Look at us! Look at us!

What's that? You want to see lots and lots of pictures of my family? You're in luck!

I wanted our wedding photographer shoot some pics of Brock, but we found ourselves in a budget crunch. Mark then pointed out that since we work at a newspaper, we know plenty of photographers. One of them, a new father himself, offered to take some newborn pics for a very good price.

At the time, Brock was being a bit of a pill. He was either sleeping or screaming the whole time. So we were pretty surprised when we actually got some good ones.

Here are some of them:


















Brock loves practicing holding his head up and looking around. He's getting pretty good at it, even at a month old.
He also likes tummy time and pushing off with his legs. If you put him on his belly and put your hands on his feet, he'll push off and scoot himself around. He gets pretty excited about it. He also practices walking when Mark holds him in a standing position. Pretty funny how badly they want to move around even at a few weeks old!

Brocky boy

So ... motherhood. It's keeping me busy. Really busy.



I have had no shortage of moments where I have felt inferior or unqualified. But I think that's normal. Right?

The first 10 days or so were just awful. Worse than I expected. Although I had no physical problems breast-feeding -- it actually went surprisingly well for us -- the fact that I was the only one feeding him, and had to do so every two hours around the clock, was killing me.



You see, it's normal for babies to lose a little weight right after birth, due to fluid loss. But lots of babies get jaundiced and lose too much. That happened to Brock. When he was 3 days old, we were ordered to supplement his diet with formula. That's because my milk still hadn't come in, which is normal. I was told to pump frequently in order to get the milk going, breast-feed him the colostrum that I had at the time and supplement with formula. I didn't know that lots of babies have this issue. I thought he was going to die and I cried all day. I was exhausted from spending half an hour breast-feeding, 10 minutes supplementing and 15 minutes pumping out of each two-hour period. Whenever I'd finally finish, it was nearly time to feed him again. And one of the side effects of jaundice is that they are sleepy and don't want to wake up and eat. But to clear out the jaundice, they need to eat a lot and poop and pee a lot. So, you see, it's a vicious cycle. I was terribly stressed out about getting him to eat a lot, but he simply didn't want to eat that often.



That night, Mark's friend's wife came over. She's a lactation consultant and she was helping me make sure that I was feeding right. I think she knew I was a distraught, postpartum mother, and felt sorry for me. Brock was latching on well and my milk was starting to arrive. She urged me to take him to the lactation center at the hospital I gave birth at so that they could check his weight before and after a feeding and see how much he was getting.



The next day I called them and they seemed annoyed by me because my milk shouldn't necessarily be in anyway. But, again, a tearful, terrified postpartum mom can melt hearts, apparently, so she told me if I got there in an hour, I could have his weight checked, but that she had an appointment and couldn't do more than that. She was booked all day.



I rushed across town. On the way out the door, I realized I'd never learned how to collapse the stroller. I had no time to figure it out and Mark and I were in a panic. I knew if I was late, I was out of luck. We finally figured it out and loaded it up. I was going to the hospital and there was no way I could carry the car seat that far. When I got the stroller out, one wheel was twisted and locked, and I didn't know what I was doing so I had a hell of a time pushing that darn thing into the hospital. Then someone helped me figure it out. What a loser.



First thing, Brock was weighed, and he'd gained 3 ounces in a day! So that was a relief. And her appointment never showed, so I got to do a whole feeding/lactation consultation. One thing that having a baby stripped me of was my modesty. I don't know how many people have seen my boobs lately. Brock was a champion feeder, and may I say pooper/farter, too, and I was very pleased with the consultation.



That was Friday, and by Monday's doctor's appointment, he was nice and fat. The doctor told me to relax a little, and now that my milk was flowing, I decided to let Brock decide when he was hungry, more or less. That has made my life much better, and he has definitely porked up nicely.



But the hardest part of breast-feeding was just having to do it so often and being the only one who can, so I was sort of falling apart for lack of sleep. One night, Mark insisted that he feed him formula for a late-night feeding and that I sleep for a bit. I got six hours of sleep in a row! And that changed my life. That became our new routine. I feed him around 10 p.m. and then go to bed, and Mark feeds him the next one around 1 a.m. and then goes to bed. I take over from there. It really helps. And once my milk got going, I was able to have enough pumped for most of his bottle feedings. He's been great about changing from breast milk to formula and breast to bottle.





I'm now thinking about weaning him to formula, but I don't think I'm quite ready. There were times I wanted to give up, but I know it's best for him to have my milk. There are really pluses and minuses to each, but most of the pluses for formula are about my convenience. Selfish me. But for now, I'm just making sure he stays familiar with formula with a feeding here and there, and then I guess when I'm ready I'll start cutting out a feeding here and there until my milk supply drops. I wish I could say I am one of those moms who will breast-feed for a year, but I don't think I am. I like the bonding of the whole thing, but then again, when he bottle feeds, he looks at my face and interacts with me more. And I love that, too. So we'll see how long I can keep it up.

Breast-feeding pros: better for baby; he gets sick less; always fresh and convenient and free!; less air taken in, so happier baby

Breast-feeding cons: harder to get away for any period of time; takes a lot longer than bottle feeding, like 1/2 hour vs. 7 minutes; always worrying about timing feeds and/or pumping; I'd really like my smaller boobs back and to stop leaking. I can't fit in a lot of my old shirts.

Formula pros: stays full longer, so fewer feedings. That's nice at night!; don't have to worry about feeding in public; easy to prepare.

Formula cons: not as good for baby as breast milk; needs sanitized water; takes a few minutes to prepare a bottle (same with expressed breast milk, though), which seems like forever when a baby is screaming bloody murder.



He's growing like crazy and already has outgrown lots of his outfits. And he's quite a character, making lots of silly faces. He looks just like his dad at first glance, but I see my cheek dimples, nose indentions and lips on him. But he and dad even share mannerisms, which is bizarre.

By the way, sometimes we think he resembles E.T. I wonder if it's because during labor Mark and I had this E.T. phone home moment:


(and no, I'm not one of those women who look good in their labor/post-labor pictures.)

Farewell, Suggs

On Sunday, I said goodbye to my cat. I have had both of my cats for 17 years, and Suggs was always the one I thought would live the longest.



A few months ago, though, she started having trouble with her bowels. She would strain and strain and little to nothing would happen. We were going out of town and her regular vet was booked for a while, so we saw someone else at the clinic. After forking out a chunk of change, her blood work came back looking great and we got no diagnosis. She took some antibiotics just in case, but they didn't do anything.

Meanwhile, she was constantly having small "accidents" on the floor all over the house. At first, it made us mad, but we eventually saw that she was quite ill. It became especially apparent after I had her shaved because she wasn't grooming and got matted. We couldn't believe how skinny our pudgy Suggs had become.



As time went on, poor Suggs lost everything that mattered to her. First went her bedroom, which was turned into a nursery. She was always one for "safety zones," and she was distraught when hers went away. After she was shaved, her sister shunned her. And when I was very pregnant, I was often annoyed by her when she became clingy and wanted to crawl on me. Then I came home with the baby and was so overwhelmed and distracted that I just didn't deal with her at all. Thank goodness Mark was there to care for the cats. But her loud yowling and her constant need to eat (part of her illness) and her clinginess just stressed me out.

And I know that makes me an awful person.

In the end, she started running into walls and getting stuck in corners. She'd jump up on a chair, but miss by a mile. She clearly couldn't see well, or something was affecting her brain. We knew we had to make a tough decision.

I felt terrible about things, so I made it a point to really apologize to her and make it up to her. I invited her onto my lap when I was nursing and gave her tons of love. I told her I was sorry for everything. And I hope she forgives me.



Her last day was a beautiful day. Her regular vet came to our house Sunday afternoon. We had spent the day outside, enjoying the yard and the weather. She sat under her favorite bush, which I'll never understand because it looks like the most uncomfortable place in the yard.




We sat with her and petted her, and Mark made her a feast for her last meal. We took a zillion pictures and held her as she passed away.



Afterward, we placed her in a box -- what cat doesn't love boxes?! -- with a towel, blanket, a can of her favorite food, toy mice and flowers. She looked so at peace, and better than she had in a long time.

Mark dug a hole and we buried her, and then we planted a crape myrtle in her memory.





Rest in peace, Suggs. We'll really miss you.