I have red wine and a computer. It should make a perfect recipe for blogging, but I am so freaking tired. How do people do this? The novelty of the working mom, still going to the gym, staying home and practicing letters with my toddler, all while breastfeeding my newborn is gone. G-O-N-E. Now exhaustion has set in. I read somewhere, that if you want to be happier then you should wake up an hour before you have to in order to have some alone time, or do something you don't think you have enough time for. Like writing. But my alarm already goes off at 5 am. Who can get up earlier? It is a good idea in theory, since after we get home from work and put the kids to bed, I can hardly keep my eyes open to watch an episode of the Mindy Project. But I don't think I can do it.
What I really set out to write about is breastfeeding. How hard breastfeeding is. I think about quitting every single day. And then I feel guilty for thinking that every single day. I breastfed Paul for three months as I struggled with milk production and really didn't know how to increase my supply. Things are a little better this time but I still have a hard time making enough for Charlie. Sometimes after he has fed for 25-30 minutes on the boob, he will still drink 3 ounces of a bottle. And sometimes this bottle is formula. And yes that bums me out a little bit. My pregnancies are relatively easy, and I can get these babies out of my body fast and furious, but for some reason my boobs don't want to cooperate. The best feeding Charlie and I have is first thing in the morning. I am full, he can eat sleepily, and it is calm and satisfying for both of us. From then on out it is a crap shoot.
And to add to the stress of the whole thing, I am back at work. Pumping at work. I would like to take a moment to virtually hug every woman who exclusively pumped for their child. I mean when you see your nipples grow 4 inches in length as they get sucked out of any normal resemblance, you know your love your child. I pump in our book room at school. I have to drag a chair in there every time, and put a sticky note that says "occupied" on the door so some sorry male teacher doesn't walk in and get the flashing of their lives. I can hear the copier and people talking right outside the door. It is not the most relaxing environment one could create. But it's the only option for right now.
Another thing that is hard is that I have 90 minutes off a day (I am a teacher and work 3 days a week). In those "off" 90 minutes I need to plan for the next day, make copies, grade papers, meet with students, go to staff meeting, eat lunch, and maybe (if I'm really lucky) go the bathroom. Pumping takes about 28-30 minutes out of this off period. To say I can't get everything done is about the understatement of the year. I leave work feeling like I didn't even experience my day. I was running around so crazily that I hardly have time to stuff my "lose the baby weight" approved almonds in my mouth.
But every time I think about quitting, I start getting sad. Ryan remind me that I felt just as guilty with Paul, but I don't seem to remember it like that. Maybe because this is the last time I am going to do this. Maybe because I wanted things to be a little different this time. I don't really know. All I know is that I've washed my pump parts and bottles for the third time today, and have packed that pump bag for work tomorrow. I'm going to last at least one more day.