Category: sleep

Adios, Bouncy Chair

July 18, 2017 / Tara / 0 Comments

As I mentioned in a previous post, the Benji boy is a challenge when it comes to sleep. I mean, I guess he hasn’t really been given a fair shake at it. Basically from the moment he was born, Peter and I held him while he slept. It was part survival for us (held babies don’t cry as much and don’t wake up their big brother) and part survival for him (held babies don’t get stomped and “loved” on as much by their big brother). Also, this is very, very likely my last baby and I wanted to make sure I got all the snuggles I could. Because my 3-year-old often stares at me down and tells me, “Don’t look at me, mommy!” Which is kind of the total opposite of baby snuggles.

To make matters worse, he had acid reflux (still does). Which basically means he wouldn’t sleep flat on his back because a river of bile came flooding up his esophagus. TMI? Perhaps. But it’s true. So, after about six weeks of taking turns holding the baby at night, we noticed that he would take naps in this bouncy chair we had. So, one brave evening, we decided to try having him sleep in it at night. And it worked.

It REALLY worked.

It worked until it didn’t. Benji, ever the bright eyed enthusiast, decided he would start rolling the day he turned 3 months old. Which meant no more swaddling — and no more bouncy chair. That night, after the super exhausting bounce house birthday party for Elliott, we tried putting him in his crib, un-swaddled. Disaster doesn’t even cover how it went. After the first half hour, he was awake every 10 minutes unless someone was holding him. It was like we were all the way back at square one. At about 11:30 p.m., Peter and I threw in the towel. He was back in the swaddle, and back in the bouncy chair.

We all slept (sort of). Me, I mostly jumped at every tiny sound, thinking the baby had tossed himself out of the chair and onto the hardwood floors, causing irreparable damage. But, he didn’t. And I started to think he’d be in that chair, wrapped like a mummy, until he was 18. Which is dumb, of course, but try explaining that to a sleep deprived mom who’s topped off with baby hormones.

Anyway, just when I thought he’d be in the chair for life, he up and changed his mind. He decided the swaddle was a form of torture and that sleeping at a 45 degree angle was for old men in La-Z-Boys. Pretty much overnight. So, about two weeks after the first crib-at-night fiasco, we tried it again. And it worked.

Of course babies are nuts, and just as I was celebrating our tiny victory, the 4 month sleep regression hit, and he was up every 1.5 hours/2 hours. But whatever. I can at least say that the bouncy chair has become simply a place to chill, like it should be.

Oddly enough, Elliott hated this chair.

The two weeks where life tried to take me out

July 10, 2017 / Tara / 0 Comments

Now that I’ve 70% recovered, I feel I can finally talk about how life tried to end me two weekends ago. I thought for the longest time that my plane flight from hell was one of the worst experiences I had been through with a kid. But it was just a little warm up for the monumental cluster that was the last two weeks of June.

It all started when I went back to work right before our largest event of the year. Honestly that was rough, but after the mental onslaught of the first day, I started to get my bearings and felt like I could take on whatever the job threw at me. What I didn’t take into account is what the REST of my life was planning to throw at me. First up; the toddler birthday party.

I kind of made the mistake of doing a really good job with his 2nd birthday party, so I felt the need to one up myself just because that’s the competitive type of person I am. So for birthday #3, Elliott got the dino-mite treatment. A dinosaur bounce house, fossil dig and BBQ. Truly, just one of those three things would have made me exhausted for weeks, but I did all three. The only way I pulled it off was because Teeny was in town. All in all, things went well. But I have to say, a bouncy house is like a toddler Thunderdome. Thankfully, the only one who came out bloody was my own child.

The look on his face when he saw the bouncy house was totally worth it.

Since Benji refused to be left out of the celebration, he decided that he would roll over for the first time on the morning of E’s party. And anyone who has had a baby knows what this means. NO ONE SLEEPS. I mean, we just got a rad new skill, so let’s practice it all day and night, right? So, the night after the toddler party when I all I wanted was a few hours of shut eye, I pretty much got none. Woof.

Then no less than a day later, sickness swept through the Hubner household. And it took EVERYONE out. Baby, brother, mommy, daddy — even poor, visiting Teeny. So, remember that part about not sleeping because of baby’s big milestone? Let’s just add some more sleep deprivation on top of it for a big you’re-never-sleeping-again sandwich. Because I was either up with a snotty, coughing baby or couldn’t sleep because every time my head hit the pillow my lungs and throat started to explode.

Benji enjoyed the party. He also was worn out from all that rolling over.

By the time Monday after the party rolled around, I was toast. I think it was that evening that I had a full on mommy meltdown. I literally collapsed in the middle of our hallway, rolled up into a ball, and cried my eyes out. But you know what? Life wasn’t done throwing garbage my way yet.

By Tuesday morning, I had lost my voice completely. Before work’s biggest event of the year. The event where I was going to be responsible for talking to media, on camera and on radio, over and over and over again. And what topic did they choose to focus on? A totally serious one — where I had to have my ish together or else I might do something detrimental to my organization. So what did I do? I gargled salt water, drank gross tea, sprayed myself down with Chloroseptic, and prayed I wouldn’t screw it up. Then I drug my exhausted, voiceless ass to no less than nine interviews. By the end, I could talk about security and cosplay prop policies with my eyes closed. Which honestly, is all I wanted to do.

Then came the con. Last year was my first experience at a comic convention, and needless to say the energy that comes from simply being in the same space as over 100,000 people is beyond exhausting. Add illness, an infant and being mired in the social media comment swamp for three days straight, and by the time Sunday rolled around I could barely move.

Superman took on the dark side at the con.

The good news is, I’m on the other side. The other good news is I never plan to do that again. At least Superman-Maui-Skywalker had a good time.

I hired a sleep consultant

June 20, 2017 / Tara / 0 Comments

The internet is a dark, dark place for parents with newborns. If you’ve ever had a question about ANYTHING in regards to your baby, the internet has at least a thousand different answers for you. And of course, since you’re up at all hours of the day and night, you spend too much time on your phone as a slave to The Google. “What are the symptoms of acid reflux?” “How many naps should my 2 month old be taking?” “How much sleep does my newborn need?” “How dangerous is it for my baby to sleep in a rock and play?” All of these and more I’ve searched, and not a single time did I get a straight forward answer I was satisfied with. So, since 99% of my questions revolve around sleep, I decided to bring in an expert. I hired a sleep consultant.

Honestly, I had my doubts. She wasn’t exactly cheap, and the whole thing kind of felt like I was being sold snake oil. You’re really going to help me figure out a newborn’s napping issues? Yeah right, lady. From what I’ve seen, newborns only obey one thing. And that’s absolutely nothing.

However, I was desperate. Benji is — how do I say this — a difficult sleeper. Naps are a joke. He won’t sleep more than 20-30 minutes unless he’s strapped to my body. I’ve tried the car (hates it), the stroller (hates it), the rock and play (hates it), his crib (REALLY hates it). Unless the mattress is made of living, breathing human, he’s not having it. Unfortunately for him, his mommy is not much of a people person and gets touched out by about noon everyday. Not to mention, wearing 13 lbs of baby is like being pregnant all over again, but worse. My back was killing me. So, enter sleep lady.

We had a 30 minute phone call where I told her about Benji and his neverending FOMO and she gave me a few painfully simple ideas to try. Don’t let him have more than an hour and a half of awake time. Make his room dark. Use a sound machine, medium volume, white noise only. Swaddle him. Rock for a few minutes, then place him in his crib or rock and play with a pacifier. Walk away. No seriously. She told me to just walk away.

I’m not going to lie, it sounded like witchcraft. But I tried it, and sure as shit the Benji boy just fell asleep on his own. No hour of rocking and bouncing. No crazy thrashing and punching me in the face. It was a miracle.

Since that first day, we’ve had mixed success with our new little routine, but overall things are SO much better. Naps are still a ridiculous exercise in insanity, but at least bedtime is a breeze (for now). And the moral of the story? Stay away from the internet, friends. Unless it’s to Google someone who actually knows what they’re doing.

From One to Two

June 16, 2017 / Tara / 0 Comments

Just like with number one, I wasn’t exactly sure what to expect with number two. All I knew is that it would be a wild and sleepless ride — one I wasn’t sure I was capable of handling. Now that we’re two and a half months in, I’m still not sure I’m capable of handling this, but everyone is alive, fed and mostly happy, so I guess things are alright. And, just like everyone said, the second one is nothing like the first.

Here are a few observations I’ve made about the differences between my boys:

Elliott would just pass out. No swaddling, no rocking, nothing. Just a pacifier and a cozy lap, and he’d be out in 5 minutes or less. Benji on the other hand? I can’t even begin to describe the number of gimmicks required. And they change every week it seems like. Swaddle, pacifier, sound machine, rocking, bouncing, rock and play — all of these and more are required to get him to sleep. And even with all that crap, it can still take over an hour. We won’t even discuss napping. Kill me now.
Elliott is tough as nails. I can’t tell you how many times I couldn’t tell if he was sick or not and I’d take him into the doctor and they’d tell me something like, “yeah, he has bronchiolitis and a double ear infection.” Benji, on the other hand? He’s my sensitive baby. When he feels crappy, we ALL know.
I thought Elliott was a momma’s boy. Nope. Benji has him beat already, hands down. This baby looks at me like I’m the most magnificent thing he’s ever set eyes on. He also NEVER takes his eyes off me. He literally tracks me around a room, grinning from ear to ear. And if I get out of eyesight? Tears. I didn’t think that sort of thing was supposed to happen until 6 months. Yikes. Needless to say, the kid has my heart.
Whenever you bring a tiny baby out in public, they become an instant celebrity. Every time someone saw baby Elliott they would say, “Oh, that hair!” Whenever I bring Benji out? “Oh, those eyes! He’s so alert.” Yeah, lady. They never close either. Like, ever.

Even though I sleep like garbage, feel like I’m scratching and clawing my way through every day, and hardly have five minutes to myself, I’d say I’m still enjoying this boy mom life. And I’m looking forward to seeing all the ways my boys are different — and the same. If these first few months are any indication, they’re going to have an amazing bond, and I’m so happy for them. When I got into this breeder business, all I wanted was to create two children who had the same kind of relationship my sister and I had. I think we’re well on our way.

Unsolicited advice for all these new summer moms

March 30, 2015 / Tara / 2 Comments

Judging from Facebook and also a few real life conversations, I’m pretty sure the world’s population is going to triple this summer, with an abnormally large spike in August. I’m glad so many of you had a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

So, I’m about to do that thing that no first time (or anytime) parent likes. Give unsolicited advice. However, I feel like I can get away with it for two reasons:

It’s passive advice. I’m putting it in this blog. If you want it, cool. If not, then just don’t read any further. Simple as that.
I had a summer baby. Like, literally, last summer. Which is still hard for me to believe, but I also think gives me a tiny bit of street cred.

That baby I had last summer. All new and shiny.

Ok, so onward with the advice. Just so you know, this isn’t going to be about specific products or anything like that, but things I just wish I had known or found to be truly important in keeping my sanity during one of the craziest times in my entire life.

Train yourself to fall asleep quickly. You know all those dumb people that tell you to “get your sleep now”? Don’t waste your time with that BS. Last time I checked, Sleep Banks don’t exist. Instead figure out how to go from awake to asleep in 5 minutes or less. Because seriously, sometimes all that baby is going to give you is 30 minutes to sleep, and if it takes you that long or longer (in my case) to fall asleep, you’re going to be one super extra tired momma.
Get a comfy couch and chair. Look, whether you like it or not, someone at some point is going to end up sleeping on the couch. Make sure your couch is so awesome you don’t really mind that at all. Also, get a REALLY comfy chair, especially if you’re nursing. I thought I could get away with just using the chairs I have. Not true. One week in, and I had emergency purchased a lovely, reclining rocking chair. Breastfeeding mommas will spend more time in that chair than you thought humanly possible. So make it count.
Find your favorite walking routes, and try to make sure they include coffee shops. The only thing that helped me keep my sanity was walking about five miles a day. Once I found a few routes that had food and coffee, things got infinitely better. I could fuel up and get a few adult words in with the folks that worked there. Plus, when you’re five seconds from your breaking point, it’s nice to hear people gush over your baby. It makes things feel a little bit better. That being said, I feel so, so sorry for moms of winter babies in Colorado.
You think you want to “be by ourselves the first two weeks so we can get to know baby”? Think again. Peter and I talked about asking people to wait a few weeks before coming to visit so I could heal and we could get to know our new family. I’m so glad we reconsidered. We needed more help in those first two weeks than I’ve ever needed in my whole life. Thankfully, E has the best grandparents in the world, and they were totally up to the task.
If you’re going to take any classes, make sure they’re ones that help you AFTER the baby is born. Look, that baby is going to come out in whatever way it pleases. Then, you have a baby. And they let you take it home, no questions asked. It cries, it won’t eat, it eats too much and then gets gassy and cries more, it wakes up at 2 a.m. for no reason at all. I wish I had found some classes that gave me more techniques to try to calm a crying baby. After a while, I felt like I had exhausted my repertoire. But thankfully, that’s when Teeny would step in and say, “Have you tried _____?” Usually, I hadn’t. Sometimes it would work, sometimes it wouldn’t, but at least I felt like I had one more tool in my arsenal.
Embrace change, uncertainty, and being totally out of control. Your life isn’t yours anymore — it’s ours. That means there’s another (strong) voice in the room that may just decide you aren’t going to the grocery store this afternoon. Or hanging out with your friends. Or finishing that bite of sandwich. The quicker you can figure out ways to cope with having zero control over your life anymore, the better.
Don’t buy one of those beautiful cribs with the solid wood headboard. This is for when baby gets a little older. Those hollow sounding thunks and booms in the middle of the night? That’s your baby’s beautiful head getting bashed on that headboard. And as far as I can tell, there isn’t a bumper product on the market that can save their little noggin.* Ugh.

Alright, folks. There it is. I’m sure there are more (of course there are more), but these seemed to stick out right now in my still–although not as badly–sleep deprived mind. You’re in for a wild, beautiful ride. Hang on with both hands and don’t let go.

*If you know of something please, for the love, let me know. E’s head thanks you.

My baby now! Pulling up on everything, like a boss.

Sleep training, part two

January 6, 2015 / Tara / 12 Comments

Ok, y’all. I have a confession to make. I totally wussed out on REAL Ferber last time I tried it. I’d get 7 minutes in to that third round of crying and I’d race in the room and put in his pacifier. It totally worked, so I didn’t think anything of it. Then E turned 6 months old, and everything changed. We began to encounter a little thing known as “object permanence.” Basically, that means the little guy all of a sudden realized when things were there — and when they were suddenly gone. During the day, it’s totally awesome. He recognizes when people, toys, pets, etc. are in the room and when they leave. It’s like he’s an actual tiny person now — completely a part of this world. However, what was a totally doable paci plug up once a night became putting in a pacifier every 45 minutes. All. Night. Long. Because, well, that thing he fell asleep with would fall out and be gone, and when he’d transition to another sleep cycle (I’ve done a shit ton of research, as you can see. I told you I’m obsessed with the topic of sleep.), he’d wake up because his paci was missing. Mixed with a dose of illness (both him and me) and Christmas “vacation,” and you’re looking at a haggard momma who hadn’t slept longer than 2 hours in a stretch in over two weeks. I was a zombie — and I was done.

And so real Ferber began.

Napping in his crib, wearing tiny jeans, like a big boy.

Actually, let’s clear a few things up. First, I made sure E wasn’t sick. We hit up the doctor, got all checked out, and he got a clean bill of health. Second, when he would wake up at night, he wasn’t angry. Just awake. So I knew he wasn’t hungry or in pain, he just didn’t know how to put himself to sleep without a pacifier. Third, I made sure both Peter and I were on board. I knew if we were going to do this thing, we both had to do it.

I started with his first nap of the day because I knew I’d be able to handle the crying a lot better in the day time. I did like the book said and started with 3 minutes, then went in and consoled him for less than a minute, then left. Then 5 minutes, then 10 minutes, and on and on… it took only 12 minutes. I was shocked. The second nap went about the same. Needless to say, I was feeling pretty good about this whole Ferberizing thing.

Then came the night.

At bedtime, we did our evening routine and once again it took him about 12 minutes to get to sleep. I went to bed at 8 p.m. because I just had this feeling that things might get real. At 11:40 p.m., they SO did. E woke up crying. So, I started in with the check and console thing. And I continued it for TWO HOURS. I had the shakes. I had the nervous laughs. I questioned the meaning of life. But at 1:30 a.m., he finally went to sleep. And stayed asleep until 6:30 the next morning. When he woke up, he looked at me and gave me the most beaming smile. I smiled back, fed him, and then began nursing the raging headache I had. It was rough, but we made it out with grins on our faces.

The following day was awesome. Both naps only had about a minute of crying before he was asleep. I couldn’t believe it. At bedtime, it was maybe 7 minutes. Of course, I was a nervous wreck all night, so I woke up at 2:30 a.m. and couldn’t fall back asleep. I heard him sing himself to sleep at 3 a.m., cough at 4:30 a.m., and then finally wake up crying at 5 a.m. I kind of panicked at this point. It’s so close to his normal wake up time — what do I do? Go in there? Feed him? I waited a bit and when he kept crying I went in. He had a blow out diaper and was most certainly hungry. I changed the diaper and his PJs, fed him, and he went back to sleep until 6:40. I felt like I had won a major award.

We’re now almost a week in, and I swear some sort of sorcery has occured. He doesn’t even cry anymore when I put him to sleep. He just talks a little, rolls over, and night night. He still wakes up angry between 4 and 5 a.m., but after a diaper change and some food, he goes back to sleep. Does anyone know what I should do about that early morning wake up? It’s so close to his actual wake up time that I don’t feel like Ferberizing is the key, but maybe I’m just wussing out again? Perhaps I should just keep going to bed at 9 p.m. so I can be ready for my early morning wake up call? Help, friends!

Happy baby in a box of bubble wrap. It has nothing to do with sleep training, but it’s cute. So there.

Sleep training. Lol.

December 9, 2014 / Tara / 0 Comments

I’d be willing to bet that every parent has a topic that they obsess over. Maybe it’s breast feeding or child care or cloth diapers. Mine? Sleeping. I have read the internet forwards and backwards on the topic. I’ve absorbed articles on co-sleeping, Ferber, extinction, graduated extinction, cry it out (or CIO in those lame forums), sleep crutches, overtiredness, baby sleep cycles… seriously, the list is endless. I’ve even contacted sleep consultants. Why? Because I’m a lunatic. And also because I LOVE sleeping.

You know who doesn’t love sleeping? Babies. Now that I have one, I really have a lot of rage for that old saying, “sleep like a baby.” Because babies don’t sleep. They wake up every couple of hours because, well, God only knows. Hungry? Maybe. Dirty diaper? Perhaps. I saw this color today, one that I had never seen before, and it was the sweetest color in the history of the universe and now I can’t stop thinking about it? Also a possibility.

Napping. On the couch. Across my lap. Again.

The point is, baby’s gonna do what baby’s gonna do. But despite that, I attempted to try a little something called, “sleep training.” There are books and websites out there that claim if you use one of 5,000 different techniques (see list in first paragraph), you can train your baby to put themselves back to sleep at night, thus eliminating the need for you to get your ass out of bed and begin guessing as to why you and baby are up at this undignified hour. Because, yes, midnight, 3 a.m. and 5 a.m. are indeed undignified. My baby is extremely hard to guess lately because when he gets up he’s not pissed about it. He just wants to talk, sing, and essentially throw a middle of the night party. So cute and so dumb.

However, instead of tackling the horrible nighttime hours right off the bat, I thought that I would attempt fix to our little napping situation and pray that my work trickled over into the P.M. You see, my son naps like a boss. At daycare. On weekends, he falls asleep in his crib just fine but then pops awake after 30 minutes and thinks that’s acceptable. The only way we could get him to actually nap for a reasonable period of time is to lay him across our lap and let him pin us to the couch for hours. Me and my back were so over it. So last weekend, I embarked on sleep training*.

I guess you could say I did Ferber, except like I said, my baby doesn’t cry when he wakes up. He talks. And talks. And talks. And rolls. And fidgets. And talks. And clangs his pacifier along the bars of his crib like a tiny prisoner. And talks. For 30+ minutes he’ll just sing and talk and move. So I let him. I just left him in his crib to play and do whatever. However, after the 30 minute mark he finally cried. Up until this point, I had never made it past 30 minutes before because I’d lose all hope and retrieve him from his cage. Turns out, I was just not patient enough. After he cried for 5 or so minutes, I put his pacifier back in, rubbed his tummy for about 10 seconds, left the room, and waited. Well, guess what? About 10-15 minutes later he fell asleep. FOR TWO WHOLE HOURS. I gotta say, watching the situation unfold on a monitor was kind of like playing a sport, and the poor boy doesn’t even know yet how competitive his momma is. But guess what? I won today, buddy. I won. Sleep training worked.

A typical napping scene.

Believe me, I realize the emphasis I should be putting on “today.” Because tomorrow, he’ll do something different. He’ll BE somebody different. I have to constantly remind myself that he’s only been in this world 5 months. Every face, color, action, texture — blows his mind because he’s never experienced it before. You know how sometimes you wake up at 5 a.m. because you have that big meeting or idea and you just can’t sleep you’re thinking about it so much? Well those big moments happen all day, every day for him. It’s a lot for a little noggin to handle.

So, while I absolutely HATE waking up 2-3 times a night, I also realize that it’s just a phase. And I’m happy that my baby wakes up happy — just ready to tell me all about the amazing things he saw that day or dreamt about that night. We’ll just work towards the goal of having these conversations over a nice dignified breakfast at 8 a.m.

*Now, folks. All I’m doing here is saying what seemed to have worked pretty well for me. What I’ve realized by reading all those articles and forums is that people are WAY opinionated on this topic. The co-sleepers are die hard. The cry it out folks say it’s the only thing that worked. Some people have those babies that sleep 12 hours straight and don’t move a muscle all night. And everyone hates on everyone for just doing the best they can. So my point is this; don’t hate. Congratulate.

Four hour naps

October 16, 2014 / Tara / 1 Comment

Just snoozin’.

When was the last time you took a four hour nap? Probably the day after that day you did too much day drinking. Or maybe never. Because most of us call a four hour nap NIGHTTIME.

Not my son.

On multiple occasions I’ve gotten the little notes back from the daycare, letting me know that I’ve been paying them to watch my kid sleep for half the day. I mean, I’m all for allowing my boy’s natural circadian rhythms dictate his nap schedule, but four hours seems ridiculous. So I did what every new and confused first time parent does. I emailed the doctor.

She got me hooked up with some kind of child sleep specialist, which I didn’t even know was a thing. And guess what? As it turns out, four hour naps are just nighttime. I also learned some interesting stuff about baby sleep cycles. Educational moment, engage.

An infant’s sleep cycle is about three hours. The first 20 minutes or so are a light REM sleep, followed by about an hour or more of deep sleep, and then concluding with another 20 minutes of light sleep. Usually, that’s when baby realizes I’M HUNGRY and wakes up for some kind of 2 a.m. milk bender. But in some cases the desire for food is no match for the desire to snooze. And baby puts himself back to bed. So, apparently the cacophony of toy slamming and baby crying is just what E needs to be lulled back to sleep.

Now here’s the awkward part. I have to tell daycare to wake up my kid after 3 hours. I’m not what you’d call a confrontational person, and I’m dreading the conversation. I want to get my point across, but I don’t want it to seem like I’m blaming them for anything. So, I’m looking for a response that’s appropriately mama bear, without razor sharp claws. How do you folks approach this kind of thing?

Insomnia sucks

September 5, 2014 / Tara / 8 Comments

I used to be that girl who fell asleep at parties at 10 p.m. if I was tired and then go home and get another 8 hours. I’m sure Peter found it pretty embarrassing, but his lame party habit is to find the nearest computer and start tinkering, so I guess it could be worse. And, wow, based on these descriptions I don’t know how we weren’t invited to EVERY PARTY IN DENVER. I digress.

Sadly, since I had a baby I’ve developed some kind of mommy insomnia. Yes, I can still fall asleep early, but I wake up at midnight. Every. Night. E has been kind of a killer sleeper lately, going down at around 9 p.m. and staying asleep until 2 a.m., and sometimes even 4:30 a.m. (whoa). It’s like a parent’s dream.

Sleeping baby gets the whole couch. And the remotes. Thankfully, he left it on the U.S. Open quarterfinal. So thoughtful.

But not for me, apparently. My night goes like this. Tiny sound? Wake up. Not a tiny sound? Wake up. Twinge of pain in my overly full boob? Wake up. Dream about E, Peter and I living in a post apocalyptic version of America and trying to find diapers in a zombie infested grocery store? Wake up. And then it’s over. I can’t fall asleep again until the baby wakes up and gets fed. Then, after that, it takes me at least an hour to doze off, if I do at all. And don’t even get me started on my ability to “sleep when the baby sleeps” during the day*. It’s a cruel reality I live in, y’all.

I don’t know, maybe my body has just conditioned itself to live off of 5 hours of sleep and has decided I don’t need anymore than that because it’s greedy or something. Or maybe I’m turning into my mother, who for years has only been able to sleep 3 or 4 hours a night. Please say it isn’t so.

I guess the point of this sleep deprived ramble is to ask a question. How do you out there get yourself to fall asleep? Count sheep? Enya? I need to know your secrets.

Love,
Tara (mommy insomnia) Hubner

*I could write a whole separate blog post on how much I hate when people say, “oh, just sleep when the baby sleeps.” It was one of the horrible things I’d repeat in my head during the first month that kept me awake, filled with anxiety. That and the Trace Adkins jam, “You’re Going to Miss This.” What an asshole.

But, it seriously doesn’t work like that. At least for me. I applaud those for whom it does work. Good on ya.

You overproduce? What a nice problem to have.

August 13, 2014 / Tara / 6 Comments

My life’s work. That and my actual kid.

Breastfeeding should be easy. It’s what your body was made to do, right? The natural way. Well, nature is really messed up sometimes, y’all.

If you had asked me before baby if I thought I would be the breast milk overproducer of the family, I would have laughed in your face. These A and a half cups? No way. Try my mom or sister’s Ds.

But guess what? Size apparently doesn’t matter. I can produce enough breast milk to feed all the babies in Denver. It’s like a superpower. But with great power comes great responsibility, and pain, it turns out.

At the hospital I was super paranoid about making sure E latched correctly. I would buzz the nurses six times a day to come and check. “He’s on right… right?” They assured me his latch was perfect. I was feeling pretty good about myself and my baby. We’re doing this! I’m making food and you’re eating it! Nice.

But then my milk came in. And it wouldn’t stop. By day five I looked like I had undergone some kind of breast augmentation surgery. They were triple Ds – huge, shiny, and hot (temperature, not looks, I assure you). When I would lay down it felt like I was being crushed by overheated boulders. I slept maybe three hours over the next two days.

Even worse was they were so full E was having trouble latching. All that food and I thought he was going to starve. Irony at its finest. So, I called in reinforcements.

Lactation consultants are angels sent from boob heaven. Yes, she cost almost $200 for an hour visit, but I would have paid three times that. She came in full of cheer and knowledge. She weighed E pre and post feeding. Despite my fears, he gained 3 ounces after he nursed. He wasn’t starving after all. Momma on the other hand was in dire straights. “Pump,” the lactation consultant said, “Pump until you get the milk out.” So I did. Here’s how my next week and a half went. The following period of time was all done topless, regardless of who was in the room:

Feed E until satisfied, about 15 minutes.
Hand baby to Peter or mom.
Pump at least 10 minutes on both sides, massaging breasts until bruises form.* (Ok, she told me not to do that bruising part. Oops. I was desperate, you guys.)
Ice boobs for 5 minutes each.
Try to sleep. Try to sleep. Try to sleep. I can’t sleep. Oh, god, I can’t sleep. Am I going to die? I can’t sleep. Start singing songs from Pitch Perfect in an attempt to soothe myself. I can’t sleep.
Repeat every 2 hours.

*My hands got so sore, I called in the big guns. Yes, Peter massaged my boobs. Sometimes with my mom in the same room. Christ, y’all, motherhood is embarrassing.

If you’re a numbers sort of a person, that left anywhere from an hour to an hour and a half to try and sleep after each feeding. Considering my HIGH levels of anxiety and horrible ability to day sleep, let’s just say I was looking and feeling pretty rough at this point.

But the result? A freezer full of breast milk and a 10 pound baby after two weeks of life. That’s right – E gained his birth weight and then some. A whole extra pound of some. I felt accomplished. I had made a giant baby.

I’m 13 and a half pounds at 6 weeks? No friggin’ way, mom.

Here’s the rub. Every time I tell this story, this is what I hear: “You overproduce? What a nice problem to have.” Ok, yes, I have a strong and healthy baby. But when you have to watch him choke and sputter, latch and relatch over and over (ouch, people), and see him get sprayed in the face because your boobs are like sucking on the end of a fire hose, it’s hard for me to think this is a nice problem to have. Not to mention the gas, excessive spit up, overabundance of dirty diapers, and colic-like symptoms due to the above. Plus, every time he starts sleeping in longer stretches the giant boobs of pain happen all over again (although not as crazy as the first time).

However, just like everything else I’ve experienced so far with motherhood, it does get better. My giant baby (up to at least 13.5 pounds now) already sleeps in 4 and 5 hour chunks at night likely thanks to my boobs and his weight. He always feels satisfied, and I never have to worry about him going hungry. I overproduce, and I’ve come to learn that it can in fact be a nice problem to have.