Last night with the grandparents

Today is Chris’s parents’ last full day in New York with us before they leave to go back home. It’s sad to think that their month-plus long trip to the US has already come and gone so quickly. Every day as I get older, time seems to fly faster and faster, and I always feel like I want to hit a pause button just to relish the seconds and minutes a little longer. I’m even more cognizant of this now with little Kaia, seeming to grow more rapidly as each day passes.

I was sitting on the couch this evening, listening to Chris and his parents banter back and forth about healthcare in Australia and its pros and cons, and comparing this to the healthcare situation here in the U.S. and how dismal it is. And as I was listening to this half discussion, half debate, my mind went back to thinking about my own parents and our lack of ability to have even half of a discussion like this in a productive way. Chris’s parents will happily sit there and talk about why lamb is embraced in Western China but not in Eastern China. They will talk about the evolution of language and why different languages are spoken across China and India and how that came to be. My parents? We can’t really have many intelligent or productive conversations about almost anything. All our conversations are mundane, gossipy (usually because my mom brings up something inane), or about the everyday like eating or work or the baby, or flat out arguments or lectures. And even those everyday conversations are frustrating because my mom always comes at it from the angle that she knows everything because she has more wisdom than I do, and therefore I need to listen to her, otherwise “You will face consequences… because kids who are disobedient to their parents will be punished by Jehovah.” That was a constant threat and admonishment that Ed and I heard over and over from the time my mom started studying to be a Jehovah’s Witness since my freshman year in high school.

It’s not nice to compare, but it’s only natural to compare because for the longest time, I just thought the way my parents were would be how EVERYONE’S parents would be. Because you only know what you know, right? And as I gradually started making more friends and meeting other people and their families, plus interacting with those family members, I realized that I was in an unhealthy situation with mentally unstable, paranoid, and immature parents, and not everyone else had the same situation.

I want my baby to have a happy, healthy relationship with Chris and me and all her family members. I want her to know and love them, and know that we all love her unconditionally. But honestly, I have no idea what kind of relationship, if any, she will have with my parents.

Another U.S. Independence Day in the US of A

Although we had gotten accustomed to leaving the US and mostly being in Asia most 4th of Julys in the past, once the pandemic hit, we didn’t really have much of a choice and had to be here. In 2020, we were in the Lower East Side and East Village. In 2021, I was grateful to be pregnant and traveling in Houston. This year, Chris’s parents are with us here in New York to spend time with the baby and us, and we went up to the Bronx to see Villa Charlotte Bronte and enjoy tapas.

We tried to put Kaia to sleep before heading up to the roof to watch the fireworks, but we could see from our video monitor via the phone app that she was getting fussy in her crib, likely getting “FOMO” and the sixth sense that we all had abandoned her. So Chris went downstairs to get her and bring her up to the roof with us, which made her happy and want to jump up and down in his arms as she wiggled about.

It was Kaia’s first 4th of July outside of the uterus. This 4th of July wasn’t that exciting or much of a day to celebrate considering all the disgusting Supreme Court rulings of the previous weeks, though. I have no idea how long we can continue to stay in this country with its regressive laws and backwards thinking. But one thing to celebrate is that Kaia is here, safe and healthy and happy, and we got to spend the day with her grandparents altogether as a family.

The return to the boob

For a couple weeks now, Kaia has been rejecting the breast. I figure she’s finally come to the conclusion and understanding that she just doesn’t get much food directly from my breast, so I told myself to just let it go. Maybe she doesn’t need comforting with my boob anymore, and that’s okay because she’s growing up and moving on. But tonight before bed, she was getting fussy, likely from the teeth under her gums trying to break through, so Chris suggested that I just offer her my breast to see if she’d take it. In the early days of her pre-teething, the boob was all that made her stop screaming and calm down. And given her days in a row rejection of my breast, I just stopped offering it to her because I didn’t want to upset her. But today, she actually did take my left breast right away, for a whopping four minutes. She was much more distracted this time around, constantly looking up at my face, then at my breast, then waving her hands all over the place to grab my arm, shoulder, neck, and collar bone. Then, she unlatched, pushed my nipple away, and started rubbing her eyes. It was sleepy time for her.

I can’t believe my baby is almost seven months old now. That also means it’s been seven months postpartum for me, seven months of pumping milk out of my breasts to feed and nourish my sweet little Kaia. Breastfeeding was certainly a journey to say the least, but every day, I feel grateful looking at her and knowing she is being nourished with mama’s milk and growing so beautifully. My friends and colleagues all gush over how chubby she is, how pinch-able her fat little cheeks are, and they say, “good job, mama! That’s all thanks to you and your milk!” Looking back, I think breastfeeding/pumping/increasing my milk supply is one of the hardest things I’ve ever worked to do. And though I wish I was more informed from the very beginning, I am grateful every day for my journey.

When baby is wide awake at 5am

Chris has been away on a short work trip since Wednesday and won’t be returning until tomorrow, which means that I am basically on night duty. This means I am responsible for “stretching” the baby’s sleep and ensuring that if/when she wakes up in the middle of the night that I stick the pacifier in her mouth to soothe and get her back to sleep. Luckily for me, the first night was actually pretty good: last night, she didn’t stir and yelp until about 4am. I quickly put the paci in her mouth, and she fell right back asleep. Then an hour later, at 5am, she woke up yet again, except this time, her eyes were wide open, she was nearly kicking her legs out, and she was moving so rapidly that the entire bassinet was nearly bouncing. As soon as she saw my face, she broke out into a huge smile and started kicking even harder, indicating she wanted out.

Ummmm, no. I still need to sleep for at least an hour and a half. Mommy is NOT taking you out to hold and cuddle you at 5am.

I gave her the pacifier and told her that I needed to sleep, and maybe if she was good, I’d take her out at around 6:40. She ended up falling back asleep to then wake up again at 6:15 with nonstop babble. I heard her babbling from the bed and decided to let her babble to herself for about 25 minutes while I got some shut-eye time. I eventually took her out and plopped her onto the bed, which she absolutely adores being on. She just loves being on the bed with us. We snuggled and she kicked her legs, and I got her bottle ready for her feeding.

It’s hard to get mad at her for waking up early when she’s so darn cute. While I want to indulge her and spend time with her, I also need my sleep time to stay sane, so there needs to be some balance. I told this, but she didn’t seem to care what I said. Oh, babies. She will learn some day.

Stronger and stronger

It’s almost like it was just yesterday when I first put our baby on her stomach on a blanket over the floor, and I announced to her that it was tummy time, and therefore she needed to practice lifting her head. She was only about three weeks old. They say that for newborns, if they are healthy and full term, tummy time can begin as early as the day they come home from the hospital. We were so consumed by feeding her and helping her gain weight that I totally forgot about tummy time until close to her 1-month check-up, though.

The first couple of months of tummy time were absolutely miserable: she’d yell and scream, tears would come down her little face, she’d spit up and drool all over the blanket. I felt like I was torturing her when all I wanted was for her to strengthen her neck and core muscles like every other modern-day parent was trying to do. Sometimes, Chris suggested skipping tummy time and just going right into feeding because I’m sure he felt like this was torture, too. In fact, he almost immediately renamed “tummy time” to “torture time,” and he didn’t want to be the one to place her on the floor on her stomach; he would leave that task to me, as though to quietly have our baby associate torture with her mama. How nice of him.

But gradually, she got stronger and stronger. She started turning her head from side to side on her tummy. Then, she started lifting her head between cries and yells. Then, she stopped wanting to be cradled when held and insisted we hold her upright with her head high and supported on her own while over our shoulders. She began lifting her head off the floor. Then, she lifted her shoulders. The tummy time cries stopped. And now, she’s doing tummy time for nearly 30 minutes AT A TIME. She’s pushing her hands down to lift her entire chest up. She tries to grab toys while on her tummy and lifting her chest. She’s even starting to crawl backwards for the first time. My baby is 23 weeks old and growing too fast. Whenever she is on her tummy now, she looks up, as though victorious, confident in her newfound and growing strength.

“Soon, she’ll be crawling, and then, she’ll be running all over this apartment!” the nanny exclaimed this morning.

Noooooo, don’t talk about that, I said to her. This is all happening too fast. I just want to enjoy her stages right here and right now.

Creating a fake boob

My baby doesn’t get a lot of milk directly from my breasts, but it certainly doesn’t mean that she does not love them. Every time she sees them, it’s as though her eyes get bigger and she starts wiggling her arms and legs more enthusiastically. Well, Chris, perhaps not even realizing it himself, managed to create a fake boob for our daughter.

The bassinet she has been sleeping in has bars on the outside of it, and when she moves vigorously in the bassinet, sometimes she bangs her head against the skinny bars. Chris got a little concerned, thinking she might get brain damage from banging her head too much against them. So he wrapped these thick, huge layers of bubble wrap around each of the bars where her head is during sleep. One of those wrap jobs is so thick that the bubble wrap protrudes into the bassinet and against the bassinet wall from the outside, which looks like a huge, round fluffy breast. So at night and early in the morning, when we’ve watched our baby lean over to that side of the bassinet, she tries to go at the side, mouthing and constantly licking and sucking at the “boob.” It’s the cutest and most hilarious thing to watch. And even when she is not in the bassinet going at the fake boob, you can see all her darkened saliva marks staining the area where the fake boob is.

Supportive partners and egalitarian parenting

“I’m so lucky that I have Joe,” my friend said over a Zoom chat the other day. When she was recovering from her c-section birth last August, she could barely stand up on her own for the first three weeks, and when she was able to stand on her own, she couldn’t really bend over, which meant she couldn’t change any of their baby’s diapers. Her husband did the lion’s share of taking care of the baby and the house as she recovered from the c-section, and she said she felt really bad about it. “We’re lucky to have partners who really believe in equal parenting in this day and age,” she said to me. “Our moms did NOT have even a fraction of this when they had us!”

She’s right. The current generation of parents are more egalitarian than the generations before us. But unfortunately, I see many, many posts in the mom and pumping/breastfeeding groups I’m in where there are plenty of dads that literally do nothing to help raise their children. They think it’s fully the mother’s responsibility to do everything child-related, and even say things like, “You need to control your child!” or “All you do all day is sit on your ass and pump.” That last one really stung when I read it. As someone who has attempted to exclusively pump since my child’s fourth week of life, I can say with firsthand experience that pumping not only fucks with your mind (“wait, I’m pumping milk to feed my child, but I can’t feed her directly from my boob, so I don’t get that direct bonding experience with her? WHY?!”), but it also just takes so, so much time and energy. Breastfeeding mothers do not attach themselves to an electric nipple sucking device for fun or as a hobby; we do this because we need and want to feed our babies the only thing they are able to eat aside from formula. We are producing food and nourishment for our babies to SURVIVE. And in a current time when formula has not only been recalled but is in scarcity, saying something that is not only tone deaf and ignorant, but it’s just plain stupid.

I’ve never had to explain to Chris why I wanted to breastfeed, whether that was directly from the boob or pumping. I’ve never had to listen to a dumb retort from his mouth when I tell him, “I have to pump.” I’ve never had to explain the benefits of breast milk to him or why pumping was a decision I wanted to push forward with to feed our child, even when I was angry or grumpy about it. He just got it and respected my wishes. He does pretty much all the baby’s bottle feeds other than the ones the nanny does now, and he actually enjoys it. If anything, I think he benefits from my exclusive pumping: it means he gets bonding time with our baby, who associates him with food (instead of me :-P). Whenever he walks into the room, her eyes immediately go to him. To her, Daddy = food. I know he loves this. Am I sad that she doesn’t associate me directly with food? Yes, but I’ve gotten over it now. She may be unaware of it now, but my body is providing the majority of her nourishment, and I’m happy knowing that. To think that other partners would not be supportive and would be flat out ignorant to the benefits of pumping and breast milk, not to mention completely be oblivious to the time and mental energy required to pump, just hurts my heart. And to think that other partners would not want the relationship Chris has with our daughter just seems sad to me. Why even bother to procreate unless you want to have a relationship with your child and contribute to their health, safety, and well being? It’s really unfortunate that not only so many women choose partners who are like this, but also continue to put up with this terrible behavior and treatment… in the year 2022.

Nanny’s first day and endless tears

Our nanny arrived ten minutes early this morning for her first day of work. It was also our baby’s first day being in a new routine and not taking a nap immediately after her first morning feed. I wasn’t sure how the day would go, but I had a feeling it would include some fussiness and crying. Our baby has occasionally gotten upset when being held with strangers as of late, and unfortunately, this morning was no different. In fact, it was even worse: as soon as our nanny picked her up, she immediately started crying and screaming nonstop. Before she had arrived, our baby was completely fine, smiling and babbling and happy. I was wondering how long it would last. Well, other than her nap time, all morning she screamed and cried. She even screamed and cried through her 10am feed and didn’t even finish the bottle. That’s fresh breast milk I pump that morning; she ALWAYS finishes that bottle. I was so devastated and struggled to concentrate on work in the morning. Being in the next room attempting to work while your baby daughter is screaming bloody murder in the next room is…. pretty futile and miserable. I lasted maybe 30-40 minutes before I caved in and got out of the second bedroom to hold and comfort her. I eventually had to go outside to get some air, and our handyman friend ran into me and comforted me while I cried outside, feeling a lot of mom guilt and wondering when the hell this was going to get easier. I normally don’t get too phased hearing the sound of my baby cry, but hearing the wailing and screaming nonstop was driving me crazy and making me wonder if having a nanny was a good idea after all. I mean, don’t I want to be with my baby during the day? It doesn’t seem to matter what choice you make; there’s guilt all around when you’re a mom.

I told a colleague this during a call this morning. I was trying to focus on what he was sharing with me, but I also told him that in the next room was my screaming 21-week old baby, struggling to get along with the new nanny. He sent me an email later telling me that he really felt for me: when his now toddler went to daycare the very first day, he said it was likely the hardest day of his and his wife’s lives. For the first two weeks, it was a huge struggle and pain to get ready in the morning, get out the door, and do drop off. Pickups were miserable because his son was angry at them both for leaving him with strangers. But after two weeks, the kid adjusted, and now he loves his teachers and friends and looks forward to daycare. He told me to take it a day at a time, and that we’d all get used to this new normal, including my daughter.

These are the emotional ups and downs of having a child in real time, and it really, really sucks.

Full milk supply

A full milk supply for a breastfeeding mother is considered somewhere between 600 to 1200 mL per 24-hour period. As you would probably think looking at this, that is a huge range. On average though, based on what I have read, it actually should be at least 720 mL per day once your baby is between 1 to 6 months of age. Over 1000 mL per day is considered a bit of an over supply. But alas, every baby is different and has a different appetite level. I was taking a look at my last seven day average of breastmilk output, and I realized that I was averaging 744 ml, or almost 25 ounces. There were days when I made over 25 ounces, and then there were the days when I made just over 24 ounces. And even though I still am not making 100% of what my baby needs, I still couldn’t really believe it when I looked at these numbers. 

Once upon a time, within my baby’s first month of life, I struggled to produce even 1-1.5 ounces per pump session. I had a late start to pumping. I had no idea then that a weak suck was preventing my baby from effectively removing milk from my breasts. She was on my boobs all the time that first week, yet I had no clue that she wasn’t eating enough. I only pumped a handful of times in her first week of life… Because I was naïve and ignorant. I thought to myself, I don’t need to pump that much. She’s on my breasts on all the time. She had a good latch according to what the lactation consultant at the hospital said. And the breast-feeding course I took plus all the breastfeeding guides I read said that the latch was the most important thing, so there was no way anything could be wrong, right? So I didn’t really pump much until after she was one week old – that’s when I started pumping 3 times a day… which was inadequate if you read any exclusive pumping guide. I didn’t pump six times a day until she was two weeks old. And I didn’t pump seven times a day until she was over four weeks old. I didn’t use the right flange size until she was five weeks old. I didn’t even start pumping for 30 minutes until she was four weeks old. I didn’t learn my pump settings and how to effectively get the most milk out until about six weeks. I had a lot to learn and teach myself, through my own experience, trial and error, the Facebook pumping mama‘s group, and the exclusive pumping website. 

When I was about four weeks postpartum, I seriously considered giving up altogether. I felt like I was a failure. I wasn’t producing enough for my baby to eat, and I felt like I was spending all my time with a stupid breast pump instead of bonding with my baby. I was so angry at the world, at myself, at the crappy lactation consultants I met with in person at the hospital and at the pediatrician’s office. The pediatrician of all people told us our baby had a weak suck that would be inefficient at removing milk from my breasts, not either of the LCs we saw in person. It was such a simple test: to just stick your finger in her mouth when she was hungry to see how hard she sucked, and neither LC did this! I was angry that I missed the window of the first two weeks of my baby’s life to really establish a good milk supply by consistently removing milk from my breasts. If you read any breast-feeding support group, every single person emphasizes that the first two weeks are critical in terms of building your milk supply. You either need to be nursing effectively every 2 to 3 hours or pumping every 2 to 3 hours for the first two weeks, otherwise it will be just that much more challenging to get a full milk supply. Well, I didn’t know that then. I was so bitter and beyond upset. But I was determined not to give up. I had to give all of my new learnings a chance, plus the $60 package of flanges that I just purchased. And, I read that most struggling breast-feeding moms, whether they are nursing or pumping, give up at the six week mark. And there was no way in hell that I was giving up that soon. I ate oatmeal every single day from the morning after we returned from the hospital. I still eat it every single day. I drink an insane amount of water every single day to stay hydrated. I power pumped for over two months every single day to get my supply up (“that is such shit,” said an Australian friend who had exclusively breastfed/nursed both of her babies and only ever had to pump one breast occasionally). Power pumping is likely the only thing that really worked, which makes sense. Because again, milk removal builds milk supply. Nothing else.

Now, when I wake up and do my first morning pump, I produce 8 to 9 ounces; my Spectra bottles are nearly full, which I always dreamt of seeing but never thought was possible at 4 weeks postpartum. And every subsequent pump, I usually get between 3 to 5 ounces. On average now, I am feeding my baby over 80% of her total daily needs. That means that the majority of her diet is breastmilk. I would love to tell that stupid lactation consultant at the doctor’s office that I don’t have low supply like she said. Look at my output now, bitches! I needed to have more milk removed from my breast back then. Because the key to milk supply is milk removal, not the useless supplements that she told me to take. And no, I am not the problem. I never was. My problem was that I didn’t have the right support. I am 21 weeks postpartum now and somehow, against everything that I read, my supply is still slowly creeping up. Most people told me that my supply would regulate at around 12 weeks, which is considered general knowledge. Some people have supplies that continue to increase, but that is rarer than the supplies that decrease or stay the same at 12 weeks and beyond. And also against what I thought would happen, after dropping pump sessions, my supply actually continued to creep up. When I dropped my seventh pump, I was producing about 20 ounces per day, But I told myself I had to start reducing pumps in order to get my sanity back. Twenty ounces per day with seven pumps became 22 ounces per day with six pumps, which then became 24 to 25 ounces with five pumps a day and no overnight pumping. 

I am so happy that I kept going and did not give up. Even though I am still not giving my baby 100% of her needs, I am grateful to my body for what it has been able to do, to go against the odds with the late start for exclusive pumping and continue to produce more and more milk to feed my baby. And when I look at the growth over time in terms of my output since January, I feel really proud. The numbers graphed out look amazing. If you told me in January that by May, I would be producing 25 ounces of breast milk per day, I would have told you that you were way too optimistic. But here we are. I am still hopeful that I will produce beyond 25 ounces regularly, but we shall wait and see.

Pumping has been hard as hell. This is not how I imagined primarily feeding my baby, but here we are. Nursing did not work out, but this is the next best thing for her and for me. Pumping is likely one of the most difficult things that I’ve ever had to do, but even in the hardest and most emotional times, I have never regretted doing this for my baby. In some way, I look at pumping as the way that I have mourned not being able to exclusively nurse her.  But I also look at it as yet another sacrifice that a mother makes for her child. This time will soon come to an end, and as it starts winding down, I can already see myself getting sad and emotional to think that my breast-feeding journey with her will be ending. But that just means the start of the next era of our life together.

First Mother’s Day gift

Yesterday, we received an unexpected package in the mail. It was from Chris’s friend, who sent me an early Mother’s Day gift. It was a package of assorted specialty teas, and her message wished me a happy first Mother’s Day. It was very sweet and thoughtful, completely out of nowhere, especially since I wasn’t actively thinking about Mother’s Day at all.

I generally think Mother’s Day and Father’s Day are bullshit holidays. They are “holidays” on the calendar to remind everyone to love and respect and appreciate their parents when most of the other days of the year, they genuinely do not care and take these people in their lives for granted. You know what would be even better than having a Mother’s Day holiday (which is on a Sunday, and as if anyone would actually get the day off if they worked on a Sunday): actually having nationally mandated family leave, universal healthcare, and for everyone, especially our government, to stay the hell out of the business of any woman who has to make the gut-wrenching decision to have an abortion.