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babies, breastfeeding, Mom Stuff

I’m now a mom of 2 kids. Someone get me some Lee jeans.

November 27, 2012

I’m alive.

When someone slices your abdomen open, it used to be called Hari Kari and you die on the floor in front of some Japanese war guy. Now it’s called a c-section and instead of your internal organs falling on the floor, you get a baby. Neat.

So like I said, I’m alive. And I wanted to briefly update everyone before we get into the birth story (another post, another time). We are all doing relatively well. We came home from the hospital the day before Thanksgiving and have been recovering during B’s paternity leave.

The good news is that outside of some very early and brief baby blues, the post partum depression seems to have stayed away so far. And for that, I’d give all the gummy penguins in the world.

The bad news is that my c-section recovery this time around is tough, physically. Like really tough. It feels like someone dipped a flaming dagger into a pile of angry scorpions and is jabbing it into my scar, every time I walk. Dramatic? NO. It’s actually worse than that. Every doctor is like, hmm, that’s weird. And I’m like, DUDE, not the right response from a DOCTOR. So I’m just hoping this goes away soon. B goes back to work on Monday and I’m counting the days before D day. Death day. Dooms day. DOUBLE KIDS DAY.

Yes I’m afraid. I’m very afraid. I still look at a newborn with a healthy amount of fear behind my eyes. They are unpredictable and unruly. They don’t listen to reason and they could really give a shit about anyone other than themselves. People like that usually are locked up in mental wards. Or they are called newborns.

Listen, to be totally honest, I’d skip 6 months ahead if I could. I know I know…”don’t wish time away”, “enjoy them when they are little”, “it goes so fast”. The newborn stage is tough stuff though. Breastfeeding literally round the clock at every waking moment while recovering from my scorpion wound, begging her to sleep while she looks at me like, shut up and give me back your boob….is hard. And during this stage, I’ve enjoyed and appreciated G so much more. And I really think it’s him that is keeping the PPD away.

But I will say this….when you have your second baby,  you have the knowledge that your first gave to you. You don’t have to lay crying in a dark corner because the baby will never let anyone else hold them except you in their whole life ever. And you know that eventually they will do other shit besides suck on your boob and scream. And you know that there isn’t true evil behind their eyes. Ok I knew that all along. But sometimes I’m like 2% unsure.

But I can say, that I look at little Ruby Lee and I love her. I feel attached to her, which is something that took me months to feel with G. I can tell already that she isn’t the baby that everyone said I’d have after my experience with G. She screams not “just when she’s hungry”. She screams because shit annoys her and because she wants to. But I’m ready for it. If she turns out to be a fiesty little firework, good for her. And let’s be honest, with us as her parents, she was never going to be Wendy Wallflower.

And I should say that moving forward, I don’t think I’ll be calling her R on this blog. She’ll be Ruby. R is for naked movies and pirates. And my Ruby is neither. I think.

The next post will be the birth story, with pictures. You  may be surprised…

xoxo

MODG and family

 

I’m alive. When someone slices your abdomen open, it used to be called Hari Kari and you die on…

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B, babies, breastfeeding

Biting the hand that feeds you < biting the nipple that feeds you.

December 13, 2011

While we were all busy saving the world and being good people and shit, my life turned upside down. Now many of you were like OH YOU GOT A TV SHOW. Or OH YOU ARE GOING TO BE ON THE NEWS. or OH YOU FOUND A LOT OF GOLD THINGS AND REALLY ARE RICH.

no.

See, despite my fancy internety ways, I’m really just a regular mom. I clean stuff. I cook things. I feed the baby. And I watch dvr. That’s my life. So when I say that my life is turned upside down, it’s more like, oops the dvr fell off of the shelf and less, taadaa you’re super famous now.

So cue G’s actual first birthday (December 8th). After the party we really did nothing to make note of the day itself. Apparently that was not ok with G and he showed his gratitude by biting my nipples. WITH TOP AND BOTTOM TEETH. At every, single, feeding. It was literally like he forgot how to nurse. Now I’ll be honest, this happened once before. But he was raging mad angry and didn’t realize what he was doing. He drew blood. We don’t talk about that.

But the fear lives inside my boobs. And the fear is real. Once you’ve been bit, you don’t forget.

So my now 1 year old boy would slowly approach the nipple and like in slow motion show his fangs and start to clamp down.

NO DO NOT BITE MOMMY. THAT HURTS. (and then we do the sign for hurts…like he has any idea…)

So we’d try again. ANOTHER BITE. NO I SAID NO BITING GAVIN. And then he loses it and screams and cries. Like how dare I not let him bite my nipples. And so he went to bed without nursing. And then I cried about it.

Next morning, Good morning G! I bet you’re thirsty, time to nurse. ****CHOMP*** Really? REALLY? We’re still doing this? More crying. No nursing.

Now I’m really freaking out. And here is why…Yes I wanted to wean at 1 year so I could take my medication and just be a better mom.  However nursing is a very special bond between me and G. I’ve done it at least 3 times a day for 365 days and early on it was like 10 times a day. I don’t even always pee 3 times a day every day. And it makes him happy and I know it’s good for him. And now I was faced with a choice.

I could push this. I could research ways to get him to stop biting. I could consider it a nursing strike and wait it out and try again. I could pump to keep my supply up so when he is ready, I’ll be there. I could deal with the biting and hope that he stops.

Or, I could wean.

For 24 full hours, I cried. Because I thought that I wanted to wean, but I felt like a terrible mother for not pushing through a big nursing problem. But here was the kicker: He could have given 2 shits. He wasn’t asking for boobs. He was sleeping well. And he was happy as a dairy free clam. It was ME that was a mess.

And I realized, this situation is so much better than if it were reversed. I wouldn’t want him to be like an addict coming off of a binge, begging for more. I’d so much rather him not care and move on. This was an opportunity and I needed to take it.

B did not understand.

Me: B do you think I’m doing the right thing?

B: Um, I guess.

Me: NO YOU NEED TO SAY YES YOU ARE DEFINITELY DOING THE RIGHT THING.

B: I do?

Me: YES! I AM TORMENTED INSIDE AND I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO

B: Well I sort of thought the weaning process would just take a little longer

Me: SO YOU’RE SAYING I’M A SELFISH AWFUL MOTHER?

B: No.

Me: SOBSOBSOBSOB YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND.

And he really didn’t understand. But this is probably the first decision that I have made so far as a mother that benefited me directly and G indirectly. So G won’t be necessarily benefiting from abrupt weaning, but he will benefit from having a better, more sane mother with a happy vagina.

I want to say that this decision was not taken lightly. Long time readers know that I have been through thrush, elimination diets, then resulting in no dairy, soy or wheat for 6 full months. I later found out that I was dehydrated. And we made it through. And we still breastfed. It was the most important thing in the world to me, but now I have to put my health first.

So 1 week  has gone by and we are no longer breastfeeders. G hasn’t even given my boobs a second glance. It’s like flat chested 7th grade Amanda again with all the boys staring at the other boobs. But I’m cool with it and so is G.

I’m slowly pumping less and less to adjust to not feeding a baby anymore. I’m pumping once every 2 days now. And you know what? I’m happy. Because I can leave G with B and go to the mall. And stay there. And then I can go to my friend Box’s house and stay there. And I don’t have to stare at my watch waiting for it to be 2 and nurse G to sleep. For the first time, OTHER PEOPLE CAN DO STUFF. It’s liberating.

I would not change a single second of how I nursed G. Well, maybe I’d be sure that kid took a bottle at some point in his life. But besides that, I’m super happy and proud to have nursed him for 365 days exactly. It was a really tough road but totally worth it. And at his high school graduation, I’ll be sure that all of his friends know that he is so awesome because he breastfed. G will love it.

My baby is growing up. And now I can relax a bit. Except not about eating. BECAUSE I BETTER NOT GET FAT NOW.

And as we changed the world with WANA, my own little mom world changed and I now have a little independent man running around who don’t need no stupid boob.

IT’S TIME TO BRA SHOP.

xoxo

Milkless MODG

__________________________________________________________

this boob update was brought to you by the fine folks at Shakeology. I have a giant bag of the chocolate shake on STANDBY for when the breastfeeding skinnies go away (like now). Also Pete (my dad) will be doing a Shakeology review for us. I can already tell you though, it’s awesome. They gave me this whole calendar with recipes for every day of the month to make different things with the shake. Um, can we say chocolate banana peanut butter? I HEART IT. I will be so skinny you won’t see me. CROSSIES.

While we were all busy saving the world and being good people and shit, my life turned upside down.…

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breastfeeding, Mom Stuff, Sharing, You think you know but you have no idea

What my holes have taught me about being a mom

November 2, 2011

 

Welcome to Week of Holes part II. Week of holes I as you’ll remember was a butt load of weeks ago. THAT my friends is how long it takes to get hole appointments to fix your broken  holes.

You may remember my friend Cervix. She is an angry old broad. Turn out her neighbors are just as pissy. I’m not going into much more detail because even I have limits. I guess this is where I draw the hole line. Except by definition a hole is nothing and can’t have lines. That’s how limity my holes actually are. THEY HAVE INVISIBLE LINES.

Hole 1 is my southern most hole and the hole doctor told me that I need some meds to fix up my hole. Here’s the real kicker: I can’t take them until G is done breastfeeding. Now originally my goal was to breastfeed for a year and we’re only a month away from that. However, after the last killmyface cold that he just had, I was hoping to get through flu season and still breastfeed. (breastfeeding gives them super steel germ shields). But then I realized that it’s time. It’s time for me to get a part of my life back and put myself first.

I KNOW.

Those are the words that every mother is afraid to say out loud. Putting yourself before your children gets you immediate worldwide female side eye. We are trained to be the best mothers in the world and if we’re not, at least pretend we are. Especially on your facebook status.

And my situation is this: By putting my health first and taking the hormones that I need to to feel better, I will be a better mother, wife and overall person. No one wants an angry bird in their house and certainly not an angry vagina. And being a good mother comes in a butt load (i’m going to say butt load a lot now) of forms. Not just how we feed our baby. A really great friend told me that breastfeeding our baby is powerful but mothering is way more powerful. Like super powers powerful. And she’s right.

And this moment, formula feeding mothers, is for you:

In the hippie community (I’m *ALMOST* a real life member) most women breastfeed until the child is ready to wean. There are definitely huge health benefits to prolonged breastfeeding. And you all know by now that I couldn’t give 8 shits what anyone thinks about when, where or how I breastfeed G. But this feeling brewing in my boobs surprised me. I felt a little shame with my decision to wean now. No one made me feel that way, I felt it all on my very own. But I felt like I was going to be judged for putting myself before my baby.

And then I thought: This must be what bottle feeding formula moms feel from us breastfeeders.

And by no fault (for the most part) of the breastfeeders, the shame is just there. Because we’re all afraid of being judged for GASP not being a good mother. So ANY tiny amount of side eye or innocent (not so innocent) comment by either side is really taken to heart and can feel like tiny baby penguin murder in our souls.

And my situation made me think about the billion balls of situations out there that formula moms face and why they choose the bottle over the boob juice. And their situation is their situation. And if it makes them happier, better mothers, hotter bitches, then good for them.

Because I don’t want to be judged and I will not judge anyone else.

We’re all doing the best we can here and no one really knows what the F they’re doing anyway. So I’m going to say it again. We need to support each other as women and moms. Because men are too busy staring at their penises or something.

Tomorrow I get my northern holes fixed.

Cavities.

I’m sure I’ll develop some enlightening realization about the ethics of molars tomorrow.

No. No I won’t.

No wars in the comments. I won’t put up with it. I will burn your face down.

Love and Lust,

MODG

  Welcome to Week of Holes part II. Week of holes I as you’ll remember was a butt load…

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breastfeeding, Innapropriate, Mom Stuff, Not Pleased, Preg Stuff, Style

A girl who didn’t shave her armpits OR shower does not deserve 200 dollars bras. Actually, neither do clean girls.

October 25, 2011

***Attention Young Hot Girls Without Babies***

I bet your boobs right about now look like this top picture

.

.

.

Have a baby or two and one day they look like this next one:

You can sleep in a damn bra every night of your life and lay minimally on your side to prevent extra gravity time and it WON’T HELP. Not that I know much about that. Except yes I know everything about that. Here’s the real kicker. Boob sags aren’t from breastfeeding. It’s just from pregnancy. So EVERYONE gets it to some degree. And mourning the death of your boobs is hard. What’s not hard? YOUR SOFT SAGGING BOOBS.

So at the 10 month mark I decided it was time to get it together and get a damn bra. Who the hell knew what size I was. I mean I’m breastfeeding. At 9am my boobs are F’s and at 9pm my boobs are A’s. I’ve been wearing what’s basically a sports bra that unhooks from the top for the past 10 months. And who knows what I wore at the end of my pregnancy. It was probably straight up Nike for all I cared. But I looked in the mirror the other day and saw my sad sad mother jugs and knew that the time had come.

My friend recommended a new store in my fancy mall that did a real custom fitting. Sort of like those bridal shops that just bring you dresses. You never actually see any dresses for yourself, they just appear. Which, I’m not a fan of now that I really think about it. I want to see ALL the things. Regardless, to the bra store I went.

I get there and I’m like. Hi, I need to be measured. And the girl says to me, ok we have a 12:30 available. Um really? At Victoria’s Secret they just lasso you inside a string and are like BAM 34 C. Although I’m starting to get that Victoria’s Secret is maybe the Walmart of underoos. So I’m like, FINE. I’ll come back.

12:30. I’m escorted to the back with a clipboard like I’m a new patient at the 50 pediatricians I’ve dragged G to. I’m rating my sag level, I’m talking about nursing, I’m discussing how often I wash my old bras (hint: never).

I meet my bra concierge. It goes like this

BC: Hi. Take your shirt off.

Me: Um, well. Ok.

BC: (Stares awkwardly long) Be right back.

Me: Ok then. (wait. look around. Shake my boobs in the mirror)

BC: Ok. I have 10 bras. Take your bra off.

Me: Um what?

BC: Take it off.

Me: Well, I’m not really a naked kind of gi…

BC: TAKE OFF YOUR BRA PLEASE.

Me: Ok…(now I’m more naked than like anyone has ever really seen me)

**side** As I told our friendly bra concierge, I’m really not a naked kind of girl. I awkwardly do the sports bra switch at the gym locker room with barely my neck exposed. I change in my closet if even the cats are in my bedroom. I’m not that walk around naked girl. I lived with one in college. YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE. I get that this is very unhippy of me. I’m ok with the point deduction**

The bra concierge puts the first bra on me. It’s purple with flowers on the straps. She’s like, THERE. I’m all…??? She’s like..amazing. I was like, well it sort of hurts. Then she reminds me that I haven’t worn underwire in over a year. Oh yeah, that’s why I have pie boobs. I have to get “used to it” again. Kill me. It feels like I’m wearing an 1840’s corset wrapped in sheet metal. Also, purple? Um no. How about a fancy beige.

She continues to put me in 9 more bras in red lace, navy and gray flowers with a jewel in the center, turquiose see through stuff. For a girl who shows up in her brownish nursing bra that used to be light blue and maybe forgot to shave her armpits that morning (note: if getting bra fitted that day, shave your damn armpits) MAAAYBE she should have started with a t shirt bra. JS.

By the 9th bra I’m realizing that I haven’t seen one price tag. Nor has price been discussed. This is never a good thing. She leaves the room to go get some other bra bullshit and I’m on a HUNT to find price tags. SHIT SHIT SHIT I don’t see any. DIGGING, looking at every tag, throwing things. NO PRICES. WHAT IS GOING ON? Then I see my first price tag. On that gray and blue jeweled number.

Ready?

$207.00.

That’s TWO HUNDRED SEVEN AMERICAN DOLLARS PEOPLE.

For a bit of lace over my nipples. NOT EVEN THAT MUCH LACE mind you.

Now I’m panicking. This woman and I have bonded. She’s seen more of me than 90% of my ex boyfriends. I just wanted a regular bra to wear under shirts that is normal and fine. I don’t need lightning bolts and lasers shooting from the nipples. I just don’t.

SHE’S OFF TO FIND ME THONGS. SHIT.

Me: I don’t wear thongs since my pregnancy hemorrhoid explosion. The rectal rockets didn’t help.

BC: (silence)

So that ended the appointment right quick.

And so I did purchase the most neutral (read: cheapest) bra she showed me. For $107.00 which is roughly 60 dollars more than I’ve ever spent on a bra.

Mind you, my mother worked at Victoria’s Secret for 15 years. I was in a padded extra lift at 13.

I told the BC that I would be purchasing one bra. She’s like, well you need 10.

HOW DID WE JUMP FROM 1 TO 10? Why not try and shoot for 2 or 3.

So here’s what I’m going to say about all of this.

1) Underwire is what children in the year 3024 will study in their history laser pads and say “wow I can’t believe women did that shit”

2) Go to a place where you can see all the stuff

3) Shave your pits ladies.

 

this post was brought to you by my big dog sponsor Shakeology which is part of the P90X company, sent by Demi a long time MODG reader who is always trying to help me get skinny. Bless her little heart. She’s sending me some of this business and I can’t wait. You drink one a day and it gives you a billion dollars of fruits and veggies and you get skinny. AND it tastes like a Wendy’s frosty. DIEDIEDIE.

Thanks Demi. Support your MODG family and check her out.

PS I’m a 32 E. BAAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

 

 

***Attention Young Hot Girls Without Babies*** I bet your boobs right about now look like this top picture .…

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breastfeeding, Mom Stuff

And the boobie hats go to…

September 15, 2011

Chris
I want a beanie hat because if my daughter E wears it while we’re breastfeeding, it may actually create an optical illusion of normal sized breasts. Each one of my breasts is now larger than my child’s head. And she is now 4 months. I had large breasts before having a child, they are now a terrifying size. I’ve had way too many sentences from lactation start with “when I have a mom with breasts larger than her child’s head…” Please please may I have a beanie hat so I can pretend for a few moments that my breasts are not insane. PS I will also put it on my cat’s head for fun.

and

Melanie
I’m nursing my baby as I read this and she just latched onto skin that was definitely NOT my nipple and as I’m guessing you know, that sucks. That’s why I deserve a boob hat for my little nursling. That and I got braces this week and have a cleaning on Friday and it sucks and I’m totally throwing a pity party for myself.

Chris and Melanie, send me an email so that I can get your information (modgblog at gmail you know the rest)

Don’t forget that you can order your own at www.boobiebeanie.com and get free shipping with the code MODG1 (first 30 orders)

I’ll be totally honest, I used the randomizer to pick Chris and Melanie. One, because I did not have the ability or time or brain space to read every single entry and two, I’m sort of bummed out by some of the comments regarding breastfeeding. I had heard about people who have opinions about seeing boobs of breastfeeding mothers, but part of me thought it was a myth. Like a pink sphinx unicorn or something. I’m not furthering the debate in the comments because it was going to the ugly place.

My perspective on nursing in public:

I personally cover up. But it’s because I want to cover up. Not because someone else wants me to. There are some women who don’t. Their baby may be fussy with a tent in their face. Their baby may pull off because the mother has a forceful let down exposing her nipple. But that’s life and that’s babies. And breasts were made to feed babies. And I’m sorry if it makes you uncomfortable to see a breast, but it’s not the mother’s job to make you comfortable. It’s her job to feed her baby. If I worried about bothering people every time I walked out of the house, I’d never be able to wear my ASS or PEE monogram shirt. And that would be a serious problem. But my problem with those of you who have a lot to say about breasts burning your retinas out is that you are giving mothers one more reason not to breastfeed. It’s already hard enough to get the milk into the baby mouth with cracked nipples and turkey rice diets and leakage. Now we have to worry about offending you. I wish if we saw someone breastfeeding in public, instead of a dirty look, they’d get a GOOD FOR YOU. Because I bet that mom is nervous and afraid that you will judge her. And it would be awesome to give her some approval instead of the side eye. I promise she’s not on some brigade to offend your face.

Bottom line, there are so many other things to bitch and complain about (like an old hag vag or your husband over scheduling your DVR). Breastfeeding shouldn’t be one of them.

So let’s all hug it out, lighten up and put a boob hat on your baby. Because when you get down to it, boobs are funny.

Boobs.

MODG

Chris I want a beanie hat because if my daughter E wears it while we’re breastfeeding, it may actually…

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Awesome things, breastfeeding, Mom Stuff

There are 2 exposed breasts in this post. One is on my cat’s head. *GO NIPPLES*

September 13, 2011

This is a special day of nudity. Hooray!

People make a big freaking deal about nudity. It’s either all secret and playboy or it’s all vulgar and sick or it’s embarrassing (like how I imagine horses to feel) or it’s just all of those things but someone calls it “art” so it’s cool.  But on this day of nudity, we’re talking straight up function.

People get wild about nipple shots from breast feeders. They think it’s all girls gone wild, daycare style. Get your head out of your ass America, it’s not a big deal. Nipples were made to 1) pierce 2) name shots after and 3) feed your baby.

I didn’t realize just how uncomfortable people were with breastfeeding until one day, I was feeding G in my living room (fully covered) and the people at my house slooowly moved to the other side of the kitchen. Leaving me in my functional nippled corner. That’s when I realized that people need to get better about breastfeeding and karaoke. The Asians get us there despite that show Karaoke Battle USA (when they say USA, it’s always Asian).

Now. Brace yourselves for a picture of me breastfeeding.

EXPOSED. CALL THE INTERNET COPS. CALL HUGH HEFNER. CALL MY PERVY 11TH GRADE GYM TEACHER:

BAAAAAAAAAAAH MY NIPPLE!

OMG I totally tricked you. Do you believe that’s actually NOT my boob? I KNOW… YOU ARE SUCH AN IDIOT! It’s a hat. A hat that goes on your baby’s head. And most importantly, it’s a hat that says “You my friend are a pure asshole for caring at all about a boob in a baby’s mouth”

And any hat that has the ability to say asshole, is a friend of mine.

But most importantly, it’s funny and makes you laugh and makes you say “wow, nipples are not that big of a deal. I could stare at a nipple all day and not be phased. Nipples are for winners”

NIPPLES ARE FOR WINNERS.

Now the best part. I contacted the creator of this fine product at boobiebeanie.com about doing a giveaway and a discount for the MODG community. She said yes because she’s also a winner. Just like nipples.

I also requested the “ethnic boob”. Yes you have a choice in skin tone and nipple tone. I say go dark or go home.

**The first 30 people to order with the code MODG1 (all caps) will get free shipping on their boobie beanie**

**ALSO because the beanie lady is awesome, she is giving away 2 free beanies to MODG readers. Please leave a comment here telling me why you want the boob hat AND then you must like the beanie lady’s facebook page. I WILL CHECK,  YOU KNOW I WILL.**

Go forth and be nippular.

xoxo

MODG BREAST

 

PS

for you MODG cat fans, that’s the rarely seen Willy. He will seriously cut you. He’s sporting the white girl hat. I will probably pay for this in my sleep. If you don’t hear from me soon, call the police.

 

This is a special day of nudity. Hooray! People make a big freaking deal about nudity. It’s either all…

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