Pump It Up

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Published 03.16.2010 | Permanent Link | Comments (25)

During my first pregnancy I registered for (and received) a small manual Avent Isis pump. Several people who saw it on my baby registry list gently patted my head and suggested that I wait and go the double-barrel hospital-rental route instead. Oh, I was! I told them! I have read all about pumps and pumping and pump-related accessories! The hand-pump is for later, for when I'm back and work and everything is going swimmingly and perfect and I just think I'll want something small and discreet, you know?

And they would nod and pat my head again, because oh, AMY.

I did rent a hospital-grade pump. First, the LC gave me a big blue beast of a thing that tore my already battle-scarred nipples up. ("Pump trauma." It's apparently an actual Thing.) I swapped it for another hospital-grade pump, the Medela Symphony. This pump worked in that it did not hurt, but not so much with the actual production of actual milk. Jason would feed my losing-too-much-weight newborn formula while I pumped and cried and felt like a malfunctioning dairy cow. I hated it. HATED.

My plan to stockpile breast milk in preparation for returning to work was a spectacular failure -- Noah went to his first day of daycare with the entire stash of one-and-a-half bottles. Likewise, pumping at work never produced enough to see him through the next day. Sometimes I didn't even bother bringing home the sad little half-ounce amounts. I tried EVERYTHING. Baby photos, baby clothes, visualizations of rooting and waterfalls. The only thing that seemed to trigger a letdown was watching a video clip of Noah nursing, complete with those snuffly greedy baby noises he'd make, but it wasn't like I was ever awash in ounce upon ounce of liquid gold.

The Avent hand-pump was indeed, a laughable choice for me, as it was nowhere near powerful enough for my stubborn boobs. Oh, AMY.

I never pumped "enough" at work, either. I had an office with a door and a lock and assumed that I'd have no problem finding time to pump during the day. And then I'd show up for work and some crisis would happen or a meeting would run over and then suddenly it was 2 pm and I hadn't even eaten lunch, much less pumped to relieve my aching boobs. Seriously, there are few things that impress me more than hearing about mothers who end up pumping more or less exclusively for month after month. I want to give them all the gold stars and medals that we all joke about not getting.

I stopped viewing pumping at work as a milk production endeavor -- Noah drank formula when he was away from me and there really wasn't anything else to do. I kept pumping just to keep my boobs from drying up completely so we could continue to breastfeed at home. When Noah weaned after a couple months of this, one of my very first thoughts was something along the lines of "oh thank goodness, I don't have to pump anymore." I boxed every breastfeeding accessory I owned and donated some and tossed the rest. I was done. I was never doing that to myself again. If breastfeeding didn't work the second time, I would give myself permission to stop and not torture myself with the pump.

I did rent the Medela Symphony again, pledging to at least do whatever I could at first to combat potential supply problems. I pumped for 10 to 15 minutes after every feeding, essentially tricking my body into thinking I'd had twins. And oh, how the milk flowed this time! Ounces and ounces of it! A quick sniff of Ezra's laundry or the sound of a running sink faucet was enough to trigger an enormously powerful letdown reflex. Instead of hunching over the wheezing machine and feeling sorry for myself, I was filled with awe and pride at what my boobs were doing this time. I'd bring multiple full storage bags down to our refrigerator and show them off to Jason, like: DUDE. LOOK WHAT I CAN DO.

Once it was clear that I'd veered into oversupply territory, I returned my rental and bought both a Pump-in-Style...AND a Medela Harmony manual pump (which worked great for relieving engorgement or to prevent poor Ezra from choking on the initial letdown). I didn't need to return to work, but my fridge and freezer always had enough milk to last a week. Pumping wasn't a chore as much as a ticket to convenience...and a little freedom. Date nights. A solo shopping trip while Jason stayed home. An extra sanity-saving bottle in the diaper bag in case we got stuck in traffic or otherwise off schedule.

After awhile, though, my supply dipped as Ezra slept longer and nursed less, and the pump was the first thing to go. I suddenly couldn't get anything anymore, maybe an ounce here or there. I was actually kind of bummed. Then Ezra started rejecting pumped milk anyway, so I boxed the pumps up and stuck them in a closet.

I never really thought about how my pumping experiences were just as drastically different as my actual nursing experiences, but they were. The first time, it's like I transferred all my frustration and discomfort with nursing and working to that blasted pump, and it rewarded me in kind. The second time, everything was just...fine. Not a big deal at all. Was it me? The baby? More confidence, better technique? Physical? Mental? I have no idea. Sometimes pumping is great, and sometimes it...well, it sucks.

(Weirdly, entirely unrelated: Writing this post [and last week's] triggered very weird phantom letdown sensations in my boobs. The guy at the table next to me is giving me weird looks because I keep yanking on my bra. Keep it classy, self!)

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The Office Goes Postpartum

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Published 03.09.2010 | Permanent Link | Comments (30)

I have written a couple times about how much I hate -- nay, truly and forcefully LOATHE -- the way pregnancy and birth are depicted on TV and in movies. It usually looks something like this:

Female character's water breaks at a hilariously inopportune time, without warning or any contractions, usually all over a male character's shoes. Everyone rushes to the hospital, and by the time they get there the female character is (of course) in active labor and screaming hilariously for drugs. (Bonus hilarity points if the female character ever mentioned a plan to have a natural birth.) The father of the baby is either trapped in an elevator or across town thanks to a wacky series of hilarious circumstances, or whining about the female character squeezing his hand too hard and cursing at him. Non-related male characters accidentally barge into the room and faint and/or vomit at the horrors they witness. A few minutes later, the doctor presents a six-month-old covered in Vaseline and food coloring to the entire cast. The baby's name is probably the one you picked out for your own baby, which means you have to start over because people will think you copied. The female character gets the world's largest hospital room, capable of handling unlimited visitors, and she drops all the baby weight in a matter of hours and spends exactly one scene dealing with the indignity of slightly frizzy hair to indicate what she just went through.

Then they all go home and the baby spends the rest of the series asleep in its crib off camera.

FIN!

So...I was really genuinely surprised that of all TV shows, The Office got childbirth and its aftermath almost completely right.

If you haven't seen it, the two-part episode is available right now at Hulu. Part one is here, and here's part two. The first part, the one with the actual birth, is worth watching, for a few reasons:

1. The labor details are more or less accurate. Pam has contractions that slowly build in frequency and intensity. Her water breaks after she's already in active labor. (It can certainly happen the other way around, but it's much more common for the water to break after contractions have started.) And the breakage simply requires a wardrobe change, not a mop and a haz-mat crew.

2. Pam's reactions to labor are sweetly believable. She stays at the office past the 5-7 minute point because she doesn't want to check into the hospital until midnight so she can maximize her HMO's stingy hospital stay coverage. And once it seems like she's getting a little ridiculous in this sticking point, she reveals that actually, she's mostly just really scared.

3. The delivery is off-camera. Sure, Michael does the cliched burst-into-the-delivery-room gag and there's plenty of screaming, but it's by far the least eye-rolly of television birth scenes I've seen.

But the reason I'm really writing about a stupid TV show is because of the second part. The baby (an actual newborn!) is born, but the camera stays with Jim and Pam throughout their hospital stay, and oh, it was eerily accurate. Hospital birth in America? The Office is onto you. Pam wants to breastfeed, but has trouble getting her baby to latch and receives less than enthusiastic support from the hospital staff. Her nurse keeps pushing formula while Pam's frustration mounts and her heart breaks. The nurse rolls her eyes when Pam worries about nipple confusion and generally does little to support her desire to nurse. Pam gets a roommate (for whom everything is going just SWIMMINGLY) and she and Jim crowd together on her hospital bed, terrified of the ticking countdown to their coming discharge time.

There's of course, typical sitcom stuff (a male lactation consultant; Jim grabs their roommate's baby in a sleep-deprived haze and Pam nurses it by accident), but even that was kind of daring -- both for the taboo of nursing another woman's child and the heavens not crashing down, but also the act makes Pam realize that her baby doesn't latch like that baby. (What have I said, over and over and over again? Babies know how to suck, not latch, and it's not YOUR FAULT if everything doesn't work like clockwork at first.)

Jim and Pam's fear of a short two-night hospital stay was a framing device across both parts, and they fight it until the very last minute. But it isn't until they leave the hospital (or, more accurately, Pam is unceremoniously dumped on a bench outside because the wheelchair and nurse are needed elsewhere), that things actually improve. The baby cries and Pam reaches into her bag -- and my heart clenched because I was sure she was reaching for a bottle, having been convinced to give up -- and grabs her nursing cover. The baby latches and nurses in earnest just as Jim returns with the car and he beams with pride, and waves of relief wash over them both. They can do it. They can do this.

I'm getting chills just thinking about it. It! A SITCOM. And not a particularly sentimental sitcom at that. And yet when it came to BREASTFEEDING, I'm not sure I've seen a better take on the first days postpartum. So...thanks, Office writers and actors, for getting it mostly right, and for not being afraid to show that breastfeeding can be both really really hard and really really worth it.

(That's what she said!)

Photo from the Halpert Baby Blog. That's right. Pam and Jim's fictitious baby blog. Um, why aren't we on their blogroll? Waaah!

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One, Two, Three, More?

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Published 03.02.2010 | Permanent Link | Comments (60)

Photo by dollop

Speaking of second babies...

When Noah was five or six weeks old, my husband opened his mouth and spoke the most insane sentence in the history of the human race: I think we should have another baby.

WHAT. WHAT? Are you kidding me? We just HAD a baby. Do you remember that? Are you so sleep-deprived that you're having time-traveling hallucinations? You know, AGAIN?

No, I didn't say any of that. Instead, I said something equally as insane: Yeah, I think so too.

Of course, this didn't translate into actual trying for another baby right away, but still. I was shocked that we felt so sure, so quickly. We'd always planned on having one baby, singular. I spent the majority of my pregnancy insisting that this was a one-time deal, that I was not going through this again. And then BOOM, he arrived and our world turned inside out and upside down and we were like little kids staggering away from the end of a wild roller coaster, barely waiting for the dizziness to die down before screaming AGAIN! AGAIN! and running back in line.

Since Ezra's birth, a lot of our one-kid friends have asked us how we decided to have a second baby. The answer is really no different than how we decided to have the first baby: Our family was not complete without him.

(And this has NOTHING to do with any attitude about only children. We planned on an only child. There are many, many good things about being an only child. There are many, many good things about having a sibling. Or having multiple siblings. Or families deciding what's best for them and their child/ren and everybody else shutting the hell up about it.)

This time, we're admittedly a bit more conflicted. Three kids? THREE? That sounds exhausting. And expensive. Most days, I think I would be more than fine with keeping our family as-is, and there are many smart, practical reasons that would make that a smart, practical decision.

Some days, though. I'm not sure I'm ready to say never again. The best I can say right is: Not yet.

What about you? Did you have a preordained family size all mapped out? Did you ultimately stick with that family size? Or did you have to adjust your plans (say for, infertility or multiples or something else outside of your control)? Are you done? Not done? Not even ready to start thinking about the question, crazy columnist lady, oh my God?

Stretch Marks

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Published 02.23.2010 | Permanent Link | Comments (12)

Photo by G u i d o

During my first pregnancy, I erupted in stretch marks right at week 38. And seriously, erupt is the only word I can use to accurately describe it. One night I went to bed, smooth and moisturized and mark-free. The next morning, I had a series of white half-circles surrounding my belly button. They somewhat resembled the Milky Way. Every day, the circles and rings stretched further out across my belly, in a hurricane-like pattern.

My doctor noticed them at my next appointment and cheerfully told me to moisturize with cocoa butter. I told him that I HAD and DID and ALL THAT, and probably would have decked him if he hadn't represented my best shot at not being pregnant for too many more weeks at that time.

By the time I gave birth to my (GIGANTIC) baby, the marks were pretty expansive. And as my belly deflated, the skin sort-of...puckered up and dimpled, like the scruff of a hairless cat. And I discovered that the worst of the marks had been on the underside of my belly and the tops of my thighs -- instead of the thin white ones I'd been seeing and stressing over, I had deep wide purple ones in places that I'd simply been unable to see at nine thousand months pregnant.

And you know, I was pretty freaking upset about them. My c-section scar was nothing, the extra weight was more nothing, but OH. Those marks. I hated them. I couldn't see myself ever getting used to them, or be okay with them, as every other mother I knew professed to be. I hadn't expected to get them, frankly, because I never noticed that my mom had any and I never got any during puberty like many of my girlfriends did. So frankly, I was horrified. I was ruined!

I broke my own personal dollar-amount threshold at Sephora and bought a $100 tube of StriVectin...only to discover that you couldn't use it while breastfeeding. I waited a few months and started slathering it on after we were more or less done with nursing. I tried oils and other creams and scar treatments and pretty much everything that made any kind of dubious stretch-mark-reducing claim.

And...they faded. They didn't go away, of course -- the indentation was still there, but at least the color of the marks more or less became the same as the surrounding skin. Points for having a natural fish-belly-white complexion? Eh?

And...I got pregnant again. This time there was no waiting until 38 weeks. The marks showed up earlier, darker, bigger. When one of my more fortunate friends advised one of our OTHER newly pregnant friends on which stretch-mark prevention cream "really worked" I kind of flipped out on her because NO. NOT REALLY. YOU JUST GOT LUCKY.

But after my (NON-GIGANTIC) second baby was born, I found that I just couldn't be bothered with all the stretch-mark care this time. I didn't buy any StriVectin or cocoa butter or scar treatment. I used my regular ol' body lotion on them, whenever I remembered.

And guess what? They faded. Again. The same. Probably a little faster. While the skin around my belly button will probably never be completely smooth again, I look fine. When standing up, my skin could possibly pass for pretty darn okay. (Sitting down, I'm a bit lumpy, since I just seem to have extra skin, marked-up and otherwise.)

So, in other words, if you're looking at your own set of deep dark battle scars, relax. THEY WILL FADE. Like any patch of scar tissue, they need time, and will look better with age. Keep them moisturized and protected from the sun, but that's about it. If it makes you feel better to apply the fancy custom products in hopes of speeding up the process, go for it, but don't expect any miracles. The miracle of pregnancy and childbirth is what got you into this mess anyway, right?

Lullaby, and Goodnight...

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Published 02.16.2010 | Permanent Link | Comments (74)

Illustration by Secret Agent Josephine

After Noah was born, I realized that I didn't know any lullabies. Or at least, not that many. I knew the first verse to Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, none of the actual words to Brahm's, and always got thrown after a few lines of Hush Little Baby. Billy goat? Horse and cart? Cart and bull? WHO IS DOING THIS SHOPPING?

I remember Googling around for song ideas and lyrics and being absolutely SHOCKED to learn that Twinkle Twinkle Little Star shares its melody with both the alphabet song AND Baa Baa Black Sheep. Like, I called my husband to tell him this. Right then. On the phone. Because seriously, can you believe it? Can you believe we've gone our entire collective lives without noticing that? Don't you feel kind of betrayed?

He didn't, but whatever. It was a very big moment for me at the time, though.

Later, I was doing other important things online (reading blogs) and discovered that a lot of new mothers just made songs up for their babies. Or sang stuff like...The Beatles. Real music. Or other actual non-lullaby songs. I tried making up lyrics for Noah, but mostly ended up doing a Randy-Newman-like take on Twinkle Twinkle, essentially narrating whatever it was we were doing, or singing about crap I saw in the room.

A typical attempt:

Rocking, rocking, rocking...horse.
That is not safe for you to ride of course.
I sure wish that you would sleep,
Go to bed and not make a peep.
Rocking, rocking, rocking...chair.
I am tired and losing my hair.

And if that wasn't weird enough, every time I tried to think of a "real" song to sing, the only one I could think of was -- inexplicably -- Barry Manilow's Copacabana. I didn't really know most of those lyrics either, but once Copacabana pops into your head, there is absolutely nothing else you can think of to sing. So I would.

By the time Ezra arrived, my skills had improved somewhat. I was at least familiar with a few more children's songs, and I got pretty good at creating verses to my own original composition of High-Maintenance Baby.

But you know what? His favorite song was the same as his brother's. Every night I would nurse and rock and sing. I'd hum Brahm's, muddle through Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, and then finally give up and break out the big guns: Her name was LOLA. She was a SHOWGIRL.

Your turn: What ridiculous thing do you sing to your baby?

Let's Talk About Sex. Again. Some More.

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Published 02.02.2010 | Permanent Link | Comments (15)

Sex. You guys want more sex. In real-life and this column. Noted! So let me make a book recommendation: Kristen Chase's The Mominatrix's Guide to Sex. Sex during pregnancy and immediately postpartum are topics that MAYBE get a few pages in most books. Kristen covers it all. Reading the book made me feel both refreshingly normal AND totally inspired to get over any remaining hangups I have about my battle-scarred body and just enjoy sex for the fun, relaxing thing it is. In fact, the book is so thorough that I actually had a hard time coming up with questions for her, because I'd already learned all the answers from her.

Q. So. First of all, I feel like I could honestly just include an Amazon link to your book and be done with this whole column. Talk about a topic that doesn't get covered in the baby books. So I have to ask...were you always this confident in the postpartum sex area or is this something you've had to work at after each baby? Something you struggled with or was it always a priority?

You know, I was one of those pregnant women that never had the "holy sex batman" moments. It was terribly uncomfortable for me, and so after I had my babies, I was the one with the 6-week countdown calendar. And while I was definitely tired and a bit bedraggled, since I hadn't had sex in moooonths, I really missed the intimacy. Well, at least the hotness. Plus, it made me feel a little bit like my old self when I was basically just a feeding machine.

Q. Any differences between your postpartum experiences that you think affected sex more than others? Things better/worse or easier/harder after baby #1 vs. babies #2 and 3?

After my first, I had a small tear that was repaired and later caused me a bit of pain, but following my 2nd, which also caused a small tear, I felt fantastic. I attribute that to a much quicker and easier labor, as well as a bit better mental preparedness on my part. And #3 just kicked my ass. Having sex was a way to escape the diaper changes and temper tantrums if only for a few minutes. Or hours (if my husband is reading).

Q. Top tips for having sex the first time, post-baby?

Grab some lube and take it slow. And leave your expectations in the diaper pail. Just enjoy those precious minutes alone with your partner when you're not attached to your baby.

Q. Top tips for recovering a lost sex drive?

A woman's sex drive is so multi-faceted that it's important to figure out what factors are contributing to your low libido - whether it's self-image, pain, sleep deprivation, or hormones, just to name a bunch. If you can nail down what it really is (and be honest with yourself and your partner), then you can decide whether you need a break, a gym membership (with babysitting), a nap, a visit to your OB or midwife, or a pair of handcuffs and a whip.

(From Amalah: This is so spot-on. And if I may cut in with a personal overshare: Turns out we needed to up the variety and get a little more adventurous...but I also still found that one of those herbal "women's libido" supplements from Whole Foods did me a world of good. So sometimes it's not even just one thing or the other.)

Q. And lastly...or a new mom struggling with her new (and not necessarily improved) body? I had a huge problem with this, after both babies. I hated my flabby, stretched-out belly and would find myself thinking about it during sex and basically kill the mood over something that my husband swore he didn't even notice. WTF, self?

So many women say that their husbands could have cared less about how they looked and yet they felt extremely uncomfortable. Much of it has to do with what we think is sexy based on our past experiences and what society shoots at us from every angle. Self-acceptance is tough as it is, but when you're sporting a flabby stretched-out belly, leaky boobs, and let's just say it, hemorrhoids, it takes some with super human self esteem to just let go.

But that's why they make light switches, blankets, and sexy lingerie that can hold you in or keep you covered all while allowing full access. Apply that "this too shall pass" attitude you use for the crazy first year to your bedroom antics. It's always easier said than done, but if you go into it with an open mind and a good bra, you might just have more fun then you thought possible.

You may find these interesting also:

- Sex After Baby: How to Get Back in the Saddle Again After Having a Baby
- How to Spice Up Your Post-Kid Marriage (or Relationship)

The "Body After Baby!" Hype Machine

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Published 01.26.2010 | Permanent Link | Comments (42)

All I have today is a rant.

I am really, really sick of those stupid "BODY AFTER BABY" tabloid covers. Particularly as they've gotten more and more insane -- it's no longer enough for a woman to debut a slimmed-down figure a mere six months postpartum, I mean, OBVIOUSLY we've all completely forgotten that she even HAD a baby by that point. No, now everyone is rushing to get these covers out within weeks. OK! Magazine had Kendra Wilkinson on their cover TWO WEEKS POSTPARTUM (albeit with a tiny, slightly convex belly) talking about her exercise routine. And since Kendra had a c-section, this was a good FOUR WEEKS before she would have even been officially cleared to safely exercise.

Now OK! has been outed as completely faking and Photoshopping their latest "exclusive" post-baby body cover: on it, a photo of Kourtney Kardashian (and I just had to check her first name twice, for I have no idea which one is which) is said to have been taken a mere seven days after her baby's birth. Her belly is flat as a pancake, and the accompanying headlines are full of promises to reveal her "secrets" and "hunger-free diet." If she can do it, so can you. So why can't you?

Turns out, though, that OK! yanked the photo from a rival Life & Style shoot and simply altered it to hell. Kourtney tweeted about the OK! photo, rightfully insulted: “One of those weeklies got it wrong again…they didn’t have an exclusive with me. And I gained 40 pounds while pregs, not 26...But thanks!” She then told WWD: “They doctored and Photoshopped my body to make it look like I have already lost all the weight, which I have not.”

The original WAS taken one week postpartum, but as you can see below, Kourtney actually dares to sport a stomach that possibly looks like maybe an entire human being resided there AT SOME POINT in the recent past.

I may be slightly unclear who exactly this woman is and why we should all hold ourselves up to her postpartum example, but I think she looks lovely in the original photo. (And who knows? Maybe that one's been altered too. Maybe there is no original. LOGIC WORMHOLE AHHHHH.) The OK! cover is a such a crappy Photoshopping job to begin with, so it's like, quadrupably insulting that they honestly expect their readers to look at that cover and see something to aspire to. "Yes! I want to look like a cardboard cutout of a bobblehead! As soon as possible!"

But we are, apparently, supposed to do whatever we possibly can to slim down as fast as we possibly can. C-sections or not. Breastfeeding or not. Sleep or not. Healthy or not. And oh! If you think this is just the number on the scale, well, you're still not being hard enough on yourself. What you're really after is your PRE-BABY BODY. Everything back to exactly the way it was before you underwent one of the most profound, life-changing experiences in the world. Your stomach ought to snap back like a rubber band, your breasts should never soften or droop, your hips should not widen or cellulite appear.

Hell, Octomom is prancing around in a bikini on the cover of Star Magazine -- she got a whole year to slim down, but she had EIGHT BABIES. And she thinks any type of surgery is "cheating" and swears that she managed to magically erase her stretch marks, despite the fact that 1) we all saw that she had them, and 2) THERE IS NO WAY TO MAGICALLY ERASE STRETCH MARKS. They fade, sure. They don't disappear. (Unless Photoshop has a cosmetics line now. I'll take some under-eye concealer in about a +3 Gaussian blur.)

I suppose it's kind of pointless to rail online about this and beg magazine publishers to knock this crap off, but...in case you've ever been tempted by those "diet-secret" headlines, or mournfully regarded your stretch marks, or even wondered what's "wrong" with you and your completely and permanently altered post-baby body, put down the weekly rag and go to theshapeofamother.com. This is what women look like, OK! Okay? Good.

Bouncing Back After Breastfeeding

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Published 01.19.2010 | Permanent Link | Comments (16)

Photo by misspiano

A topic request from reader Alissa:

Could you do a kind of a Bounce Back from Breastfeeding post some time? I am in the thick of weaning my almost 1-year-old, because I'd LOVE to have my boobs back (as would my husband, who has been banned from that general area for a LONG LONG time). I am terrified that when I stop nursing I will immediately gain five trillion pounds. I have NO IDEA where to go or how to buy new bras (I've been living in nursing tanks) that actually lift and fit. Without underwire, because underwire drives me batty. Do the 12-year-olds at Victoria's Secret really know how to measure? I don't think there's an actual lingerie store anywhere near me. I'll have to look that one up... Also, as I've been sleeping with a bra on forever - on the rare occasion that I sleep without a bra, my nipples feel all chafed and raw my the morning. Which is WEIRD, right? I mean, how can they hurt any more than when a baby is biting on them? But they really don't like the new "I'm wild and free to move around under this tee shirt all night" feeling. Will that go away, I hope? Could I put something on my nipples to help with the chafing? Or do I just need to wear something tighter than a tee shirt to bed? Oh, my husband would LOVE that!

Happy to oblige! We love talking about boobs 'round these parts. While we already talked about postpartum boob changes in a general sort of way (i.e. saggy vs. perky vs. everything else), let's see if we can offer something a little more instructional and practical for postpartum/postnursing boobcare.

Will I gain weight once I stop breastfeeding?

No, there is nothing about the weaning process that causes weight gain. Yes, nursing burns additional calories and many of us are guilty of eating with wild abandon and must adjust our diet, but after nursing for a year and adding solids and eliminating feedings it's really unlikely that nursing is burning ALL THAT MANY calories for you anymore. You aren't producing milk at the same rate because your child is no longer wholly dependent on you for nutrition. Cut out an extra snack, switch to nonfat milk, dial back on the butter -- a couple tweaks are probably all you need to balance out your calories and keep your weight steady.

Many women actually report LOSING weight once they wean, as if their bodies were deliberately holding on to 10 pounds of emergency padding. I'll tell ya, I was REALLY HOPING this would happen to me. It didn't.

Will I need all-new bras? Where do I get them? When do I get them?

Some women can go unpack a drawer-full of pre-pregnancy bras and be just fine. Others find that the shape and size of their boobs (whether they nurse or not) to be completely different and have to start from scratch with the measuring and bra-buying.

After my first baby weaned, I went and got measured at a fancy lingerie shop. They gave me a positively weird size that could not be purchased in any non-fancy lingerie store. It turned out, though, that I was a bit premature with the fitting. My boobs had not fully settled, or something, because after another month or so those bras DID NOT FIT. They were all wrong, in both the cup and band size. I've since read that it can take up to six months for milk ducts to fully shrink up, so don't waste your money on amazing bras the very week your milk dries up. I learned my lesson this time and bought some inexpensive stopgap bras at Target and GapBody and then got measured (at Nordstrom) a couple months later once I felt things were more or less staying the same.

While I was on maternity leave we had a great guest author over at the Advice Smackdown write about everything you need to know about getting a proper bra fitting: how to find a store, what to expect, where to buy expensive sizes for less, etc. (Hint: Do not ever, ever get fitted at Victoria's Secret.) My only caveat with the bra fittings is that like all apparel, the sizes are not 100% universal, so just because the nice lady with the measuring tape tells you that you're a 34B, it doesn't mean that all 34B bras in all stores and brands will fit you. You're still going to have to try on different styles and sizes sometimes to find the best fit. But a proper fitting will help you recognize when a bra fits (and when it doesn't) and hopefully give you a couple options and brands to get you started.

When can I stop sleeping in a bra?

I stayed in my nursing tanks for a few weeks after Ezra weaned -- it just seemed like good sense to keep the bewbs supported round-the-clock what with all the changes going on inside. I did not have any of the chafing problems you mention...that could simply be something that will go away once your nipples are no longer regularly getting bitten (OH, YOU HAVE MY SYMPATHIES) or exposed to moisture and suckling. Have you tried busting out the good ol' Lansinoh cream again? (Or unrelated to breastfeeding, do you happen to wash your nursing tanks and bras in a different detergent than the rest of your clothes? It could be an allergy.)

Nipple sensitivity SHOULD stop when breastfeeding stops, but if you are uncomfortable at night, look for tanks with the built-in shelf bra. Plenty of non-nursing tanks have them -- I have dozens of them, from Old Navy, GapBody, pretty much any store that sells inexpensive basics. Athletic apparel stores also sell them -- check out the Yoga department for hybrid tank/sports bra things. Target's a great place to buy PJ sets that include tight, form-fitting tanks and tops that will both help keep your boobs more or less in place while also satisfying the hubby's wishes that you not wear four layers of protective undergarments to bed. HA.

Gift Ideas for the New Sibling

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Published 01.12.2010 | Permanent Link | Comments (8)

Photo from Pink Loves Brown

Hi Amy,

I don't know if this is more a Bounce Back or an Advice Smackdown question so do with it what you will :)

Our good friends are currently pregnant with their second child and of course we will be dropping by with gifts after the little bundle of joy arrives. I know what I'm bringing the baby (Sophie the giraffe) and the parents (a couple of homemade frozen meals). Where I'm stumped is on what to bring their older son. I know I could bring him some random toy but I was wondering if you (and my fellow readers) had any suggestions of good "I just became an older sibling" gifts. Oh, the child in question will be about 26 months old when his brother is born.

Thanks,
Kate

So I am (obviously) decreeing this to be a Bounce Back topic because...well, it's a good Bounce Back topic. What's a good gift for a brand-new sibling?

Honestly, probably any toy that would make a good gift period. While I reveled in the cutesy matching "I'm the Big Brother/Little Brother" shirt-and-onesie sets, Noah was about as impressed as he'd be with socks on Christmas morning. And after opening his intended gifts from friends and family, he still invariably claimed the baby toys as his own as well. (We're STILL working on the whole idea of which toys "belong" to who, and probably will until Ezra is old enough to personally lay claim to his things. For now, most gifts still end up in a community sort of pile, no matter what the manufacturer's recommended age.)

Point is, don't be surprised if an older sibling tosses your carefully chosen gift aside and goes NUTS over Sophie the Giraffe instead. Don't put any pressure on him (and this goes doubly for you parents out there) -- there will be plenty of time to work on property rights and the polite response to presents later; the first days after a new sibling arrives just isn't it. A newborn is all but guaranteed to ignore any and all gifts, and even a two-year-old will pick up on the fact that suddenly everybody is expecting "more" of him.

Here are some of the things we learned through the many various takes on new-sibling gifts we both received AND tried ourselves:

1. For toddler/young preschooler-aged siblings, consider identical gifts, or close to it. A big and small version of the same stuffed toy, the same book (maybe one board and one hardcover), anything that will satisfy a younger child's enormous sense of "fairness."

2. For the "I'm a big kid" obsessed, get something markedly different. Noah was not -- at the time, anyway -- a big fan of being called a "big kid." He was very aware and protective of his status as our "baby." For a kid like him, the identical gifts were a good idea. For other kids, not so much. For a child determined to separate her/himself from the new sibling, maybe her own handbag or briefcase or other grown-up-like dress-up clothes. (Hell, your clothes. Take an old purse and fill it with Dollar Store gizmos. Instant Awesome.) Toy (or real-but-no-longer-active) cell phones or anything that encourages grown-up imitative play are usually pretty satisfying for the I'm A Big Kid Now set.

3. Just ask the parents. Really. We're used to it. We appreciate it. We keep Amazon Wish Lists for just this purpose, because we know. Kids have specific tastes, and nobody wants money and space going toward yet another overpriced doohickey that no one will play with. And kids tends to have a HELLUVA lot of toys, so duplication is easy. (Chances are your friends already have the "I'm A Big Brother" books and practice baby doll covered.) When baby registering for Ezra, I added a few small toys (most under $10) for Noah onto our registry after many requests. It was great -- when packages arrived for the baby, there was usually a small something for the big brother. A toy train, a DVD, a book about pirates. You guys know I'm not a big fan of the terrible gimmes that usually accompany registries, but this seemed like a good solution for everybody.

4. For gifts that will arrive pre-birth (either by mail or at a shower) consider a "Countdown Box." I wrote about these way back in the Zero to Forty days. Noah didn't really grasp the concept of "time" as the end of my pregnancy approached, and his set of Countdown Boxes were really the only things that really seemed to resonate with him. Yes, when all the boxes are open, Mama will go to the hospital and have Baby Brother. (It was a bit more certain for us, with the scheduled c-section, but you can just use a due date and then switch to a calendar to mark off days if mom goes overdue.) (And you can order just the empty, numbered boxes and fill them yourself.)

5) For gifts at the hospital, get something that can be OPENED and PLAYED WITH. For Noah's gift from us, we got him multiple Thomas the Tank Engine-themed Duplo sets, one for each day I'd be in the hospital. They stayed behind when he went home, and the next day he could open another and expand the track. It kept him occupied and actually HAPPY to arrive there each day. The problem was, of course, at the end of my hospital stay we had about 14 bajillion Duplo blocks and pieces to pack up and haul off to the car. So while I still think it's a Really Good Thing to give kids some instant gratification during this somewhat stressful time, be careful about giving gifts at the hospital with a lot of small pieces, or are expensive and irreplaceable in case it gets lost or left behind. Oh, and make sure the toy has the proper batteries.

6) For any gift that accompanies a visit -- pre-birth, hospital, post-birth at home -- PLAY WITH THE CHILD. Our trainset idea may have had some logistical drawbacks, but oh, how Noah loved it. Daddy opened the boxes and set it up with him! Grandpa got down on the floor and played with him! Friends came to visit and dutifully oohed and ahhed over his creation! At home, friends came with a small indoor bowling set they'd picked up at Target and indulged him in several games before turning their attention on the baby. Buying a book? Offer to read it. Toy cars? Let's have a race. Sip invisible tea with the big sister with Styrofoam cups, play hide-and-seek with the big brother in the hospital lobby. Don't force it (or get hurt if the child wants nothing to do with any of it), but at least make an effort to show that you still think they're pretty cool to hang out with, even if they aren't the littlest one in the room.

The Moment I Saw You

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Published 01.05.2010 | Permanent Link | Comments (95)

Photo by jamesbrandon

Someone gave me a lullaby CD at my first baby shower -- Nicolette Larson's Sleep Baby Sleep -- with the promise that it was audio baby Valium, guaranteed to settle any fussy baby right down. It sat in the shrinkwrap for a few months because we were high-minded music snobs who only played stuff like Johnny Cash and the Beatles for our little musical genius, but while packing for our first substantial road trip with Noah I impulsively grabbed it *just in case.*

A couple hours into the drive we popped that sucker in and BAM. My three-month-old looked at me like, "Are you hearing that voice? THIS is why I howl when YOU sing. I HAVE STANDARDS." And promptly stopped crying and dozed off.

(If you've never heard of Nicolette Larson, allow me to give a thumbs up to this sweet little album, but with the warning to never, EVER look her up on Wikipedia while listening to one of the more sentimental tracks written to her own baby, because your heart will shatter into a bajillion pieces. Oh, God.)

Anyway. I bring this up mostly because of final track is a song called The Moment I Saw You. It's a duet with Graham Nash and goes something like this:

The moment I saw you
I wanted to hold you.
And keep you warm
on a cold gray morn.

The moment I held you
I wanted to kiss you.
And welcome you here
on the day you were born.

This song destroys me EVERY TIME I HEAR IT, including one memorable car ride home, when Noah was already asleep and thus I could really have turned it off but instead I kept listening to it over and over again while tears rolled down my face because in my head I could see the beautiful montage video I could make with it, with my still-longed-for second baby meeting Noah for the first time and WHY WASN'T I PREGNANT YET WAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH.

(Spoiler alert: I was soooooo totally pregnant.)

I remember that moment so clearly -- that first glimpse of your baby, the first time you hold them, kiss them, smell them, nurse them. Neither first look was what I hoped for, as I wanted the naked slimy dumped-on-my-chest moment of victory but instead only saw them while strapped to an operating table, after they were swaddled and behatted. I remember I running my fingers under the hat to peek at their matted hair, boggling at how big Noah was and how small Ezra was, ugly crying as I kissed them, my body feeling completely destroyed from the surgery yet the instinct to start mothering my child coursing through my numbed extremities.

My friend once confessed to me that she wasn't sure she even liked her baby for the first couple days, even after having her picture-perfect natural birth. I went to visit her in the hospital after her second baby was born and she expressed her immense relief that she felt "the right way" this time, with the immediate rush of motherly love. She'd been beating herself up for years over that initial reaction, which she thought was "wrong" because everybody else would only talk about how it was the greatest day, the most wonderful thing.

I remember thinking breastfeeding was bizarre the first time with Noah, some trepidation (and even a little embarrassment for some reason) over his 10-pound size, some guilt over my conflicting feelings about having a boy. I remember cradling his foot in my hand for a photo and being shocked at how much bigger it was than any newborn's foot I had ever seen. I remember a nurse instructing me in skin-to-skin contact and giving me the okay to just keep him in bed with me as much as I wanted and only then do I remember falling in love, violently, because oh! Hello! I've wanted you for SO LONG.

I remember thinking that breastfeeding was different from the start with Ezra, how much I missed it and how good he seemed to be at it. I remember wanted to talk about anything other than his size, the reality that my c-section was unnecessary and not what I had pictured. I remember worrying that he was not as cute of a newborn as Noah and feeling awful for even thinking that. I remember wondering why Ezra's eyebrows went all the way to his hairline and if they would stay that way. I remember missing Noah but being exhausted by him and horrified by how big he looked and wanting him to go away after awhile. I remember being alone with Ezra and unwrapping him and undoing my gown and curling up with him close to me and seeing him open his eyes for the first time and falling in love again, so deeply that I gasped, because oh! Hello! I've wanted you for SO LONG.

It's an overwhelming moment where your entire life changes forever...but also so simple. Kiss. Hold. Warmth. Marvel.

Today's writing challenge: Your turn. Describe what that moment was like, for you. Go!