Goodbye Mummy Milk

Avid readers (ha!) may recall my struggles and sentiment towards breastfeeding from earlier posts. I had such a hard time with Ella. Being a first time mum I was trying to do everything "right". If it wasn't in the baby book, or the way the child health nurse (CHN) said it was meant to go then it was wrong. Experience has taught me otherwise but I suffered for it back then. Breastfeeding had always been a huge thing to me. Even before I fell pregnant with Ella, I knew that I wanted to breastfeed. I am not sure why, it just seemed the most natural thing in the world to me. And I could only imagine giving my child the best in life. So Ella came along and our breastfeeding relationship started. She was a great feeder. Being 9lb 9oz she was a good size and needed her fill. We went really well for a few weeks. She and I were learning the art of breastfeeding together and life was good. I cant remember exactly when it was but at some point things went a bit pear shaped. It was a combination of things that led to the demise of breastfeeding attempt #1. But I guess the two that stand out the most was that she was fussy, always seeming hungry. And the fact she wasn't putting on "enough" weight. So after a week or so of turmoil, thinking I was starving my baby and I wasn't doing what I should be doing as a mother, she was weaned onto a bottle and breastfeeding was over. Consequently I began suffering from Postnatal Depression. The feeling of hopelessness, guilt and anger is something I will never forget. It was my job to feed my baby. Why wasnt it working? So anyway, a lot of emotional months followed, which I rue to this day. It robbed me of the precious few months with my baby and all because I couldn't breastfeed any longer. When we started TTC #2 (the birth of this blog) I promised myself, and my yet-to-be-conceived baby that I would do everything in my power to make this breastfeeding journey successful. The amount of study and research I did into breastfeeding was ridiculous. Different problems and how to fix them, the best breast pump and the list goes on. I wasn't ready to fail again. When Kristin finally came along we had a bumpy start. She had a few problems when she was born and required a hospital stay. A combination of an infection and low blood sugar levels meant that I was required to supplement feed her with high calorie formula. So her first few days were hell for me. Everything I had researched went out the window because I had the Nazi nurse from hell. I had to feed her from a bottle first and then feed her, despite me wanting to do the opposite, because according to the nurse she needed the sugars. I wanted a pump to express and she bought be a shoddy electric one which hardly worked. I wanted to syringe feed instead of bottle to avoid nipple confusion and I was told that only the premmies were syringe fed. I could have argued the point because deep down I knew I had the right to feed my baby however I chose, but after just giving birth to a sick child who had nearly died, I followed the advice of the "professionals" I had around me. So despite that rocky start we continued to breastfeed for 5.5 months, eventually giving it up because *somebody* started to prefer the supplement bottles we were giving her as a break for mummy as my milk supply gradually decreased. I tried so many things to keep it up. Expressing, drinking bottles and bottles of water, demand feeding, lactation cookies and foods....but alas it was not meant to be and eventually breastfeeding relationship #2 came to an end. I was sad, but for some reason I was okay. I guess because she had chosen to give up. I could still offer her milk but she didnt want it. It was her choice so I was okay when she no longer chose me. Sad, but okay. Which brings me to BF relationship #3....which has been such an amazing ride. Colton was also a big baby at 10lb 1oz. He fed a LOT. And that was okay with me. He was demand fed and although he took a while (a LONG while) to sleep through the night, we have had such an easy time compared to the girls! There have been no supply issues, maybe one or two blocked ducts and thats about it. We were going strong and he was quite a little feeder. He loved his mummy milk. Up until a few days ago. I had been having a few medical issues of which I had been ignoring for quite some time. Eventually I had to go to my doctor who did full bloodwork. Results came back and it turns out I can no longer ignore my health. An insulin resistant disease, add to that a thyroid condition and high cholesterol means that I have to go on medication to sort things out. One of which is not compatible with breastfeeding. So we came to an impasse. I am not ready to give up breastfeeding, and more-so, neither is Colton. We had been down to 2-3 feeds a day so nothing too much, but the thought of having to give up those special times saddens me. We had made it to a year, a huge milestone that I could only have hoped to reach after staring into his gorgeous face while he nuzzled my breast for his first ever feed. We made it 12 months, 365 days - an amazing feat for me. But alas, it has now been taken away from us. It wasn't a decision either of us made. And for that I am mourning the loss. I had considered slowly weaning him over a month or so and delay taking the meds but I know that if I tried that, it would only be harder when it came to the day to give it up forever. It was just delaying the inevitable. So Colton had his last breastfeed yesterday morning. I didn't realise at the time that it would be our last feed. Which in a way is good because I probably would've bawled all day otherwise. He had his first cup of cows milk tonight and I cried as he drank that. Looking at me with his amazing blue eyes and pulling faces. It was somewhat satisfying to see him hesitate to drink the milk. It's not "our" milk. But despite him pulling up my shirt a few times before he went to bed, we managed to get through the whole of today without a breastfeed. It's an achievement but a bittersweet one at that. I had decided to give him a feed if there was no way around it (ie: he was upset and only a breastfeed could settle him) but so far we haven't needed to. So I am feeling very sad that this is the end of breastfeeding relationship #3. Again, something out of my control, and not our decision. Feeling somewhat cheated after being able to feed for this long to only have it end this way. But I also feel incredibly proud of us for getting this far. 1 year is a great achievement and not often heard of anymore, but I am not really ready to acknowledge that just yet. I just feel sad, I need to mourn this loss and work out where to go from here. And maybe in a few months when I look back I can be proud. I will be healthy, and proud.

To be honest, this year has been really tough. We were all travelling along just nicely, a few bumps in the road as usual, then around Christmas time things turned to shit. It's a long story and one I'd rather not get into on this blog (especially being open to the public) so we'll just say there was some family dramas and leave it at that. So Christmas was a rather sad affair, we went camping with my parents (and Duane's joined us Christmas morning) which just happened to be during a strong wind warning of 40km/h winds and to top it all off my middle child Kristin had gastro (which she subsequently passed along to almost everyone on Christmas day). Anyway, so Christmas was a bit of a bust. All good, we got on with the New Year, we were all together again, as a family. Things were travelling well. My dad had been showing signs of being sick for a few weeks when, in early February (the day after my birthday, coincidentally) I got a phone call from my mum to say he was in hospital. It wasn't anything serious, just a bit of pain and bleeding from what he thought was hemorrhoids, but he was to have a colonoscopy to check. This is when things went down hill even further. I was at the hospital when they were told my dad had a 10cm tumor in his colon. Most likely cancer. Suddenly, it felt as if my life (let alone theirs!!) skipped a track and I was suddenly travelling along somewhere I didn't want to be. Everything else seemed quite insignificant compared to the battle we all knew was ahead. My family and I are quite close. They dote on my children, and my brothers children, with a loving manner that I guess only grandparents have. So when Dad was told, on my mums birthday, that he did indeed have cancer, it hit us all really hard. My dad, the one who was strongest of us all, who never showed any weakness, was suddenly a man with cancer. It didn't feel real. So things were put in motion, dad sorted out life insurances and superannuation to make sure if worse came to worse, mum would be sorted out. Everything all seemed so clinical as I watched them sort their lives out, and then sort out what they were going to do about treatment. Nothing seemed real, even when he came home from Perth with a colostomy bag, until I saw him at Easter, hooked up to a chemo bag, looking tired and in pain. It was then I realised that this was really happening. I mean, I knew it was HAPPENING, but it didn't seem real until I saw my dad like that. So vulnerable, no longer trying to hide his pain, falling asleep at the drop of a hat, and getting tired even just talking to his grandkids. So that track I had been following skipped again, and I feel even more lost. To be honest, I feel somewhat selfish writing how *I* feel in all this. I catch myself sometimes and think "but just think what THEY'RE going through, they live this every day and it's happening to THEM". Yes he's my dad, I love him to pieces, but there is no way I am having as bad a time of it as they are. But I know it's okay to be unhappy, to grieve the loss of my dad who was, and try and accept my dad that is now. He's fighting a huge battle, and we're all here to support and love him, but really he's doing all the hard work, and he's doing it alone. It's been so hard trying to explain to the kids what is happening with their beloved Grandad. Kristin, being only 2.5 is the most frank about it. Often I hear here saying "Grandad very sick, sore tummy" and then looks very sad and wistful. She knows, she knows it's serious. Ella is the same. Being 5 she has more of an understanding of death, and what it is that her Grandad may be facing but then she draws her own conclusions sometimes and still needs things to be explained at a level she understands. That is the hard part. Just recently Duane's nan passed away. She was 97 and the girls didnt really have too much to do with her although Ella does remember her. Trying to explain to them both that old Nanna had passed away was very hard. Ella asked whether she could see her again and was told that she couldnt. She just said "okay" but I could see her brain ticking over, processing what it meant. What death means. At with this reality of death being in the air, questions about Grandad have come up. They know he's sick, and the doctors are trying to make him better with special medicine, but they're starting to peice together that Grandad might die. We're remaining optimistic, there is no talk of an amount of time left for him to live, but at the same time I feel it's important to slowly prepare the girls for something unexpected. If it does happen, it cant come out of left field. So there have been some really hard questions lately. And listening to the girls talking about it has been somewhat heartbreaking. Ella was talking to Kristin yesterday about old Nanna, and how she died and Kristin said "no, Grandad die". I don't know what has made her draw that line, and I know she doesn't know what it means to die, but it's just instilled in me just how hard it will be if the time comes to explain to them that Grandad is no longer here. The thought of watching their little faces struggle to understand, or hear them say "okay" like they understand, only to ask to see Grandad at a later date. I don't think I can handle the sadness it would bring, on top of my own grief as well. I know this is getting ahead of things, but I just didn't realise how hard it would be to explain to children about death, about the death of a loved one, and still try and maintain a sense of composure and openness to talk about these things so they understand. Life sucks sometimes, a lot of life will be pain and suffering, and yes the good times will outweigh the bad times in the end, but explaining that to a little child? One that has their whole life ahead of them. A life time of adventure and accomplishments, of heart break and of pain. Something I can't protect them from. I can't protect them. This is what is hardest to accept...my babies, I'd die for them, I'd take their pain if I could but I know that I cant. And facing this year is going to be hard in so many ways. How do I keep them safe?

My intention has been to come here with a reason to post, something witty or with real meaning. But at the end of a long day, with three kids home (school holidays), my brain capacity is that of a bull frog. The fact that I've even managed to string some sentences together is a marvel to me! So again, a post with no real meaning. Seems to be a common trend with my posts. But I liken this blog to a journal (or a good listening friend) where I can just drivel on about nothing much at all and with no complaints. Well, so far! I've actually been thinking that I should make this blog private, by request only. Not because I have anything to hide, but it really is such a private thing to do, talking about life. I read back over the TTC posts and I see the raw emotion that seeped through those words and it's like someone had opened up my heart and smeared it across the page (or compose section, as it may be) for all and sundry. I was hurting and angry and impatient. I look back now, with 20/20 hindsight and laugh at myself. I didn't really have to wait THAT long, at the time it felt like an eternity would pass before we could add to our family but it really was such a small amount of time. I actual wonder why I didn't enjoy the time a bit better, just the three of us! I didn't realise how busy life would get with three small children, I didn't realise that you don't get any time to yourself anymore. Showering, toileting, getting a drink, scratching yourself - it all happens with little eyes watching and as much as I love them sometimes I wish for silence sometimes. Bedtimes are a dream. Not only do I have a quiet house, my body to myself and time to do what *I* want, but I also have time to reflect on how truly lucky I am in life. Three healthy kids, a wonderful, loving and supportive husband and a lovely home to live out our days in. I have always wanted to be a mother, and a wife. I never really dreamed of being anything else. And I am lucky that I am here, age 26, living that dream. So it's now children's bedtime, it's quiet in the house and my husband is sitting on the lounge playing his PS3 which means it's now "me" time. Thanks for listening!

No real point to this post - just some random crap lol

I am hoping to have 5 mins peace this afternoon to write a blog post. My boy is in bed for an arvo nap and the girls are currently sitting watching Diego - a nice "change" from Dora. It's been a hectic weekend. Along with the festivities of Easter, my baby boy turned 1 on Sunday. It's been a pretty epic weekend, with his party being Friday, last minute gift shopping on Saturday, Easter and his actual birthday Sunday and a mini-birthday for my sister who couldn't make it on the Friday. I am finally just sitting here and relaxing without having any sort of organising hanging over my head waiting to be completed. We had a good party though. Little Monster theme for my "lil monster". I cannot believe it's been a year since he made his quick entrance into the world. I guess it's the same with all my children. My eldest is 5 - FIVE! I can't believe I've been at this parenting gig for 5 years. I think back and at just 21, I was still a "baby" myself! I have learnt so much in 5 years - become mumma tiger, succeeded in most things, failed in others and learnt that it's okay to make mistakes as a parent and even more so, it's okay to admit that I don't know everything. The concept was quite hard to start with. I felt like I needed to know all this stuff, that as a mum this stuff should come naturally and with no fuss. Hah, what a silly idea that was. Even 5 years on I still make mistakes, even if I've been in a similar situation before. I think it's life's reality check to make sure we don't get too cocky. Anyway, I am not really sure what this blog post is about, honestly it's more rambling and dribble rather than having an actual purpose so if you've made it this far congratulations =) Be back later on with some more random musings but for now, here is a pic of my baby boy at his party on Friday =)

Something Worth Celebrating

The last few weeks has been a haze of cooking cakes, presents, cooking more cakes, party preparation and cooking even more cake. My eldest, Ella, turned 5 on the 20th March. She's come such a long way from even when I first started posting this blog. She's 100% different, yet in another way she's exactly the same. Fiercely independent, stubborn and opinionated....sounds oddly familiar... So she's turned 5, and a lot has happened in that 5 years. If you read back through these posts I mention her toe walking problem. Well toward the end of last year we finally got an official diagnosis. Spastic Diplegic Cerebral Palsy. After an MRI and appointments with the mobility clinic we finally arrived at a reason as to why our little fairy likes to walk on her toes! So the diagnosis hasn't really changed much. Basically she still needs the constant physio and constant reinforcing to walk flat footed, her treatment plan will be the same and we don't qualify for any disability benefits (and rightly so) as her condition is so mild. Basically it only affects her lower limbs and that's about it. She's a happy, healthy little girl otherwise! She has taken on the role as big sister quite well. From the moment Kristin (my second) was born she has loved to 'baby' her. Kristin, now 2.5 has decided that she is now old enough to do the things Ella does so they clash a lot now. It reminds me so much of what my sister and I were like. It makes me swell with pride when they do get along, and shudder with familiarity when they dont! I must admit, they don't get along as often as I'd like but I know they will be lifelong friends the minute they realise how much they mean to each other - whether they drive each other batty or not! Colton (my son) was a bit of a surprise baby. We fell pregnant with him when Kristin was just 11 months old. I guess the time it took us to fall with her we felt safe that the next baby wouldn't just come along willy-nilly. But sure enough he did. He's now just about to turn 1 and the girls both dote on him. It's so lovely having a boy after 2 girls but I would've been just as happy to have another girl. I say that now, but ask me again in 10 years time - when I am the mother to 2 teenage girls!! Anyway, so that rounds out my little family. All children entirely unique and special in their own ways. Just how I like it. There is talk of adding to our brood one day, maybe in 2-3 years once Colton is a bit older and Kristin is in kindy. Despite feeling incredibly content with my family as it is, I do feel like we're missing someone. Even when I get Colton up from his sleep and have all 3 children playing noisily in the loungeroom I find myself thinking "shh you'll wake the baby" - like there is meant to be just one more around the house somewhere! But that journey lies a little while off, for now this is us. Duane, Paula, Ella, Kristin and Colton. The Beaver Family =)

It's been so long....

I stumbled across my old blog today. This blog. It seems so long ago since all the TTC business was such a major part of my life. So long ago in fact, that our beautiful baby that I fell pregnant with is now a cheeky 2.5 year old little girl and has a nearly 1 year old baby brother. Ella is at school, pre primary in fact, and life is pretty sweet. I was only thanking my lucky stars this afternoon for all that life has given me.

This blog took me back. To those feelings of helplessness and of feeling like I would never have another baby. And to look back with hindsight is a wonderful thing. If only I knew then what I know now.

But that's what these things are all about right? Working through your feelings, ideas and dreams. Putting it all down on "paper" to come back and read another day. There has been so much happen in the last 3 years, since I last blogged here, that I am sure I will have plenty to write about, plenty of blog posts, to bring you all up to speed.

I have missed writing down my feelings. It feels internalised nowdays, with barely time to scratch my nose - what with school drop offs, gym for both the girls, playgroup and various weekly errands. But re-reading today, all those days before three kids, makes me want to be able to look back, in years to come, on these days. The days that have made me stronger, wiser and a little more batty-er than before =)

It's been so long, it's nice to see you again.