boobs

BabiesThe Story

Welcome Back, Ladies

by Jill
written by Jill

Leyna hasn’t nursed in over 3 days. That’s not the result of a conscious decision to wean her on my part. It just happened. That whole don’t offer, don’t refuse approach. She’s not asked for them.

I actually didn’t realize it had been that long until last night when I finally figured out why my breasts were aching….

and looking awesome.

Feel free to mock my MySpace inspired self-portrait.

Can’t they just stay like this forever? Can’t I just pump every 3 days? Will that work?

*sigh*

I feel like we need to go to happy hour together and catch up. It’s been so long since they were both so perky-looking and equal sizes.

Granted, they’re about 3 inches closer to my belly button than they were in our glory days, but so are the bags under my eyes so I really can’t blame them.

I know they can’t stay forever, though. If this weaning thing is really happening, this is just the last hurrah before they skip town, leaving me with (as Jen from HaHas for HooHas put it) balloons filled with pudding.

Or rocks in tube socks.

Or fried eggs.

Until I get pregnant again and start the whole cycle all over.

And then get a boob job?

Leyna is nearly 22 months old, and maybe finally weaning

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BabiesThe StoryToddlers

The second cutting of the umbilical cord

by Jill
written by Jill

The past two weeks have been pretty big around here.  It seems once Kendall’s mind and body mastered the art of walking it freed up a hell of a lot of brain space to learn things like words and body parts, and he even started spitting back some of those freaking baby signs I’ve been persistent in showing him over the last six months.  Granted, they aren’t the signs that would actually make life easier like “eat”, “more”, “sleep”, or “I’m about to poop on the floor”, but he can make a sign for just about every animal in his touch and feel book.

All this growing and learning is a tad bittersweet, but I have to admit that I wasn’t one of those moms who cried after her baby turned one. Yes, I was a little sad, but this age kicks ass!  He is ten million times more fun than he was a year ago, and I am ten million times better rested.  We’ve spent every day for the last… well, since conception really, together.  The longest we have been apart was for no more than 8 hours, and that was pretty recently.  I’m sure you can imagine how anxious I was over leaving him for an entire weekend with his dad for the very first time.

I took off to float down the Comal in New Braunfels a couple weekends ago for the infamous bachelorette party, the one that officially put an end date for breastfeeding on my calendar.  Luckily, Kendall had long since been weaned and managed to master the sippy cup, so I didn’t have to worry about how my husband would have to produce milk and/or a breast for him.  And, I have to admit, even though there were moments when I would think about him and get a little sad, it wasn’t that awful.  Does that make me awful? I mean,  I think I was more sad about missing my old perky, firm, full boobs that once filled out bathing suits so nicely a little more than him.  It’s not that I DIDN’T miss him.  I did, but I knew he was in safe hands, I got a nightly recap of his day, and I knew I would see him again soon.  I can not say the same, however, for my old boobs.  R.I.P old boobs.

Today we went even a step farther.  Today Kendall started a Mother’s Day Out program where he will attend a preschool/daycare kinda thingy at a local church every Tuesday for 5 hours. This is so I may have 5 hours a week to clean, write, run without a stroller, stare into the refrigerator uninterrupted and do dishes without any regard for where or when the steak knives go in.  Of course, I was a little nervous last night, but he has handled everything so well lately that I really wasn’t concerned.  I was a little sneaky in leaving him, only because I didn’t want to make a big deal about it and get him upset, so I don’t think he even knew I left.  The whole afternoon was nothing but productive.  It. was. beautiful.

I arrived promptly to pick him up, pretty sure he would be wiped out and ready to nap, but not at all expecting the welcome I received. As I poked my head around the corner, there was my big guy, rocking on the lap of his teacher.  The minute his eyes locked with mine he busted out the biggest SAD FACE ever, began crying big tears and ran toward me. I scooped him up and he looked at me as if to say, “What the hell? You freaking FORGOT me! I am SO mad at you! I am mad at you and I am tired because YOU forgot to take me home to my crib so I could take a nap.  I have been looking for you all day.” And then he continued to cry until we left the building where he saw something that must have resembled a duck, made the sign for duck over and over, then passed out in his carseat only seconds into the drive home.

That pretty much was the saddest thing I have ever seen.  This mom didn’t cry when her baby turned one, or when she left him for the weekend, but she sure did driving home from his first day of “school”.

Kendall is 13 and a half months old and I owe him, big time

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PregnancyThe Story

Hello old friend!

by Jill
written by Jill

Okay. I’m sorry. I’m a slacker. I’m lazy. I’m overwhelmed. I’m tired. I’m bitchy. I’m cranky. I constantly think I have to pee only to discover that I really don’t have to pee even though I feel like I’m about to piss my pants. That last part mainly happens at night in the middle of really good dreams and deep sleep, which I think contributes greatly to the cranky and bitchy part. So there…there are my excuses for not blogging in so long. The crazy thing about this blog is I feel like it’s a friend I haven’t talked on the phone to in so long that I keep putting off the next phone conversation, not because I don’t miss them and have tons to tell them, but because I don’t have the energy to tell them all that stuff since it’s been so long. You know what I mean? So I’m going to try to get as much out in the most concise manner possible in this entry. These are all things I’ve thought I should write about in depth on here over the last month. Here’s the Cliff’s Notes version:

1. Maternity clothes continue to suck ass and should really be disposable. I am now back to grandpa butt syndrome because my belly has become too big to hold up these elastic waists comfortably. I must say I would prefer that all my pants have waists that come up to my boobs to avoid this, but since I thought that was oh so uncool when I went on my early maternity clothes shopping sprees, I am stuck with all these under the belly or mid belly styles that do nothing but cut off circulation to my crotch or sag off my butt so bad it looks like I just dropped a load….or delivered the baby in my underwear.

I am also constantly walking around with giant grease stains on the front of whatever shirt I choose to wear. It seems I am a walking pregnancy cliche. I can not eat ANYTHING without spilling or dribbling it all down the front of me. It inevitably always stains and makes me grateful that most of my maternity tops were $12 at Target….about as close to disposable as you can get. Let me know, please, if you see any plastic toss-away maternity tops. Or perhaps I should just invest in a very large bib. I’m sure I could find one with a Lobster on it at some local dive of a surf and turf shack.

2. The state of my boobs – dismal. I can’t even express to you how weird my nipples look. They are huge. As of this morning, I guess they’ve started practicing production because I woke up with a perfect circle of wetness right over my right nipple. If only I could believe that that was a strategically placed drop of drool. It is also very weird to feel your boobs and the top of your belly touch. I now have boob cleavage in three places.

3. Stretchmarks, I haz them. Luckily most of them have appeared on my boobs, which surprisingly didn’t upset me that much – those babies are shot anyway. However, I have noticed the beginnings of at least two on my lower stomach recently and have gone from a girl who thought, “Who the hell needs to rub cream all over their stomach. If you’re going to get them, you’re going to get them. What can you do?” To a girl who ran out to CVS to buy a special $11 bottle of oil that claims to be made specifically to reduce and eliminate the appearance of stretchmarks and have been feverishly applying it twice a day, praying it’s my miracle.

4. My son is developing quite nicely. He is probably close to 4 lbs or more now, and he is definitely getting stronger. So strong that he is finally able to penetrate my anterior placenta with his kicks and bumps. I’m finally able to feel movement outside of my stomach and by my belly button in addition to the kicks and jabs I always felt up top and way down low. Another sign he’s right on track is I can feel hiccups! Yup. Apparently babies practice hiccuping. I can not tell you why. All I know is the other night I was wondering why my ass was pulsating. I thought I must be sitting on a giant, throbbing vein. Turns out…not a pulsating vein in my ass…it was my kid’s hiccups. It’s actually very good news to have butt hiccups. That means he is head down! Which leads me to…

5. The baby, as of my last appointment, is in great position. He is head down, butt under my ribs, feet pointed toward my hips. Lock and load, baby! This pleases me greatly and I hope he decides that’s a comfortable enough position to stay in until his grand exit into the world. See, as much as I had an irrational fear of conehead babies and still do think that c-section babies have the most beautiful round precious heads, I do not want a round headed c-section baby. I want a smooshed, pointy headed, wrinkly baby, as long as that means he can come out of me without major surgery.

6. Gastric bypass surgery must suck. I’m convinced I am suffering some of the same side effects. I am starving. My body tells me to eat..EAT A LOT. I do. Then I regret it. It never seems to make it all the way down without wanting to choose the path of least resistance and come back up. I have woken up several times in the middle of the night gagging on dinner from hours before. Of course, I never throw up, which I think would make me feel a lot better most of the time. For some reason my body has this extreme aversion to throwing up and will rarely let me do it, even if I’m encouraging it. I also am experiencing a ton of acid reflux lately. I forgot to bring my Tums to work with me the other day and wanted so badly to ask the first pregnant lady I saw if I could have some of hers. Unfortunately, it was a slow business day and I had to sit in misery until I could run home at my lunch break. And do not worry…I can be trusted with Tums again. I respect their power and never exceed the maximum allowed dosage ; )

Well, that’s all the time I have for the pregnancy updates. My 3 1/2 year old niece is still living with us, and that’s enough for a whole other blog. She has settled in nicely and is looking forward to being the “cousin sister”. She came up with that all on her own. I told my husband we should have a shirt printed for her that says “I’m the Big Cousin Sister” for her to wear to the hospital. I can only imagine what the nurses will think of our family tree. Surely they will think we drove all the way in from West Virginia for the birth.

31 weeks 3 days

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PregnancyThe Story

Over the shoulder boulder holder

by Jill
written by Jill

Hear ye, hear ye! I would like to announce that my breasts have reached a whole new level of enormousness, and I am now rocking a 38 D bra!!! Holy guacamole! Let us all pray to the patron saint of boobies….who would that be….maybe Anna Nicole could get that title….that I do not grow any bigger up top or I fear I will become like one of those Weeble Woble people we all used to play with, except reversed.

Someone mentioned to me that it’s great that they are growing so much. It means I won’t have any problems producing enough milk for the baby. Well hell, at this rate I think I can stand in for the Fire Department when all is said and done and help put out small kitchen fires with these puppies. I’m terrified of how much bigger they may get. I know of a girl who ended up with F cup boobs! And she was not a large girl to begin with. At least I have a little height on my side. My 5’9″ frame can hold them up much better than that poor girl who couldn’t have been much taller than 5’5″.

Oh, and my favorite comment so far is “Your husband must be enjoying them!” Girl please! You think he’s even allowed to TOUCH them? Oh HELL no! These are clearly not for his pleasure any longer….or for mine for that matter. These are working breasts. They are on a mission and they have developed defense mechanisms to keep all fondling at bay.

12 weeks 1 day

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PregnancyThe Story

Irrational Fear – saying goodbye to the girls

by Jill
written by Jill

Actually, I know this isn’t an irrational fear because I KNOW it’s going to happen. Every pregnancy book tries to break it to you gently, your already been pregnant girlfriends try to warn you, but you never realize how much it’s going to really affect you until it starts to happen. I mean, they’re just boobs, right? And who really sees them outside of the latest super duper industrial strength pushup creation by Vickie? Me….that’s who. And my husband…but I don’t think he’s going to be nearly as traumatized by their new appearance after this is over as I will. He claims he’s a leg man, and I do have some nice stems. Let’s hope pregnancy doesn’t take those away from me.

I’ve always been quite proud of my boobs. I had a perky full C cup by the time I was 16. Undoubtedly, they helped me pay my way through college (okay…not doing THAT) as a sportsbar and cocktail waitress (can’t deny…the tips were good) . I have never once in my life wished for any sort of boob job. I have been blessed with these two beauties for over ten years, and to see them changing so rapidly, and only for the worse is…well, terrifying and sad as I’m quite attached to them.

Yes, the boobie fairy has already started to make them swell and grow, and underneath my clothes they are looking as fabulous as ever. Their additional size is good because it takes the focus off the college freshman beer-gut I’ve been sporting lately (can I just look pregnant already!). However, they are not pretty with the bra off. The blue veins make them look like a roadmap, my nipples are growing faster than my boobs and at this rate will take over the entire surface of each before I’m out of the first trimester. There are dozens of bumps where no bump used to exist… and I am so sad and disgusted to report that my most recent discovery in the disintegration of my prized possessions is hair. Yes folks, there are nasty black hairs sprouting up on my boobs!!!! Ugh… it pains me to even type that!

Okay…so I can pluck the hairs, ignore the veins and nipples, and they are manageable. If I knew they would go back to normal after pregnancy, none of this would even phase me. But the worst is still to come!! Did you know that after you are done breastfeeding they shrink…er..shrivel up to deflated airbags that won’t even fill your pre pregnancy cup size?? I can handle the smaller size. I may actually be able to finally look cute in some of the tops that Banana Republic sells. However, it’s the deflation that saddens me most. To know that they will never be their perky youthful selves again without the help of Dr. 90210 is truly tragic. I may have to have a memorial service for them soon so I can start the grieving process.

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