One Month In

Oh, for fuck's sake. Blogger just ate a very long -- and, since it isn't here for you to read, let's assume terribly witty -- post, mostly about the myriad ways breast-feeding is driving me batty. Obviously, its deletion is a La Leche League plot.

I'd recreate it, but between nursing, "soothing" (read: trying everything I can think of followed by trying not to panic), and repeating, it took me 6 hours, and this nursing session I am spending typing one-handed will likely only be another 5.

The main points:

• Breastfeeding is going much better.
• It is still kind of a pain, and I wonder that people are reluctant to wean. I am squarely in Counting The Days territory.
• I'm tired of sleeping in a nursing tank, but I hate waking up in a cold puddle.
• Why is it cold even when it first drips on my belly/leg? At least peeing your pants is warm
• I mean, that's what I've heard.
• I would like the weather to warm up, so I can include outside benches in my emergency nursing station list.
• Thank heavens boob nudity is allowed in New York state, because lordy, this is an awkward business. Especially outside in the wind.
• Vasospasms really, really suck. Like pliers on the nips, and not in a sexy way, either.
• My OB's nurse (and by extension their postpartum care) really sucks, too.
• The non-dippy LC -- who keeps the sabbath and doesn't work Friday afternoons and who answered my emails today anyway and with concrete advice (more than I can say for certain nurses) -- continues to not suck.
• My nipples hurt.

It was funny the first time. Really.

And now, pictures of The Bean, who is one month old today:

Still in newborn size -- this one is for you, Schroe

But he IS growing! Compare:


Three days old.


Four weeks old



Grey-blue eyes, for now. (Bluer than they look here.)



A healthy disdain for paparazzi


And a name: