Since today is a snow day AND New Year's Eve, and we have no plans to go out anywhere because it's cold, snowy and the crazies are out, I figured it would be a good day to start experimenting with cloth diapers.
When I found out I was pregnant, this was one of the things I planned on doing right away. My reasoning is probably along the same lines as everyone else who ventures down this road. I wanted something that was kinder to the environment and our bank account. I researched cloth diapers - all the different types, wrote to friends who were cloth diaper fans, got advice, got overwhelmed by options, and now the time has come to figure out just what's going to work for us.
Why now?
I had my postpartum appointment this week, and have been cleared to once again do laundry. Among other things (wink, wink). Cloth diapers = more laundry. It's an all hands on deck situation.
I have two brands of cloth diapers that I've decided to start out with. Today, I'm beginning with the hybrid brand G Diapers . I was interested in these from the start because they have both a disposable and cloth lining, and the outer shell doesn't have to be washed each and every time, which seems to be the case with many of the other cloth diaper brands. I love that - even fewer loads of laundry. The disposable insert is totally biodegradable - wet ones are even compostable - and also they are allegedly flushable (though I haven't braved that yet...the last thing we need is an overflowing toilet). Granted, we're just into the early afternoon, but so far, so good. In fact, I kinda love them. Although I just now realized that I've had them on her backwards all day. I'll let you know if anything changes when we right that situation. Since I bought a beginners sampler pack, I also have yet to try to cloth liner to the diaper, but the disposable liner seems to be working great. I don't think I'd use these overnight, but I'd definitely use them while out running quick errands. Once we try out the cloth liners, I'll give you an update. In the meantime, these seem to be working just great. And her tush looks pretty darn cute in 'em, I must say.
Stay tuned for the next brand: BumGenius. I know you're just so excited.
Friday, December 31, 2010
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Halfway Mark
It's hard to believe, but I'm half way through my maternity leave.
Ugh.
Like most working moms, I'm meeting this milestone with mixed feelings: I'm dreading leaving my baby while I'm excited to have some "adult time" out of the house again. I'm anxious over what decisions may have been made at work in my absence, but at the same time I'm acknowledging that work isn't as high a priority as maybe it once was for me. This makes me nervous over how my performance may be viewed when I return. Always the go-getter, I never really had an issue with staying late or working events on the weekend. Hate to say it, but those days are now on hiatus. Has the office culture changed since I've been away? Do people resent my absence? Lots of thoughts floating through my head on the subject.
Luckily, I'm able to push them out of my mind for the time being. Six more weeks snuggling and loving on this beautiful girl still sounds like pure heaven. Poopy diapers and all.
Ugh.
Like most working moms, I'm meeting this milestone with mixed feelings: I'm dreading leaving my baby while I'm excited to have some "adult time" out of the house again. I'm anxious over what decisions may have been made at work in my absence, but at the same time I'm acknowledging that work isn't as high a priority as maybe it once was for me. This makes me nervous over how my performance may be viewed when I return. Always the go-getter, I never really had an issue with staying late or working events on the weekend. Hate to say it, but those days are now on hiatus. Has the office culture changed since I've been away? Do people resent my absence? Lots of thoughts floating through my head on the subject.
Luckily, I'm able to push them out of my mind for the time being. Six more weeks snuggling and loving on this beautiful girl still sounds like pure heaven. Poopy diapers and all.
Friday, December 24, 2010
Tradition!
Tradition is a big thing in my family, especially this time of year. My memories of childhood are rich with visions of holidays past - it brings me a lot of joy to reminisce, and I am so excited to create those same memories for our daughter.
But being a family also means tweaking and adjusting traditions from both sides. And I'll be the first to admit that there are some Bonham family traditions that I could do without. (Staying up until 3am wrapping every little thing just isn't going to work for me. And I can live without the mince meat pie.) So, this year, since it's just the three of us, we're doing everything our way. However, melding our respective family traditions is an interesting feat. There are some that are no-brainers. Swedish pancakes (crepe like pancakes) for Christmas morning breakfast is a keeper. Score one for Team Bonham. Of course it's served with the Ozark bacon that my Dad ships to us every year = point 2. But Scott's bringing his A-game - the late lunch/dinner on Christmas Eve: Buffalo Wings. Point to Team Weygandt bringing food from the homeland to the match. Identifying the gift giver as other special characters aside from just "Mom and Dad" or "Santa", but something unique and hinting at what might be inside is a fun one, too. Score 2 for Team Weygandt.
Thus brings us to the final battle: Christmas Stockings. In my family, stockings were filled (by Santa, of course!) late at night on Christmas Eve. Everything inside the stocking was wrapped by the jolly old elf himself. Individually. Every. Single. Item. But, Scott informs me that with Earth's booming population and concerns over the environment, Santa is no longer able to wrap everything in the stockings individually. Maybe just a few key items. And in his house, the stockings arrived early and were opened on Christmas Eve. "Sacrilege!" I say to this early opening of the stockings. It must be an East coast thing. So, living in the Rocky Mountain West, we agreed to a compromise from Santa. Stockings on Christmas morning, but save a few trees and don't worry about wrapping everything.
The art of compromise. Keeps a marriage happy.
And that's what this holiday is about for me this year. Not compromise, per-se, but tweaking traditions to suit us. Abbey is too young to remember anything, although we plan to take enough video and pictures to remind her in her teen years. This holiday is for Scott and I. To bask in the glow of our new family and our happiness together during this most joyous time of year. To reflect on our favorite childhood memories of Christmases past and to create our own traditions for years to come.
That's a special gift.
From our family to yours - Merry Christmas.
But being a family also means tweaking and adjusting traditions from both sides. And I'll be the first to admit that there are some Bonham family traditions that I could do without. (Staying up until 3am wrapping every little thing just isn't going to work for me. And I can live without the mince meat pie.) So, this year, since it's just the three of us, we're doing everything our way. However, melding our respective family traditions is an interesting feat. There are some that are no-brainers. Swedish pancakes (crepe like pancakes) for Christmas morning breakfast is a keeper. Score one for Team Bonham. Of course it's served with the Ozark bacon that my Dad ships to us every year = point 2. But Scott's bringing his A-game - the late lunch/dinner on Christmas Eve: Buffalo Wings. Point to Team Weygandt bringing food from the homeland to the match. Identifying the gift giver as other special characters aside from just "Mom and Dad" or "Santa", but something unique and hinting at what might be inside is a fun one, too. Score 2 for Team Weygandt.
Thus brings us to the final battle: Christmas Stockings. In my family, stockings were filled (by Santa, of course!) late at night on Christmas Eve. Everything inside the stocking was wrapped by the jolly old elf himself. Individually. Every. Single. Item. But, Scott informs me that with Earth's booming population and concerns over the environment, Santa is no longer able to wrap everything in the stockings individually. Maybe just a few key items. And in his house, the stockings arrived early and were opened on Christmas Eve. "Sacrilege!" I say to this early opening of the stockings. It must be an East coast thing. So, living in the Rocky Mountain West, we agreed to a compromise from Santa. Stockings on Christmas morning, but save a few trees and don't worry about wrapping everything.
The art of compromise. Keeps a marriage happy.
And that's what this holiday is about for me this year. Not compromise, per-se, but tweaking traditions to suit us. Abbey is too young to remember anything, although we plan to take enough video and pictures to remind her in her teen years. This holiday is for Scott and I. To bask in the glow of our new family and our happiness together during this most joyous time of year. To reflect on our favorite childhood memories of Christmases past and to create our own traditions for years to come.
That's a special gift.
From our family to yours - Merry Christmas.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Neurotic Mommy
I'm sure most new Moms feel this way. I hope. It makes me feel better to think that they do, so just play along.
I am constantly worrying that there is something terribly wrong with my child.
Is this normal?
Probably the biggest worry that I obsess about is whether she's getting enough to eat. Scott points out the adorable spare tire and double chin that she's sporting, but alas, I still worry. She's a sleepy eater and doesn't always nurse as long as the books or doctors or the internet says she should. But she also nurses more frequently during the day than sources say she should, so that kind of balances things out, right? Here's the kicker - she's a great sleeper. Why am I complaining? What's the problem? I know, I should be thankful. Here's where it stems from:
In the hospital, they urged me to nurse and feed Abbey every 2 hours counting from the beginning of each feeding. Even at night when the rest of the world is sleeping. This is super normal. But it was deeply ingrained into my head. So, we continued doing this after we brought her home as instructed. Then, we go to her 2 week well check. At the weigh in, Abbey was 2 oz shy of her birth weight (babies can lose up to 10% of their original weight during their first few days), which was pretty darn good, but she had also grown two whole inches, which placed her lower on those tricky height/weight charts. Usually after two weeks, the green light is given to let your baby sleep longer at night. We didn't exactly get that. Then again, they didn't exactly say that we have to keep waking her up to nurse, either. So, Scott and I made the executive parental decision to let her sleep longer during the night. And it's been great. Never would I have thought that four consecutive hours of sleep could be so delicious, but truly, it's the Best Thing Ever. But I feel a little guilty - like maybe I should still be waking the baby up to feed her. Then again, Abbey is sleeping so darn peacefully it seems cruel to wake her up. Enter my good friend: Guilt. The guilt is amplified every time I see her suck on her hand, or show any sign of hunger. My little brain thinks, "Oh, Irene. You are STARVING YOUR BABY!"
Then reason - most often appearing in the form of my husband - enters the situation and says something along the lines of, "I'm sure that if the child were starving, she would let us know in the form of screaming like a banshee."
We haven't experienced that yet.
So, all should be good, right?
(Someone say right.)
I am constantly worrying that there is something terribly wrong with my child.
Is this normal?
Probably the biggest worry that I obsess about is whether she's getting enough to eat. Scott points out the adorable spare tire and double chin that she's sporting, but alas, I still worry. She's a sleepy eater and doesn't always nurse as long as the books or doctors or the internet says she should. But she also nurses more frequently during the day than sources say she should, so that kind of balances things out, right? Here's the kicker - she's a great sleeper. Why am I complaining? What's the problem? I know, I should be thankful. Here's where it stems from:
In the hospital, they urged me to nurse and feed Abbey every 2 hours counting from the beginning of each feeding. Even at night when the rest of the world is sleeping. This is super normal. But it was deeply ingrained into my head. So, we continued doing this after we brought her home as instructed. Then, we go to her 2 week well check. At the weigh in, Abbey was 2 oz shy of her birth weight (babies can lose up to 10% of their original weight during their first few days), which was pretty darn good, but she had also grown two whole inches, which placed her lower on those tricky height/weight charts. Usually after two weeks, the green light is given to let your baby sleep longer at night. We didn't exactly get that. Then again, they didn't exactly say that we have to keep waking her up to nurse, either. So, Scott and I made the executive parental decision to let her sleep longer during the night. And it's been great. Never would I have thought that four consecutive hours of sleep could be so delicious, but truly, it's the Best Thing Ever. But I feel a little guilty - like maybe I should still be waking the baby up to feed her. Then again, Abbey is sleeping so darn peacefully it seems cruel to wake her up. Enter my good friend: Guilt. The guilt is amplified every time I see her suck on her hand, or show any sign of hunger. My little brain thinks, "Oh, Irene. You are STARVING YOUR BABY!"
Then reason - most often appearing in the form of my husband - enters the situation and says something along the lines of, "I'm sure that if the child were starving, she would let us know in the form of screaming like a banshee."
We haven't experienced that yet.
So, all should be good, right?
(Someone say right.)
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
C is for Cesarian
My C-section, like many, was not planned. In the moment, it was definitely necessary, and I know it was the right choice. But I am having some feelings about it.
First, I have to say that I'm grateful for hospitals and doctors. I haven't really given a lot of thought to my delivery or birth experience since coming home with Abbey. In part, I think, because I didn't really want to remember some of the details all that much. But I am really grateful that talented physicians, nurses and a clean, sterile environment was available to us. Had it not been, things could have gone very, very badly. So, thank goodness for doctors, nurses and hospitals.
That being said, one thing that totally weirds me out about this major surgery is that after all was said and done and I was stitched up pumped full of morphine, I never saw the surgeon who was moments earlier poking around inside of my body. I work in the humanities. Granted, I'm a bit more of a business type these days than artsy fartsy, but still. There's something way impersonal about that. It just strikes me as strange. It would have been nice to at least have said thank you to her after I was a little less doped up.
Before going to the hospital, I regretfully didn't read up a whole lot on C-sections. I know a lot of women who have had them. A lot. Most of my friends or family with children gave birth by C-section. I knew that it was major surgery. I just didn't really get my head around HOW major it is. And since it's such a major surgery, I definitely hadn't prepared myself for how difficult and lengthy the recovery process would be.
They say I should be fairly back to normal 6-8 weeks after delivery. Six weeks puts us at January 1. With half of my maternity leave used up. I'm coming up on 4 weeks now, and while I feel a hell of a lot better than I did 4 weeks ago, the pace of recovery is slow, and that's really super frustrating for me. Turns out I'm a pretty active lady, and this has definitely put a kink in my pace of life. I walk at an old lady pace. Too much laughing is a painful hazard (and dangerous in our house because the hubs likes to bring the funny, and I have a Julia Roberts laugh). But what they didn't say is that it actually takes 6-9 MONTHS before you're really back to "normal". I guess this is also the case with a "normal" delivery. The whole postpartum transition takes some time and I get that. But I won't have all of my nerve endings in my belly back for another 6-9 months. That's just weird. Right now, when I rub my belly, it feels tingly - like when your foot falls asleep.
So, while I know that I need to find a new normal in life - especially with a newborn baby to care for - I do long to just feel like myself again and be back in my body. Maybe Santa will bring me some patience for Christmas.
First, I have to say that I'm grateful for hospitals and doctors. I haven't really given a lot of thought to my delivery or birth experience since coming home with Abbey. In part, I think, because I didn't really want to remember some of the details all that much. But I am really grateful that talented physicians, nurses and a clean, sterile environment was available to us. Had it not been, things could have gone very, very badly. So, thank goodness for doctors, nurses and hospitals.
That being said, one thing that totally weirds me out about this major surgery is that after all was said and done and I was stitched up pumped full of morphine, I never saw the surgeon who was moments earlier poking around inside of my body. I work in the humanities. Granted, I'm a bit more of a business type these days than artsy fartsy, but still. There's something way impersonal about that. It just strikes me as strange. It would have been nice to at least have said thank you to her after I was a little less doped up.
Before going to the hospital, I regretfully didn't read up a whole lot on C-sections. I know a lot of women who have had them. A lot. Most of my friends or family with children gave birth by C-section. I knew that it was major surgery. I just didn't really get my head around HOW major it is. And since it's such a major surgery, I definitely hadn't prepared myself for how difficult and lengthy the recovery process would be.
They say I should be fairly back to normal 6-8 weeks after delivery. Six weeks puts us at January 1. With half of my maternity leave used up. I'm coming up on 4 weeks now, and while I feel a hell of a lot better than I did 4 weeks ago, the pace of recovery is slow, and that's really super frustrating for me. Turns out I'm a pretty active lady, and this has definitely put a kink in my pace of life. I walk at an old lady pace. Too much laughing is a painful hazard (and dangerous in our house because the hubs likes to bring the funny, and I have a Julia Roberts laugh). But what they didn't say is that it actually takes 6-9 MONTHS before you're really back to "normal". I guess this is also the case with a "normal" delivery. The whole postpartum transition takes some time and I get that. But I won't have all of my nerve endings in my belly back for another 6-9 months. That's just weird. Right now, when I rub my belly, it feels tingly - like when your foot falls asleep.
So, while I know that I need to find a new normal in life - especially with a newborn baby to care for - I do long to just feel like myself again and be back in my body. Maybe Santa will bring me some patience for Christmas.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Flying Solo
Tomorrow, Scott goes back to work. He's been home with me through much of my early labor, and of course, since Abbey's delivery. I don't know how I'd have done any of this without him - he's really stepped up to the plate to help out, particularly since I'm limited in what I can do because of my recovery from the C-Section.
So, while part of me is looking forward to quality time with Abbey on my own, and working to establish something that resembles a schedule, a larger part of me is dreading it. Not because I don't think I'm equipped to handle it - I think I'll do just fine (as trying as it's bound to be sometimes). It's more that I've so enjoyed this time together with the three of us. I commented to the hubs earlier today that this was the longest we'd ever been together without having to work...well...ever. It's been wonderful. Now that I've had a taste, we so need to win the lottery.
So, while part of me is looking forward to quality time with Abbey on my own, and working to establish something that resembles a schedule, a larger part of me is dreading it. Not because I don't think I'm equipped to handle it - I think I'll do just fine (as trying as it's bound to be sometimes). It's more that I've so enjoyed this time together with the three of us. I commented to the hubs earlier today that this was the longest we'd ever been together without having to work...well...ever. It's been wonderful. Now that I've had a taste, we so need to win the lottery.
Friday, December 3, 2010
Well Care Visit #1
Just got back from Abbey's two week well care visit. Can I just say, we have the *best* baby! Stripped down to her diaper, thermometer up the butt and not a single cry. Just a tiny little whine when she got poked for her PKU test. That was it. Nothin'. Nada.
What a brave girl - if only she could teach her Mom to be less afraid of needles. I'm the one who usually cries like a little girl. All went well - the doc said she's pretty darn close to perfect.
We couldn't agree more.
What a brave girl - if only she could teach her Mom to be less afraid of needles. I'm the one who usually cries like a little girl. All went well - the doc said she's pretty darn close to perfect.
We couldn't agree more.
Abigail Marie
Abigail Marie Weygandt was born on November 20, 2010 at 4.21 am at St. Joseph's hospital in Denver, Colorado.She weighed 7 lbs, 13.9 oz and was 20 inches long.
She is the pride and joy of her parents, Scott and Irene.
This is a blog mostly about her.
Welcome
Welcome to my new blog!
"And Whether Pigs Have Wings" is a line from one of my favorite Lewis Carrol pieces, "The Walrus and the Carpenter." It's such a whimsical idea, right? Flying pigs. When pigs fly. There was a time when I'd probably respond with "When pigs fly" when someone asked me if I wanted to have children. Good thing we have the free will to change our minds.
So, anyway, welcome. I'm not quite sure what format this blog is going to take. I plan to let it grow organically. But I hope to include thoughts on family life, on parenthood, and fun little tid-bits and milestones along our daughter's life.
Enjoy.
"And Whether Pigs Have Wings" is a line from one of my favorite Lewis Carrol pieces, "The Walrus and the Carpenter." It's such a whimsical idea, right? Flying pigs. When pigs fly. There was a time when I'd probably respond with "When pigs fly" when someone asked me if I wanted to have children. Good thing we have the free will to change our minds.
So, anyway, welcome. I'm not quite sure what format this blog is going to take. I plan to let it grow organically. But I hope to include thoughts on family life, on parenthood, and fun little tid-bits and milestones along our daughter's life.
Enjoy.
Firsts
Abbey, our beautiful newborn, will be two weeks old tomorrow. TWO WEEKS. That's nuts. But I have to say that while her introduction to the world was a bit unnerving there for a little while, she's truly thriving now. For that, we are truly thankful. I watch those St. Jude's commercials and completely lose it. I'm so grateful for a healthy child.
Over the past two weeks we've had a lot of firsts: baby's first car ride, her first night with us in the hospital, her first night at home. First diaper blow-out. First outfit. First trip to The Container Store. Mommy has had some firsts, too - like my first beer in over nine months. It was delicious. Yay Guinness.
It's also amazing the changes that you see day to day. She now has more control over her head, though her limbs still flail about flashing what appears to be some sort of gang signs. We're at the very beginning of what feels like it could turn into a schedule. It all feels pretty darn good, I must say.
Of course, we had some help. Mainly in the form of Graham Weygandt - Scott's Mom - who came out from Buffalo to help us. And that she did. For almost a solid month. She left earlier this week, and I think both Scott and I were nervous to see her go. I mean, Abbey has been great - we're very lucky - but there's something to be said to have someone on bench ready to jump in and help in the blink of an eye that helps you sleep at night. Just the comfort that she brought with her was worth her weight in gold. So, thanks, Grandma. You rock. We miss you.
But truly - so far - flying solo hasn't been too bad. We're enjoying our time together and watching all these precious first moments fly by. They grow up so fast, you know.
Over the past two weeks we've had a lot of firsts: baby's first car ride, her first night with us in the hospital, her first night at home. First diaper blow-out. First outfit. First trip to The Container Store. Mommy has had some firsts, too - like my first beer in over nine months. It was delicious. Yay Guinness.
It's also amazing the changes that you see day to day. She now has more control over her head, though her limbs still flail about flashing what appears to be some sort of gang signs. We're at the very beginning of what feels like it could turn into a schedule. It all feels pretty darn good, I must say.
Of course, we had some help. Mainly in the form of Graham Weygandt - Scott's Mom - who came out from Buffalo to help us. And that she did. For almost a solid month. She left earlier this week, and I think both Scott and I were nervous to see her go. I mean, Abbey has been great - we're very lucky - but there's something to be said to have someone on bench ready to jump in and help in the blink of an eye that helps you sleep at night. Just the comfort that she brought with her was worth her weight in gold. So, thanks, Grandma. You rock. We miss you.
But truly - so far - flying solo hasn't been too bad. We're enjoying our time together and watching all these precious first moments fly by. They grow up so fast, you know.
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