I haven’t been expressing milk for a couple of weeks now. Paolo and I agreed to wean her off the breast when Meia hit a year old for a variety of reasons.

It took a few weeks, but we finally got there. We were lucky – since I work full-time, Meia’s used to drinking milk from the bottle (a far cry from the bottle wars). I would only feed her direct when she’d wake up in the middle of the night or during weekends when the yaya is on leave and I was too lazy to pump. A few days after her first birthday, I noticed that she drank less and less at night. Sometimes, she would only suck for less than a minute, for comfort it seems, then would fall asleep right away. Eventually, my supply dried up and I no longer needed to pump milk.

I feel so liberated and at the same time, completely and utterly useless. I now have a little bit more time in my hands, so I have rediscovered my passion for reading. I have started exercising which I couldn’t do before since it adversely affected my supply. I could go out for more than 3 hours at a time without lugging around my gear and worrying about where I could pump. At the same time, whenever Meia makes the milk sign, I can  no longer do anything to help except look for the yaya or my husband to give her what she wants. Whenever I buy formula, I can feel my inner lactivist shaking her head disapprovingly. (While we still have over a month’s supply of breast milk, we’ve started mixed feeding to help Meia with the transition.)

A part of me still can’t believe that I am actually looking back at my breastfeeding year fondly. I remember the first few days when I wasn’t sure if milk was coming out. I remember coming home from the hospital and Meia crying because she was hungry and at the same time rejecting my breast. Back then, we had to run to the drugstore to buy her sterilized water to dissolve sugar in then. I still get stressed thinking about that god awful hour. I remember the plugged ducts and nipple blisters. I remember being too tired and falling asleep while nursing her (I never nursed in the sleep lying position, so falling asleep while breastfeeding was not okay). I remember not being able to go out because I had to be on standby in case she got hungry even before her schedule. I remember the cluster feeding and our marathon 1 to 2 hour nursing sessions. I remember feeling insecure whenever I looked at other breastfed babies – they looked so big compared to Meia. I remember going to starbucks and not being able to buy anything because they were all caffeinated.

Breastfeeding is easily one of the most difficult things I’ve done but I’m happy that I decided to persevere despite the many hardships that came with it.

Aside from, of course, being able to give Meia the best nutrition available, breastfeeding made a huge impact in my life. I learned to be more selfless and more giving. My body, my time, my life were no longer mine – I had a little one who was completely dependent on me and I was more than happy to share everything I had with her. For me, this is different from pregnancy because breastfeeding is a choice – I chose to share these things with my daughter even though technically, I could have given her formula and she would still grow up okay. When you’re pregnant on the other hand, you have no choice since everything you eat, everything you do to your body, automatically affects the baby. (And no, abortion is never an option.)

Breastfeeding also gave me the opportunity to have quiet time with my daughter. While nursing, I am able to enjoy her company away from the prying eyes of well-meaning friends and relatives. Breastfeeding allowed me to foster deeper relationships with friends who are also breastfeeding mothers. Breastfeeding has also allowed me to meet and help other struggling moms in their journey.

As I pack away my pump, I feel extremely grateful for the year that was and for everyone who has helped and supported me in my journey. Special shout out goes to the hubby, for always cheering me on. For mommy friends such as Nats and April and the rest of the Tazian moms for their kind words of support. For Didi and Jean who helped me when my shields broke. For Concep, who let me use her sterilizer and bother her at work when the dreaded ants infiltrated my pump parts. For my relatives who, while unfamiliar with breastfeeding, eventually learned to stop asking if Meia was having enough to eat and who understood why I was a no show to most family events during the first few months of her life. For my other friends who I don’t see anymore because my life was overtaken by boobs, milk, and nappies. For RPJ and the rest of my former bosses and officemates, for lining the glass walls of my room with manila paper and scheduling meetings around my pumping schedule. For my current bosses and officemates, for not asking any questions whenever I disappeared for 20-30 minutes inside the conference room. For Joyce (of The Marshmallow Mama) and Paola (of Mommy Treats), for making yummy lactation goodies. For the internets for websites such as Kellymom and Chronicles of a Nursing Mom, which were my go to resources when it came to breastfeeding concerns. And most especially for Meia, for bearing with me and patiently drinking her milk from me even when my supply was low, I was smelly (I was probably smelly back then, I would only had a few minutes to shower before I’d hear her stir and look for me), cranky, awkward, and obviously a mommy and breastfeeding neophyte.

You know why I think I had the best vacation ever? I’ll give you a hint:

It’s such a joy watching the bear discover new things. From the flowers she saw in Tagaytay, to the school of fish in Nuvali, to the new food that we had her taste, to swimming in the pool in her mushroom salbabida, to reading her Mickey Mouse clubhouse book, to holding and scribbling crayons for the first time, to coloring our pillows and comforter with said crayons (definitely not for the last time — I really hope Crayola is being truthful when they said they’re washable), there is not a moment of the last few days that I would trade for anything in the world. (Ok, it would’ve been nice if she could nap in the car.)

The look on her face when she learns something new, when she says a new word (‘No’ and ‘boobs’ are her latest) is priceless. There are so many things I want her to experience, and I am looking forward to our next adventure.

We started the 5 day holiday by putting up our height chart which we bought from Amazon. I see that they’re selling it now for $3.49. Damn it, I bought mine for $6!

We also visited the bear’s ninang – who has been my good friend since we were 5 years old. I won’t tell you how long that’s been because that’ll give away our age :p The bear ran around the garden, scared my friend’s pet poodle (not in the picture because he was hiding in the bushes), and enjoyed the koi pond.

We also discovered that the bear loves sharing her food. There she is in the bottom left shoving putting into my mouth a piece of mamon. She also shares her pancakes with her yaya. She won’t eat unless we also eat with her. I’m not sure whether it’s a Filipino or a Chinese trait since I know people from both cultures who really insist on sharing what they have regardless of whether you wanted to accept it. It’s actually kinda sweet.

I’m looking forward to the next 3 days of the weekend. So many things to do and to experience with the bear.

Happy Easter! I hope your vacation is going as well as ours.

This morning, Pao shared with me this post by Mario Vittone on drowning:

It’s really alarming and something that every person needs to know. According to this post:

“It is the number two cause of accidental death in children, age 15 and under (just behind vehicle accidents) – of the approximately 750 children who will drown next year, about 375 of them will do so within 25 yards of a parent or other adult. In ten percent of those drownings, the adult will actually watch them do it, having no idea it is happening (source: CDC).”

Shit.

In the post, Vittone lists the signs of instinctive drowning response, which is what we do to avoid drowning. From experience, I can attest that it’s impossible to shout out when you’re drowning. My dad was in the same swimming pool when it happened to me, and if it wasn’t for a stranger who saw me struggling, I wouldn’t be here today.

So please do read the article and share it with your friends and family.

]]> http://bouncingbear.wordpress.com/2012/03/30/signs-of-drowning/feed/ 0 bouncingbear drowning http://bouncingbear.wordpress.com/2012/03/23/getting-carried-away/ http://bouncingbear.wordpress.com/2012/03/23/getting-carried-away/#comments Thu, 22 Mar 2012 23:55:00 +0000 Shaps http://bouncingbear.wordpress.com/?p=464 ]]> So the bear is finally a year old. Time flew by so fast. In a couple of months, we’ll be converting her crib into a toddler bed. A toddler bed – can you imagine? That’s crazy!

Meia is so noisy nowadays. Still unable to regulate her voice, she says everything really loud. She also has a couple of words down pat – Mamama for me, Papapapapa for her Daddy, Ma! for her Oma, turtle (her first word!) for the variety of turtle stuff toys and figurines that she coopted inherited from me, and cake (uh oh). She can also do some signs – milk, eat, and more. She can clap, high five, do beautiful eyes (which is more like a blink rather than a bat of her lashes), give a flying kiss, and do align (a forefinger’s version of a high-five). She knows where her head is, her nose, tummy, and belly button. Incidentally she also knows where my tummy is — she’d point to it and start laughing. Laughing. Uncontrollably. Hmph. Look kid, I know it’s fat and flabby, but to laugh at my belly that got big to accommodate your presence in the first place is so. not. cool. *scowl*

Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, I was getting all sentimental before I remembered why I needed to diet…

Every now and then I look at Meia and imagine what she’ll be when she grows up. I like looking at everything she does as a sign, a hint, of her future career.

Meia loves to destroy read books. Will she grow up to be a writer like her father? a lawyer? a journalist (do they still exist?)? a TV anchor? If a writer, what kind of writer? Will she write books? Or maybe work on a screenplay?

Unlike her mother, Meia loves to dress up. Will she be a model? A designer? Will she sew her own clothes like the designers in project runway? How about a fashionista? God, I hope not a fashionista. Paolo and I don’t make enough to fund the wardrobe of a fashionista.

Meia is also a very active bear. She loves the water, to play with her ball, to chase bubbles, and to drive us insane. Will she be a marine biologist? An athlete? If an athlete, will she be really good and possibly join the olympics? Or better yet, be a WWE Diva (Kharma not Kelly Kelly)? Please be a WWE Diva. Then maybe you can date someone like George Clooney and live a beautiful Hollywood lifestyle and give us free tickets to Wrestlemania.

My little bear just turned one! My infant has now transformed into a toddler – and I couldn’t be any happier.

We had a wonderful event-filled birthday weekend. I’ll tell you all about it next time as I’m having difficulty finding time to blog. Work is getting a little crazy plus there’s that dreaded exam next week that I haven’t even studied for. At the home front, I’m trying to finish as much as I can of What to Expect – The Second Year (turns out that this edition of the book is arranged by topic and not by age, so I couldn’t get away with reading a chapter a month!). I’m also doing as much research as I can on the bear’s new diet. Then there’s weaning. Seems like only yesterday that I was learning how to breastfeed, and now it’s time for me to stop.

In the meantime, let me share with you some of our pictures from Meia’s birthday weekend as well as a beautiful post by the hubby over at his Facebook page.

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Meia’s First Birthday

When Meia was born, I promised myself that I’d stop breastfeeding when she turned a year old. I needed to get my life back, I thought. So for one year, I turned down most (if not all) invitations to hang out with friends unless (i) I could be home in 2-3 hours’ time (I really wasn’t comfortable pumping in a bathroom, and as far as I know, only Eastwood Mall has a decent breastfeeding room), or (ii) they were held in my house. I haven’t had a sip of coffee or caffeinated tea (or milk tea for that matter) or eaten anything coffee flavored since I learned I was pregnant. Exercise went out the window as it adversely affected my milk supply. Malunggay became my go to vegetable/vitamin. My pumping kit was my constant companion.

My sacrifice paid off. I am proud to say that Meia is still exclusively breastfed – almost 12 months in and yet she has never tasted formula (not that there’s anything wrong with formula). Four months in my breastfeeding journey, I had to buy a chest freezer since we needed more space to store my frozen milk. Less than two months later, I had to start donating since 4 cubic feet wasn’t enough to keep my milk stash.

At first, I pumped every 2 hours. When I went back to work, I moved it to every 3 hours. Sometime December or January, I decided to space my pumping time further apart to every 4 hours, then 5, and now 6. My milk supply has of course decreased as a result — I just found out that the yaya had to defrost milk for the first time in months today. And I don’t know how I feel about that.

On the one hand, I know that I had given my little bear the recommended one year’s supply of breastmilk (I have enough stash to last until her birthday) and that I can now transition her to cow’s milk. At the same time, I find myself reaching for another lactation cookie (my third today) that my friend, the Marshmallow Mama, generously provided me last Sunday, hoping that it will do its magic and that the yaya won’t have to defrost milk tomorrow.

But that all changed when the bear arrived. I’ve come to realize that birthdays (her birthday in particular) are special.

As a mother, I have learned to appreciate birthdays as celebrations of life and love. Meia’s birthday is an opportunity for me to remember how one (lunar) year ago, the bear came into this world (a few weeks early I might add) and made Pao and I feel like the luckiest — and most sleep deprived — people on earth. While I cannot deny that the rest of the world kept turning on the day of Meia’s birth, it wasn’t quite the same world as it was the second before she was born. For one, it became less painful (I was finished with labor after all).

Happy chinese birthday, little one. I know, I know, it’s just your birthday according to the lunar calendar, but I can’t help it. I get all teary-eyed whenever I think of how much you’ve grown over the past (lunar) year. From a 5 pound eating and pooping machine you are now a 17 pound eating and pooping machine. From being asleep most of the day and awake most of the night, you now know when exactly to sleep (just as we are about to leave the house) and when exactly to wake up (when I am about to sleep). You are now smarter and more efficient in your mommy annoying ways and I love you more for it. Your arrival has made the world more beautiful, more colorful, more challenging, and more rewarding.

As I’ve mentioned here, I gave birth 37 weeks and 3 days into my pregnancy.

That morning was like any other. I woke up, checked to see if she was kicking (due to my paranoia, I’d gotten into the habit of counting kicks) and proceeded to nest clean the house. By noon, I started feeling a bit weird, like I needed to go to the bathroom. The right side of my belly felt a bit tight but I dismissed it, thinking it was nothing.

[That's how smart I am. I've been having contractions since I was 2 months pregnant and I couldn't recognize one even if it went up to me, said hi, and introduced itself as a contraction. In my defense, I remember the intern from my last hospital stay telling me that the whole belly tightens up during a contraction. Since only the right side was tight, I reckoned it was nothing. Brilliant, Shaps. Just brilliant.]

By 3pm, I discovered an old keyboard cover for the husband’s Mac. It used to be white, but was now an awful shade of gray. I went to the sink and started to clean it vigorously. I must have spent around an hour trying to get all the dirt out.

By 5pm, I realized I was bleeding. It wasn’t like the spotting from before – there was more blood now. Tummy was still getting tight every now and then and I still felt like going to the bathroom. For the first time though, I didn’t want to check myself into the hospital because (wait for it) I wanted to watch American Idol. Ha.

I've had a music crush on Steven Tyler since I was in high school. Picture credits: http://www.sexysteventyler.com

I waited a bit for the bleeding to subside but it didn’t. After a while, I told Pao we needed to go to the hospital. I also called my OB. My doctor told me that I might be in labor but I was like, nah. No contractions! Aren’t contractions necessary for labor? Toink.

By 630pm, the intern examined me and asked me if I was in pain. Apparently, my water bag already ruptured (when it happened, I had no idea) and I was  5 cm dilated. The baby was arriving! And I didn’t get to shower before going to the hospital, dammit! The doctors estimated that I’d give birth around 1am the next morning.

By 9pm, the anesthesiologist arrived. They wheeled me into the operating room so she could hook me up. (No way was I going to do lamaze.) I was still feeling a bit chatty. I wasn’t in pain but I started getting uncomfortable.

While waiting for a space between contractions so the anesthesiologist could insert the needle, my OB arrived. Then it got painful really fast. This must be how Ellen Ripley (Sigourney Weaver) felt in Aliens, I thought. My OB examined me and we were all surprised to find out that I was already at 10cm – the baby was crowning! The resident had to run to get to Pao, who was waiting in the room with my mother-in-law, to make sure he witnessed Meia’s birth. He almost didn’t make it.

And at 9:45pm, after 3 hours of “labor”, the bouncing bear made her debut to the world. She was small and wrinkly and beautiful and perfect.

By 10pm, she was wheeled in the nursery and her bassinet was placed next to a baby boy’s. Pao claims that she scowled at the other baby and he started to wail.

Fifteen minutes old and already making her first boy cry. That’s my girl.