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Archive for February, 2010

Breasteeding while suffering from Post Partum Depression and Cloth Diapering.

Just in case you weren’t sure what those meant.

Feel free to skip this post if you don’t want to hear about boobs, brains or butts.  (I am cracking myself up here – are you laughing yet?  BJD insists I am not funny.  I remind him often that I am – just ask G or her hubby – they’ll tell you how often I have told them too that I am funny.)

Little Girl, aka Giant Baby, turns 1 at the end of this month.  While I nursed her older brother until she was born, I did not have intentions of her nursing this long.  My body never fully recovered from her pregnancy and I now have chronic hypertension – which I take meds for.  And breastfeeding with postpartum depression can have its benefits.  It can also wreck havoc.

Giant Baby, or GB, loves to nurse.  She’s pretty good about how and when to do it too – pretty much only when we are getting ready to go down for a nap or night time.  We nurse pretty much exclusively in bed, not anywhere else.  (I did the same with her brother and never really nursed in public, not because I was afraid to but because circumstances never presented themselves.)

I have no idea how to wean – and  am not convinced  I want to.  I mean, I know I am not ready to, but I had seriously thought that by this time I would have given it more thought.

I like to have a plan.

And more importantly, I like to have options.

She drinks water from a cup – sometimes.  I mean, she gets a cup daily, filled with water with a nice little flouride tablet (if I remember – must.remember.to.give.flouride as tap water here is not flourinated).  But lots of times she enjoys spitting half of it out or letting it dribble out or, yeah she has a new toy – her tongue.

So far though, I have been able to manage both my high bp and PPD with meds that are compatible with breastfeeding.

Cloth diapering – started it with Bubba Joe and am continuing with GB.  We used to use prefolds — you know, those pieces of fabric that are rectangular shaped with a thicker piece in teh middle that you fold up usually in thirds then pin together and put rubber pants on over it?  Yeah, those.

Then I received my first fitted for free – and I was hooked.  Or snappied.  Or pinned.  (Seriously, I gotta stop – I might wake up GB and then she’ll want the boob again and I am trying to write a post here!!!)

I just wanted to talk about CDing not because I had anything really to say about it but because it seemed to fill out the subject of this post.  Shallow?  Naw, I don’t think there’s enough depth for that (ha – there I go again.  See?  I AM funny.)

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As most of us know, doing the right thing does not always make us feel good.

Nor does it make us popular, nor pretty, nor rich … not in the material way at least.

But once again, Mrs. Spit has come up with an amazing post that addresses many issues – including one near and dear to my heart – preeclampsia.

Me, I am one of the lucky ones.  I have 2 living children who I can hug and cuddle and yell at and parent every day.  It was not my faith in God or a belief in Christ that allowed my body to tolerate preeclampsia – to prevent my kidneys from failing more than they already were, for my heart to function within a tolerable range (albeit my BPs ranged from lows in the 140/90s to highs well above 180/110).

No dear friends, it had nothing to do with God’s kindness or my being a good person.

Because trust me, while my faith is solid right now, it hasn’t always been.  And while I am a Christian, I do not believe there is but one way to God.

So there.  I am putting it out there, for all the world to read (cause, you know, there are oh so few blogs out there to go through to get to mine) that I 100% support a woman’s right to choose – even though sometimes it really is NOT a choice.

I, thankfully, did NOT have to choose between my life or my child’s.

But don’t think for a second that it was not a conversation that BJD and I didn’t have.  Because we did.  Twice.  Once during each pregnancy.

And while, in theory it may seem noble to say that I would die for my child to live, risking having a child so early that life is not without many many many complications, with many of them leading to death, no my friends, I choose life.

And maybe it is because I had witnessed my father’s last breath – I watched him suffer and die the same week Bubba Joe was conceived.

Either way, faith did not save me.

I was lucky.

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Not sure what’s wrong, but I hope this is a trend that will continue.  I have missed writing here – and missed hearing from all ya’ll and moreso, missed reading blogs.

Part of my hiding is that I have chosen to not know what is going on in the world.  This is a first for me.  Never have I secluded myself from the goings on in the world.  But I found myself becoming too emotionally attached to hearing stories of despair and sadness.

My goal is to be able to write here more often, read more from some of my favorite bloggers and contribute once again on the PF boards.  Each of these things have provided support for me in the past.  And I can either sit here and knit and hide in my little corner of the world, or I can do that AND try to be a member of the big world out there.

Let’s see how I manage …

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Hanging in there …

Don’t really know what to say but I am hanging in there.  Most days are manageable.  I am seeing a therapist now.  It was interesting.  It is interesting.

She had me fill out a questionnaire to measure my depression.  To answer most of the questions took more thought than I anticipated.  I realized that I try to avoid thinking about feelings.  I no longer try to figure things out but move more on auto-pilot.

So on that note of not talking or dealing with emotions, here’s some more knitting pictures and one or two of the kiddoes:

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