The Annual Picking of the Apples

It's such a shame to wake a sleeping baby, even if you are in the middle of an apple orchard.  :)  Steve and I hung around outside the car for awhile, until our excitement for apples got the better of us.

Stephen, for the first time, actually LIKED the backpack carrier.  He seems to finally fit into it well, and he babbled away as Steve walked him into the orchard. 

This has to be one of my all-time favorite pictures of Stephen.  Sometimes he takes a picture where I think to myself, "Where on earth has my little baby gone?  And who is this boy?"  His unadulterated excitement about everything--apples included-- is so much fun to watch.  

"Whoa!  An APPLE!"

After he picked his apple, Stephen was very pleased with himself.  He was content to hold the apple, turn it, lick it, bite it, poke it, and inspect every inch of it while Steve and I filled up our bushel with Braeburns and Honeycrisps.

We packed a picnic, and found a tiny shady spot by the pond to spread out and enjoy lunch.  It was one of those moments where you catch yourself and realize how idyllic and precious the moment is.   I am so grateful to God for a year of moments like this: 

                                                                           And this:

                                                                         And this.

 :) ~ CEM.

8 Months!

Wanted to share some new photos, made crisp and oh-so-clear courtesy of my parents.  They gave us an amazing, schnazzy new camera for our anniversary (Thanks, Mom and Dad!) so now we are able to take pics of our son and not have a conniption because they are blurry.  ( Take a guess who was guilty of the photo conniptions.... haha love you Steve)

Here is my (almost) 8 month cutie pie.   I'm in love with that sweet face.... 

.... and that smile....

.... and those gorgeous eyes!   Still haven't figured out what color they are.

Chillin' with Grandma, Aunt Shan, and Uncle Pete. 

This has to be my favorite family photo.  There's just so much personality-- the two guys have the same smile!

At Tam's wedding.  Stephen loves a good spoon.  This was before he spilled fish soup all over Daddy's suit.

Hey!  Hi!

I don't know what it is, but Stephen is obsessed with beer bottle tops.  Makes us look like TERRIBLE parents, but hey, it keeps him occupied for like, 20 minutes.  We'll take it.  (Caveat--no beer actually goes into the baby. :)  )

An Unexpected Breastfeeding Journey

I am returning my breast pump on Friday, Stephen's six month birthday. 


Those of you who know me know what a monumental step that is.  It is the end of an incredibly long and difficult breast-feeding journey: one that I am very proud of but also one of the most difficult things I have ever taken upon myself (even beating out childbirth). 


Before Stephen was born, I was hopelessly naive about breastfeeding.  I knew that I wanted to give him the best nutrition and start to life, and I fully planned to breastfeed as long as possible.  In my mind, I pictured 
1. baby is born. 
2. baby opens mouth. 
3. baby starts eating.  
How hard can it be?  I don't think I even read a book about it, which is my usual go-to device when I am unsure about anything.  


Fast forward to post-partem, a couple of hours.  I cannot get Stephen to latch.  The lactation consultants in the hospital are very helpful.  However, the L&D is at full capacity and they are stretched to the max.  I go to the hospital breastfeeding class, and there are 20 other women in the room.  It takes over two hours, and I only receive about five minutes of personal instruction.   My husband and I head home with many questions and few answers.  


A couple days go by, and Stephen just is not eating.  I go for his pediatrician visit and meet with the lactation consultant.   We find out that Stephen has lost a little too much weight, and so while the lactation consultant works diligently with me on getting him to latch, she also sets me up with a pump and bottles, just so he can begin receiving the nutrition he needs.  


And that is that.  Once Stephen got a taste of how easy the bottle was, he was hooked.  Feeding Stephen turned into a nightmarish cycle of trying to breastfeed, having my son flip out and start screaming, settling him down, giving him a bottle, and pumping more milk.   It was wreaking havoc on my emotions to have my son reject the breast, and I was still in recovery mode after a pretty difficult labor.   After a month of this, things were not improving, and I made the decision to exclusively pump breastmilk and feed him through the bottle.  


Once the decision was made, I hoped things would get easier.  It was definitely a relief to be spared the "try to breastfeed a very angry baby" step.  However, I had to grapple with a lot of disappointment and doubts.  Did I give up too fast?  Will I be able to bond with my son?  Will I be able to make this work?   


I came incredibly close to quitting a number of times, and went through two bouts with mastitis.  I also felt that all I was doing was pumping--cleaning up after pumping, getting ready to pump again, getting up during the night to not only feed Stephen but also pump.  However, there was this stubborn part of me that I had never tapped into before that kept whispering in my ear "Don't forget.... you are feeding your child.  You are breastfeeding.  You are making this sacrifice for him."   (I also think that God was doing some of that whispering too.) 


Amazingly, things got easier.  I was able to drop the number of pumps in a day, I built up a huge freezer supply, I got REALLY good at any/all shortcuts to the pumping process--and I fed my son.  I am really proud of this fact.  I also can imagine someone reading this and thinking that I am crazy for dealing with all of this.  I don't blame you.  But something about that "mother love" that just gives without counting the cost made me determined to give Stephen what he needed.   


This whole ordeal also made me a lot more empathetic with women who don't breastfeed.  Before I had Stephen, I admit that I wondered why women don't breastfeed more.  Now I know.  I also think the hype over formula is a bit much.  As my husband and I like to joke, "It's not the devil's food."  Stephen has been transitioning onto formula and he is fine.  He would have been fine had he been on formula from day one.  But I also believe that he is more than fine--he is thriving, and I hope that is because of the sacrifice I made for him. 


Next baby?  Oh man, I really hope breastfeeding works out.  I feel a whole lot wiser about the process, and I have high hopes for success.  I also will cross that bridge when it comes.  But for now, I am celebrating six months of a long breastfeeding journey for Stephen.  It made me feel stubborn and tough--in a good way.  Perhaps I needed that.  I feel strongly that God used this hardship in my life for a purpose. If nothing else, it gave me the first opportunity in my life to sacrifice for Stephen.  He will never understand what I did or how hard it was--but I did it because I loved him.   Welcome to motherhood. 

Baby Learning Curve

It is amazing to me how babies learn. 


As I watch Stephen grow and develop, I feel as if I can actually see the connections being made in his little head.  One day, he won't be able to do something, and the next day it has just "clicked."


Steve and I were grocery shopping this weekend, and I was pushing Stephen in the stroller.   As I was debating what kind of pasta to get, I heard a little voice in front of me: "mamamamama..."  I turned the stroller around, and there is my little boy looking extraordinarily pleased with himself.  He was moving his little jaw up and down, as if he couldn't believe that he was making that noise.  He did it again: "mamamama" and added a couple of "B's" to mix it up.  For the rest of the day he proceeded to practice this new sound.  Even as I write this, Stephen is upstairs in his crib, saying "mamamababa" over and over.  


This past week was also the first time that Stephen rolled over, and the first time that he sat up for a decent amount of time by himself.  What a big week for little guy!


Steve and I joke around sometimes--wouldn't it be nice to learn like a baby does?  Just find that something has "clicked" and all of a sudden you can hit a homerun or skateboard perfectly or knit like a champ.  We all learned at that pace at one point--too bad that we slow down the older we get! 


I remember teaching music to Pre-K.  They never ceased to amaze me with their memories.  They would soak up and retain new music with the most incredible speed.  I would only have to run a new song with them once or twice before most of the class would have it.  Then, a year or two later, the Kindergarteners and 1st graders would often ask me "Can we sing that song we did in Pre-K?"  They would then sing the whole thing with no mistakes.... a year later! Wow. Ask me to sing a song I learned at choir practice last week, and I can maybe tell you the first word.  


In any case, here's to our little learners-- may they never cease to amaze us!

PS.  This is a video we shot last week of Stephen and dad having a great time.  :)