I don't give a.....

I'm really over pinterest and being pinteresty. Like, I just don't give a shiiiiiiiiit. (Imagine me saying this like Kenny Fisher from Can't Hardly Wait). I didn't really realize it until Wednesday night when Chris, Georgia, and I were carving pumpkins.

We were sitting on the living room floor with...pumpkins and a tool kit. No Halloween decorations in sight, no whimsical table cloth, no strategically arranged photo of my candy corn colored nails holding the carving knife ( my nails are not candy corn colored, but if I wanted a styled pumpkin carving shoot, they damn well would be!) No Halloween pajamas, no pumpkin spice anything anywhere. I looked around and thought, "Damn, this feels GREAT! I DON'T GIVE A FUCKING SHIT! THERE ISN'T EVEN NEWSPAPER ON THE FLOOR! WOO-HOO!"

I tried very hard when Georgia was a baby. I had an adorable first birthday party with lots of DEEEETAILS and a theme, second birthday same thing, my bathroom makeover was a pinterestpalooza of epic magnitudes, I tried to dress my kid like she was stepping out of a magazine every day and I tried to keep my house styled all Anthropologie like...you get the picture.

It was too exhausting for me. Especially after June was born. It IS too exhausting for me. I mean, my house is clean and I'm not sitting on my couch crapping in my sweatpants or anything, but we are going to be very poor this year because of paying for childcare for 2 children and I just can't care about buying the latest fashions for them, mostly because Georgia doesn't care what the hell she is wearing as long as it has pink in it, and June is a baby who shits and spits up all over everything so, yeah. No fancy clothes in this house. My neighbor gave me a HUGE bag of clothes for free that were Georgia's size so I'm like sorry kid, you are going to have to wear this used Barbie Rodeo sweatshirt.

Of course for holidays and such I will splurge, but you will probably never see them because I can't get up the energy to take a picture of anything these days except for June in a laundry basket playing with socks,because that is way more adorable than her sitting all uncomfortable in a dress with a big bow. I didn't take one picture at Chris's 40th surprise birthday party, I took one picture during my first trip to Los Angeles, it's too mentally exhausting to look like I am awesome all the time. Not that I really try to do that, but you know when you take a picture you want it to be good and I just don't feel like it. Dagnabbit.

So anyway, here is my pumpkin carving photo. Just kidding, I don't have one. Here is a picture of my kids wearing used clothes sitting in a laundry basket full of mismatched socks!

Waves Crashing

I'd like to think that I have come to terms with the fact that Mason has autism, but the truth is, I have not. I guess. I think.

Sometimes I really do think I have accepted it, but then something happens and I realize that I am actually not okay about it.  Or I don't handle it well...actually I am not sure what I feel. I wish there were support groups for family members of special needs children. I am not Mason's mom, but I am a person who struggles and worries maybe not as much, but very often.

I was up all night last night thinking about an interaction that happened down the shore this weekend. It wasn't a big deal, but my reaction to everything was internally painful and I had difficulty with controlling my feelings.

We went down the shore on Saturday. It was myself, Chris, Georgia, June, Jill, Mason and my mom. We decided to get some pizza before we hit the beach so we went into a little pizza place that Chris and I often go to when we are there.

It was quite, another family had just walked in. I was so happy to be down the shore, Mason and Georgia were really excited about the ocean, and I was also looking forward to our faaaaavorite pizza!

We are seated at a table. Kids sit down, everything is good. Georgia starts talking about princesses, and Mason starts saying hi to everyone at the table. At our table.

He goes down the line and in a funny little monotone says:

Hi Mommy. Hi TT ( that's me). Hi Uncle Chris. Hi Georgia. Hi Jojo (my mom). Hi Baby June.
Hi Mommy. Hi TT. Hi Uncle Chris. Hi Georgia. Hi Jojo.. Hi Baby June.
Hi Mommy. Hi TT. Hi Uncle Chris. Hi Georgia. Hi Jojo.. Hi Baby June."

We are all so used to at that we just carry on, each acknowledging Mason as he says hi to us. I know he does this because he wants to talk, but he never knows what to say, so he just repeats phrases he is comfortable with.

His voice is really loud, and I'm not going to lie, it sound strange. Not his voice, but the repetitive nature of what he is saying is...weird.  But, he is autistic. Autistic people are described as "quirky" which is a nice fancy,word for weird.

Jill says something like, "Mason, use inside voice" or something and then leaves to use the loo.

I see a waitress out of the corner of my eye STARING at him. Like she dropped everything she was doing to stare at Mason. She walks over and says, "Well! SOMEONE is all hopped up on sugar! NATHAN ( she thought his name was Nathan) does your mommy give you sugar?"

Mason did not want to talk to her, so he started doing something that I guess the other waitress thought was weird, because all of a sudden she runs over with a big tub of crackers and puts them in front of Mason. "This should keep him busy!" she says. I think she's trying to help, because I know when I was a server and i saw a kid about to lose it I would run over with crackers and crayons. But like, there was nothing wrong. Mason was being good. Exceptional.  I can feel my blood pressure rising.

He takes out his few toys and starts lining them up on the table, minding his own business,and this fucking stupid bitch walks over again and picks up one of his toys.

"NATHAN, do you like to share?" This is not going to end well.

"No share please! NO SHARE PLEASE!" Mason says to her and I can tell he is getting upset.

"NATHAN you are NOT a good sharer, Does your MOMMY not teach you how to share?"

OMG WHAT THE FUCK. I am like in disbelief over this stupid cunt, I start shaking, I can see my mom getting upset. Luckily, the other table called her over so she leaves for a minute.

I'm like gathering my bearings, or I really don't know what I am doing. I'm ready to start kicking ass and taking names and she fucking walks over AGAIN.

"Sooo....HOW old is he?"

My mom has had it.

"MASON is 4. He is autistic. He goes to a special school and he has 20 hours of intensive therapy a week." I can see she is choking back tears, and the whole thing is too painful for me.

I wait for it. The typical reaction from people who can't mind their own fucking business about him, or use their brains and see that he is a special needs child, ask rude questions that are not coming from a good place in their hearts, and then stammer like dingbats when they find out what is going on.

"OHHHH. OH, well NO!!  I wasn't saying ANYTHING LIKE THAT. of course not.. It's just well...I really like kids... and I...I was wondering about him.

First of all. If she really liked kids she would have noticed my adorable baby sitting in the stroller eating her feet. She would have asked about Georgia too. That wasn't what she was doing. She was trying to find out if we knew there was something "wrong" with Mason. It happens ALL. THE. TIME.

Like, people see him and stare at Jill to see if she knows whats up and then they always, always say "SOOO...HOW old is he?" It's the same every time. And then when we say he has autism they get all flustered and pretend they were not being judgmental dickheads.

And that is the thing. I am 100% sure that when these people read stories about atrocities committed against people with special needs, or hear about something being rude or mean to an autistic child, they clutch their pearls, think it is horrible, and say to themselves they would never act like that.

But people do. And I'm sure many of them are kind and nice. Not this lady, she was a stupid, simple asshole who probably had not left Atlantic City for 50 years but anyway...

Then she starts talking, well not even talking. She was stuttering about how smart 'artistic" (yes, she said artistic) people are, and by the time Jill got back from the bathroom she was yapping about a movie where Ben Affleck was "artistic' and saved the whole planet from destruction or something. I have no idea what move she means, but someone told me whatever movie it was his character was dyslexic.

So Jill comes back from the bathroom and hears the end of this stupid lady flapping her face, and is like "Uhhh..what did I miss?"

I'm having such a reaction to this woman I couldn't even tell her what happened, and then like all of a sudden the waitresses are coming over and being so nice, and asking about the baby.  Sweet Mason had no idea about any of it. Neither did Georgia really, they are so innocent.

When you see Mason, you can tell something is off. Most of the time. My sister will not mind me saying it, because it is true. When he is in a setting where he needs to "not act like a child" (like a restaurant) it is apparent that he is not where is peers are socially.

Outside is different. We had Mason and Georgia in the ocean and they were both screaming and running and yelling and being children. There was no difference at all in what they were doing. It made me cry right there. No one was looking at him, judging him. No one was staring at Jill to see if she knew something was up.

I was also crying because sometimes I judge my sister, or get annoyed when she talks about autism, or get annoyed when Mason comes over and dumps out all the toy bins. But here in big huge ocean, Mason and Georgia were just two children having a blast in the water. No one was looking and I just felt that Mason was allowed to be Mason. And it made me sad because everyday we are bombarded with images and sayings that tell us to just be ourselves, or that it is okay to be the person on the outside, the non mainstream...but...it isn't a lot of times actually.

.Much of my pain is for Mason. I'm scared he will have a difficult life. But a lot of my pain is also for my sister. Just because she is my sister. She works so hard with him. It is hard. It is scary. It is painful to be the mother of a special needs child. I don't want her to have a difficult life.

I know I don't want a difficult life. I Do not want to sit awake every night and wonder if my child is going to be able to function. Sometimes I worry about Georgia getting in a car crash when she is a teenager...how will I save her?

Mason and Jill were in the car crash and she's been trying to keep him from flying out of the car for 4 years.

Jill does not think her life is hard. She just thinks she is being a good mother to her child. Which she is. But she does not have a normal motherhood experience and I guess I still grieve a little bit about that.

I wish we could stay in the ocean forever.

If the devil doesn't like it, he can sit on a tack!

So...having two kids is hard! I know, yes here comes the collective DUH from everyone, and I knew it would be hard but damn, I am so freaking exhausted all the time. I was not this tired when Georgia was a baby.

It's crazy how these small little people who don't DO anything can turn your life upside down. I mean all she does is eat,sleep, and cry-why is that so damn hard to deal with?  I keep telling myself that  these are easy issues and the hard stuff comes later when she is a teenager and has to deal with peer pressure, bullies, and a whole world of online crap that I did not have to deal with when I was growing up. I am sure I am going to look at her and be like, "uh...remember when I was so tired and stressed out because you were HUNGRY?" 

So, I try to keep it all in perspective. She is being a normal baby, and that is great! She is also very cute too. I just love here to pieces, and there friends is the inexplicable, crazy, emotional  world of motherhood. I want the newborn/infant stage to end STAT, but then I look at her and start crying when I think of her as a 4 year old and I want her to be my baby forever. And then I'm in the shower with June in the bouncy chair in the bathroom screaming her face off while I'm frantically shampooing my hair thinking, "why the hell did I do this again?" And then I take her outside and she hears birds singing, she loses her mind with excitement and I'm like 'OMG THIS IS THE BEST DAY EVER!!"  

See the internal struggle?

And Georgia is doing great too! She is a wonderful big sister and a wonderful girl all around. The thing I love about her is that she notices EVERYTHING. She is so excited that the flowers have started blooming, and I am thankful everyday that she makes me stop and notice the pretty things in our world that sometimes I am too busy to notice. We were on a walk the other day and these tiny daffodils were starting to grow .She stopped and smelled them, and told me that they were growing because there was a lot of sunshine now, and she was happy there was sunshine because she would grow too...She's also become OBSESSED with Jesus. I have never really talked about him with her, I think last Christmas I told her it was his birthday but if you remember I'm just not sure what to do about religion. Well, it was Easter and some kids in her class must have been talking about it and she came home and was basically like, "Why the hell do I not know about Jesus?' 

So, being the good parent that I am, I found a cartoon on YouTube about Jesus' life and put it on while I was on Facebook, but then I was starting to get pissed because in the cartoon the men were all  being huge dicks about the fact that Mary was pregnant even though she was supposed to be a virgin and I'm thinking THIS IS A CARTOON FOR CHRIST SAKE, so I turned that one off and found another one where they just sing songs and there were no sexist assholes. 

My mom got her a rosary when she was little, so I busted it out and told her the story of Easter and she was wearing it around the house as a necklace which freaked my mom out because she said it was sacrilegious, but hey, if Madonna can wear a rosary so can my kid.

 I'm sort of thankful that this interest in Jesus happening is because our poor Buckley had cancer and had to be euthanized a month ago. Every time I sit and try to write about it, I re-live that day and I really just want to forget about it. He went in for a routine check up pretty much, and came out with a diagnosis of Hemangiosarcoma which is spleen and kidney cancer. He was bleeding into his abdomen, and my two choices were a $5000 surgery to remove his spleen and then chemotherapy which would only prolong his life for a few months, or euthanasia. Needless to say it was an absolutely gut wrechingly awful shock, and even worse was telling my kid that her best friend dog died.  I was seriously contemplating the surgery just so we could give her hope,couldn't stomach putting him through chemo. If he had been hit by a car or something and surgery would save him then yes, we would have done it, but cancer, chemo and a few months to live-it just seemed cruel to him and unfortunately not a good financial decision for us. I know many people put finances before their dog, but I now have two kids and will soon be paying like $800 a week in childcare and basically this was one of the many times when being a grown up sucks. 

Anyway, because of this, there is a lot of talk about death, and heaven/Jesus just seem like and easy explanation for now and she can figure it out later. She's really happy that Buckley is in heaven with him, and hopes that he will eat lots of healthy dog food with apples, so that next year he will come back to life with Jesus on Easter. I was like, "Jesus doesn't come back to life on Easter, that already  happened" but she is insistent that next year is THE year and Buckley is totally involved. I've also been telling her that kids in her class are Jewish, Muslim, and that everyone believes something different, and she can believe whatever she wants, so right now we are going with Catholicism. If she's into it I am not going to derail her interest just because it is not for me. 

So Buckley is basically the Messiah in this household . Every time we see someone walking a dog Georgia is like, "Hi. My dog is dead and is coming back to life next year with Jesus." 

The dog walkers look at me like "WTF kind of parent are you lady? MY dog is the fucking Messiah." and I just give them a crazy smile because I don't sleep and I live on cold coffee and potato chips. 

2 week update!

I am finally feeling well enough to ...do other things besides lay on the couch and snore like a rhinoceros. This c section recovery is no joke. I know the natural non epidural moms get all the street cred in the birthing world, but this has been so hard also. And it goes on for WEEKS.

I knew it would be painful and crappy, but I just could not imagine in what way, as I have never had surgery or anything.

I've also been nursing which is like a 24/7 job and it's totally for the birds, but I feel so guilty that I had June removed from me at 37 weeks that I will just continue probably until she does not want to nurse anymore (same with Georgia which was around 6 months). So between the pain medication, the actual pain, the nursing (first week complete with cracked bleeding nipples and painful engorgement), and post partum bleeding, you can believe me when I say these past two weeks have been just a big bucket of fucking fun.

The good thing is that June is sleeping and eating and gaining weight, Georgia has had a really easy transition to big sister, and I am only 7lbs away from pre pregnancy weight so yay glass half full.

I'm still having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that I was cut open. I don't know if other people have a hard time with this. Like, if I actually sit and think about it I start to have panic attack symptoms. It's annoying, and I wish I could just forget about it, but it just bothers me a lot. You can't see the incision at all so it isn't a physical thing. Blah. Need to move on.

So the hospital stay after the surgery was really weird because I was so looped on pain meds. My fist day there, like I said I didn't know which way was up, and thank goodness Kelly and Jill were there to make me laugh and just for moral support. But actually by the way, laughing after a c-section is a really bad idea, so maybe don't invite them to your c-section recovery! OMG, laughing, coughing, sitting up...PAINFUL. So so painful. The first few days sucked while my body started responding to the pain management schedule.

So anyway, here is how the recovery went down. It was a long long time before I could feel my legs. Like a really long time. Everything I read about c sections said to get up and start walking as soon as possible so I was so anxious to get the hell up, I was getting mad that it was taking so long to feel anything. My first adventure out of bed was to go to the bathroom after they removed the catheter like 17 hours later or something. Or 14 hours. I really don't know. It was like 1AM when I decided to use the loo and I called the nurse to please help.

My night nurse Helen was a SAINT. A godsend. OMG. She helped me to the bathroom, helped me sit down..there was so much blood..I mean sorry if this is graphic,but this is what happens after you have a baby. You don't just waltz to the bathroom without a care in the world. The first trip to the bathroom is SCARY. I was scared. Quivering in my booties. Every time I looked towards the can I heard a low, loud MUHAHAHAAAAAA directed my way and I just did not want to go!! But, in the end nature wins over so yes, my first trip to the bathroom happened, and Helen the night nurse was there to help me and clean me and if you ever plan on giving birth just throw all of your dignity out of the window the minute you find out you are pregnant, and don't plan on getting it back until the baby is like 6 months old. People poke you, insert things in you, look up you, cut you open, see you poop, wipe you after you pee, clean your blood, change your pads, and milk you in front of your friends and husband. Then you get home and you spray milk all over everything and your hair falls out.

So anyway after my trip to the loo I was feeling brave so I rang Helen at about 2:30AM and asked her ...for tea. Just kidding. I wrote that sentence in an English accent. No, I asked her if she could please help me walk down the hallway. She held my one arm and pushed June in her little bassinet with her other arm ( babies are not allowed to be in the rooms by themselves obviously!) and oh my god the walk was the most painful 30 steps of my life. My whole body felt like it was on fire. I kept saying to myself "keep going, keep going" I thought my knees were going to give out or I was going to have a heart attack or something. But, I did it. And then walked again a few hours later, and it did keep getting easier and easier. By the next night I could walk up and down the hall alone, and use the bathroom by myself, so I took some more percocetes to celebrate and gave myself a big pat on the back!

The other thing that was hard was that I could not lift June in and out of her bassinet. Like, I just physically could not. Chris did not stay over the first night because we had Georgia at home and did not want her to feel like we neglected her, so I said I would be fine, but actually I could have used someone there to help me get June in and out while I was feeding her and then putting her back to sleep. I felt bad calling the nurses for this and did not anticipate how immobile I would really be after a c section. After a vaginal delivery you know you don't use your vagina to lift anything (hopefully) but you do use your  abdomen for everything so ...every little movement was a million times harder.

So, more of the same. I was there for 4 days and went home on Thursday early evening and made myself a little home on the couch. The pain meds just kept me so out of it, I actually can't remember too much..I just slept and fed June and watched other people clean my house and bring me things when I asked. my incision hurt less and less each day. Georgia's transition to big sister has been extremely non eventful. She is very proud of her new role and has asked to help with chores, and basically has been excellent. When the pediatrician came to the house to do June's first well check up, she told us how to "handle" Georgia, that there was going to be hitting and defiance, and I was like, "no..I don't think so." and she kind of dismissed me and said, "well yes she is  going to start hitting." I was sort of offended, but then just said to myself that she does not know Georgia at all. My god lady, don't you know my kid speaks French and does double digit addition??! We are way past hitting. Actually, we never really got into hitting. A few times here and there when she was younger, but anyway, the point is that she is doing great! She is a natural big sister!

So now I am just down to taking one motrin during the day if I need it. I walked 4 blocks to CVS yesterday which was a big deal, and I think today I am going to do my hair and put on some make up. Please contain your excitement.

So that is the 2 week post c section update. I have no updates on the baby. She just eats, and sleeps, and poops..doesn't cry a lot and is totally adorable. I'll let you know if anything changes!

June Birth Story

So, to get right to the point, I have given birth vaginally  and I have had a c-section, and I can say without a doubt that c-section was way scarier and the recovery is much harder.

After having Georgia, I took her for a walk in her stroller like the second I returned home from the hospital. Chris and I went out to brunch with her, I was serving champagne and mimosas to any guests who came to visit, my hair and make up were somewhat done, I was in my jeans a week later. Yes, I was uncomfortable because OW pushing a person out of your crotch hurts and whatnot, but  I was not as immobile as I am 6 days after c section birth.

I can't do anything because I'm on a bunch of pain medication, and it just knocks me out. I'm not really that tired from the baby. The second baby is not as overwhelming. There is no culture shock involved. She's nursing fine, sleeping a lot. I tried yesterday to take a smaller dose of percocet and it was a disaster. I was in SO MUCH PAIN..but not really from the incision. My incision actually looks and feels really good. It's from the damn catheter. My urethra is a god damn mess I tell you! I'm going to call my doc tomorrow to make sure this is normal, but I'm pretty sure it is. The thing was up there for like 17 hours or something. More on that later! I'm sure you are excited!

So anyway, while I was awaiting my due date, I tried to read everything I could about scheduled c-sections. I tortured my friends who had them, asking them to tell me EVERYTHING.I needed to be mentally prepared. Almost like getting ready for a performance or something. I needed to imagine it happening before it actually happened. I needed a few mental run throughs, and I am so glad that I asked so many questions and was as prepared as I could possibly be, because it was really freaking scary.

I was scheduled to be in labor and delivery at 7AM on Monday, 2/2. So of course I couldn't really sleep that well the night before. Georgia was at my mom's house, Chris and I were up around 5AM, got there on time...pretty non eventful. We were the first surgery scheduled for the day, so that was helpful as far as wait times and everything.

We were called into the prep room and I met with the surgeon and anesthesia. Everyone was SO NICE. I can't even begin to say enough kind things about the O.R. team that did the surgery. I was trying really hard not to cry,but I did a few times out of nowhere during our meeting time and they were just very understanding, or pretended to be very understanding or whatever they did, it made me feel like I was in the best place possible, under the circumstances.

The next hour was pretty boring. I was just asked standard surgery questions and everything.Finally I was told I would go back to the surgery room to get ready, and then Chris would come in once surgery was about to start.

Um...okay..so the first weird things was that I walked into the operating room. I guess I thought I would be wheeled in or something. It would have been nice-I was shaking so bad I thought my knees were going to give in. I think the nurse was holding my hand. They had me sit on the bed and started explaining what they were doing (which was the spinal). There were two anesthesiologists, and the same really nice nurse. I had tears streaming down my face at this point because I was so scared and she just rubbed my legs, patted my hand and told me I would be okay. The harder I tried not to cry the more I ended up crying, and I was seriously just like FUCK STOP CRYING YOU DUMB BABY but I couldn't help it.

They laid me flat on the bed, strapped my arms down and kept checking to see how the spinal was working. It felt so weird. I could not feel anything underneath my boobs...it kind of felt like someone was sitting on my chest. I just kept taking deep breaths although I could not really feel them. They put a sheet up and I could not see anything from below my neck...nor did I want to. It was fucking freezing in there and I know they put heated blankets on me in the beginning which was nice and cozy, but once I couldn't feel anything I'm sure I was strapped down with everything out for the world to see.

Shake shake shake. I could not stop shaking. I felt dizzy with fright..Chris finally came in and he said they told him not to look until he got past the sheet (LOL) so seriously I'm sure whatever position you are in for a c section is pretty bad.

I felt much better once he got there. He was nervous but held my hand and I don't event think I knew the surgery started until..it started.

It's weird to be awake during surgery. The doctors were talking about football, the superbowl, Chris was chiming in, I just closed my eyes and pretended I was getting a massage that I could not feel and literally like 5 minutes later the surgeon said, " I see baby hair!!"

What the hell? She's almost out??!! It was such a confusing feeling, I have to say. It was so fast... I wasn't even ready. I heard a baby cry, Chris jumped out of his seat and yelled something like OMG SHE IS HERE and just started laughing and crying and he looked so relieved, happy, scared..you name it, it was on his face.

They showed me the baby, but I was basically dumbfounded. I think I cried. They took her to the infant station and I couldn't see shit, but I really didn't care because I was so shocked I couldn't even, like, think anything. I felt like I could have been shown any random baby.

That is my baby? How is that my baby? How the fuck did this happen? I'm still supposed to be pregnant.  Ugh. It was too much for me.

"Tying your tubes!" the doctor said. I think I just ignored her, but not on purpose. I just couldn't think of anything to say. What would be appropriate?  "Super! Thanks!"  I mean, I had requested it and everything but again, there was just blank space in my head.

Someone brought June over to me and I kissed her. A lot. To make up for what I was not feeling.

Please Please Please let this weird, empty feeling go away I pleaded to...someone. God? Myself? I have no idea. I just felt empty. I was empty.

Surgery was finished. The surgeon said she hated me because I was skinny again. I wanted June to go back inside. I couldn't laugh or if I did it was a fake laugh.

I was wheeled into recovery. I just stared at her. I was shaking again, probably from the morphine drip or spinal starting to wear off..who knows?

My sister Jill and best friend Kelly thankfully had been waiting and joined us in the room. They held June, took selfies with her, kissed her, snuggled her. I was so thankful they were there. I was too tired to hold her so everyone took turns. I think I slept for a while.

Finally I was set up in my room for the next few days. I was starting to feel my legs. I was starting to feel like a person. The nurses were a little worried about June because her breathing sounded weird so they wanted to take her to the NICU to be monitored.

I wasn't that upset. Being born at 37 weeks via c-section, I knew she might have some lung trouble. When the babies do not pass through the birth canal, they do not naturally expel the amniotic fluid in their lungs, and sometimes need assistance.  I had actually already told Chris that this may happen so we were both ready for it.

Chris and I kissed her again, and away she went. I felt sad that I was not sadder. Does that even make sense?

A lactation consultant came in and asked if I could pump some colostrum for her in the NICU.

Colostrum is what comes out before  breastmilk, and basically it's like liquid gold for newborns.  It has carbohydrates, fats, minerals, vitamins, and antibodies that fight bacteria and viruses. I'm not like a breastfeeding asshole or anything, but I would recommend to every new mom to try to get your baby to even have a few ounces of colostrum if possible. It's good shit.

Anyway, apparently I'm like a breastfeeding rockstar, because she hand expressed  2 oz of colostrum from each boob in like 10 minutes. June was set for the next few hours in the NICU.

So that was cool. My sister, my husband, and my best friend all got to watch me be milked for a few minutes. MOOOOO Bitches.

A few hours later, June was back. She was fine. The nurse who brought her back could not believe how much colostrum I made. It was like the theme of the night.  She helped me for like two minutes to get June to latch and away we went with breastfeeding.

For both Georgia and June, I started out with "football hold" to get them to latch. It's somewhat aggressive, but I really think it works better than the classic cradle hold, and it was good for me not to put her on my abdomen since I had just had a c section.

I felt her little cheek against me as I nursed her, and WHOOOOOOSH! There it was. I loved her. I felt like my fucking heart was going to explode. My sick,empty feeling was gone. I didn't care how she came into the world, she was my daughter and I was her mother. I felt euphoric almost.

It was weird. It was probably the pain medication. But whatever. I held little June and told her I loved her, and that her sister loved her, her dad loved her and I kissed her like twenty billion times and then felt like a big shithead for how dramatic I was about the whole thing.

Next: THE RECOVERY