December 14, 2009 at 4:50 pm 7 comments

We had three major milestones this weekend:

  1. First wave goodbye (Sadie);
  2. First foray into the wide world of hand-clapping (Sadie);
  3. First postpartum hangover


Oh, MAN had I forgotten how distinctly un-fun it feels to be on that side of a red-wine-fueled evening. Especially when said evening ends at 1am. And you crawl into bed at 1:30am. And your bed is in a house occupied by a [very cute] alarm clock that always goes off at 5:30am.

So cute but OW.

Luckily for us, Brad’s parents were visiting this weekend, so they not only provided babysitting services while we got our drink on at FoST’s super-fun holiday party, but they also volunteered for the desperately-needed 6am “Play With Blocks and Buffer Child’s Soft Melon Head From All Sharp Furniture Corners” duty so that we could score some extra sleep. I felt a touch more human after waking up the second time, but it wasn’t until I downed some coffee and a bagel that I felt capable of holding my head upright for more than five minutes at a time.

I made it to seven minutes!

As you may have guessed from my weekend o’ toxins, the breastfeeding train has left the station. I actually retired the detestable pump weeks ago, but had still been resorting to the rack for some evenings and most mornings. I knew she wasn’t getting much, though, and I could tell she was quickly losing patience for the whole routine, seeing as how her days are now filled with fast-flow bottles – and as a woman who once thought to herself “There must be a way to get these gummy bears into my face FASTER!” I have to say I understand. I mean, if I was starving-ass hungry and someone handed me a plate of nachos but then was like, “The only catch is, you have to suck them through this straw,” I would have to counteroffer with a resounding FUCK THAT. What I wouldn’t do, though, is start to eat, then get bored halfway through and BITE THE STRAW.


So this weekend we decided to cease and desist altogether. I knew it was coming, but still. I’m sad. It’s a relief to have my body fully back to myself again (Four cups of coffee? Sure! Orange juice? Don’t mind if I do. Booze for breakfast? Thought you’d never ask), but it’s just another reminder that time is marching forward and taking my baby with it.

My blog is now being written by Lifetime, Television for Women.

OK, let me try that again, with slightly less drama this time: Sure, I’m sad because it’s another reminder that she’s growing up (too fast! too fast!), but mostly, I’m sad because it’s the end of something special that we shared. I mean, up until this point, sharing my boobs with someone meant something, uh, quite different.

There was remarkably less fumbling with clasps this time around.

I know that eight months is not by any stretch some kind of record when it comes to breastfeeding, but Internet, I still have not wrapped my mind around the fact that I was pregnant and gave birth to a person, so let me have my self-centered amazement. It’s just so weird to reflect on how things have changed: a few months ago, I was the only one who could feed her; now I stand off to the side, watching her guzzle the bottles that are pretty much pink slips for my rack.

So, do I have to fill out TWO forms?

The end of breastfeeding has been in sight for weeks now, and up until this weekend I had been pleasantly surprised at how mellow I’d been about the transition (NOTE TO SELF: Whenever “mellow” is your reaction, buckle up. It’s not over.). But now that I’m free to retire the nursing bras and throw away the coupons for prenatal vitamins, things are getting a little melancholy up in here.

Yes, that’s right. I’m actually SAD about NOT HAVING TO WEAR UNDERGARMENTS LIKE THIS. Having a baby has destroyed my mind, for sure. Look at that thing! It’s like a rain fly with straps.

But then there are moments like yesterday when we were Christmas shopping and passed a woman with a tiny newborn, and I thought about how much I’ve enjoyed the journey from there to here, and how awesome it is now that Sadie can smile and play peekaboo and do so much more than just nap and barf on my shirt.

She can now wipe her nose in my hair. Progress!

And, you know, being able to throw back some wine whenever I see fit is pretty cool too.



Entry filed under: Gobble-gobble.

PAY IT FORWARD: You Make A Difference! Daycaring

7 Comments Add your own

  • 1. kristin @ going country  |  December 14, 2009 at 5:51 pm

    Oh dear. Is that what a nursing bra looks like? I’ve been carefully avoiding researching such things, as my normally not-insubstantial upper half is going to almost surely be distinctly udder-like in a few months. I’m a little afraid of that. Also afraid of the infrastructure needed to contain the udders, now that I’ve seen that photo.

    • 2. jiveturkey  |  December 15, 2009 at 10:07 am

      I have heard fairy tales of semi-attractive nursing bras, but in my experience, even the “pretty” ones have those massive, 3-inch wide straps.

  • 3. hillary  |  December 14, 2009 at 6:29 pm

    after seeing that nursing bra I am never having sex again. you can expect an angry email from shawn.

    • 4. Holly Jane  |  December 14, 2009 at 7:22 pm

      I just have to say:

      • 5. jiveturkey  |  December 15, 2009 at 10:06 am

        HAHA! and also: AAAAAAAA!

  • 6. shelli  |  December 14, 2009 at 11:15 pm

    wait until Sadie picks UP Tootsie. I’m scrolling through my pics to see where the one is of Malka picking up Quincy, and well, I cna’t find it, but Lawdy.

  • 7. SF Reader  |  December 15, 2009 at 12:37 pm

    It took me almost a month to get over the fact that Willem had decided we were done with the boob. Evidently, nobody told him that my plan had been to do it for 12 months. That or he has a mind of his own. Although I do have to say that based on how psyched I was to get REALLY intoxicated once it dawned on me that that was what his decision meant… you’d think I’d been on a desert island for YEARS.


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