Posted in All, Musings

Big Pumpin’

So I’ve been trying to ween off pumping, and apparently going far too fast. I’ve got this big ol’ blocked duct under my areola. I think there might be some other little ones around cuz DAMN Lahey hurts. (My tits are named Lahey and Randy.) It sucks too cuz the block is right under where the pump horn sits so it’s hard to massage out without losing suction and getting a titty fart.

I’m guessing people know what I’m talking about. Pumpers, at least.

I think the important discussion here is, I finally agreed to stop pumping. It seems a weird time to do so, we’ve just gotten them sleep trained and they’re still not really into solid food. (This week we’re gonna try some stuff other than rice cereal. I’d heard the grain cereals were the way to go, but since I fed them that stuff I’m hearing literally everything else. Tomorrow we’re gonna try mashed banana and titty milk.) Plus with the sleep training, I feel like I’ve gotten a lot of my mental health back. So why the cut?

Cuz I’m selfish. I want my tits back. I want my time back. And it still makes me really anxious while I’m pumping, especially when I pump at night for some reason. It’s like the last remaining source of intense anxiety I have left. And it’s weird, because I hadn’t really gotten pumping anxiety for a while. It kinda came back with the sleep training so I figure I was so anxious and mentally unwell that I just didn’t notice the anxiety when it came. Like it was just a pebble in a rock slide or something. Then once I started feeling better sleeping properly again, the pumping anxiety became more intense in contrast.

I get anxious when I think about not pumping anymore too. I’d always been of the mind that you should give babies breast milk until they’re about two, at least that’s what I learned in high school Biology. Not that I’d planned to have a toddler hanging off my chest…. But basically my plan was to breastfeed until 6 or 8 months, get them onto a bottle by a year and then bottle/sippy cup feed them until 2. Of course, this was before kids. Once I had the twins and we realized breastfeeding was a pipe dream cuz of the bottle feeds in the NICU. But the plan was still to pump until 18 months or 2 years, then came the question of whether it was causing or worsening my postpartum issues. I was really resistant to stopping, cuz I want my kids to have the best start especially cuz they were premature. They’ve caught up tremendously! They’re doing amazing. They haven’t looked premature since they were like 3 months old, and they learn insanely fast. Knowing that they’re pretty well caught up, I’m a little more comfortable with not breastfeeding anymore.

So I figure, I’ll very slowly stop. I’m guessing I have that (those) blockage(s) because I’ve slowed down too fast. I went from 25 to 30 minutes to 20 minutes in like a week. I was still getting similar volume though, so that’s interesting. As I wrote the first half of this post I did a full 30 minutes (31 actually) to get rid of the blocks, and it seemed to work but I guess I’ll find out as the day goes on. My tit doesn’t hurt as much as it did when I started writing this so it’s a win either way!

Anyways, the NEW plan is basically to cut two or three minutes off each week. So it’ll take me 12 to 15 weeks to really cut’er down, and that gives me tons of time to get the kids eating all kinds of tasty food. Plus my crazy milky flow doesn’t get all stopped up and cause me the pains. I had the beginnings of mastitis once a few months ago and it was fucking brutal. I thought I had COVID I felt so bad. I was in intense body pain, felt like I was gonna throw up and couldn’t really eat, I was so tired – and this was before sleep training so for me to have said I was way more tired at that point? I figure you get the idea. (At this point it’s also probably important for me to note that I’m a notorious hypochondriac…) Needless to say I didn’t have the COVID. Not long after I made the appointment to get the test it dawned on me that I might be getting mastitis, cuz my tits really hurt too. So I did a major pump, lots of massaging and I went for quite a while. I felt way better almost immediately.  Still got the test cuz… You never know!!! What if it’s cancer?!?! Google said it was!!

So yeah. I’ll keep y’all posted on my progress I’m sure. Maybe I’ll chicken out of quitting cuz my mood has been great, and I really do want to give them the good stuff as long as I can. I’ve mentioned that I’m a recovering conspiracy theorist, and you don’t really need to be a conspiracy theorist to not trust Nestle or large food production companies. I don’t really want my kids on formula, and I’m lucky enough to have a strong milk supply. I never had to take meds for that or rely entirely on formula and I’m grateful for that. I lost one of my dearest friends to Domperidone (actually that’s who we named Birdy after.) Scary shit! She left behind a seven month old baby – my babies are just over seven months now. Just… Didn’t wake up one morning. Her husband found her slumped over the edge of the bed like she was trying to turn on the lamp or something. She and many other women accidentally gave their lives to feed their babies breast milk. It makes me feel a little guilty that I’m just calling it quits because I feel like it. And I get the whole “you have to do what’s best for you and your family” but this seems like something I won’t know is a mistake until long after. Or maybe it’ll be fine and I’m worrying for nothing. I dunno. Life is bonkers.

For now I’ll keep pumping, less and less until I’m out of milk. And of course, worry on and off the whole time that I’m not doing the right thing. But hey, I guess that’s why I have a blog. To talk this shit out with myself in a public forum!

Thanks for listening. And now to post this without reading it, just like almost all of my posts.

Posted in All, Musings

It’s been a while

Damn, man. I started this blog and I was all gung ho to start blogging all the time. Then I got caught up on a post that I kept having to rewrite and just kind stopped. Funny how that happens. Plus, for some reason I have zero time to myself lately. Oh right! I’m a mom.

Had another good dip into the depths of postpartum misery. It’s intense! I know I’ve said this before but it’s amazing how quickly it comes over me. One minute I’m playing peekaboo, the next minute I’m in the fetal position on the bathroom floor with the fan on and my hands over my ears. I didn’t want to be a mom for like three days. And that made me feel like an intense failure, which made me want to be a mom even less because I felt like I didn’t deserve it.

I had some time to think about the misery because (as usual) Dave stepped up and took care of the kids while I laid down and chilled out. I mostly spent that time kicking myself. Kicking myself for not being able to do my job. For putting so much on Dave when he already works full time for us. For not giving those gorgeous kids the mom they deserve. For thinking I was ready for this intense responsibility when I wasn’t. Mostly I kicked myself for kicking myself. That’s a funny thing about misery, and I don’t know if it’s the same for everyone.. But I feel so much shame when I get depressed because my life is actually pretty fantastic. So I go into this silly shame spiral because I can’t climb out.

My sister is visiting, and we talked about it. One of the things we discussed is how I’m worried than when things even out and I’m not depressed anymore that I’ll still not want to be a mom. I don’t necessarily feel that way right this second, as I’m in a pretty good mood. But I feel that way a lot. There are days I love being a mom but it seems like as soon as things get too hard, I fall back into depression and feel like I can’t do it. Maybe it’s not every time there’s a bad day… I know there are a few days I can take it. But it really seems like I just can’t handle it when things get hard. She told me that it’s really obvious how much I love my kids, and I don’t remember exactly how she said it but it was the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.

I have to find a way to make amends with these feelings. All this shame and frustration. Like I said, one of the things I’ve been struggling with is putting all that emotional weight on Dave. He’s such an amazing partner. Anytime I start feeling overwhelmed he steps up – no questions asked. He listens to me crying about the same old “I can’t do this” shit, holds me really tight, and then takes on both babies until I’ve had a chance to calm down. He acts like it’s all good but I know it weighs on him. It’s a lot. He works shitty hours at a monotonous job, then comes home and helps me with the kids. He really doesn’t get a lot of rest or fun time. I try to send him out to visit friends and stuff as much as possible but he says he loves to be around us. I wish I could keep it together for the kids, but more for him. He does so much for us. He’s an amazing dad and husband. I love him so much!

I guess all I can do is keep truckin’. Do everything I can to keep myself together so I can do everything I can for my family. They deserve it. Those kids are amazing, and Dave is the absolute best. I find when I have gone for walks a few days in a row my mood is great. The weather has been kind of shitty but the mall is open. I could strap on a mask, put blankets over the baby seats and just mall walk for an hour or two. I like the rain, and walking in it isn’t so bad. I just don’t have a proper way to keep the babies dry. Lately I’ve been arranging to walk with some friends. Only gotten one walk together… But the plans are there. It helps.

And back to the issue of food. I eat like such an asshole. An asshole that’s never seen a vegetable in her life. So much sugar… I am so aware of how much sugar fucks up the brain but it’s like I can’t stop eating it. It’s the only substance I can really abuse right now. Not that I’m a cokehead, but I’ve been known to have some drinks when feeling down. Maybe smoke one… Sure, not the healthiest way to cope but it works when I need it to. That was one of the hardest things to deal with when I was pregnant and having a hard time. Trying to figure out how to cope using only my brain. Still haven’t gotten a great handle on that obviously, as I still like to have a few drinks here and there. Especially when it’s been a rough week.

These are the things I need to do to keep it together. And shower, cuz I feel like a homeless bag of shit half the time… But that’s another issue.

I doubt this would help anyone with Postpartum, unless they just need someone to commiserate with. And if that’s the case, I’ve got you.

Posted in All, Musings, My Story, Useless Opinions

So, I guess I’ll start a blog…

I write this as my twin babies are being held by my fiance and mother-in-law. I started earlier with this super fantastic, amazing intro post but it met a fitting end. I reached over the computer to put a soother back in a baby face and closed the browser with my tit. Derp. Welcome to “My Tits Hurt,” so named for the thing I’ve said the most since I got pregnant. Might have even been the thing that tipped me off in the first place.

I figured I’d start blogging. Something between a mommy blog and a personal therapy journal, maybe. My grammar has gone to shit since the days of high school English (or maybe ‘Communications’ in College..) But I still feel like I can form coherent sentences. I guess you can be the judge. I did a lot of writing up until I finished high school. From little stories about animals in homemade storybooks in the early days of elementary school, to writing emo poetry in the early teens, and some epic short stories and essays in later grades. All lost forever. Man, I wish I could get my hands on even half of the stories. That shit was impressive! I digress.. I always say I’m going to start writing. A novel, a movie or TV script… A blog? Lately I feel like I have something I could start on. Maybe this will help me get past some intense writer’s block and I’ll get all of that done! I always found writing to help me sort out my thoughts. Being a new mother to twins in the middle of a pandemic – I have done a lot of thinking lately.

Life is funny. I used to judge people on their parenting long before I had kids, and think about how much better I could do it. I can hear Nelson Muntz pointing and laughing at me now for that. I’m learning just how much work it is, and how wrong I was about so many things – minor and major. For example: I was really cocky about postpartum depression. “I’ve dealt with my mental health problems, I have all the tools I need,” I said. In the words of 2007 – ROFLCOPTR. That shit hit me like a sack of hormonal bricks. Or like… How to ease a baby back into sleeping in their bassinets that just don’t friggin’ want to. Plus simple, less life altering things. How to make a baby registry. How to organize my nursery ahead of time so I don’t have to do it 6 different times while dealing with two f*cking newborns and a partner that works full time. I dunno. Just stuff I wish I knew, or maybe researched a little better before the babies came.

So – things about babies and things I wish I knew about babies. But also me working out my postpartum shit, and trying to figure out how to be the amazing parent that I decided I would be long before I even got pregnant. I want to have calm, cool and collected kids. And to have that, I’ve decided I have to step up and become the absolute best I can be. Put that up against time and energy levels… I don’t want to just half-ass it and expect them to learn how to be the best through instruction though – kids learn by example! Or seem to. Again with the parenting ego. I’ve had a lot of deep thoughts lately about parenting and how I want to do it. I’m learning a lot about how my ideas stack up against their individual personalities. My kids have SO much personality and they’re only 4 months old. And I don’t want to be the type of person that tries to break them to meet my ideals. I have to be able to work with their already amazing selves and turn them into amazing human beings. Ah – What a struggle! So I figure if I can get back into writing, maybe I can use it to sort my thoughts out and figure out what I want to do. I’d love to have people to get into the comments too, I wanna learn everything I can from people. I have no ego! Examine all the angles. Maybe we are going through the same shit, or even better – maybe we disagree and can discuss it. Or maybe I attract some haters that think I’m a bad parent. I’m good with that.

So, there you have it. The Diary of a MadMom. A candid, open-dialogued… I dunno, account? Journal? Diatribe? Let’s go with barely concise rant rife with curse words. And opinions. And probably bad grammar. Maybe even a pun or two. I truly hope you like it!