Posted on | October 29, 2009 | 19 Comments
nine zero.
that is how much weight Scot and myself have shed since Harper was born, almost one year ago (363 days to be exact). at the time, i didn’t even notice he was putting on weight. but how can one not put on weight when their hormonal wife insists on going to baskin robins nightly. NIGHTLY. because she neeeeeds her coffee icecream in a sugar cone. unless it was one of the nights that she needed a heath blizzard, extra heath (except i still totally order that and he gets soooo bent out of shape when he has to order it at the drive through because lets’ face it, it sounds kinda fat).
once i was coming out of my Harper induced haze (that’d be postpartum), he informed me that it was not ok for him to be buying a size 40 jean and that he “got fat” while i was pregnant. it wasn’t until months later (after he started dropping the weight) that i really noticed how much he had gained when i looked back at photos. turns out he was the heaviest he’d ever been. i had gained about 35 pounds with my pregnancy, pretty much all of which was in the last 3 months (yikes). seriously though, the BR chick knew us. for reals.
the other day Scot informs me he hit a new low (because he has been losing weight like a maniac for the past 8 months). 185 pounds.
a) this means he’s lost 50 pounds.
b) that is what i weighed the day i had Harper.
combined with the 40 lbs i’ve lost since she came along, i’d say we have done pretttty good. of course, he lost all actual fat while i got to push 7.5 out in the form of a cuddly cute newborn, not to mention all the um, stuff, that comes along with it but whatever! i worked hard, too!
as much as i hate to shame myself (and possibly piss off my hub) by putting our “fat” picture on the interweb, i hafta so you can see the difference.
december 31st, 2008
october 11, 2009
i’m not even going to front: i’m proud of us.
Posted on | August 1, 2009 | 4 Comments
1. cut banana in half, mash one half and feed to your baby, eat the other half.
2. be so busy you forget to eat lunch, so heat up the cold coffee from your husbands morning pot (or pour over ice if it’s sweltering outside).
3. chase baby, pick baby up, place back in appropriate place, repeat. 16,309 repetitions a day oughtta do it.
4. by dinner your stomach is so shrunken from not eating, you can’t eat a whole meal.
5. make sure the outside temp is between 90-100 so you sweat alllllll day.
*these statements have not been evaluated by the food and drug administration. this product does not treat, prevent or cure any diseases.
Posted on | June 18, 2009 | 7 Comments
i hate to toot my own horn, but this is MY blog and if i feel proud of myself, it’s my prerogative as far as i’m concerned so TOOT TOOT! obv, the first picture is funny because holy COW, i was about to pop. but the difference between the second and third are what i’m most stoked about. i get down on myself sometimes because i can’t see the progress, so i went to compare the last pics i took at the beginning of may (so glad i took them!) and i can for sure see the difference. not only are my arms thinner, my tummy a bit flatter and my love handles dissapearing, but our room is way messier, so that must mean i am busy out walking or eating healthy. :]
no more muffin top for this mama! i am officially under 150 (barely, but i don’t give a hoot, i’ve been battling that goal for weeeeeeks now) and fitting in to some very old jeans in my closet. i feel great and love walking everyday with harper and my mom. go me, toot toot, pat on my own back, TADA, TYVM and goodnight.
Posted on | May 9, 2009 | 10 Comments
i’ve been emailed twice now about whether or not i breastfeed and realized it’s not a subject i’ve really touched on here.
the short answer is no. the long answer is, well, long.
breastfeeding wasn’t really a topic that took any consideration for me while i was pregnant. it was easy – i was going to do it. i knew it might be hard but i was fully prepared to do whatever it took to make it happen. thats what you do, you breastfeed your baby. end of story. i was one of those people who disliked the thought of formula and even (gasp) looked down upon others who used it. i know, that is unfair and that you should never judge another person, but hey, i’m being honest here. i immediately thought that women who fed their baby formula chose to do that and didn’t even try hard enough to breastfeed. that’s because i never really realized that sometimes, it isn’t your choice. sometimes, it just doesn’t work.
the day harper was born, my l & d nurse asked me if i planned on breastfeeding. of course. she said she’d try and get harper to latch on within one hour of being born. when she came out and all the technicalities were out of the way, the nurse helped me breastfeed. i will never forget harpers little face coming at my boob. she knew what she was doing. that kid looked like star jones going after a cheeseburger. i cried i was so happy – she was going to be an awesome eater! i was thrilled, beyond thrilled. about an hour later after being taken to our new room, my new nurse checked my bewbs. she looked horrified as she said “see this is why you shouldn’t try to breastfeed until you get to us”. what? but this is a breastfeeding friendly hospital. why shouldn’t i trust any nurse to help me? i looked down and saw a huge bruise-hickey thing on my boob – not even close to my actual nipple. harper had been using my areola as a pacifier. crap. oh well, i thought, it was just the first time.
problem was, she was so strong, that she left these marks whether she was in the right place or not, and after 2 days my nips resembled ground beef, and i was yelling VERY loud obscenities each and everytime she latched on. throw in my spinal headache, hormones and the general discomfort of giving birth and you have one peeved and unhappy mama. on night 2 one of my nurses suggested we supplement harper with a little formula. i said no. i had done my research, babies aren’t even hungry at day 2 and your colostrum is enough (later to find out i didn’t even have colostrum). i finally gave in and bawled as i watched a nurse feed my baby formula with a syringe. it was everything i didn’t want to happen.
my milk came in on day 4, and harper had been having some formula each day, which i hated, but i was stoked that my milk had come in (minus the pornstar bewbs). by this time my nipples were black and blue AND red, bleeding and cracked. i cringe even typing this because i don’t think i’ll ever forget how bad it hurt to have that star jones-esq mouth coming at me. i mean, she was STRONG. i was convinced she was going to pull my nipple clean off. to top it all off, i was using a pump that didn’t fit me. so every 2 hours i’d try to shove my boob into a pump part that was way too small, and then cry because nothing was working. scot called the lactation consultant and said to come in that day. she said it was perfect timing because my milk was coming in. i felt releived for the first time.
jan was the nicest lady ever. she got us a hospital grade pump, correct sized parts, and introduced me to the nipple shield aka the best thing ever invented. she was very reassuring and spent almost 2 hours with us. she was concerned about my milk(lack of), but said i could overcome it. we made an appointment to come back the next week, and left with the new pump, instructions to take fenugreek and mothersmilk tea and to pump every one to two hours. easy enough, right?
pumping for a normal producing mom should probably take about 20 minutes on the low setting. me? i had to crank the pump up to it’s highest setting (talk about feeling like a cow), and wait almost 10 minutes for milk to start flowing. after another 30 minutes, i’d have a pathetic .5 to 1 ounce per boob. get up, clean pump parts for next time and go downstairs. oh lookie there! it’s time to pump again! pure torture. i became neurotic about pumping, because pumping meant getting my supply up. i spent so much time pumping that i missed out on precious time with my family and new baby. i couldn’t pump enough to catch up to harpers eating. i was driving myself crazy. one week after harper was born, i came down with a sweet stomach virus and got dehydrated. this is what you’d call the preverbial “icing on the cake”. my boobs were screwed.
we saw jan two more times. when we left the last time, i could see in her eyes that i was doomed. she was very sweet about it, but i KNEW my fate. looking back, had i accepted it then, i would have saved myself a lot more torture. but i kept trying for 3 more weeks before giving up. i just could not accept the fact that i couldn’t breastfeed. but the day i returned the pump to the hospital, i felt a huge weight off of my shoulders.
i still get weird buying formula. i still get teary eyed thinking about breastfeeding. but all of the things i thought about formula fed babies before are NOT true. harper has never been sick (knock on wood). she is happy and healthy and that is ALL that matters. when people ask if i breastfeed, i say “not anymore”. cause i did. i did my best and no one can say i didn’t try. i do know better for next time what not to do, however i also know better for next time that if i have the same supply issues, it’s ok to let go. sometimes it doesn’t work. but harper doesn’t know the difference and never will.
your ability to breastfeed does not make you a good mother. being a good mother makes you a good mother. no one is wating at the end as you wean your child to give you a medal. formula is not poison and breast milk is not gold. just love your baby.
