Half her lifetime: Photos from month 1 to month 2
Here is the second month-long installment of the daily Louisette pictures. The first month is here. The Project 365 album (with my comments and others) is here. I update it pretty much every day.
When I say, “She gets more beautiful every day” I have proof that it’s the literal truth.
Skyfire 2012
Skyfire is an annual event in Canberra that manages, even in our tiny town, to draw actual genuine crowds of people. It is always a huge hassle to get there and back, because Canberrans are bewildered by the whole experience of moving en masse. Also, this year, it rained. A lot.
But CJ and I force ourselves to make the effort, and when the fireworks start (they’re set to music because it’s run by a local radio station, FM 104.7) there’s always a moment when I think, “Oh THAT’s right. It is worth coming, after all.” My muscles are all still really rubbish from pregnancy/birth so even the ten minute walk from the car was moderately difficult, and sitting on the ground for hours was quite painful. But again – worth it.
We left Louisette with my parents (one less trauma for her to endure at our hands). With startling organisational skills, we managed to make it to the end of Anzac Parade (the family-friendly section, with almost no drunks) several hours before the fireworks began. We both promptly fell asleep. At seven, we were woken by cannon fire.
The rest of the article is at weekend notes.
Then the Roulettes did their pretty thing overhead.
And then, once the rain was good and steady, fireworks!
Strange Kitten
So Ana has decided that our bathroom is her favourite place to be.
The bath is fine. The sink is sort of fine. Eccentric, sure. Slightly odd when a giant fuzzy thing emerges above the rim while you’re on the loo at 2am – certainly. But it’s better than this:
Here’s hoping it’s just one of those phases a girl goes through. . .
Next week we’ll be in HONG KONG! Yay us! Which also means our house and catsitters will be dealing with this for the next two weeks. 🙂 And of course I’ll be blogging about all the awesome stuff we do, including a visit to a pirate’s cave.
The steampunk dress
Is officially done! I’m wearing it to church this morning. Which is a good thing, since we leave for China and the wedding (that this dress is for, at least in the short term – it’s impossible to buy a dress that allows breastfeeding access) in a week.
Without further ado. . .
And with the optional outer layer added on:
There were quite a few dramas along the way, as there always are due to my “spontaneous sewing” methods. The neckline of the outer top layer has been fixed now (you can’t see it clearly because I forgot to remove a piece from the next layer down), although there’s not much I can do about one of the eyelets in the standard layer being inside out. It was originally meant to have a zipper at the back (which it does have), but I can’t do it up myself. CJ described the zipping-up procedure as “not categorically impossible” when he assisted me. So I added lacing and a detachable modesty panel at the back (so when I lose a bunch of weight – likely in the nearish future – I can still remove the ribbon and zip it all the way up, and the eyelets become a decorative feature). The front modesty panel is also fully detachable – and easy to move aside if I’m feeding Louisette.
The main steampunk elements are the adjustability (the gathering at the front means it’ll fit me next pregnancy – and yes, I can now take it on and off by myself) and the different possible combinations (eg I can remove the modesty panels to highlight a contrasting undershirt). Hypothetically I will add more steampunk elements after the wedding – belt loops (on which to hang my keys, and perhaps a nice ladylike dagger or some such), more metal studs to attach different pieces together (or to be decorative when the pieces are apart) and so on. I’ll make a detachable waistband at some point, so as I lose weight I can cinch it in more.
Ultimately, it does the job it set out to do – give me breastfeeding access in a dress, hide my post-pregnancy belly, and have the flexibility to be a maternity dress or not, depending on circumstances.
Too funny
This article by the foul-mouthed Chuck Wendig isn’t so much writing advice as an example of what awesome writing looks like. Ah, who am I kidding? I’m linking to it because it’s about a baby and it’s utterly hilarious. The man has quite a gift for the original metaphor.
This is a fairly polite entry, but there is still some swearing.
Chuck Wendig on his son’s eating habits:
“He’s like a wood-chipper.
It’s as if his stomach is a molten core, and any food poured into that fiery space is burned away to meager char and ash the moment it touches the walls of his gastrointestinal furnace. You know how some adult human beings can subsist on, say, a small yogurt and a banana for breakfast? Our nine-month son can eat more than that. Just yesterday we had to feed him four meals. You get through one container of pureed food and Baby Jabba over there is suddenly all BOSHUUDA NAY WANNA WONGA BLUEBERRY YOGURT which means it’s time to go seeking a new food source before he starts eating his high-chair.
And you think I’m kidding. He gnaws on his high-chair like a starving badger.”
Pictured: not a starving badger.
“Temeraire” by Naomi Novik
Welcome to a new series (new to my reviews, anyhow): the Napoleonic wars. . . with dragons.
This is a brilliant, well-written series that is often funny. Peter Jackson has optioned the film rights (although he’s a little busy right now). Personally, I read it over and over.
The rest of the review is at Comfy Chair, where I get paid for it.
Toilet rolls and duct tape
Here we have, set up beside the breastfeeding chair, places for my mobile, a muesli bar, pens, two types of medication, the camera, lollies, and my diary. Genius.
They used to all just sit on the chair, but Ana (who paused to absent-mindedly lick Louisette’s head as she walked over the chair arm yesterday) likes to bolt down the hall and leap onto the chair, skidding across it with a startled look and scattering everything on it. (The milk you see here is safe because it’s nestled behind a tissue box weighed down with two novels – one for CJ and one for me – this is also one of the “put the baby to sleep” chairs.)
Definitive Failure
This week’s baby weigh-in was statistically the point at which it became absolutely certain that Louisette won’t be on breast milk alone by the time we go to China. It also turned out that my breast milk production hasn’t actually increased in six weeks.
Six weeks.
Six weeks of constant medication and time-stress (trying desperately to fit seven feeds and five pumps into a day with one-hour breaks between each one) and physical pain.
I’m pretty sure there was a slight increase for a while, but the instant I took care of my own weight (dieting* and going off domperidone) there was a drop of about a quarter in my supply.
So here are my choices:
Extreme Number 1
Switch to exclusive formula feeds.
Benefits to me: No more pain, anyone can feed her (I could sleep ten hours in a row if I wanted), no public embarrassment ever.
Benefits to Louisette: She will definitely get enough food, at last (it’s difficult to measure breast milk supply).
Disadvantages: Breast milk is better for Louisette’s health and for my budget.
Extreme Number 2
Go back on domperidone, continue pumping five times a day and feeding 7 times a day (or 8, if I wake up Louisette at 4am and thus make sure both of us are murderous the following day), eat much more food and chocolate.
Benefits to me: Lots of chocolate, yay!
Benefits to Louisette: Possibility of exclusive breastfeeding in a few months.
Disadvantages: 5-10 kilo weight gain for me (necessitating a new wardrobe and a resizing of my wedding ring, plus various health and self-esteem issues), inability to do anything outside of the house other than walk short distances with Louisette. Quitting one or more of my tutoring jobs (I have three precious hours per week, each on a separate day – two are at home so could theoretically still continue). Extremely miserable and probably painfully awkward/humiliating travel experience (because I’d probably have to breastfeed in public places, where I’d already be the centre of attention due to being a Westerner with a baby – and people wouldn’t hesitate to openly stare) – I’d need to stay home alone as much as possible, since stress decreases milk supply. Extremely rigid feeding schedule for Louisette, and likely hunger and tiredness due to constant attempts to reduce the amount of formula.
What I’ll actually do
Suspend attempts to increase my milk supply until after we get back from China (and are recovered) – no domperidone, and no pumping unless I feel like it. Feed Louisette on demand (ish) six times a day instead of seven (seven a day necessitates feeds closer together than three hours, and has I think been interrupting her need for sleep, thus causing feeding problems due to her tiredness), and supplement every feed with formula (I’ve been supplementing every second feed, and supplementing the in between feeds with expressed breast milk) – which means her feeds will be more consistent. Continue dieting (before the weather turns cold and it gets even harder – I am not a happy dieter).
In China: Leave the pump at home, but finish off my week’s supply of domperidone while we’re there, and ease off on the diet (my motto will be “Try not to binge”). Always have formula ready to go when I leave the house – enough for a full formula-only feed if I’m not comfortable breastfeeding at the time (an extremely likely scenario). Feed Louisette six times a day on demand (ish).
When we come back, see where things stand (with her weight and with mine). It’s very likely my milk will have diminished further, and that’s fine. We’ll give her more formula, and if she ends up on just formula it’s not the worst thing in the world.
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Don’t bother trying to comfort me over the word “failure” in the title. It’s no reflection on me, and I know that. I’m so glad to have a definitive failure so I can take action instead of working so hard for an uncertain outcome.
And yes, I know a lot of women never lose their pregnancy weight (or their “I haven’t slept properly in eighteen months” weight after having the child) but to me, having a healthy weight is worth fighting for – for me and for Louisette (and presumably CJ benefits too, although he’s never once given me even a hint that my weight bothers him in the slightest). I can’t expect my children to grow up into adults of a healthy weight if I don’t model what that looks like (and eats like). Plus when I feel fat I eat more, so that doesn’t help things – if I gave up, I’d just keep getting bigger until I didn’t fit through doorways.
Given a choice between a definite and major improvement in my health or a possibly-maybe improvement in Louisette’s health, I choose me. Also, the stress of pumping, scheduling etc probably didn’t help, since stress or embarrassment reduces milk supply too.
I began doing on demand (ish) feedings yesterday. After a four-hour sleep (instead of the hour and a half she’d have had on the previous system), Louisette woke up looking like this:
During that four hours I put away the dishes, did washing and hung it out, washed and sterilised bottles, ate lunch, wrote this blog entry, and did a bunch of sewing including my first successful zipper (the steampunk dress is now one piece, and technically wearable although lacking a proper hem and two modesty panels).
She still slept six hours last night (after many more happy periods than usual), so I definitely made the right call.
I lost three kilos this week, which is a record – clearly domperidone interrupted my body’s normal post-pregnancy weight loss. This photo was taken this morning, and you can clearly see that my top is riding up over my pregnant-style belly (still). Hopefully in a month or two that won’t be such a constant issue.
Next week there’ll be another month of daily pictures.
*This is my version of a full-on diet:
Breakfast: Special K or Nut Feast cereal with full cream milk.
Morning tea: Fruit
Lunch: Ham, avocado and beetroot sandwich.
Afternoon tea: Milo.
Dinner: Anything from (frozen supermarket) fish and (baked) chips to lasagna.
Supper: Fruit.
Suit Up
CJ will be acting as best man to his brother very shortly, and this is the suit he’ll be wearing – the first proper suit he’s bought since his Year Twelve formal.
For reasons that are patently obvious, I have encouraged him to wear it around the house. A lot.
So much better than flowers or chocolate
The other day, when I was still pregnant, CJ was driving me home from church.
“I’ve realised,” he said, “that, should the technology come about in my lifetime, I still can’t time travel.”
“Oh?” I said. “And why not?”
“Well, I worked out a while ago that if I time travelled and ended up in an alternate timeline, I could probably still track you down, either by attending the pirate ball where we met, or through one of our many mutual friends. This is Canberra, after all.”
“Indeed.”
“But once we have Louisette, and she actually exists in the world, it would be statistically impossible to reproduce exactly the same set of precise circumstances required to bring her – specifically her, not some other child – into the world. So time travel just isn’t worth the risk.”
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I actually gasped, I was so touched. This is a man who not only plans ahead to save our marriage in the event of a time-space event, but who would give up one of his favourite fictional technologies for the sake of our little girl.
I love you too, CJ.
Felicity Banks 