On Successes...and Soup...

I figured since my last post was a whole "woe is me, why the hell don't my boobs work" post, I should probably post something that doesn't make you wonder if I need professional help. 

Sometimes...I actually think that I have my shit together. Usually, it only lasts for about 5 minutes before life reminds me who is in charge, BUT every so often I feel like I'm on top.

We had predictions of a hurricane for this week, then it turned into a tropical storm, and then they told us it would be nasty rain and wind. Regardless, our house is surrounded by trees and Alex's job requires him to be called out if there's any trees down or damage. Which meant that I had to get my behind to the grocery store. I've been using God's gift to families...Pea Pod...but I didn't order in enough time.

So...me and both kids went to the grocery store...

Thankfully, they were angels. Well... Angel Baby is always an angel, it's the little monkey that is always a wild card. BUT, I bribed him with the (awful, germ filled) car cart and my phone. I am not above bribery and I am not above using technology to get a few minutes of peace and quiet. It doesn't always work, but a quick reward of a free cookie when things started going hanky at the end and I was golden.

I was mentally patting myself on the pack walking out to my car when I realized I had no idea where my car keys were. I knew this had to be the moment that life reminded me who was in charge. I was trying to figure out what to do with my giant car cart full of stuff while I looked around the store for them (and wondered if they remembered that I also lost my keys in there once before, along with one of John's shoes, his blankie, and a couple other random items that had me walking up and down every aisle...and only at THAT particular store when I frequent three different ones...) However, the Gods must have thought I needed a break because I then remembered that I had clipped them to my belt loop and they were still there when I checked. 

I also timed this endeavor to coincide with lunch/nap time. Now some of you seasons Mamas might be thinking that's a gamble. And you'd be right. It could go either way. But, this worked in my behavior. Well behaved children AND they were quickly asleep soon after I got home, which left me with time to unpack, cook, eat, etc. 

I've actively started to try to lose this wonderful baby weight, so I made a soup that I saw Sia post on Instagram. I know. I know. Grocery shopping AND cooking all in the same day? I'm a superhero. (Don't worry, I saved face by making everyone eat leftovers for dinner that they were sick of eating under the guise of not wanting the food to go bad. I don't really care. I'll throw food away because it looks at me wrong. Mama just has a limit to what she'll do in a day.

It was shockingly delicious. I say shocking because it's a vegetable soup, which doesn't seem like it could be all of that exciting, BUT I am here to tell you that this soup is a wild ride for your taste buds. (And you thought I was losing my edge being home alone with two kids all the time...pshh...look at how crayzay I get...)

I threw in some ground turkey because Mama loves a little protein with her lunch (I'm ignoring that that sounds dirty...mainly because I can't think of which route I want to go with it and "that's what she said" seems a little juvenile...as I snicker writing it...)

Also in a surprising twist of fate (are you on the edge of your seat?) it made enough for lunches for the rest of the week. I know. I was as shocked as you were. I channeled my inner basic bitch and stored them in mason jars. Woo, I get a rush just saying that. 

So, sometimes I have my shit together. Kind of. Well... enough to take both of my kids on an errand AND make myself a healthy lunch. 

Also, because I'm a giver, I'll leave the recipe here too. I tried to see if she had it on her site, but she didn't. But, she is awesome so check her out. She's at "Diary of a Fit Mom". 

Ingredients:

1 lb ground turkey

1 yellow onion, diced

1 teaspoon garlic powder

1 cup diced carrots

4 cups spinach

1 cup green beans

1 whole bell pepper, chopped

1 can diced tomatoes

6 cups beef broth

2 tablespoons tomato paste

2 teaspoons Italian seasoning

Salt and pepper to taste

2 cups broccoli florets

2 cups sliced zucchini

Directions:

1. In a large pot brown ground turkey and onions.

2. Sprinkle 1 tsp garlic powder over mixture.

3. Add carrots, spinach, green beans, and cook an additional 5 minutes.

4. Stir in bell peppers, undrained tomatoes, broth, tomato paste, and seasonings. Simmer 6-7 minutes. 

5. Add zucchini and broccoli. Simmer an additional 5 minutes or until softened.

I sprinkled a little fresh Parmesan cheese on top too. Delish. Enjoy and thank me later!!!

On Failure...

When I was pregnant with Addy, I promised myself that I would give breastfeeding a 100% try. I had always regretted not really trying with John. I stick to my decision to choose sanity over breastfeeding back then, but I wish that I could have tried. It was just too much in a sea of "too much" and something had to give. I was totally OK with it at the time though.

This time I did my research. I read endless amounts of articles, blog posts, pamphlets, and took a breastfeeding class. When Addy was born she took to it immediately and we were off. It felt natural.

Except it wasn't. Her latch was so shallow that it hurt and she was feeding so often that I was in agony. I met with every single lactation consultant they had while I was in the hospital, I talked with every nurse. The latch never fully improved.

By the time we got home, I was overwhelmed. Addy needed to be fed, John needed something that only I could do, I was trying to do everything I normally did. It was too much. That night, when the thought of feeding her was too much to think of, I gave her a bottle. Which was probably my first mistake, but I'll stick by that one too. In the world of Motherhood, I will always choose sanity over what's "the right thing to do".

My next mistake, was I stayed liked this. I kept giving her bottles so that I could heal. I read somewhere that I shouldn't pump so early because it would just lead to an oversupply and engorgement (which is almost laughable now), so I didn't. I did nothing for a few days until I said, "wait a minute, you promised yourself you would try this" and then I panicked.

I set up a meeting with a lactation consultant, but by then it had already been a week. I knew I wasn't producing much, but at least her latch had somehow got better. But we had a fight ahead of us. So I tried 100%.

I baked lactation cookies. Which are by far the most delicious cookies I have ever made, but I ate about a million of them and gained like 5 pounds in a week!

I also started to eat whatever other foods they said I should. Oatmeal and spinach were a part of my daily diet. I also started taking supplements. Fenugreek, Blessed Thistle, Red Raspberry Leaf. I was taking something ridiculous, like 9 vitamins a day. I spent a ton of money.

I also rented a hospital grade pump and pumped away. My sweet cherub had decided that she didn't have time for me. She wanted her food when she wanted it and I took too long. And didn't have enough. So she refused. So all day long, I fed her, then pumped, fed her, pumped, fed her, pumped some more. I couldn't go anywhere because I was always too close to the next "pump" and I was barely getting enough in as it was. 

But it still wasn't working. I pumped and pumped and pumped and would get excited when I finally had enough to give her a decent sized bottle (but it was never a full feeding)

This bottle. This ONE OUNCE of breastmilk, took my 7 pumps. SEVEN. Two of them were "power pumps", which is when you pump for 20 minutes, stop for 10, pump for 10, stop for 10, and then pump for a final 10 to finish out the house. So that was three hours of pumping. For an ounce. 

I finally started taking medication. Domperidone, which was suggested by my lactation consultant. I'm embarrassed to say that I had to order this boot leg, from some company in a far away land, because you can't get it in the United States. I did my research, weighed my pros and cons, researched the company, and decided that this was the best decision for me.

Let me just back up for a second. I was SO set on breastfeeding, that I thought ordering pills from an overseas online pharmacy was the best decision for me.

OK, moving on.

I got my pills the day before we left for vacation, so I started taking them and used my free time and extra hands to pump. And pump. And pump. My vacation was spent planned around my pump schedule. It was terrible, but I was determined.

And then it got to be too much. Two weeks later, I still was barely producing 2 ounces a day (which WAS an improvement, but still was only half a feeding). She still wouldn't latch because I wasn't as cool as a bottle. I was always telling my toddler to wait because I was pumping. Or I couldn't get to her when she needed me because I was pumping. I started to resent it. It was too much, too hard. It was supposed to be "natural". It wasn't. 

Then I got a nasty bout of mastitis and ended up in severe pain with a 103 fever. My mom had to come over to take care of the kids because I couldn't.

So, I let it go. This right here is the last bottle of breastmilk.

I'm heartbroken to be honest. I really wanted this to work for us. I really, truly enjoyed the moments when it WAS working and we had that connection. I wanted to give her what was "best". I wanted her to have the extra push to her immune system for when she had to start daycare so early. 

It's kind of pathetic the emotions I'm going through. Of feeling like a failure. As a Mother. As a Woman. Wondering why my body doesn't work like it is supposed to. Wondering what I could have done more. Done better. Feeling depressed when I walk by the aisle of breastfeeding supplies when I'm at the store. Seeing posts online from woman who are successful (since I filled my newsfeed with them for support). When I'm asked by someone why I'm giving her a bottle of formula instead of nursing her. It's heartbreaking. 

I know that this was the right decision for us. It was becoming frustrated and I needed to stop to be a better Mom. Plus, this schedule would not have worked when I go back to work in a couple of weeks. I KNOW in my bones that this was the right decision. It doesn't mean it doesn't suck though. That it isn't isolating to be feeling all of this when no one else really seems to get it. (Besides my mom who will always listen and feel what I'm going through)

This Mom Guilt. I'm telling you. It's rough. 

Starting Over...

Once upon a time I had a blog. 

I started it in my mid-twenties and used it to vent about the ever so important things that happen when you're still working to mainly support your weekend drinking activities. It was a great outlet in a time when trivial things seemed like the end of the world and my job only kept me busy about three hours a day. It saw me through my engagement, my wedding, buying a house, and the birth of our my two children. Although if I'm honest, the posts were scarce at best after my son was born. It was always a security blanket though, something that I could cozy up with when things started going South.

I've been called back to writing quite a few times lately. Not usually hitting the post button, but always getting down my thoughts. It wasn't until my bad ass cousin released her new website promoting her book that she wrote (see? I told you she was bad ass) and her blog that I realized I missed it so much. I read her words and yearned for them to be my own. I was jealous that she was doing something with writing and I wasn't.

Then I realized I didn't have to be jealous. I just had to get off my ass and do something about it. Which leads me here.

I find that I go through a bit of a transitional period after I have my kids, as I'm sure every woman does. I am nowhere near the same woman that I was before my son. It's almost as if the gestational period is a metaphorical chrysalis where I emerge as a completely different being postpartum. I'm not sure if it's just my survival instinct kicking in to keep me from losing myself, or if it really just changes you, but I knew the signs this time around before there was too much damage.

After I had my son I felt like I was drowning. I emerged from the hazy newborn days. I had found my footing as a Mother. I was getting more sleep, we had a routine, and I was no longer essential personnel to the every day things. We had all become so comfortable with life that my husband, son, and I were able to go through our day to day with little disruption. I could leave knowing that my husband had everything 100% under control and my son barely knew I was gone. I always felt like I had to be present, that missing anything was being a bad mother, but now I knew that wasn't true.

With this new found freedom, I looked at myself and didn't recognize anything that I saw. I still had most of my baby weight (even though it had been the better part of a year later), I barely talked to my friends (who has the time when you're doing everything yourself), and I was bored senseless at my job (but was thankful for a supportive boss and the monotony when I was trying to figure out how to be a working mom). So, I got off my ass, lost the baby weight (and then some), started making plans with my friends a couple times a month, and changed jobs. More importantly, I found myself, for the first time in my entire life. 

I'm in a similar position now. Slightly. The baby weight is still there (though it's much earlier that I'm trying to get rid of it), I still don't see my friends that much, but I'm trying (the babe IS still a tiny one), and I just started a new job before I went on maternity leave (so I really don't know what I'm going back to or how it will be with two kids). I haven't had a whole lot of time to myself though. My sweet girl will be 10 weeks in two days and I've spent 99.99% of that with her (except for three hours that we left for our anniversary dinner). While I don't regret a single second of that (and I know every second I am away from her I will miss her like crazy), I do know that you can't pour from an empty cup and a happy Mama makes a happy family.

So here I am. Starting over. The old blog had too much history. I wrote too much for other people. Thinking too much about what I was writing. How I was writing it. Was I following all of the rules? Would someone think I was annoying? Would someone think I was a bad writer? Would I offend someone? But honestly, I just don't fucking care anymore. I'm just here for me. And if someone, somewhere shares a giggle, or identifies with some shit show story that I tell, then that's just a little icing on the cake. 

So here's my stories, of life, and love, and raising these crazy Petruski babes...