Oh, I’ve been everywhere, man!

So much has happened since my last entry, about two years ago. 🙂 So. Much. We bought a house. Bubba has had birthdays and begun speaking little sentences. It’s truly amazing.
The house went from reasonable to manage to less than reasonable to downright insane. We’re climbing back up. Right now we’re somewhere between Less than reasonable and reasonable. In part, due to the KonMari method of cleaning. I’ve begun applying it to a lot of things. And hubby and I have gotten serious about sorting and storage. We aren’t screwing around anymore.
I’ve gotten More serious about my fitness. In two years we plan to try for another kid. I want to be healthier this time around and maybe avoid the gestational diabetes. So I’ve been doing fitness challenges and making different food choices. It makes a difference.
We also babywear. Me moreso than hubby, but what can I say? If Bubba asks, Daddy puts him up on his back. Cutest frikkin’ thing I have ever seen. Have made some friends in the local wearing group. LOVE those ladies. They will always have a piece of my heart. And if I can get the house reasonable, I am going to have them come over. We will all scrunch in my tiny house and eat homemade Chinese food and offer each other love and support because we rock!
I will be posting more later. Maybe some Instagrams, some tumblr, a little facebook, a lot of pinterest. Time to work it!
Part of this whole… rehaul is clearing away the crap out of my life and it makes more time for the people and things that matter. 🙂

And then Life LOL’d…

I have been trying to get this post done for about a day. It’s not happening. LOL. I will just say that hubby came home yesterday and post a couple pics.

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What A Day!

Lookin' gooood in the mornin'!

Lookin’ gooood in the mornin’!

So this morning (it is now 10:30 on 4/20) I woke up to a happy, happy, happy little boy. He was smiling, giggling and wiggling. I fed him and loved on him. The above picture is after all that and right before his wee nap. And as he was drifting off to sleep, he kept popping his eyes open to look at me, so I would smile at him. He would smile back and let his eyes close, like that was all he wanted to see. This went on for a couple minutes before he went to sleep.

Rockin' It Out!

Rockin’ It Out!

Then when he woke up, we got dressed and hung out in the shop all day and saw Papa and Grammy and Miss Mary, and in the office we saw Miss Theresa, all of whom were happy to snuggle my Bubba in their arms.

LOVE that print!

LOVE that print!

Last night I made the above nursing cover, since the Udder Cover I had bought needed to be washed desperately, and when I’m at the laundromat, I usually end up having to nurse the baby. This one has lots of length and needs a pocket.

Today while I was out in the shop, I got busy with some projects.

Yellow is such a happy color!

Yellow is such a happy color!

I made that nursing cover in about an hour or two. If I had used an iron and could cut in an actual straight line, it would have been less time, I think. But this one has lots of width and length so that when I nurse, Bubba and I have plenty of privacy.

Busy Bees!

Busy Bees!

This carseat canopy is awesome because it will let in a little light, and allow for fresh air flow during warmer weather. The extra length in the front gets tucked around my Bubba’s feet when he’s in the seat to help prevent a stray breeze from blowing the fabric into his face. The nice thing about this canopy is that it will help keep the wind out of his face when we’re moving between cars and buildings. I also made a reversible cold weather canopy (Has the yellow bee fabric on one side and a blue flannel Pooh fabric on the other) that I need to sew the velcro straps onto.

We also went to Walmart and Target today. Bubba needed socks to fit his feet. He’s only 2 months old, but the 0-6 month socks hubby and I got for him are WAY too small. *sigh* He’s just growing so darn fast! Even had to buy him the next size up diapers today too!

And since he is sleeping right now, I’m going to try to get some too. Night, all!

You’ll Be My Bumble Bee

I suppose I should include an explanation of my blog’s name, “Bumble Bee Mama”.
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Last April I was struggling very hard with some personal issues. Body image, self confidence, and some memories that were affecting the health of my marriage. I had lost two babies before I conceived my Bumble Bee and at that point, I felt like I was a bad person and didn’t deserve to have babies. I wasn’t good enough. My will to thrive was hanging on by a thread.
I finally made the decision to go see a lady who practiced CERT – Cellular Emotion Release Technique. CERT is not normal therapy. It operates on the theory that your body is the hard drive to your real memories, and that your brain stores your perceptions. A practitioner of CERT will help you find the real memories and wipe away the old perceptions. You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. You just sit there and let the practitioner do their thing. There’s no medication, there’s no judging, there’s no blame-placing. All CERT does is help get you back to zero-station.
At one of our sessions, the therapist – for lack of a better term – noticed that I had a bumble bee charm on my necklace. She leaned forward and inspected it before reminding me of a little fact that I had all but forgotten. Bumble bees are not supposed to be able to fly. Their wing-to-body ratio is all fucked to hell. Flying, for these fat, fuzzy creatures is supposed to be impossible. But they do it anyway. If you try telling a bumble bee it’s not supposed to fly, it will happily buzz right on by you, as if to say, “Yeah, but I’m doing it anyway.”
I stored away that little nugget, cherished it deep in my soul. It was proof that the impossible was possible. That the laws of physics and aerodynamics couldn’t always be correct, if such a tiny little thing like a bee could blow them to smithereens.

In mid-April, my husband and I went on our (delayed) honeymoon to Hawaii for two weeks. I was heartbroken not to be pregnant at the end of that trip, but decided to bide my time.
Towards the end of May, I was fertile again, so my husband and I tried again to conceive.
Two weeks into June, I had a positive pregnancy test. I was elated.
At 8 weeks pregnant, I started bleeding heavily and had some contractions. I was heartbroken and scared out of my mind. I didn’t want to lose another baby. After two blood tests at a local clinic confirmed that I was still pregnant and my numbers were still going up, the ob-gyn office I had chosen squeezed me in to give me an initial appointment. I still had very little hope that my pregnancy was viable. With all the blood I had lost… It just didn’t seem possible to me.
After my initial doctor’s appointment, the ob-gyn called the local hospital’s ultrasound clinic and got me an appointment that day. I had to drink a ton of water and then wait at least twenty minutes before they would do the ultrasound. By the time my husband and I arrived at the clinic I had to pee so bad it hurt.
Thankfully they called me back early, and the tech did an over-the-belly-jelly ultrasound.
She said, “I can see the amniotic sac and the baby.”
I refused to pay much attention. I didn’t want to get my hopes up. I caught a glimpse of the embryo on the screen and said doubtfully, “It looks too small.”
Finally, the tech was done with the external and told me I could go pee. When I came back, I prepped for the vag cam, all the while suffering horrid flashbacks from my first pregnancy, when that doctor used a vag cam to verify that I had lost my 7 week pregnancy.
The tech came back in the room and inserted the vag cam. When she came to the amniotic sac, I froze. There was my baby. Alive! And WIGGLING! He was just swimming around in there, like a baby Michael Phelps.
I started crying and asking the tech if that was really my baby, if it was really alive. Then I asked her to bring my husband in so he could see. The tech was more than willing to run out and fetch my husband. When he made it back and was seated, the tech found the baby again and showed us what we had made.
At one point the baby, head and limbs clearly enough formed to be made out, paused and waved.
I was overjoyed and knew that this baby was my miracle, my impossibility. My Bumble Bee.
Another time or two I had mild cramping and bleeding, and was sure I was on my way to another miscarriage. But it was not to be. My Bubba carried on, surviving a couple of falls and even a car accident a month and a half before he was born.
And when Bubba was born, we had some difficulties. He released the meconium as he was being delivered, due to stress, and had extremely low blood sugar. He spent far more time in the nursery than I liked, and they had to try several times to get an IV in him. They finally succeeded in getting one in his foot and were eventually able to bring him to our recovery room. By the time I got to see him, he had several little bruises all over from the failed IV attempts.Image

He ended up with one in his head before it was all said and done. (I am thankful to the staff at my hospital for their dedication and hard work on our behalf to make sure my son was healthy! Such amazing people!)
But he was tough and stubborn, something he comes by honestly through both of his parents.
He made me believe in the impossible. He is the fulfillment of a dream. He is the substance of things hoped for. He is the answer to my prayer.

He’s my Bumble Bee.Image

The Maternal Octopus

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When my son was first born and I was attempting to breastfeed I felt like I needed a couple more sets of arms. I wanted to be an octopus. There was no way I was going to be able to hold the baby, keep his hands out of the way, tug his chin down to get his mouth to open far enough and hold my breast in a “c” to get my nipple in his mouth with only two hands. It wasn’t possible. – And for the record, football hold is easier, imo, if you are sitting cross-legged, and that “c” shape they tell you to use, well, for me it worked better as a diagonal “u”. Mostly, just follow your instincts.

As time has gone on we have more or less succeeded at the breastfeeding. My Bubba is a growing little boy. A STRONG growing little boy. From the very first time I put him up to my shoulder to burp, he was able to pick his head up and use his arms to push himself up. For as young as he is, Bubba has very good strength and motor skills. So wrestling him into clothes was a feat. It was another thing I wished I had more hands for because it sure as hell felt like I was trying to dress a greased octopus! – This also has gotten easier. We both know what to expect and I use every ounce of stretch I can get out of that onesie to get my kid into it.

And then there’s the carseat and the diaper bag. Yeah… And if you’re a new mom, you tend to pack that diaper bag as full as you can with as much as you can till it weighs as much as the carseat with the baby in it. Seriously. You could dispense disaster relief from that bag by the time you’re done. And somehow, you plan to carry that AND the carseat with the baby in it. And if you haven’t figured out yet about throwing your wallet and cell in the diaper bag and still carry a purse, there’s that too.

So basically, you will spend the first few trips out of the house alone trying to maneuver baby, carseat, diaper bag and purse, and still wishing you had more arms.

By the second month, those extra sets of arms will have come in. You will feel like one of those multi-armed mother-warrior goddesses from ancient legends, though you will dream of having their zen… or feel envious of the moments they HAVE to be zen in. Sometimes you might also wish to rip their peaceful faces right off… or maybe that’s just me. J
I remember the first time I realized my extra mommy arms had come in. I was at my Ob-Gyn’s. I had Bubba out of his carseat so that the office gals could pass him around, and the nurse came to take me back for my appointment. Rather than try to load the baby back in the carseat, I took my sleeping son back, grabbed the empty carseat and the diaper bag and walked down the hall. The nurse had offered to help but before she had finished I had everything gathered up and was ready to follow her. Bubba never even woke up. I was so proud!

And then there’s carrying groceries into the house. Usually this involves one laborious trip from the car up the short flight of stairs into my house where I have to convince my bloodhound to leave my groceries alone. Now it involves one laborious trip in which I carry not only the many bags of groceries and gallon of milk, but my son in his carseat and his diaper bag (which now just has my wallet and cell, a ton of diapers, a travel case of wipes, a fresh change of clothes in a ziplock, my nursing cover and an empty bottle for putting milk-saver milk in). And when I get in the house, I have to convince the dog to NOT shove his face in the baby’s face, then to NOT stick his face in the grocery bags, chase him away from the bag with the butter in it (my dog loves butter) and then boot him out the door so I can unload baby and groceries in the appropriate manner. Once again, this takes many arms. And sometimes feet.

But I can do it all. And my husband is not lazy or a jerk who doesn’t help me out. What he is, is a hard working husband/father who works on the North slope, far away from us for three weeks at a time. When he comes home for three weeks of R&R, he is very helpful and on top of things!

One other awesome thing about “mommy arms”… you can hold your baby with one arm and blog with the other!

I Wear Your Love (Like A Badge Of Honor)

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I am one of those people that  does not do well around the bodily excretions of others. I don’t know why. I never have. My nephews… I had a hard time changing their diapers. One time I tried to help my nephew change his pull up he had piddled in and had to call someone else in to do the job because I almost upchucked. My niece puked on herself once and I nearly joined her in vomity bliss. Runny noses? No thanks. Baby spit up? Dare to dream. Share my straw, cup, fork, spoon or plate of food with a little mouth? Not gonna happen. No thank you. Just… no.
People kept saying. “And you want to have kids? Well, you’re gonna have to get used to that.” And I wanted to reply, “Just because I don’t want to feed your snot-nosed kid off my utensils and let them backwash in my cup doesn’t mean I won’t be a good mom.”
Instead I supplied, “I will be fine with MY OWN children, thank you.”

Now he’s here. My own child. And yes, so far, I have been fine. I have changed some disgusting diapers. Very FULL disgusting diapers. I have been pooped at, peed at (missed both times, thank you!), and spit up on. When you go to bed with the scent of spit up breast milk on you… That is the smell of romance right there! I have even picked my son’s nose. There was a wee little boog up in there and I reached in and hooked it with my pinky nail. After I realized what I had done, I knew that motherhood had thrust herself upon me and I welcomed her freely with joyous abandon.
I recently committed another one of my no-no’s. I ate off the same spoon that had been in my son’s mouth. As long as I didn’t think about it, I was ok. If the thought entered my mind that the spoon tip had ever so gently crossed his lips, I felt a tug on my gag reflex. But hey, rice cereal mixed with a little breast milk… not too bad tasting! Yes. I tasted the rice cereal after I mixed in a little of my breast milk. At least it was my own, and not someone else’s. *

I feel pretty good about all that. I couldn’t do that with someone else’s kid. Not even with my nephew. My husband can do it, no problem. He will share his coffee, his glass, his fork, etc with our nephew without any issues at all. Me? *gag*. My thought on the matter (especially now) is, he’s old enough to feed himself, he can eat off his own plate with his own fork and drink out of his own glass. He doesn’t need mine.

But when it comes to my son, well, someday, I might even let him drink out of the same cup as I do. But I don’t want to get too carried away just yet. Right now, I will enjoy eating off my own plate and utensils alone, with no backwash in my iced tea. Just for a little while longer. Which won’t be long at all.

*And yes, I gave my son rice cereal at 2 months old. It was very milky, and he didn’t even have a teaspoon of it. Just a few dribbles to stick in his tummy one morning during a growth spurt.

The title of this blog is the name of a song by Lisa Angelle.

The Beginning

I am distractedly typing my introductory post because I am too busy admiring the fruit of my womb as he lays next to me on the bed. He is waving and wiggling his arms and kicking his feet. It’s something I’m glad to see because it means that I have a happy (overall, anyway), healthy baby who seems to grow an inch every day. His piques of dissatisfaction usually only extend as far as his need to eat, have a fresh diaper, be burped and/or sleep are concerned. Otherwise, we’re all wiggles and giggles over here.
My son is a hard-won prize. He comes at a high cost for me. I lost two pregnancies before him and spent most of his in a state of fear. I didn’t complain much while I was pregnant with him, just because I was so glad to BE pregnant and have a healthy baby growing inside me. Every kick, every bladder squish, every smidgen of back pain, all the stretch marks and one long, slightly crooked line across my lower abdomen are cherished memories of my triumphant pregnancy, though some of those particular memories are more permanent than others. But my stretch marks and C-section scar are beautiful to me. My battle scars. My tiger stripes.
The best memory, however, is one I live with every day. One I wake up to at least twice in the wee hours, feeding, burping, and coaxing back to sleep so that I can go back to bed and stop swaying on my feet like a drunken sailor. I change this memory’s diaper – and at 2 am with eyes bleary from sleep and almost no balance, changing a diaper that looks like a gooey exploded mess of artichoke dip is no small task. Yet somehow, I manage to keep everything contained, wipe every speck of green (how the fuck do I know how it got green?) poop off my baby’s tush, keep from getting peed or pooped on, keep anything else from being peed or pooped on, smear on any necessary butt ointment – and keep it on the butt only! – and then I settle down to the bonding process of breastfeeding my baby (That’s what I don’t understand… how it turned green between leaving my boob and entering my son’s diaper!).
Sometimes, after he’s done eating, my son doesn’t make it back to his bassinet that is in our room. That is because all my waking concentration has been on keeping my nipple in his mouth, and stoppering up the stream if my breast should happen to come out of his mouth. If I don’t catch it, well, milk goes everywhere! I could be my own firefighting team. It’s that bad.
Once I’ve finished feeding him, putting my nursing bra back to rights and getting him burped (This whole process can take up to 2 or 3 hours), sometimes he just isn’t sleepy. If that’s the case, I lay his head on a pillow and let his feet kick against my stomach. We fall asleep this way, a strange-looking capital F with no top. And when he starts to fuss again, I wake up aghast at falling asleep with my baby in the bed with me. I am afraid I will roll over on him, or that he will turn into one of those kids that will only sleep in their parents bed, even at the age of 6. No offense and no thank you.
Eventually I get him back to his bassinet and I can at least shut my eyes for a few moments, pretending that all the missing sleep will somehow catch me up. It never happens. But I pretend. It makes me happy. Not as happy as kissing my baby’s sweet face the next time he wakes up, not as happy as changing his diaper, or burping him or snuggling with him. Those things make the missing sleep worth everything. Because yes, I AM one of those “Namaste, Motherhood is a joy, Children are a gift” moms. I LOVE changing his diaper. I enjoy burping him. I find I don’t so much mind getting a little spit up on me. This is who I am now, and I proudly own that with every fiber of my being.

A quick snooze before resuming mayhem!

A quick snooze before resuming mayhem!