I just realized how inexplicably sad I am for a past version of myself. I look at the pictures of me pregnant and just think, “You. You have no idea.” I want a time turner or a TARDIS so I can go cross my own timeline and tell that version of myself that it is all going to be okay. Excruciating at times, but ultimately okay. I’d like a future version to come confirm that, come to think of it.
I go back to work in just over one week. I feel like I should be okay with it. I was prepared to be okay with it. The teachers at this school are like family. I trust them to love my children.
I owe everyone a long update, I know. For the most part no news is good news.
Rowan is still nursing with only one bottle per day. I may not have to pay cobra after all. He’s over 10 pounds!
I was going to write about how much better the day to day has gotten. But then I woke up this morning in extreme pain, followed by chills and a feverish feeling. I could feel the plugged duct causing the mastitis. I must have gotten it unplugged because when rowan nursed he was having to swallow so fast that I was scared he would choke. And then I pumped 3oz from that side alone. This morning I had the telltale red streaks radiating out.
Happy World Breastfeeding Week!
One of the hardest things for me during the last few months has been the total helplessness that I have felt. I don’t do helpless well. Yes, Rowan has made tremendous strides, but none of them felt like I was really a requirement. A team of OBs bought him that extra two weeks in utero, a team of neonatologists and nurses helped him thrive in the hospital. I have felt like a bystander through most of his first few months. It felt like everything was being done to us.
Yeah. Pretty much. Trade bed pan for catheter, though. Heck, I had it easy, I even got to shower once per day! When I wasn’t on mag. And let’s not forget the bed that inflated and deflated randomly.