next couple of days, actually - and you were able to really appreciate them. It was a really fantastic Christmas for us, too - having you in our lives has made Christmas even more special. I look forward to next year. And after Christmas, Daddy had 8 days off and we had a lot of fun together. I think you really enjoyed spending so much time with him.
You are on the move, little boy. You crawl at light speed, and it won’t be long before you’re standing on your own. You can pull yourself into this tripod position - crawling, but with one leg straight and your foot on the ground. Sometime you hang around in what is essentially downward dog, with your bum in the air. You love to walk and cruise the furniture with help. You also do this awesome thing were you crawl to a toy, pick it up, put it behind you, and then go to sitting. You know exactly where your toy is - and it didn’t get in your way during the transition!
This past month, we weaned you. It broke my heart to do it, I won’t lie. We both enjoyed nursing very, very much. But I need to prepare you slowly for my return to work, and this was an important part of that. You handled it beautifully, overall, only refusing a bottle a couple of times. There were some sleep issues that arose as we weaned, but we dealt with those with many, many extra cuddles. Cuddles are now an important part of our bedtime routine. I stroke your hair, kiss your forehead, we give each other Eskimo kisses, and you snuggle your face against my arm. It’s a really special time and I think it’s helped us both. In some ways, it’s my favourite part of the day. (Maybe someday you’ll stop sticking your fingers in my mouth and nose while you drink your bottle.)
Some of your little friends have made the transition to cow’s milk quite well, but you have not. We did it too quickly, and you got a terribly upset stomach for a few days. It was horrible. But we took you off milk entirely for a week, and are now introducing it slowly into your bottle. Right now you get 75% formula and 25% milk, when I think of it.
I love you like pancakes, little man, but meal time isn’t our best time right now. You want to do more and more, but aren’t quite ready and it becomes very frustrating for both of us. I’m finding different ways of keeping you occupied while I get the food into you, but you would much rather be in control of the situation. (I tried that, and discovered that “in control” meant basically finger painting with your food.) You are occasionally able to feed yourself a Cheerio, but not consistently. Once you can do that, we’ll move on to letting you do more and more of your feeding yourself. You do love feeding yourself a Mum-mum or a biscuit, though, and you can hold your sippy cup by yourself!
Christmas brought you all kinds of new toys to play with. Your favourites include your Fisher-Price Farm and the Leap Frog music table (you love to groove and dance!). You like playing with your ball, rolling it back and forth with us. You love your Touch & Feel books and your Little Panda book. You also like looking at the photo album I made you. It’s an album of photos of people who love you. We point out different people to you, or you point to them and we tell you who they are. I look forward to when we can say, “Where’s so and so?” and you’ll point to them.
A few weeks ago, we were reading the book Hug. At the end of the book, put your head on my knee and patted me. You had never done that before, and it was so fantastic. Since then, when you’ve been playing very hard and need a rest, you’ll come to me and put your head on my knee. It’s like you are recharging - it’s wonderful.
We still try and get out every day - either outside for a sleigh ride or on an outing of some kind. Sometimes, Uncle Mark brings Zaphod over and we all go for a walk together. You’re very comfortable with Zaphod, as well as with other dogs, and that makes me happy. The other day when we were out with Zaphod and Mark, you got licked by a Rottweiler and a Collie-Bouvier cross, and it didn’t phase you at all! (And those were some BIG dogs!)
There are a couple of shows we watch together when you need a quiet moment. Your favourite is definitely The Backyardigans. You smile and boogie when you see the intro. You have a similar reaction to Bert and Ernie’s Great Adventures. We’re also watched Big and Small together, but I think I get more out of it than you do right now.
You know how to communicate really well. You can sign “sippy cup”, “bottle” and “bedtime”. You wave goodbye. You let us know when you want something and are extremely clear when you don’t want something.
And sweetheart, it may be time for your first haircut soon. Your hair is just getting so long - although some of it still manages to stand up straight. But I think we’ll do it in time for your first birthday. I haven’t decided if I’ll bring you to our friend Asha, or if we’ll head to Chiquicuts where they specialize in children’s cuts.
I am determined to really treasure this last month that I have off with you, my sweet boy. But I’m not sure how I can treasure it more than I have treasured the last 11 months. I have done my best to treasure every day with you - and you make it so easy. You are so sweet, so easy going, so quick to smile and laugh. You are a joy, little Moe, and I love you more than I ever thought possible.
You had your first Christmas, my love, and it was wonderful to watch you enjoying the day. A very special visitor was there to greet you when you came downstairs on Christmas morning - Mrs. Claus! You had a nice little visit with her, then she left and Grandma showed up right away. We opened your stocking, which Granny made you, and were a little stunned by the amount of gifts under the tree that were for you. We opened them slowly throughout the day - the next couple of days, actually - and you were able to really appreciate them. It was a really fantastic Christmas for us, too - having you in our lives has made Christmas even more special. I look forward to next year. And after Christmas, Daddy had 8 days off and we had a lot of fun together. I think you really enjoyed spending so much time with him.
You are on the move, little boy. You crawl at light speed, and it won’t be long before you’re standing on your own. You can pull yourself into this tripod position - crawling, but with one leg straight and your foot on the ground. Sometime you hang around in what is essentially downward dog, with your bum in the air. You love to walk and cruise the furniture with help. You also do this awesome thing were you crawl to a toy, pick it up, put it behind you, and then go to sitting. You know exactly where your toy is - and it didn’t get in your way during the transition!
This past month, we weaned you. It broke my heart to do it, I won’t lie. We both enjoyed nursing very, very much. But I need to prepare you slowly for my return to work, and this was an important part of that. You handled it beautifully, overall, only refusing a bottle a couple of times. There were some sleep issues that arose as we weaned, but we dealt with those with many, many extra cuddles. Cuddles are now an important part of our bedtime routine. I stroke your hair, kiss your forehead, we give each other Eskimo kisses, and you snuggle your face against my arm. It’s a really special time and I think it’s helped us both. In some ways, it’s my favourite part of the day. (Maybe someday you’ll stop sticking your fingers in my mouth and nose while you drink your bottle.)
Some of your little friends have made the transition to cow’s milk quite well, but you have not. We did it too quickly, and you got a terribly upset stomach for a few days. It was horrible. But we took you off milk entirely for a week, and are now introducing it slowly into your bottle. Right now you get 75% formula and 25% milk, when I think of it.
I love you like pancakes, little man, but meal time isn’t our best time right now. You want to do more and more, but aren’t quite ready and it becomes very frustrating for both of us. I’m finding different ways of keeping you occupied while I get the food into you, but you would much rather be in control of the situation. (I tried that, and discovered that “in control” meant basically finger painting with your food.) You are occasionally able to feed yourself a Cheerio, but not consistently. Once you can do that, we’ll move on to letting you do more and more of your feeding yourself. You do love feeding yourself a Mum-mum or a biscuit, though, and you can hold your sippy cup by yourself!
Christmas brought you all kinds of new toys to play with. Your favourites include your Fisher-Price Farm and the Leap Frog music table (you love to groove and dance!). You like playing with your ball, rolling it back and forth with us. You love your Touch & Feel books and your Little Panda book. You also like looking at the photo album I made you. It’s an album of photos of people who love you. We point out different people to you, or you point to them and we tell you who they are. I look forward to when we can say, “Where’s so and so?” and you’ll point to them.
A few weeks ago, we were reading the book Hug. At the end of the book, put your head on my knee and patted me. You had never done that before, and it was so fantastic. Since then, when you’ve been playing very hard and need a rest, you’ll come to me and put your head on my knee. It’s like you are recharging - it’s wonderful.
We still try and get out every day - either outside for a sleigh ride or on an outing of some kind. Sometimes, Uncle Mark brings Zaphod over and we all go for a walk together. You’re very comfortable with Zaphod, as well as with other dogs, and that makes me happy. The other day when we were out with Zaphod and Mark, you got licked by a Rottweiler and a Collie-Bouvier cross, and it didn’t phase you at all! (And those were some BIG dogs!)
There are a couple of shows we watch together when you need a quiet moment. Your favourite is definitely The Backyardigans. You smile and boogie when you see the intro. You have a similar reaction to Bert and Ernie’s Great Adventures. We’re also watched Big and Small together, but I think I get more out of it than you do right now.
You know how to communicate really well. You can sign “sippy cup”, “bottle” and “bedtime”. You wave goodbye. You let us know when you want something and are extremely clear when you don’t want something.
And sweetheart, it may be time for your first haircut soon. Your hair is just getting so long - although some of it still manages to stand up straight. But I think we’ll do it in time for your first birthday. I haven’t decided if I’ll bring you to our friend Asha, or if we’ll head to Chiquicuts where they specialize in children’s cuts.
I am determined to really treasure this last month that I have off with you, my sweet boy. But I’m not sure how I can treasure it more than I have treasured the last 11 months. I have done my best to treasure every day with you - and you make it so easy. You are so sweet, so easy going, so quick to smile and laugh. You are a joy, little Moe, and I love you more than I ever thought possible.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
The Kanawana Crazies
I could write a book about my relationship with Kamp Kanawana, much less
an blog entry. In my head, it's become so much more than it ever was,
but I should begin with what it is.
It's a YMCA summer camp located near St. Sauveur in the Laurentians. I spent seven summers there as a camper (sorry, a kamper), from the time I was eight to the time I was fifteen years old. Members of my family were involved with Kanawana for years. My father was a camper and a ranger there. My aunt and uncle were the camp doctor and nurse in the 1960s. Many of my cousins began as campers, and moved on to become staff. My sister did the same, with her final year as CIT director in 1993.
Kanawana played a huge role in who I used to be. It still plays a role in who I am. I have some fantastic memories from my summers there. It's a place I felt at home. It's a place I always looked forward to going - it often got me through the school year - and a place I was always devastated to leave. It's where I learned to love nature. It was where I had my first kiss. It was where I learned to sing like nobody was listening. It was where I formed some really special friendships.
Unfortunately for me, the last summer I was there, The Crazy had come crashing down on me during the previous school year. And I brought it with me to kamp. I didn't just pack it along and take it with me - I waved that sucker around for all to see. It was fairly typical 15-year-old angst (I write dark poetry! I dress in black! I cut myself! LOOK! I take PROZAC!) but it didn't belong in the forest of my childhood, and that was likely a big part of the reason I didn't get hired on as a counselor in training the following summer. That was a devastating blow for me, as I didn't get to say goodbye to Kanawana on my own terms. I felt like I'd been exiled, and it was pretty heartbreaking.
Over the last 15 years or so, I have often had dreams about Kanawana. Sometimes, I'm my current age, they won't hire me on as a counselor, but I've somehow been allowed to be a camper again for one more summer. All my friends are staff members, looking curiously at the 33-year-old trying to hide among the 15-year-old girls. Sometimes, I dream that I have come back for visiting day, but the whole place has drastically changed. Nothing is the same, and I feel lost and confused. Other times, I dream perfectly normal dreams that just happen to take place at Kanawana.
But my favourite dreams are the ones where it's a gorgeous sunny day, I jump off the dock into the lake, and I swim underwater for what feels like forever. I can see the sun streaming into the lake above me, I feel energized and refreshed, and I come up for air laughing.
Kanawana and I have recently come to terms with each other. It feels nice. Because, after all, wherever you go and whatever you do, you'll always be a Kanawanian.
(Originally posted here.)
It's a YMCA summer camp located near St. Sauveur in the Laurentians. I spent seven summers there as a camper (sorry, a kamper), from the time I was eight to the time I was fifteen years old. Members of my family were involved with Kanawana for years. My father was a camper and a ranger there. My aunt and uncle were the camp doctor and nurse in the 1960s. Many of my cousins began as campers, and moved on to become staff. My sister did the same, with her final year as CIT director in 1993.
Kanawana played a huge role in who I used to be. It still plays a role in who I am. I have some fantastic memories from my summers there. It's a place I felt at home. It's a place I always looked forward to going - it often got me through the school year - and a place I was always devastated to leave. It's where I learned to love nature. It was where I had my first kiss. It was where I learned to sing like nobody was listening. It was where I formed some really special friendships.
Unfortunately for me, the last summer I was there, The Crazy had come crashing down on me during the previous school year. And I brought it with me to kamp. I didn't just pack it along and take it with me - I waved that sucker around for all to see. It was fairly typical 15-year-old angst (I write dark poetry! I dress in black! I cut myself! LOOK! I take PROZAC!) but it didn't belong in the forest of my childhood, and that was likely a big part of the reason I didn't get hired on as a counselor in training the following summer. That was a devastating blow for me, as I didn't get to say goodbye to Kanawana on my own terms. I felt like I'd been exiled, and it was pretty heartbreaking.
Over the last 15 years or so, I have often had dreams about Kanawana. Sometimes, I'm my current age, they won't hire me on as a counselor, but I've somehow been allowed to be a camper again for one more summer. All my friends are staff members, looking curiously at the 33-year-old trying to hide among the 15-year-old girls. Sometimes, I dream that I have come back for visiting day, but the whole place has drastically changed. Nothing is the same, and I feel lost and confused. Other times, I dream perfectly normal dreams that just happen to take place at Kanawana.
But my favourite dreams are the ones where it's a gorgeous sunny day, I jump off the dock into the lake, and I swim underwater for what feels like forever. I can see the sun streaming into the lake above me, I feel energized and refreshed, and I come up for air laughing.
Kanawana and I have recently come to terms with each other. It feels nice. Because, after all, wherever you go and whatever you do, you'll always be a Kanawanian.
(Originally posted here.)
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Oh, crazy. There you are.
In the past week or so, the crazy showed up. Of course, I didn't realize it was the crazy - I just thought everyone was judging me, that people were purposely pissing me off, and that I just wasn't good enough for anyone.
Then, yesterday, while I was steaming about something Bundy had done several days ago to piss me off, I suddenly asked myself, "Yumi, why aren't you able to let this GO?" And it dawned on me that perhaps, just maybe, the crazy was here.
Well, considering that on December 24, I was royally pissed off at Mark and Janine for having the temerity to go out of town for Christmas to visit their families, it is in fact possible that the crazy had showed up.
I was *so* angry all the time. If I wasn't angry, I was filled with anxiety. Christmas Day was, I'm sorry to say, not fantastic for me. It was great to see Moe enjoying his first Christmas, but I spent a lot of time feeling judged and just not good enough.
Shortly after asking myself what the hell my damage was, it occurred to me that maybe I was dealing with some hormonal changes related to weaning. So I asked Google.
And Google answered.
Let me be clear - I didn't enter into weaning without doing my research. I read about the best ways to wean, the physical risks associated with weaning, signs and symptoms of mastitis, etc. NOWHERE did it mention that weaning could bring the crazy, and especially the crazy in someone with a history of depression. Some of the reading I did mentioned that I might feel kind of sad about losing this connection. Nobody said anything about turning into a freaking nutcase.
But it makes sense. I often feel best in the morning, when my breasts are fullest. I still nurse him first thing in the morning, and once during the day. I am happiest after these feedings. This morning, around 11am, I felt the crazy spiraling. What on earth was wrong with me? I'm lackin' prolactin.
If I had known the risks, I'd have gone about the process much, much more slowly. And right now, I'm not taking any further steps to eliminate those last two feedings. I just have to make sure I have a back-up bottle for the one during the day - I often don't have enough.
I have been so unhappy about weaning that it crossed my mind several times in the past week or so to just stop, to go back to pumping to increase my milk supply again, and to just keep nursing for a while longer. Sure, maybe I could even pump at work and keep this up once my leave is over. But you know what? I have to wean him sometime. And I've begun. And it isn't fair to change the rules on him now. Besides, it won't be any easier the next time.
In the meantime, it's nice to know a) the crazy is here and the world isn't out to get me, b) *why* the crazy is suddenly here, and c) that my husband and family support me in my quest to beat the crazy down.
I was telling Bundy and my mom that I figured out that the crazy was here, and they were both staring at me as if to say, as politely as possible, "DUH." Yeah, THEY knew something was wrong. I didn't - I just thought everyone was suddenly being an asshole.
It hasn't been this bad since I was on Clomid. I didn't have the crazy when I was pregnant. I was a bit more emotional, but I know how to deal with that. I did have it in those first three days postpartum, but I knew it was coming and was able to accept that yep, this was what I'd been warned about.
So, yeah. The crazy is here. But I know it will get better.
Then, yesterday, while I was steaming about something Bundy had done several days ago to piss me off, I suddenly asked myself, "Yumi, why aren't you able to let this GO?" And it dawned on me that perhaps, just maybe, the crazy was here.
Well, considering that on December 24, I was royally pissed off at Mark and Janine for having the temerity to go out of town for Christmas to visit their families, it is in fact possible that the crazy had showed up.
I was *so* angry all the time. If I wasn't angry, I was filled with anxiety. Christmas Day was, I'm sorry to say, not fantastic for me. It was great to see Moe enjoying his first Christmas, but I spent a lot of time feeling judged and just not good enough.
Shortly after asking myself what the hell my damage was, it occurred to me that maybe I was dealing with some hormonal changes related to weaning. So I asked Google.
And Google answered.
Let me be clear - I didn't enter into weaning without doing my research. I read about the best ways to wean, the physical risks associated with weaning, signs and symptoms of mastitis, etc. NOWHERE did it mention that weaning could bring the crazy, and especially the crazy in someone with a history of depression. Some of the reading I did mentioned that I might feel kind of sad about losing this connection. Nobody said anything about turning into a freaking nutcase.
But it makes sense. I often feel best in the morning, when my breasts are fullest. I still nurse him first thing in the morning, and once during the day. I am happiest after these feedings. This morning, around 11am, I felt the crazy spiraling. What on earth was wrong with me? I'm lackin' prolactin.
If I had known the risks, I'd have gone about the process much, much more slowly. And right now, I'm not taking any further steps to eliminate those last two feedings. I just have to make sure I have a back-up bottle for the one during the day - I often don't have enough.
I have been so unhappy about weaning that it crossed my mind several times in the past week or so to just stop, to go back to pumping to increase my milk supply again, and to just keep nursing for a while longer. Sure, maybe I could even pump at work and keep this up once my leave is over. But you know what? I have to wean him sometime. And I've begun. And it isn't fair to change the rules on him now. Besides, it won't be any easier the next time.
In the meantime, it's nice to know a) the crazy is here and the world isn't out to get me, b) *why* the crazy is suddenly here, and c) that my husband and family support me in my quest to beat the crazy down.
I was telling Bundy and my mom that I figured out that the crazy was here, and they were both staring at me as if to say, as politely as possible, "DUH." Yeah, THEY knew something was wrong. I didn't - I just thought everyone was suddenly being an asshole.
It hasn't been this bad since I was on Clomid. I didn't have the crazy when I was pregnant. I was a bit more emotional, but I know how to deal with that. I did have it in those first three days postpartum, but I knew it was coming and was able to accept that yep, this was what I'd been warned about.
So, yeah. The crazy is here. But I know it will get better.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Interesting
At six o'clock this morning, my son did something he has never done before. He was hungry and he refused a bottle. He sobbed, pushing the bottle away angrily. He was demanding to be breast fed.
I nursed him. He was lucky - it was first thing in the morning, so I was pretty engorged. He wrapped his soft little hands around my breast and stroked it gently as he nursed. His eyebrows furrowed, as though he was putting every ounce of concentration into enjoying this moment and the connection between us. It broke my heart and warmed it at the same time.
Once I was empty (after hardly any time at all), I offered him the bottle again. He refused it, and cried as I put him back in his crib. His little sobs and sniffles gradually abated as he fell asleep again.
I don't want to stop breastfeeding. I absolutely love it. I have enjoyed the convenience, the connection, the knowledge that although there were so many things my body wasn't able to do to create my son, it was at least able to nourish him. And I know how incredibly lucky I am to have been able to do it. I thanked my stars every day. But my milk supply was starting to decrease, and I thought it made more sense to do it now while we had a lot of time, rather than do it with the "back to work" deadline looming over us.
The weaning has been going really well. But I guess it was too much to ask that he wouldn't notice the change, that my (albeit incredibly adaptable) baby would be able to completely give up something he loves so much without any protest at all. And in a way, I find it reassuring. He's showing me that he has enjoyed nursing as much as I have over the past 10 months.
I nursed him. He was lucky - it was first thing in the morning, so I was pretty engorged. He wrapped his soft little hands around my breast and stroked it gently as he nursed. His eyebrows furrowed, as though he was putting every ounce of concentration into enjoying this moment and the connection between us. It broke my heart and warmed it at the same time.
Once I was empty (after hardly any time at all), I offered him the bottle again. He refused it, and cried as I put him back in his crib. His little sobs and sniffles gradually abated as he fell asleep again.
I don't want to stop breastfeeding. I absolutely love it. I have enjoyed the convenience, the connection, the knowledge that although there were so many things my body wasn't able to do to create my son, it was at least able to nourish him. And I know how incredibly lucky I am to have been able to do it. I thanked my stars every day. But my milk supply was starting to decrease, and I thought it made more sense to do it now while we had a lot of time, rather than do it with the "back to work" deadline looming over us.
The weaning has been going really well. But I guess it was too much to ask that he wouldn't notice the change, that my (albeit incredibly adaptable) baby would be able to completely give up something he loves so much without any protest at all. And in a way, I find it reassuring. He's showing me that he has enjoyed nursing as much as I have over the past 10 months.
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
The Long Goodbye
I've started weaning because there have been a few feedings now where Moe is still hungry after I'm tapped dry. So I gave him a bottle last night before bed. (Cut to me in the bathroom, expressing milk into a washcloth to reduce the engorgement in my left breast.) He's never had a problem taking a bottle, so I know this process will go pretty well. But I'll miss breastfeeding. I'll miss the way our eyes would meet, the way his chubby little hands would sometimes pat my boob, as if to say, "good boob, I love you". I'll even miss the way he would pull off just as the letdown was starting, causing milk to spray everywhere. I'm so pleased I was able to breastfeed - it erased any insecurities I had about him not being of my DNA. It was something we were able to learn together - although it didn't come easily. I'm really grateful for the nursing necklace Ardently made me - I'll keep it as a memento of this special time we shared.
In the meantime, I'm going to start bottle feed him every other feeding, and see where that gets us. Today went really well. I pumped early in the morning to deal with the engorgement, and nursed him once. Other than that, he was getting bottles or sippy cups.
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