it's my worried mind that you quiet

Sloane is slowly weaning herself. She turned 1 yesterday. She is only nursing in the morning for about 5 minutes and at night for about 3 minutes. She signs "finished" or "play" and wrigges off of my lap. I nurse whenever she requests (by climbing on my lap and pointing her tiny index finger ever-so-lightly onto the top of my shirt, sigh so adorable). But she only requests twice a day.  She is growing up, so quickly.


I hope she wants to continue for a couple times a day for a little longer, but each time I nurse her I feel myself savoring it as it may be the last time.  I never thought I'd get to this state of peace: loving to nurse her.

 I didn't think I could make it through the first 6 weeks, let alone 6 months and now 1 year.  It seemed we had a million hurdles to get over: double the milk that I needed (thanks a lot nursing staff at the hospital), scouring the internet for help, La Leche League, post-partum depression, lack of gaining weight, waking up to nurse, reflux, latching, clogged ducts (worst pain ever), growth spurts, lanolin (best invention), ugly nursing bras, pumping at work, nursing in public, the boppy pillow, waking up to nurse, nursing 12+ times a day, nursing 8 times a day, nursing 4 times a day, teeth- ouch, nursing twice a day.

nursing, March 2011...photo by my friend Kate



a layout I did to inspire myself to reach my 12-month nursing goal



I read this on-line in the comments of another blog I read and bawled...totally how I feel. So bittersweet....


wean me gently by c. cardall

I know I look so big to you,
Maybe I seem too big for the needs I have.
But no matter how big we get,
We still have needs that are important to us.
I know that our relationship is growing and changing,
But I still need you. I need your warmth and closeness,
Especially at the end of the day
When we snuggle up in bed.
Please don't get too busy for us to nurse.
I know you think I can be patient,
Or find something to take the place of a nursing;
A book, a glass of something,
But nothing can take your place when I need you.
Sometimes just cuddling with you,
Having you near me is enough.
I guess I am growing and becoming independent,
But please be there.
This bond we have is so strong and so important to me,
Please don't break it abruptly.
Wean me gently,
Because I am your mother,
And my heart is tender.

title courtesy of Ray LaMontagne: Hold You in My Arms

I've got troubles but not today

and now is where I tell you that Zoloft has changed my life and my daughter's life. Now I begin to think maybe my baby was a champ all along and I was just stuck in crazyville. Which came first the chicken or the egg. Regardless, life is beautiful again and I can keep nursing (I did extensive research on Zoloft and nursing, plus I asked for a trifle of a dosage to see if it would work) turns out I was probably SO serotonin deprived (and hello not making estrogen (happy hormone) because of nursing) that the tiny bit zapped me into sanity almost immediately (promptly 4 days after taking it). I know that the dosage might have to be upped soon, the compulsions are not gone but the depression and the anxiety are immensely better. I am working through a workbook in therapy to try to get the compulsions under control.

It was literally like a light illuminating a room that had always been dark. This is not so say I am all "happy sappy" this is to say I am myself again (pre-pregnancy, pre-birth, pre-stressful-being-a-mommy-to-a-baby-plus-she's a-baby-with-reflux).

First sign that I am myself again: I scheduled and carried out newborn photos (Sorry baby bliss that you were nearly 2 mos old when your mama got her groove back), I made and sent out handmade valentines and I began Sloane's baby book. The most important sign that I am getting better is that I actually enjoy being Sloane's mommy. I had always loved her but I am now learning to enjoy her. Not a minute too soon (in fact it's about 2 months too late--hopefully when she has her own child she will not only understand and forgive me of anything I've ever done wrong but she will also see me as a superhero-- which is how I now see my mom).

So without further ado....









title courtesy of: Joe Purdy, Wash Away

then you better start swimmin' or you'll sink like a stone

3 weeks of maternity leave remain and it seems that I may have found the secret a little too late. Mommy has Zoloft & baby has Zantac.

It is difficult to recognize a problem in yourself, even if you are in the mental health field. I kept thinking I didn't have post partum depression because I don't have thoughts of suicide or hurting the baby...however I have wicked insomnia where I obsess and do a lot of one-handed-googling-webmd-ing, reading and re-reading of the Mother of all Baby Book , digging through the literature the pediatrician gave me and reading every post on the Le Leche League forums. I am also just numb, a zombie-mommy. I admitted all of this at my 6 week appointment. And then my ob-gyn wrote me a prescription and reminded my once logical mind that PPD can manifest itself as crying and tearfulness or crippling anxiety. Enter Zoloft.

It is also difficult to recognize reflux in your baby when they do not spit up. Sloane has only spit up about 5 times in as many weeks, but she screams through feedings, arches her back & fusses thru feeding and refuses to sleep unless being held upright, or in her car seat. Thank God my sister is nearly a RN. Tearful call to the pediatrician. Enter Zantac.

At least maybe we can begin to enjoy these last three weeks. Now back to my self-imposed computer moratorium.

title courtesy of Bob Dylan: The Times They are a-changing