I’m really enjoying living with my parents. Yeah, I know that’s not how this song should go. I spent months fearing this time, wondering & weeping at my own powerlessness. This fall I had run-in after run-in with my parents, highly-charged emotional car-wrecks that left me shaking with rage. And now?

Now I’m home. I eat food they cook for us, and discover that I can eat dinner with my father without wanting to kill one or both of us. I talk about every aspect of parenting with my mother, and discover an unquestioning ally in breastfeeding, cloth diapering and just about every aspect of my emerging philosophy. I can hand Blake to either of them (and Nic as well) on a moment’s notice, despite any mood visited on my Rocketbaby (my dad actually likes the challenge of an angry, hard-to-soothe Sprout. I’m told that both myself & my brother were difficult infants with banshee wails the likes of which ye’ve never heard. I suppose my crying baby makes him nostalgic.)

Every once in awhile I feel guilty because the Boy & I aren’t tending to the baby’s every need on our own. I feel guilty because I want to hand him to another person while I refasten my bra. I feel guilty because at least once a day I take a 3-hour nap while someone else minds the baby. I feel guilty because I don’t change every diaper, and because I don’t witness every smile & stretch. It’s totally ridiculous, but that’s how I feel.

I’m living the dream, though. I’m well-taken care of, and my home is full of people who help me diffuse the crushing responsibility of an infant. They all love him to death, and they love me quite well also. But every time I forget for a second that I have a baby, I feel a huge wave of remorse. Well, that’s not true. The later it gets in the day, the more likely I am to feel horrible and full of self-doubt (last night at 1 a.m. I was utterly convinced that I had no more milk.) Most of the time I can flow with the rhythm of an extended family and not pay the ticket with self-reproach. But sometimes I can’t.

That’s hormones for you.

Feeding has been going really well. I’m getting more comfortable feeding him every time we sit down to nurse. The only problem is that the Boy is having a really hard time giving up the supplementary feedings in the evenings. Yesterday I didn’t express any milk, thinking that I’d just feed Blake whenever he was hungry. The two of us were fine, but the Boy threw a minor fit that really undermined my confidence in breastfeeding (I did mention that it was 1 a.m., right?)

The problem is that the Boy really likes to feed Blake, and he is really reassured when he sees 2 ounces of expressed milk get into the baby. In a way, his misgivings are a signal of his attachment to the baby much more than a signal of his mistrust in me. Still, it gets under my skin. I worry about Blake getting enough too – I’ve been obsessed with his weight gain ever since he lost the first pound. Even without the Boy freaking out, it’s going to take me awhile before I can be totally secure that I’m providing enough nourishment for my child.

I’m thinking about joining La Leche League – my mom is supportive, but it’d be nice to be around other breastfeeding mothers. I don’t usually mind being alone in a crowd, but in this case I’d like to blend in for a few hours.

In related news, feeding myself has taken a sharp turn for the better. I’m no longer feeling digestive cramps throughout the day, nor am I feeling deep bone & joint pain in my pelvis. I can eat! I can eliminate wastes! Neither causes me much discomfort!

You wouldn’t believe how much time this’s freed up for me. Last week was a blur of breastfeeding, pumping, crying, sleeping, running to the bathroom, crying, lying down to alleviate cramping, taking warm baths, crying, drinking fibre drinks, trying to figure out what could be wrong by discussing it at length with everyone in the house & crying. Add the Boxing Day fever as my cherry topper and you have a nice Hell Sundae. Now that the Stomach Circus of Incredible Pain has left town, I’m just tired & insecure about my abilities as a mother. What could be better?

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- Rocketbride's adventure of 1/03/2004 11:28:00 p.m.