Apparently, when snow accumulates on your roof, it can melt a little, trickle down to the edge of the roofline (independent of having gutters) and then refreeze… ultimately forming  a significant bed of ice and icicles.  While icicles are pretty, they actually can be harbingers of something pretty damaging to a house.  As this layer of ice grows, it begins to impede the flow of melted snow down the roof.  When the melted snow runs into this dam of ice, it then has nowhere to go but back up the roofline… under the shingles.

But where do “under the singles” lead?  Into the house!

Hence, the problem with ice dams.

In case you didn’t figure it out already, we had a serious problem this year.  So much so that we had four different locations in our house where water came in and did damage.  (James says it’s really three leaks where one leak damaged places on both the upstairs and downstairs.  I count it as four since there are four rooms that had water damage.)  When the first place happened, I didn’t know what was going on.  It was a Friday, so I was home with Joshua.  I heard the sound of dripping water.  I went to the kitchen and discovered that the seal above our sliding door to the deck had two pretty steady drips.  I called James at work and left him a message: “Hi honey.  Just thought I’d let you know that our house is leaking…”  I didn’t think we could really do much about it, so I didn’t bother to call his cell phone to alert him with much alarm.  (Apparently a house leaking is somewhat on par with broken bones and bleeding – a cell phone call should be placed without hesitation.)

When he finally got the message later that afternoon, he came home and started his war against the elements, defending our house.  James attacked the ice with a hammer, hot water (hooking up a hose and gutter-cleaner to our inside hot water tap), rock salt…  He has a healthy respect of roofs and is not willing to risk his neck climbing on a roof – especially one covered in snow and ice.  I am fully supportive of that.  So, James fought the battle from the ground (or deck as the case may be).

Over the course of the next two weeks, three more locations in the house sprung a leak – bubbling wallpaper and drywall, as well as staining the ceilings.  Also over the course of those weeks, James innovated new designs as he “fought the dragons to defend the castle.”  We got one of those long cords that are supposed to get hot (designed to prevent this from happening, who knew!).  James devised a few devices to get this cord up onto the roof to melt the key places.  James also created his own roof rake – we have a pretty high roofline, so James fashioned his own ”rake” out of copper pipes (not to mention most places sold out of roof rakes early on this winger).  We learned about calcium chloride, a far more effective though more expensive ice melter than plain old rock salt.

James worked hard every night after he got home from work until it was just too cold or he got too tired.  He worked hard every weekend day, fighting the ice.  Trying to break it up, melt it, and get it off our roof.  He fought the good fight.  He made progress with it – gradually each leak that reared its head would stop after James attacked its root ice dam.  But it took a toll on James.  It was hard work, and it wasn’t seeming to abate.  When the fourth leak started, it was hard not to feel utter defeat.  We realized at that point that we had to call “the guy.”

Yup, we called in professionals to come clear off our whole roof and break up what was remaining of the ice dams.  Fortunately, we were able to find someone that would come that very weekend.  James had felt that he had put some serious dents in the ice dams, so as we waited the days between the call and their arrival, James waffled – “Do we really need them to come?  We had a warm-ish day and surely the ice is under control now….”  I advocated that we still get the roof cleared.  It would give James a break from his backbreaking work, it would remove the threat of future leaks happening, and it would just bring peace of mind, if nothing else.

They came and made quick work of the process.  Both James and I were amazed that these guys just climbed on the roof without ropes and without special shoes (other than regular work boots).  They shoveled and hacked at the ice.  It was really a quite scary sound to be in the house and hear the thundrous boom of snow being sluffed off the roof.  Huge sheets of ice were hurled off, one broke the railing on the stairs to the back deck (which apparently needed replacing anyway, but still!)  In the end, both James and I were relieved to have our roof clear of the threat.  And, as you can see, despite all of James’ work, there had still been a significant ice presence on our roof.

Needless to say, we will be having those little heater thingies installed on our roof before next winter.  We will also be proactive about raking the snow off our roof for years to come.  Those damn ice dams won’t catch us again if we can help it!

Some background:  Many months ago, we started using a few sign language words with Joshua – “milk,” “eat,” and “more” – to help him get a vocabulary started in order to (hopefully) prevent some of the frustration about not being able to communicate before he is strongly verbal.  And that has gone well.  We started with those signs when he was about  7 months old, and in the past few months he has started signing them back to us.

The sign for “milk” has come to mean “mommy” for Joshua – probably because James and I would make the sign as he would be brought to me for nursing.  He understandably thought it meant “I’m going to snuggle with Mommy,” not “I’m going to get milk.”

Joshua uses “more” (albeit a modified version due to the dexterity required for the full sign) pretty reliably when eating to indicate he wants another bite of something he finds tasty.

For a while he was using “eat” to let us know he was hungry.  He doesn’t do it much anymore, but that may be because we feed him pretty regularly (meals and snacks), so he doesn’t have time to get hungry enough to ask for food.

But, the excitement is that on Friday night (or maybe I didn’t start until Saturday morning), I introduced a new sign to Joshua: “Help.”  I had been wanting to learn it and use it for some time, but just (on Friday afternoon – Thanks Colleen!) learned what the sign is.  I started using it with Joshua when he was asking for something – as he’d bang on the closet door, wanting to get to the vacuum cleaners; as he’d reach for the bathroom counter to be lifted up to look out the window; as he’d reach for the basket of kitty toys he’s only allowed to play with under close supervision.  I’d use his open hand to pat his chest and say “Help.  Help me ___.”

Then, this morning as we were on our normal exploration route of the house, Joshua stopped at the hall closet.  Intentionally, he used his hand to pat his chest three times and pointed to the door handle!  Joshua has never pat his chest before – this is not a typical motion he makes.  He was communicating!!!!

I immediately echoed his request (“You want Mommy to help and open the door.”, patting my own chest) and opened the door.  As he happily played with the hoses and cords on the vacuum cleaners, I sat next to him, with proud tears in my eyes.

My little boy learned a new word in just a little over 3 days.

On Tuesday, December 28th, Joshua went on strike. A nursing strike.

I almost would have preferred that he had a picket sign and started chanting “Hell No, I won’t go!” over the heart-wrenching rejection (crying, arching/turning/pushing away) that he gave me. No, not rejecting *me*… he rejected my breasts.

Let me back up a bit… At his 6:00 p.m. nursing session that Tuesday, Joshua bit me, and I, surprised and in pain, yelped and sternly (but not meanly or yelling-ly) told him not to bite me. Well, apparently my boy has a sensitive soul and that made him cry and he has since refused to nurse. I tried to spend lots of extra time with him, offered nursing opportunities without pressuring him (i.e. withdrawing the offer after he turned/arched/pushed me away a time or two), and generally tried to find ways to rebuild the trust. He didn’t seem distraught about me per se, just about nursing. I tried using calming essential oils, taking a warm bath together (which was also his first bath in a full-sized bathtub, so that became much more interesting than cuddling with mommy), spending evenings and weekends essentially topless (something James thought was a great idea and should be continued)… I tried giving him the bottle in the nursing position and then attempted to swap nipples. We had a few days where he got no milk from me (thinking that perhaps if he wanted milk from me it had to be “straight from the tap”). It just didn’t fly. A few times while playing, he would sort of “taste” me momentarily, but wouldn’t suck. He’s not much of a cuddler, so it wasn’t easy to try to transition from snuggling to nursing. I thought about bringing him to bed with me, but I didn’t know if that would be more disruptive since he’s been in his crib since early on! After keeping this up for almost a month, I just didn’t have the energy to keep offering and be so harshly rebuffed.

This was such a painful thing for me to go through.  I was in tears nearly daily.  I couldn’t bear the thought that nursing my son had come to an end.  I thought that I would be the one to wean him, or that at least it would be a gradual, mutual thing sometime well after his first birthday.  I thought that it was just a strike and that I could convince him to “come back.”  Apparently, he has more tenacity than I, in this instance, and he actually was “giving notice” that his days at the breast were done.

Even though Joshua was unwilling to nurse, that didn’t mean his time getting breast milk was finished.  I still had my goal of a year, after all.  So, I started pumping full-time.  I hoped that it was a temporary thing… but as the days dragged on, I began to realize that this was my new reality.  I have a friend whose son was unable to latch well, and she spent the entire 12 months pumping his milk.  I achieved new appreciation for exactly how much committment and sacrifice was required to do that – and I was only looking at having to do it for another 3 months to reach a year.

In the first week of January (about two weeks into the “strike”),  I jotted down some notes about why I was so sad about the potential end to nursing and the advent of exclusive pumping.  Some of it was purely selfish.  It is just so much more convenient to nurse.  They say that you should pump after every bottle you give your baby so your body is stimulated with the same frequency as if the baby were nursing.  That is so overwhelming – the time it takes, the hassle of “hooking up” to the machine,  and the cleanup just make life so much more difficult.  Not to mention the added complexity of having to take enough milk with us whenever we leave the house.  Now we had to plan ahead and guess at how much he would need based on how long we were going to be out.  Not only did we have to bring milk and keep it cool, but then how does one heat up the bottle when it’s time to give it to the kid?  Talk about inconvenient!  It’s so much easier to just feed him from the source – it’s always available and at the right temperature.  No cleanup or special equipment required!

Then, given my existing issues with supply (see The Milk Maid Returneth), I had worries about what this change to exclusive pumping would do to my supply since the pump is inferior to a baby, therefore you get less, therefore your body thinks it needs to produce less, therefore you get even less, and thus the cycle continues.  Plus, now there is a constant worry and pressure to produce as much as Joshua consumes every day.  It’s measured out in ounces.  There is so much more pressure than just nursing and knowing that he’ll stop when he’s full, and he’ll “ask” for more when he gets hungry again.

Beyond the practical items of convenience and sustainable supply, I mourned the loss of intimacy.  Joshua is not much of a cuddler, so without nursing, I simply don’t have much snuggle time with him throughout the day.  It takes far less time to give a bottle than to nurse, so that’s not much of a consolation prize.  And he just doesn’t sit still enough to really get the snuggles I crave.  Plus, there is something special about the time when nursing… it’s different from holding him when he’s drowsy (the only other time he’s particularly cuddly).

Nursing, more so than pumping, really makes me feel like I am sustaining Joshua and nourishing him.  Pumping feels like so much more work than nursing… and I guess it is more work due to the time, massaging of the breast (to get more milk out) and clean up.  The payoff when pumping is 100% intellectual and 0% emotional.  Pumping is so… cold… mechanical… lifeless… boring… it’s hard to find any enjoyment about the process.

Plus, nursing is something that only I can do.  It was something special that Joshua and I shared.  And now that’s gone forever.  Not to mention the fact that I no longer have nursing as a way to comfort Joshua (like after a shot at the doctor) or to coax him to sleep for naps.

It has been really hard for me to come to terms with the cessation of my nursing relationship with my son.  But I finally got there.  I’ve spent the last three months pumping Joshua’s nourishment, maintaining my supply (thank you domeperidone!), and still being close to my little boy.  I’ve had to rearrange my schedule to accommodate the time requirements, and I have also been much more intentional about carving out extra time to spend with Joshua so we are still able to connect and get in bonding time through play and other interactions.

And now, I’ve reached my year goal.  I have another round of domeperidone that I’m going to use to slowly taper off the medication and cut back on the number of times a day that I pump.  I figure I will be pumping for at least another three months (due in part to the pharmacy sending me 2 months’ worth of the drug instead of 1 month’s worth – this stuff costs so much I’m not willing to throw away any of the medication.  Plus, it’s better for Joshua to keep getting breast milk as long as I can hold up to the pumping regimen).  As my supply diminishes (as I step down to 20, then 10, then 0 mg of the medication and as I step down to 4, then 3, then maybe even only 2 times a day of pumping) we will introduce organic whole cow’s milk to make up the slack.

It will be interesting to bring this era of me-based nutrition to a close.  It has been worth it, though.  For my personal sense of achievement, but also because I think it has been key in helping my little boy get through his first year of life without a single sniffle.  (Being cared for at home also played a big part in keeping him healthy.)

My advice?  If you find yourself in my situation – by all means, try to help your little one return to nursing.  But if it doesn’t work out, keep reminding yourself that it’s not a rejection of you.  And, if it’s important enough to you, it is possible to pump exclusively.  It’s not fun, and it can be frustrating as all get-out (having a partner support you in this endeavor and say “go sweetie!” with reminders of why you’re doing all this work helps a heck of a lot!), but it is do-able and, for me, was worth it.

One year.

One year ago today, Joshua Tyler came out of my body and into my life.

I don’t even know where to begin.  I have spent so much of the last few weeks playing the “one year ago today..” game, where I recall what I was doing exactly 12 months ago.  And now, on this 13th of March, all those previous days culminated in the birth of a beautiful, healthy boy.

Little did I know how much my life was about to change.

And little did I know how little I would miss the pre-motherhood days.

Sure, there are days when I wish I could sleep in past 9.  (The idea of sleeping until noon seems purely decadent… I’m quite sure I have lost the ability to sleep that long.  Someday, perhaps, I will be able to try to cultivate that skill again. In the meantime, my days start somewhere between 6 and 7… in the a.m.)  And sure, there are times when I long for the quietude and lack of responsibility for anyone else’s safety or entertainment.

But then I think of what I have gained in this last year.  What joys I would be missing.  What milestones I would not have experienced.

Joshua is a wonderful little boy.  James and I have truly been fortunate in our firstborn son.

• He is beautiful.  (Sure, I know all parents say that of their children..)
• He did not have colic.  (Normal amounts of baby crying were hard enough.  I can’t fathom what life would have been like if he’d had colic!)
• He started sleeping through the night at 6 weeks of age.  (Six of the roughest weeks of the past year – you have no idea what sleep deprivation is until you become a new parent.)
• He has a lilting laugh and a gorgeous giggle.
• He is careful.  (He is cautious in his exploration of the world – pinched fingers, reckless falls, and bonked heads are not frequent occurrences in our house.)
• He is thoughtful, as in full-of-thought. (Joshua loves to study things and spends minutes turning a new object over and over in his hands, trying to figure out what it is, what it does, and how one interacts with it.)
• He is slowly becoming a bit of a cuddler.  (This is the one area where I have wished for a bit more than what Joshua has offered.  However, as he grows, he has started to be interested in cuddling with me – sitting in my lap to read books, snuggling when he’s tired, or just nuzzling for a moment during play.)

It has been phenomenal to be part of the life of a new human being.  As I reflect on this past year, I marvel at the miracle of life.  The majesty of creation.  The process of development.

To think.  Twelve months ago, Joshua could barely hold up his head.  He had “googly eyes.”  He didn’t really make any sounds other than when crying.  He was tiny. Precious.  Fragile.  Heck, he had this thing attached to his belly button that was drying up!  Now, he can sit, stand, crawl, walk (cruising or with help, and even an occasional step on his own), dance, point, laugh, “talk” (though without any words we can discern yet), marvel, and play.  All in the space of 365 fleeting days.

Parents always say “It goes by so quickly.”  A year ago, I thought that meant they grow up in years - before you know it, they’re in kindergarten, then they’re in high school, then they’re graduating college.  But no, the real-time dilation happens right away – weeks pass, even mere days, and a new skill has been mastered.  All of a sudden, he could roll over at will.  My, what a difference that makes.

It has been such a joy to watch the way the human mind forms, grows, and struggles to make sense of the world.  I have loved each stage thus far, and I fully expect to love every stage to come.  Sure, there have been (and will be) challenging times – like the aforementioned sleep deprivation – but by and large, I love love LOVE having this little boy in my life.  I can’t quite imagine not having him around.  Not getting to see what things he’ll get into this day.  Not watching the next great leap in cognition or physical prowess.  Life would feel so dull and empty without him.  So I’ve decided to sign up for another year (or 18+) of parenthood. 

I know I’m spouting quite the stream-of-consciousness in this entry.  This isn’t shaping up to be quite what I expected to write.  However, it’s what I’m feeling at the moment.  Perhaps I will be able to circle back and find time to write more – more thoughts, more feelings, more reflections, more deep-and-moving points.  In the meantime, I will continue to bask in the joy of knowing that my beloved son is in the other room, that I love all that he is becoming, and that it has been a year of more than I bargained for, but also more than I could have wished for.

I’m a big “Breast is Best” thinker… but don’t mistake that to mean that I think feeding an infant formula is a horrible-evil thing to do. Sometimes, formula is the right decision for a mother – either due to problems with milk production or pain while nursing or just a personal choice. I don’t look down on those folk. I just know that I feel a fundamental, powerful need to be the sole provider of nurishment for my child. I think it’s the best thing for him, I enjoy the nursing connection, I know it has health benefits for me, and I want to avoid the things in formulas at his young age (diary, soy, etc). Granted, I probably have a bit too much of my self-worth tied up in that belief, but it’s where I’m at.

So, with all this drive to nurse my son for as long as he’ll take it (I’m hoping for a year), imagine my dismay when I suddenly realized I was not producing enough milk to keep my little boy happy. Joshua was around three months old, and had become fussy at the breast, alternating between pulling at the nipple and burying his head against me. At that point, I was only pumping first thing in the morning after Joshua’s first meal of the day – trying to stock the freezer for my return to work. Also around this time, I started getting less than the typical amount of 5 ounces of milk at that morning pumping from the breast that Joshua didn’t nurse from. It wasn’t until I had actually returned to work and called the lacation consultants at our hospital (who are wonderful!) for help with Joshua’s fussiness, that the lacation consultant said “it sounds like you have a low milk supply.”

That hit me like a ton of bricks.

On top of that, I had a clogged duct in my right breast twice that week. It’s a pretty uncomfortable experience resulting from something having clogged the duct and then milk backing up behind the blockage. It meant that even a less-than-usual amount of milk was being able to be gleaned from that side. With massage and heat, we got the blockages to clear, but the breast has never really recovered. It’s now termed my “challenging” breast. Its supply doesn’t match the left side, and its rate of flow is much slower – something Joshua is NOT fond of. When he wants to eat, he wants to eat NOW!

I’d had such good milk… so much coming so fast that the poor guy had to gasp and struggle a bit to keep up with my let-down. How could I possibly no longer be producing enough for him?

Well… lots of factors. I’m sure that it didn’t help to have the stress of an impending return to work coupled with the fact that my mother-in-law (whom I love dearly) was going to be living with us 4 days a week while she provided childcare for Joshua. But looking back, my supply issues started a few weeks prior to my return date. So I don’t think those stresses were so big at that point. The thing that James and I both think has a huge portion of the blame is getting the Mirena IUD. Trouble with my milk started a couple weeks after the IUD was “installed.” I’d had this prior to being pregnant (thanks to my bilateral pulmonary embuli making it not possible to be on the Pill), so I didn’t think a thing of getting another one after the requisite healing period after childbirth. There were no warnings associated with the Mirena IUD regarding milk supply issues… however, James found several examples online of people saying they noticed milk supply decreases, as well as a host of other more general reactions… many of which seemed to get better upon removing the IUD. Since I had blood clots while on the Pill, it appears that I’m sensitive to hormones in my system – even though it’s really a pretty low dose of progesterone that’s in Mirena.

So, that’s what we think is predominately to blame.

But blaming something doesn’t get the milk back.

Given my passion (and self-worth) for nursing my child, I met with the lactation consultants multiple times to work on regaining my milk supply. I did research to see what essential oils might help. There were several things I could try. So I tried them all. I threw everything including the proverbial kitchen sink at this problem. Here’s what I did:

• Feeding Joshua every 2 hours when I was with him – granted, he tended to have a 2-hour window anyway, I just made sure not to try to push it to longer between feedings
• Pumping both breasts after every feeding
• “Double Pumping” (my term for pumping both breasts at once), it’s supposed to stimulate more prolactin (the lactation hormone) than pumping one at a time
• Pumping three times during the work day (about every 3 hours, which seems to be the pattern the other two women who were using the “Mother’s Room” had)
• Getting up at 1:30 to pump (Ironic, isn’t it? Joshua was sleeping for 8 hours, but I still had to get up! This was a suggestion by one of the lactaion consultants. When I spoke to another one, about a week later, she said she thought I could drop this one! Thank you Debbie!!!)
• Massaging the breasts while I pump (though this is hard to do when I’m double-pumping)
• Pumping for 5 extra minutes after the milk stops “flowing”, it’s supposed to continue to boost the prolactin
• Visualizing lots of milk – cascades of milk, rushing down and out…
• Using my breathing techniques to relax while nursing/pumping
• Looking at pictures of Joshua while pumping
• Eating Lactation Cookies (this one was not such a sacrifice) – they’re basically oatmeal chocolate chip cookies with Flax Seed and Brewer’s Yeast added. The recipe is on epicurious.com, I think
• Adding Brewer’s Yeast to my yogurt and granola for breakfast
• Drinking Ningxia Red (a juice from Young Living that has gobs of vitamins and minerals and is just really really good for you. James thinks the B-vitamins might be particularly helpful)
• Seriously upping my water intake
• Taking Fenugreek, three capsules three times a day
• Getting my Mirena IUD removed
• Using Fennel essential oil (Also from Young Living, which I know has a really high purity and is theraputic grade essential oil. I wouldn’t use essential oil from anywhere else.)
• “Power Pumping” every night – this is pumping for 15 minutes, taking a break for 15 minutes, pumping for 15 minutes, etc. for a recommended two hours. I pretty much managed to do it for an hour and a half each night before calling it quits for the evening
• Eating “Power Oatmeal” for breakfast – started this after the first two weeks. It’s 3/4 cup of oatmeal (thick-cut rolled oats, not the instant stuff!) with 1 Tbsp Brewer’s Yeast and 1 Tbsp ground Flax Seed. The Brewer’s Yeast makes it taste pretty nasty, so I add a fair amount of Stevia (a natural 0-cal sweetner) and a dozen-or-so chocolate chips. That makes it reasonable…

That’s… that’s about it.

It was brutal. Particularly the pumping after every feeding and the power pumping. But I was determined not to give up. And it paid off – I saw improvement. I could only sustain the maniac pumping schedule for a few weeks, but things like the Fenugreek and Power Oatmeal were things that I continued for months. Particularly with the addition of the Power Oatmeal, I saw a return to reasonable pumping quantities and a more-satisfied little boy.

At my lowest point, I was pumping 6-8 ounces a day, resulting from a pump before work and then three times during the work day. My son was consuming almost 15 ounces during the work day. We were operating in the red. Fortunately, we had enough milk frozen to bridge the gap. After the heroics listed above, I was getting more like 12-15 ounces a day. A much more sustainable amount when you factor in the fact that I’d do morning pumpings on the three days I didn’t work in order to cover the difference. On one day, after introducing the Power Oatmeal, I managed a record 18 ounces!

Life clicked on merrily for a month or two. (at which point I initially started to craft this blog entry in my head)

Then, when Joshua was nearly 6 months old, my supply started to decrease again. Not as low as it had been in the dark days, but still low enough to start stressing me out. I was starting to get only 10-11 ounces a day. James and Mary Anne counted the milk in the freezer, and determined that if I could pump 10 ounces a day, we had enough to get us through 12 full work-weeks. Not bad, but I wanted to make it until Joshua was a year old, not stopping at 8 or 9 months! Plus, Joshua was not a happy boy in the evenings when we’d nurse. It had become a nightly battle – with him fussing, unhappy at my breast, and me crying, feeling rejected and like a failure, not to mention more than a bit self-conscious as my mother-in-law was in the house, having to hear Joshua’s protests.

I was tired at this point. I knew I couldn’t put in the same effort I had done a couple months prior. James and I started talking alternatives. How long do we continue trying to find a way to get my milk supply back up, again? What’s the game plan if we start supplementing with formula? When should we introduce solids? James went to the store and read the ingredients on the containers of formula. He came home with renewed passion to support me in finding a way to continue breastfeeding.

In our earlier stint with the lactation consultants, the one we worked with the most (Debbie) mentioned a drug that could help. There are apparently a few drugs on the market to address milk supply issues, most of which have some pretty significant side effects. There is one drug, however, that has very few, if any, side effects but is quite effective. It is described by Dr. Hale in “Medications and Mother’s Milk” as “the ideal galactagogue” (that is, the ideal thing that makes you produce milk!). Obviously, at the outset of this venture we weren’t so keen on a pharmeceutical approach, preferring to find a more “natural” solution. By this point, however, “nature” didn’t have enough bang for her buck anymore. So, I looked into this wonder drug.

It’s called domeperidone. An increase in milk supply is actually a side effect. (The main purpose of the drug is something for your gut… digestion-related…) It is used in other countries to great success and many women have found it to significantly increase their milk production without causing any problems. Unfortunately, the FDA has not approved it. Yeah. So it’s not covered by insurance, it’s challenging to find a doctor who is willing to prescribe it, and, because it has to be compounded (rather than just counted out from a bottle) very few pharmacies could even fill a prescription if I had one. Fortunately, Debbie learned that a local Arrow Pharmacy would compound domeperidone, so all I had to find was someone to write me a script. I called my primary care physician, who was concerned by the lack of FDA approval and was unwilling to write me a prescription for it. I totally respect his decision – I don’t blame him for being nervous and cautioning me against it. However, I knew the risks and wanted to try it anyway. So, I asked my OB/GYN. Much to my surprise, she jumped into where to send the prescription to get it filled – I didn’t even have to try to persuade her to do it! Yippee!

I started taking 10 mg three times a day around Joshua’s 6 month birthday. Within a couple days, I saw an increase in the amount of milk I was pumping and less of a struggle as Joshua nursed in the evenings. In a week or two, I think I reached maximum effect – I was now consistently pumping *at least* 16 ounces a day! A few days, I reached my previous max, and once I even managed a whopping 20 ounces in one day! So, basically, with the introduction of domeperidone, I saw about a 50% increase in my milk production. After a couple weeks, I decreased and stopped taking Fenugreek, and have even stopped with the Power Oatmeal (though that’s partly out of laziness… it’s easier to pick up breakfast on the way in to work!). I haven’t had a single side effect besides the increase in milk production. It has been a beautiful thing. We’re even running out of room in the freezer for the extra milk!

After a solid month at 30 mg a day, James and I decided that it was worth trying to dial back the dosage. While I’m willing to take this medication and not overly concerned about it, I’d prefer not to be taking anything. Some people have had success with using domeperidone to boost their supply and then were able to get off the medication without losing the lactation benefits. We figured it’s worth a shot. If my supply goes down too much, we can always amp the dosage back up since we know it works!

I have now been taking 20 mg a day for a month and have seen a slight decrease in my milk supply, but not a huge one. I now typically get about 15 ounces a day. No longer do I get the massive surplus of milk, but I’m also not down to the lows before starting domeperidone. I find myself worried about meeting my quota, but I usually make it. I’m not sure yet if we’ll be able to pull off another decrease in medication without losing more ground… I wish we could, but I think I’m likely going to be taking this drug for another four months in order to meet my goal of nursing Joshua until his first birthday.

About a week ago, I started to see another little dip in supply, but I attribute that to stress over an upcoming surgery on my wrist and the pain in the wrist that prompted scheduling the surgery in the first place (a story for another blog entry).  We’ve decided to go back to 30 mg a day and reintroduce the Power Oatmeal.  My supply is back up to at least 15 ounces a day.  Because I think  it’s due to stress for a localized even, I’m hopeful that soon after Thanksgiving, I can go back down to 20 mg a day with more (and longer-term) success.

So, I’m happy that I have been able to regain my milk supply and continue to be the primary source of nutrition to my son.  We started introducing some solids around 6 months, but all the liquid he gets comes from me.  I feel good about what I’m doing and look forward to continuing this as long as he’s interested.  If I have any further tips or feedback about how the domeperidone is working (and particularly about my ability to step down off of it), I’ll be sure to post more!

This is to set the stage.  My little boy came downstairs a little tired and cranky, and to some people he didn’t see enter his space.

On top of that, he had to share his toys!  He was not so sure he liked that at all - particularly one of his favorites, a Pac Man ball-thing from his uncle’s childhood (saved by Grammie).  For some reason, Joshua seemed scared or intimidated or somehow upset by this other baby in his space.

Apparently, we need to expose this child to more babies and to practice sharing our toys!

I videoed a short clip of the experience.  Unfortunately, I can’t post it on my blog (I’m too cheap to pay the fee).  So, I now have a YouTube account.  You can see the clip here (Note the pouty lip and the crocodile tear.  Poor boy.):

As we entered the property, I noticed a hawk standing on the ground. 

I had to ask James if it was indeed a hawk, because I don’t see them too often, and it was odd to see it at ground level rather than perched up high.  Plus, I didn’t have my glasses on… so I have to admit that my thought process was a little like “That looks kinda like a big pigeon, but with fat, white legs.  Hmmm.  Perhaps it’s actually a hawk…”  At any rate, we decided it was indeed a bird of prey.  Shortly thereafter, it sprung up to perch in a nearby tree. 

All of a sudden, we saw a squirrel running… and the hawk diving!  And the squirrel doing evasive maneuvers… including a really impressive jump (at least, I think it was a jump and not a fall from having been picked up by the hawk!)… and the hawk following the squirrel, intent on getting breakfast, diving every now and then.  The squirrel got away by scurrying through a chain-link fence, which made the hawk have to swerve up, giving the squirrel enough time to find shelter in a tree. 

So, the hawk had to find breakfast elsewhere, and the squirrel escaped that hazard!  James and I marveled at how ambitious the hawk was – the squirrel was pretty big compared to the hawk! 

It was fun to see a snippet of the circle of life in our own “backyard”.  Typically, I only see stuff like that on TV on Animal Planet or Discovery.    I told Joshua he should be excited to have seen something like that first-hand… then I realized he probably missed the whole thing, being much more intrigued by his own fingers. 

Joshua munching on his fingers at 5 months

Joshua, the traveling boy!

Joshua was a trouper.  He traveled well, going to sleep after a half hour in the car (thanks to a parent putting the “mamoo” (aka pacifier) back in his mouth whenever it fell out and he started to get grumpy) and then sleeping for about four hours straight.  He’d wake up, we’d feed him, and then whoever was in the “hot seat” (read: back seat next to Joshua) got to try to keep the boy happy (or at least tolerant) about staying in a car seat for the next one-to-two hours until we reached our destination for the day.  Apart from resurrecting the 3:30 a.m. wake-up and feeding, the vacation went as smoothly as days at home do.  Joshua was mostly a pleasant little boy to be around.  My brother got to meet his nephew for the first time, and the proud grandparents got lots of cuddles and good be-around-the-baby time.

So, to the title of this entry…  The Beater Car.  The day before we left for Williamsburg, we purchased a new car for me.  This car was many months in the deciding (a long story for another time).  In the end, I got a brand new 2010 Subaru Legacy – a decision both James and I were happy with.  I needed something new because my good ole 1998 Subaru Impreza just wouldn’t cut it as a family car – something about it having only two doors and a trunk that wouldn’t fit the stroller…    So, we made the decision, signed the paperwork, and drove it home Friday afternoon.  James was reluctant to take my brand new vehicle on a long road trip for the very good reason that we weren’t familiar with it yet and thus would likely not be (or feel) super safe and secure on the roads.  So, we took James’ Buick, which now it affectionately termed “the Beater car”, since it’s the old one and can be beat upon without much concern.

It turns out it was a really good thing we didn’t take the new car.  You see, on the way to Williamsburg, we were behind a small tour bus.  I was driving.  I noticed a plume of blue-gray smoke coming from the bus’ tailpipe and an unpleasant odor.  I dutifully switched the fan to Off so I wouldn’t subject my sweet two-month old to such noxious fumes (oh, and us too).  Then, I noticed the road below the bus was dark.  I thought to myself, “Self,” I thought, “There must have been an awful lot of cars that have driven through here that had little oil leaks.”  Then I realized that it was fresh oil… that was spewing from the bus!  I was trying to pass it, but the car in front of me was keeping pace with the bus (perhaps to tell the driver he was pouring oil?), so I was stuck to the left just behind this bus that was slowly but surely coating us with a fine mist of oil.  It was on the car.  It was on the windshield.  I didn’t want to try to use the wipers because I knew that would just smear the oil… but I was having a challenging time seeing.

But wait!  As if that weren’t enough… then the bus started hurling PARTS!  Big pieces of plastic and metal came tumbling out from under the bus.  By this time, the car in front of me had finally passed the bus.  James said “Punch it!” and I thanked my lucky stars that his car is a V-6, and we got around the bus.  He rolled down his window and signaled to the driver that he needed to pull over (though his engine was probably seizing by that point and he’d’uv figured it out sooner or later).  Fortunately, nothing hit the windshield, but we acquired a few dings in the license plate, hood, and some scrapes along the two sides of the car.  And that’s on top of the coating of oil!

All I can say is (after being thankful for no more damage than that), thank goodness we didn’t take my brand-new car on this road trip!  And now I’m a bit traumatized to drive behind buses.

• Infants don’t breathe in a consistent, normal rhythm like grown-ups do.  They breathe fast, then slow, and even stop breathing for several seconds at a time (up to 15!!!)… and that’s quite normal!  So, just because Baby seems to forget how to inhale periodically, it’s not something to worry about.  Unless of course Baby is turning blue!  James adds that just because it’s normal doesn’t mean you can’t poke at Baby to remind him to breathe!
• After the first couple days, the skin on the hands and feet gets all papery and flakey and dry.  It starts peeling, kinda like after a bad sunburn, but without the redness.  This, too, is apparently quite normal.  Our pediatrician pointed out that Joshua had spent nine months in an aquatic environment, so of course he’s going to be a bit pruney and flakey now that he’s not liquid-bound.  You can moisturize if you want, but I figured that layer of skin has to come off sometime, so why not help it along by (gently!) picking off the flakes as they seem ready.  Joshua didn’t seem to mind, and it satisfied my need to do something, plus it helped get his hands back to sweet, soft baby skin.
• Googly Eyes.  This is what James and I called what happened with Joshua’s eyes for the first several weeks.  Being new to the world where there’s something interesting to look at, babies don’t have much muscular control over their eyeballs.  Consequently, they roll around pretty much independently of one another – looking like those plastic googly eyes on stuffed animals.  At first, it was really quite creepy.  Once Joshua started getting control over them so they moved in tandem, the occasional bouts of googly eyes became somewhat cute and nostalgic.
• Pain due to reflux can look a lot a seizure (without the convulsions).  On our second night home from the hospital, at 2 am, Joshua became rigid, with his back arched and his head thrown back.  His breathing was fast and shallow.  He stayed this way for a couple minutes that felt like eternity.  James and I were deeply concerned and called 911.  Minutes later, six big police and EMT men showed up at our door.  Of course, by that time, Joshua was back to normal.  We opted not to go to the emergency room since we had a pediatric appointment scheduled the next day.  At that appointment, our doctor said that it may have been reflux causing pain, and that the instinctual reaction is to arch like that.  We decided to try to treat him as if he had reflux (elevate his head while nursing and while sleeping) and see if it happened again before doing a battery of tests.  So far, no more scary events like that!
• A “forceful let down” can result in the baby making gasping sounds while nursing.  Once my milk came in, Joshua started making these scary gasping noises while he was nursing.  I was afraid I was drowning him, or that he was sick or in pain in some way.  The lactation consultants at the hospital said that it was actually more indicative of me having what’s called a “forceful let down” – the milk coming out at such a volume and rate that he can barely keep up.  Poor guy.    They said he’s fine.  And, as he’s grown, the frequency of those gasps has diminished.  I have to admit, once I learned that he’s safe and it actually meant that I’m giving him plenty of milk, I came to rely on those sounds to know he was actively eating!

Okay, so that list wasn’t all that long.  Still, they were things I didn’t know about newborns and found myself concerned by at first until getting reassured by our pediatrician (or by what James found via Google!).  I hope they’re helpful and reassuring to anyone else with a new baby.

Joshua in his SwaddleMe

About a week ago, we started using a “SwaddleMe” to swaddle Joshua at bedtime.  It’s a handy contraption that keeps his arms securely by his sides through the aid of velcro.  It keeps him swaddled throughout the night, even for our little escape artist that managed to get his arms and legs free when we used a blanket for swaddling.  He looks all cute (and a little funny) with just his head sticking out from his baby burrito.