2 posts tagged “nursing”

Lemme just get something right out front here: I don't like beer. I don't like the way it tastes, I don't like the way it smells, I just don't like it. If it's really cold out of a tap and the only thing to drink, I can tolerate it, but I don't like it. That being said, I have wanted beer this whole pregnancy. It sounds REALLY good. And at the risk of public censure, I'll admit to having had a teeny little drink of it a time or two during this pregnancy, and damn, it tasted GOOD. I keep telling my husband that as soon as I have this baby, he's going to have to bring me some Bud Lite with Lime. Besides wanting it for 9 months, it's good for nursing!

Which leads me to my second story: After Dora was born, my milk came in. In a BIG way, if you get what I'm saying. "Torpedo boobs" is the best descriptor I've heard used. It was painful. And it wasn't coming out.  After three different people suggested that I drink a beer to help me "let down", I finally did it. I didn't like it, but I did it. I figured it would be like an enema, not comfortable, but worth the end relief. I was right. Within half an hour I was drowning Dora, and that's how it stayed. I keep looking forward to this scenario the second time around, because I am going to be looking forward to drinking a beer! I'm excited! I'm also about 99% sure that as soon as this baby is born I'm going to lose my taste for beer.

We're down to nursing once a day, and as usual, my predictions were wrong. It was the morning feeding that we dropped, and it was easier than pie. Like I said, since it was mostly for me, she didn't even seem to notice it was gone. Of course, now I have to actually get my ass out of bed in the mornings and get her a little breakfast together instead of falling back into bed with a boob out. She has been sleeping until 7'ish though, so it hasn't been too bad. I'm sure now that I've said that she'll wake up at 4:30 in the morning.

The other big thing that's been going on is my grandfather's funeral. He turned 72 on January 9, and died January 10. He was my father growing up, better than any step-dad or MIA biological father. He taught me how to shoot and rope and he taught me to look to scripture for answers. I can't think of any things I'd rather have learned. I am pretty torn up over this, but I truly believe he sent me a message when I was driving home from his funeral. It was sunset, and the sky was orange, except for a streak across the sun that looked like a cloud, but turned out to be smoke. It was pretty enough I stopped to take pictures. I wondered what the scriptural meaning of smoke was, and when I googled for it, I didn't find a quote out of the bible, but rather a native american woman pondering how the old traditions of her father fit in with her Catholic faith. One sentence she wrote really struck me, and I'm certain it is what I was supposed to read. I can't find it now that I'm trying to link to it, so that makes me even more sure that I was supposed to see it that day. What she said was that for Christians, smoke should always remind us that the wonders of heaven are concealed to our eyes right now, but they would be revealed in God's time. It was a clear as if my grandfather had said "Oh, hon, don't be wishin' for me down there. You oughta see how beautiful it is up here."