Who's Your Mommy?

Recently, Jon and I were getting ready to go to sleep, and he asked me what my favorite thing was about Maddie since she turned a year old. I said, "Hearing her call me Mommy and getting a hug when I pick her up from daycare." Having been forced to read/listen to my rants about her lack of interest in acknowledging or saying "Mommy", I know you'll be delighted (or perhaps just relieved) to hear that she's finally calling me by name, and not just saying my name when people point to me, but asking for me and calling to me. It's a full-blown Ma-mee, too. She does call me Ma-ma, sometimes, but as with Jon and "Da-dee", it's usually the complete word, correctly enunciated and everything.

I think this is another one of those "life-moments" (that's a really cheesy term I just used, sorry...) that you're never fully prepared for, a moment that just barrels into you at high speed. When you have kids, or find out you're having kids, or birth kids, or whatever context works for you, you think about the first time they'll call you Mommy or Daddy or Great-step-aunt-Myrtle, but when it happens, oh-my-goodness, the feeling is boundless. I can't really describe it in better terms. It just overtakes you; you can't breathe for a second because did that just?, really?, at me?, for real? It's addictive, this being addressed by name. We still haven't gotten tired of it, even when it comes in the form of a whine. (Oh, and we dont' really have a Great-aunt-Myrtle. You didn't just forget part of the family tree. No worries.)

Now for the hugging: She's been giving hugs for quite a while now, when you ask for them, so nothing really new there, but for the last two weeks or so, she's been giving completely spontaneous, self-motivated hugs when I pick her up from daycare. I walk in the door, she gets excited, grins, proudly displays to me whatever toy she's playing with, and begins toddling around the furniture toward me. She used to stop just short of my reach (she never really wants to go home from daycare--daycare has better toys) and just show me her toy before turning around and wandering off to play with the dog or the kitchen magnets. Now, however, she comes up and snuggles her head into my shoulder, just for a few seconds, but long enough for it to be a purposeful hug. I don't want to put words in her mouth, but I see it as her way of saying, "Hey, I missed you. I don't really want to go home with you, but if you want to stay here and play with me, that would be great. I'm just glad you're around." It's nice to feel, if not needed, wanted, and the hug is one of the first signs of physical affection she's shown us all on her own. It's a way of saying "I like being with you, too," when full-sentences and thoughts are a long way off. (Again, with the putting of words in her mouth. I could be wrong. She may just be resting before going back to play with the dog.)

Before I wrap this up, I must apologize, as usual, for our lack of blogging of late. This fall is gearing up to be one of the busiest on record, and of course before anyone says it, I know they just get busier. I'm aware. We did go to the zoo for the first time this Sunday, so we'll try to get a post and a few pictures up from that, and of course, we'll have an assortment of tailgating/football photos at some point this season. Until then, enjoy this completely unrelated, but seriously adorable, photo of Maddie that Nana snapped earlier this fall.

Tub Dunking!

Note: There are additional photos added to the slideshow which includes Maddie swimming, our trip to 'The Farm', and the big birthday party. New slideslow location at the very bottom of the blog.

Of Weaning and Whining (and Wining and Sushi)

WARNING: This post contains very detailed information about breastfeeding and weaning. If you feel that this is something you may be uncomfortable with, please do not read this post. If you do read it and are subsequently offended or unsettled, the writer and other contributors to this blog take no responsibility for your lack of judgement.

So, it's official. Maddie is weaned and I am, for the time being, finished breastfeeding. Since I know there are several people who read this blog who are breastfeeding or will be breastfeeding, I thought it might be helpful to outline the process a little since I, for one, had a lot of trouble finding information on weaning when I needed it. Well, sort of. I could find information on weaning a baby. What I couldn't find information on was weaning a mom. I found article after article on cutting back on feedings slowly, introducing the bottle, etc., but I found one, seriously ONE, article on what I should expect as I went from milk factory to empty barn. (It was on Babble, of course.)

Anyway, basically, I began cutting back on feedings in June. I went from pumping three times a day to pumping twice a day and then once a day and then not at all during the day. We switched Maddie to goat's milk and then cow's milk, and aside from the fact that she still refuses to drink cow's milk out of a sippy-cup (coming soon to Webster-Stoppel Family, the epic saga of Bottle vs. Cup!), it went very well. In fact, from her perspective, I was sort of sad that she didn't seem to miss me or my milk more. In reality, Jon and I were actually quite glad the transition was smooth. I eventually got to the point where I was only nursing her morning and night, then only in the morning, and on the morning of her birthday party, I nursed her for the last time, and that was it. Out of business.

As for what my body did, well, it wasn't quite that smooth. Aside from the actual shutting down, going from pumping twice a day to pumping once a day was the most difficult. I chose to cut feedings out over the weekends, so I wouldn't be sitting at my desk at work leaking through my clothes, but that meant there were several times during the weekends that I was in some other public place hoping I didn't leak through my clothes. And yes, it's painful, although, not as painful as some descriptions I've heard. My breasts were rock solid, unmoving, hot, and painful. I did not want to be touched, and by the end of it all, raising my arms over my head hurt. Getting dressed in the morning was challenging, and following The Last Supper (or breakfast as the case may be), I wore sports bras for a week solid.

Then, strangely, after a week of pain, clogged ducts about which I could do nothing, embarrassingly large breasts, ill-fitting tops, and disrupted sleep, everything just went away. By the Sunday following our last feeding session, my breasts were still very sore, but they weren't massive and immovable. By Monday, it was over. As for the aftermath, it's not too bad. (She writes while tilting her head a little and squinting, trying to decide how she really feels.) Yes, my breasts are smaller and they seem to have lost a little, um, elasticity, but they're not flat as pancakes and hanging out in the vicinity of my belly-button, either. Plus, I'm actually thinner now than I was before I got pregnant, so who's to say some of this wouldn't have happened anyway, baby or no. Regardless, though, I will admit that it's taking some getting used to. I'd become accustomed to my larger bust-line, and now instead of the ladies seeming smaller, I feel like everything else got bigger. It's a weird scale, perspective thing, and I have to keep reminding myself that I probably didn't gain five pounds in a week.

Emotionally, I don't think I experienced any major hormone shifts at the end, but you may need to check with Jon. I was a little "pissy" for a week or so, but I don't remember it being too out of control. I will say that I was surprised by how emotional I had become about nursing. While it was going on, I never really felt one way or another about it. It was something that needed to be done, and sometimes I was happy to do it, and sometimes it was a huge inconvenience, truthfully. However, the first night I didn't nurse her before she went to bed, the urge to do so was very strong. I really, really wanted to, and I had to keep reminding myself that I had to quit at some point. Plus, she was ready. She'd been ready for a while.

As for the sushi part of the title, to put a positive spin on weaning and celebrate some of the activities I can now return to whole-heartedly, Jon, some friends, and I are going out for cocktails and sushi this Saturday--cocktails because I mostly avoided hard alcohol while I was breastfeeding (and before anyone flips out, I was very careful to wait appropriate amounts of time or pump and dump even when drinking wine and beer), and sushi because it's best to avoid the whole raw fish thing while you're feeding another person, bacteria and all that.

And so it ends, and I can stop writing warning labels for so many posts, unless, of course, Maddie decides to repeat the "Great Poo Incident of 2009"...

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to burn my nursing bras. Those things were awful.