We are eight days into January already. Eight days into the year two-thousand ten. A little over a month and a half until my son turns one year old.
And it scares the crap out of me.
When does it stop? Will there ever be a point in my life where I hope he grows up FASTER? I’m sure it will be somewhere in his teenage years. But even then, it’s frightening to see how quickly time now passes us by. In retrospect, my life was a sluggish drawl before now. I was always waiting for things to happen. Now I wish they would just ease up a little.
Ronan has cut four molars in the last three days. If that doesn’t cause a cranky, difficult baby – trust me, it does. I no longer hope everything will magically get easier, I guess I just hope for a good night every now and then. One where he stays in bed after we put him down, and get some grown-up time. One where my stress doesn’t start coming out my ears. But if not, that’s okay too. I promise, I was kidding when I said I wanted to sell him on eBay.
So, on the breastfeeding front. My son has always been an efficient, no-nonsense nurser. He gets in, gets the job done, and gets out. I’ve never minded. Now, however, he’s gotten into the habit of latching on, and then pulling his head back as far as he can without letting go of the nipple, and nursing there. Say it with me now… “Ow.” Yes, it really, REALLY hurts. I’ve never had any sort of nipple injury in my nursing career, and now I have a blister that makes me want to cry. I wanted to nurse until Ronan was one. Really, it was a goal of mine to get him all the way to his first birthday, but I can’t do this any more. If I move closer to him, he arches his back and pulls farther away. If I pull his head closer to me, he screams and fights. I don’t know why he’s doing it, and I don’t know how to get him to stop… but I can’t continue nursing when it hurts this badly. It’s supposed to be enjoyable for both parties, and the status quo is that it SUCKS.
NO. PUN. INTENDED.
I don’t really know how to go about weaning. I was sort of willing to let him take the lead on that one. But I can’t wait until he’s ready if he’s going to continue mauling my chest like this. I guess we’ll try pumping and bottle feeding until I can’t take that any more either. But honestly, the sooner I stop making breastmilk, the better.
It’s no secret that I’ve had trouble maintaining my weight since Ronan was born. Pre-pregnancy, I was a healthy 118 lbs. I delivered around 140. Within six weeks, I was down to 120 again. Today, I hit 104. Yes, that’s right, I have reached the lowest weight I’ve been since I was 14 years old. It’s a little scary, and I don’t seem able to eat the necessary amount to combat it. I drink “Ensure” shakes during the day to boost my calorie intake, and it still doesn’t seem to be enough. So once we’re done nursing for good, hopefully my weight will start to improve. There IS such a thing as ‘Too Thin’.