Happy New Year

My goodness tempus fugit! (cliches sound better in Latin). I'm still doing some research on the big post I have coming, so in the meantime: Happy New Year to everyone. Personally, this means some new job opportunities and getting everything together for a job I really want that doesn't start until August.

It also means Abby is growing like a weed. I look at her and wonder what she will do, and think, and be. And I worry about helping her along the way to be a good person. It's a terrifying responsibility. Plenty of people turn out alright that had bad childhoods, but how much easier it is if you have love and support along the way. I applaud all of you who do this on purpose, or who take your accidental responsibility seriously. Abby has also made me realize how much my parents love me. I don't think you can have a good idea of what your parents would do for you until you feel the same way.

There are a grocery sack of lemons demanding attention, so I'll leave it there. Some thoughts on the assignment of blame regarding the shootings in Tucson will be forthcoming and hopefully while it is still relevant.

This Is Not Easy

OK, I have about two more thoughts on breastfeeding and then I will be moving on. So here is thought one.

Breastfeeding is NOT easier than using formula. If it were, every woman would breast feed. Convenience is actually the one benefit I can see to using formula, and based on statistics, that's a doozy. Aside from medical reasons, which would account for a small portion of users, why else would so many people use a product that, one, has to say on the label it isn't as good as the real thing; and two, is 100% more likely to face recalls for exciting things like bug parts? So, folks at the hospital and in health care, I'd stop using the convenience argument and face reality.

Unless you are a stay-at-home mom with no life for the next six months to a year, it does take more than just your body and a baby. Every time we want to go out, I have to plan how much milk to have saved. Every time I want a couple of cocktails, I have to plan how much milk to have saved. Abigail has slept through the night since week eight. Me? Not so much. I'm up every morning at 3 AM to pump. I am inordinately excited that I now have over 100 ounces of milk in the freezer for returning to work or if I am sick. I am inordinately despondent that that is about three days' supply and if something serious happens, we will run out.

If I eat something that disagrees with her, I will hear about it for many hours to come. Onions and peppers on the cheese steak? BAD idea. Indian or Thai curry? Just fine, thank you. Buffalo chicken wings? Hell on earth. But we pretty much have the menu down now. I refuse to give up dairy, so she farts quite a bit, but thankfully, we all find farts amusing around here.

Until a month ago, it was so hard to get her latched on and stay covered, that I would try to take bottled milk with us when we went out. On the plus side, I really can feed her anywhere now. We were at the street fair last night and it was cake to pop her under her blanket and keep walking. No muss, and very little fuss.

And really, everything else is a plus. The benefits for her and me far outweigh the inconvenience that lasts a few months. Oh, and it's cheap too! (But more on that next post)

Thanksgiving

We just can't seem to help ourselves. Once again, we've said we're going to stay home and relax on Thanksgiving, enjoy some time with Abigail, and try to recuperate from a tough couple of weeks. Instead, he's at the store buying the finishing ingredients for brining a 15 pound turkey and picking me up what I need for mashed potatoes and a bread pudding made from leftover coffee cake. Oh well, at least it's what we want to do and not what we have to do. And I know I'm thankful that we're in a position to do it, and have a nice dinner on the table, even if it is just for us. Really, I wouldn't have it any other way.

Yes, It Is a Big Deal

My husband laughs at my sometimes overzealous defense of breastfeeding. I think this site, while not comprehensive, does a nice job of summing up why it is so important. Make sure to check out page two and the decrease in breast cancer for both women who breast feed and those who were themselves breast fed. It makes a bigger difference than buying a bucket of fried chicken with a pink ribbon on it.

And yes, I'm sure your formula fed kid is just fine. Of course, I'm just fine and my parents didn't know about car seats. It doesn't mean I wouldn't use one now, when we know better.