It's enough for me to write in complete sentences these days....

Up all night! Sleep all day!

-- Slaughter

Gale: Why ain't you breastfeeding? You appear to be capable?
Ed McDonnough: Mind your own bid'ness.
Evelle: Ma'am, you don't breastfeed him, he'll hate you for it later. That's why we wound up in prison.
Gale: Anyway, that's what Doc Schwartz tells us.

from Raising Arizona (1987)


While on the nightshift with a newborn, the Pilot thought it lucky timing that he happened across  Raising Arizona on one of the movie channels.

We watched it and laughed and laughed, especially at the breastfeeding bit from above.

Long-time readers of this blog know about my troubles trying to breastfeed Gus. I'll just say the struggle to produce milk was a brutal one and carried out long past the bounds of reason. Finally, my body just screamed "No more!" and the very little milk I could produce just dried up one day when Gus was eight weeks old.

This time around the struggle continues, but it's a manageable struggle. The doctors and lactation consultants are optimistic that it will work out.

I have much less to write about it this time, but last night proved that we can laugh about it.

But I will say this: Despite having a very nice breast pump that promotes milk production and that has enabled me to really nurse, I still think the device one comparable to medieval tools of torture. It's not painful and I'm lucky to have one handed down to me that is hands-free, but its appearance is alarming.

Gus is fascinated by it.

The appearance of the pump strapped to my chest is so troubling to the men in my family--when it comes to feeding a baby, I'm not all that modest--that I have to hide the working contraption under an udder cover. And I really don't blame them. Regular feeding phases my dad and my husband very little, but that pump....

Anyway, while I was pumping yesterday, Gus walked up to me and tried to hand me a red plastic Baby Bjorn bib. When I said I didn't need it, Gus tried to tie it around my neck.

After all, Gus is doing the best he can, and whenever I ask for something--a bottle, a burp cloth, or a blanket--he sprints to fetch whatever I need.

When I got home from the hospital, I marveled at Gus's size. He suddenly seemed gigantic to me, as if he had magically grown into a big boy overnight.

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When Gus came to the hospital the first time, the large, funny looking bed scared him. He kept staring at me and the bed and showed very little interest in Cora. Then I asked the Pilot to give Gus his present from Cora, a small circus-themed train set with animals.  It was the perfect distraction for Gus and gave him something to do while in the room.

Gus said thank you to Cora, a name he was able to say very clearly even though we never told him beforehand what we would be naming our daughter.

He looked over at his train and then at his sister, pointed to his train, and very clearly set the ground rules for his baby sister, "Don't touch it."

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Pictures of Cora doing what I should be doing right now:

More pictures to come.... The Pilot has many pictures from the hospital on his camera. He should be sending them to me soon (hint hint).