Monthly Archives: December 2014

So I’ve finally joined the – well I’m not sure what, but I feel like I’ve joined something – and bought a Diva Cup. It seems like everyone who has used one raves about it and I can no longer justify the environmental impact of using disposable products by saying that I only have a period every three months like I did when I was on birth control.

When I told Andrew I was buying one he told me he didn’t want to hear anything about it. I asked him, “You saw your son being born and you’re afraid of my cup?” Yes, he is, so he shouldn’t read any further.

My first attempt was in the shower. Got it in place but I could still feel it. I’m not sure if that’s normal or something you just get used to. Over time I could feel it slipping further down until it felt like it was going to fall out – maybe not possible, but not something you want to find out in the wrong place or the wrong time.

I trimmed the stem because it was poking, and also tried turning the cup inside-out like I read about. Each time the slipping happened. According to their troubleshooting that’s a sign that I need to do more kegals which I find a little… insulting… since I’ve never had problems on that front before.

Following advice from elsewhere on the internet, I got it inserted higher where I couldn’t feel it but then had leaking. There’s supposed to be a learning curve and people even say to give it three months to figure it out, so I shouldn’t be that disappointed that it didn’t work for me right off. However my next period is scheduled to start right at Christmas and it would be so much more convenient to use on the day trip, if it was already working for me.

I have that same ‘being allowed out of the house’ feeling tonight since I finally get to go to Chocolati again while Andrew puts Cameron to bed. I know I have bits of Cameron’s dinner on my pants, possibly laundry detergent in my hair, and maybe some playground dirt on my shirt. I figure, people know I have a baby so they should expect this.

Jeremy called it ‘Get out of fashion free’.

I was going to have a grilled cheese sandwich for breakfast because I’m an adult and that means I can. But then I realized that being an adult means I have to make it myself.

I got to go out to Andrew’s company’s holiday party, with a babysitter for Cameron and everything. Getting ready, I felt so like a housewife/mom who was finally being let out of the house but probably shouldn’t be.

First I had to find an outfit with a day’s notice, out of my closet, that fit the criteria of Business Casual/Holiday Casual (whatever that means.) I had fancy skirt but had to hope that no one could tell that my top I matched with it was actually a nursing tank. Then contacts in, and I attempted makeup.

I use bare minerals because it covers my redness without fussing around with a bunch of layers. But then my face looked washed out so I tried the bronzer that came with my kit. I always second guess if makeup looks right since I don’t use it enough but convinced myself it was okay, on the right side. Continuing on the left side, I ended up with an obvious brown streak that only got worse when I tried to wipe it off.

Attempt #2, skipped the bronzer and went for the mascara instead. I always thought mascara was only for “dress-up” makeup but I read somewhere that it’s supposed to be “everyday” makeup and makes you look more awake. A minute later, I looked like someone wearing clumpy mascara, yet no more awake. Then after poking at it a bit to de-clump, I had mascara streaks going over my eye lids too.

Oh I guess mascara is waterproof too? Trying to wash it off with water gave me racoon eyes. I don’t have makeup remover, and I couldn’t find the alcohol pads which is probably for the best because I’m pretty sure that would have turned out to be a bad idea in its own way. After washing my face three times with face soap I just hoped it was dark at the party.

There’s an running joke that Googling your symptoms, whatever they might be, will always tell you that you have cancer. So I knew better than to even think of Googling ‘lump in breast’ last night. Besides, given the size of the lump I saw, if it was cancer, I’d already be dying. My best guess is that it might be a blocked duct, that I just happened to see before it actually got painful. Still I was a little freaked out and decided that if it was still there and didn’t start hurting by Monday I’d call the doctor.

No worries. By bedtime it was getting sore. By morning it was excruciating. (I guess this is one time that night-weaning backfired on me.) Then add a nursing baby who doesn’t understand the word ‘gentle’ (really, we’re working on it) into the mix… Since the solution to nearly all breastfeeding issues is more breastfeeding, he became essentially the world’s clumsiest doctor as I set him to work on clearing the plug. Following bashing me on the bridge of my nose with his hard, hard head (not related except that it really hurt) with grabbing at the painful boob had me in tears.

Luckily Andrew brought me some Tylenol, and more importantly, took Cameron to make breakfast while I slept!

This is a weird quote,

Research shows that infants who die from SIDS are found more often with bedding over their heads than similarly aged infants who don’t die from SIDS.

Who’s doing the tracking on babies who don’t die and whether they sleep with bedding?

Another article on the subject says,

Dr. Colvin said infants “need to sleep alone, on their backs and in a crib, and it doesn’t matter if it’s for a nap or overnight.”

He continued, “And it doesn’t matter if the parent is awake or asleep.”

This one, if followed to the letter, would mean that every time a baby falls asleep in a parent’s arms (or in a carrier, or car seat, or stroller…) they have to be immediately dumped into an empty crib, where you would of course end up with an awake and likely crying baby.

I’m not trying to diminish the seriousness of SIDS at all, and I’m surprised people still don’t know that cribs need to be free of bedding, but there is also research that says that safely done bed-sharing with a breastfeeding mother reduces the risk of SIDS. And ultimately telling parents to never sleep with their babies is going to be as effective as abstinence-only education, because they need to know how to do it safely instead of falling into it accidentally.