A Mom’s Unscripted Life

Tag: #breastfeeding

  • Weekday Bliss

    Last night, I got home a bit early from work to help my dad with the boys because my mom had a doctor’s appointment. When I arrived, I was pleasantly surprised to find my son miraculously well-behaved for the first time in what felt like ages. Lately, he’s been going through a whiny phase—perhaps it’s the onset of the “terrible twos” or maybe just the adjustment to sharing attention with his baby brother, Remy. It tugs at my heart, making me wonder if it’s because I didn’t breastfeed him as long, and now, with divided attention, he’s missing being babied.

    But last night was sweet. After picking up the kids, I listened to my audiobook while loading the dishwasher and setting up for dinner. My husband cooked sliders later, but I prepped everything so he could work his culinary magic exactly how he likes.

    Teddy and I had our little routine—letting the dogs out, tending to the chickens. He adores helping out by scattering the corn seed mix. Meanwhile, Remy was napping peacefully in his bassinet, giving Teddy and me some quality time. We played, cleaned up his playpen (because why wouldn’t he toss all his toys out?), and soon, Dad was home.

    As my husband cooked, I fed Remy, who is still breastfeeding, and then it was dinnertime. Interestingly, Ted insists on eating only from my plate. Identical food on his plate just isn’t the same unless it’s on mine!

    Later, we headed upstairs where I put on my current audiobook, “Regretting You” by Colleen Hoover, which I highly recommend. Meanwhile, Teddy was busy bringing over his books and jumping on his little trampoline. He even attempted to fold clothes with me but decided it was too much effort for a one-and-three-quarter-year-old. Instead, he grabbed his Minky Couture blanket, as hefty as a weighted one, tossed his pillow into the trampoline, then changed his mind and opted for a laundry basket by the window.

    Watching him climb into the basket with his blanket, looking oh-so-relaxed and flipping through Dr. Seuss’s “The Foot Book” was adorable. All the while, Remy was downstairs giving my husband a run for his money. I resisted the urge to intervene, choosing to let my husband handle Remi and bond with our youngest. I’ve learned that sometimes the best way to let my husband be involved and understand what I’m handling is to let him dive in, even if it’s not exactly how I’d do it.

    We mothers often try to be superwoman, juggling everything, but part of the journey is allowing ourselves to step back and let others step in. And with that little realization, I hope you all have a great day!

  • Breastfeeding: Part 2

    Has anyone else ever had one of those “oops” moments that makes you question your life choices? Like today, when I remembered everything—except the actual pump parts needed to, you know, pump. Cue the “no use crying over spilled milk” mantra—at least metaphorically for now, because I’m dodging a literal milk flood under this blazer, which, thank goodness, I thought to wear today. Blazers: not just for looking professional, but also for camouflaging milk stains!

    Nobody truly prepares you for the multi-level strategy game that is breastfeeding. It’s like going back to the days when you’d accidentally bleed through your clothes during your period, except now, instead of your butt being the center of attention, it’s those conspicuous milk stains front and center. Ah, the joys of motherhood!

    Today’s fashion mishap left my shirt looking like a modern art piece, luckily hidden beneath my trusty blazer. I snapped a pic, possibly destined for the “Moms of the Year” album, but first, I’m making a beeline home to grab my forgotten equipment, return to work, and attempt to pump on the go. Yes, that’s my current definition of multitasking.

    This incident just adds to my list of reasons why I dream of a remote job. Being a first-time mom trying to juggle breastfeeding in the mix of office life is like competing in an endurance race you never actually signed up for. When you’re trying to maintain a semblance of your pre-kid life while avoiding the Motherhood Olympics hurdles, remote work seems like a golden ticket. Here’s to making it through the day, one milk-stain-free step at a time!

  • Breastfeeding

    So, new moms, if you’re considering breastfeeding, let me be your herald of hard truths: it’s not for the faint of heart. When it comes to a baby trying to latch on to a nipple, my best comparison would definitely be a baby bird fighting for a worm in the ground. There’s the wide-eyed determination, the tiny little mouth opening in search, and let’s not forget, the flapping—minus the feathers, but definitely with plenty of adorable chaos! With my first son, I thought I was ready. I bought all the books, read everything there was to read, interrogated experienced moms, and even sat through a lactation class. Yet, when he arrived, all those tips and tricks turned into a swirl of confusion. The lactation nurse breezed in and instructed me to hold him like a football—apparently, he’d do the rest. Well, that might have been true when she placed him on me, but when I tried, it was like he’d found a much more interesting channel on a tiny invisible TV.

    Nobody warned me about the pain either. As if my boobs turning into rock-like pain sensors wasn’t enough, my uterus was staging its own protest march back to normal. After days of trying and failing, I switched to pumping—only to discover it was breastfeeding’s evil twin. Seriously, if the machine’s doing too much pulsing and not enough contracting at the wrong size, it’s like a medieval torture device. Physical intimacy moved to the back burner because, with my tender-as-porcelain bust, even imagining a breeze touching them was a ‘nope’ for me.

    Then, along came my second son, the sleeping, feeding wonder child. He latched on effortlessly like it was his superpower, and suddenly milk was flowing in 6-ounce increments instead of the paltry 1-2 ounces I sweated over with my first. With him, it was all about convenience—no more panicking over bottle temperature or cleaning the million tiny pieces that come with pumping. Though I still pump once or twice a day, it’s more of a friendly check-in than a full-blown session. Nights became a snuggle fest, with him and me both blissfully half-asleep on a Boppy pillow, ignoring the world.

    On the downside, my firstborn gave me major side-eye—a potent mix of jealousy and silent judgment that makes my mom guilt flare. We made it three months breastfeeding with him, while with his baby brother, we’re cruising past four. But here’s the big reveal: breastfeeding in public is not the scandal people make it out to be. Sure, there are occasional looks, but compared to the chaos of bottle feeding logistics, it’s a walk in the park with center-stage views of zero mummy meltdowns over forgotten formula. Who knew that simple, hassle-free and spontaneous wins the day?