I spent the day exploring the shadows in the corners of this post I wrote in the wee hours of the morning after a pumping session. I can even say that I wallowed a bit. I really let me feel sorry for myself. And then four things happened:

1. Southern Mom called to check on me. Reassuring me yet again that I am not alone and she’s been where I am before and that it gets better.

2. I got an e-mail from work letting me know the lock I had requested be installed to my door was done. I am now free to pump in private at the office.

3. My husband, not having read the post, suggested I go to dinner with a friend and leave Sun and him at home. I didn’t take him up on his offer. I walked Lucy instead. Then I went to dinner with my family and SM’s family.

4. My friend, Moondance, reached out to me in that personal way that one person’s blog can do. Her post was a shoulder to lean on for me to read at my convenience; it was a respite, an oasis, an echo of the concern of SM and the support of my husband.

With all these things happening today, I have made a resolution. I haven’t decided yet where things will end with this nursing/pumping situation I currently have on my hands. But I have resolved to stop bitching and complaining about it all–it’s just negative energy that will end only one way–in me giving up. And if I am to give myself a fair shake at not giving up, I need to be more positive about it. So no more blogs about my breasts. Sorry, CS.

I will be on the look-out for depression so that I can do my best not to get side-swiped by it again, and when it does hit, I will face it head on. And if it is PPD, I will get the help I need to properly deal with it. Squirmy little Sun will never be this squirmy or little ever again for the rest of her life. And I owe it to myself to suck every drop of enjoyment out if it that I can. And these breast wars will no longer steal this joy from me.

At least, this is what I resolve.

I owe special thanks to Southern Mom, Moondance, and Captain Sarcastic. It’s nice to have nets in place of which I am unaware to catch me on days like these.

Sun still isn’t nursing. And I am starting to feel it will never come. I go from one extreme to the other. I’ll start the day conspiratorially saying to Sun that today will be the day–I’ll be sure she is good and hungry and then I’ll be very patient and think to myself, “We’ll just go until it comes.” I will it to happen. But it doesn’t happen and my patience wears thin and I get frustrated and want to throw in the towel.

Then I calm down a bit and continue to pump, pump, pump throughout the day. And I put off the decision of whether to continue to try to get Sun to nurse or maybe accept that she can be a breast-milk-bottle-fed baby. But all that pumping gets on my nerves too–I am quite sore and it seems that no matter what I do, I cannot get my milk supply to increase. Sun will soon catch up with what I’ve pumped and will need to take formula to supplement what she needs to ingest daily anyway.

So then I have thoughts of not pumping either–of going 100% formula. Oh, the guilt! I feel like mothers the world over suffer worse than having to pump every few hours for their child and what a wimp I am for not wanting to do it. Then I think of Captain Sarcastic. If he had to be in my shoes, he’d be pumping like crazy and working with Sun to get her to nurse ’round the clock. And he’d be happy to have that bond with Sun, that bond that no one else can have with her. I wish I could be like that, feel that way. But I am not; I do not.

And when CS leaves for work in the mornings, oh the feelings of jealousy I have! He gets to be free of this house, of me, of (dare I say it) Sun for several hours. I just feel am umbilical cord of my own tying me to this house, to this damn pump. Sucking my freedom, my self, my very identity. I just want to get away . . . but I can’t ’cause I’ll need to pump in less than an hour an a half.

And then this creeps into my mind: Is it really all this pumping that is bothering me or is the pump the scapegoat? Is what I really am dealing with post-partem depression? I don’t have feelings of harming myself or Sun (or CS for that matter). But I do find that I am crying a lot, and crying over things that are hard for me to articulate. This post is the best I’ve had at actually putting words to it.

I fully expected to have to wrestle with PPD, my nature being what it is. But the thing about depression is that it is a slow leak. It creeps and creeps without me being aware until I am driving on my rims. And I certainly feel that I have four flats right now.

As Sun and I were taking our morning nap, there was a knock on the door followed by the ringing of our doorbell. Now that I have a baby that naps, I really get irritated with those who ring my bell–but who knocks and rings the bell?? The Water Department, that’s who. They were letting me know that they had turned my water off (along with the rest of my neighborhood’s) to replace a fire hydrant. It has now been over three hours, and they are still at it. Boy, are they noisy!

Water, like electricity, is one of those things that you take SO FAR GRANTED. Even though I knew the water was off, I still habitually flushed the toilet and turned the faucets of the sink. Luckily, I had water in the fridge that I could use to wash the pump pieces so that I could get them sterilized and ready to go for the pumping that occurred during this time. I felt like I was camping in my own home.

I think they are making progress, though, because the toilet bowl is gurgling–I think it’s refilling with water. At least if there is a fire, we will have the state of the art fire hydrant to guard and protect us.

While in the hospital, a friend visited and told CS and me that if we decided to keep the umbilical cord, to let her know because she has some “special box” for saving it. I politely told her, “Okaaay,” but was thinking, “Ew! Why would I want to save it? It wasn’t connected to me, but to the placenta. Why save it?” And as I’ve been cleaning it, I haven’t wavered from that line of thought. But then it fell off, and it fell off while I was having alone time in the wee hours of the morning with Sun, a time when the rest of the city slept. It was special.

And I haven’t been able to throw the dang thing away. I know, it’s gross. I mean, I may as well save her soiled diapers or her first scab (as Mamma Loves pointed out). And I totally agree with Mamma! I don’t even like to touch it–I’ve already but it in her keepsake box just to get it put away. But somehow I want to capture, save and categorize everything about Sun. I am a researcher and historian by nature, but not a saver of weird stuff. So this is odd behavior for me. Maybe it’s because of the struggle we had in getting pregnant and maintaining the pregnancy; maybe it’s because I was the fifth child whose own baby book was all but blank; maybe it’s because I don’t expect to have another child. I really don’t know.

But save it I did, and save it I shall. I figure if it grosses Sun out, she can throw it away herself when she is grown. Maybe I should hot glue it into her baby book just in case.

So little Sun has very healthy lungs. She can really wail! And that is to be expected. What we had not expected was Peanut’s reaction to her crying or to the baby altogether.

Peanut has always slept with us, and she has a tendency to want to sleep on one’s throat. Needless to say, we were worried she’d suffocate the baby without even meaning to. So we’ve kept a close eye on Peanut around Sun. And this is what we discovered:

Peanut is protective of Sun! Whenever Sun really gets a-wailing, Peanut comes running in, crying as well, with a look in her eye that says to us, “Do something! This baby needs help!” The cat has not once even tried to sleep near the baby, let alone on top of her. It’s as though she immediately knew of the importance Sun plays in the family–that the baby is higher in the chain than she, Peanut, is. And Peanut is totally okay with that–in fact, she sees to it that the baby gets what she needs. And if the cat thinks Sun needs something she isn’t getting, she does not hesitate to let us know.

Very interesting kitty behavior. We are both surprised and pleased with the way things developed. Who’d have expected the cat to act like a big sister??

Last night, I got up for the 1:30am feeding of Sun. After which came the 2:10am diaper change. At said diaper change, her umbilical cord fell off. Just like that. That little milestone just sloughed off as I was snapping her onesie back in place and her father slept. Glad I was on the 1:30am feeding to be the witness.

Then, back to the sofa we came to get Sun back to sleep. I started to sing my special song for her, “You are my Sunshine” (which is apropos considering it is one of Louisiana’s state songs), when Sun’s face broke into a huge grin. She was happy with my singing!! CS would be so impressed–he thinks I can’t carry a tune! But then, a second later, her grin turned into a grimace, her face got all red and she burst out crying. Oh, no! She, too, thinks my singing is awful. Dammit. But then, yet another second later, she pooped and all was well with her world again.

Oh, how joyous it is being Sun’s mother!