Loving my competition

While pregnant, I made the conscious decision that I was going to breastfeed Taylor. In my naïve, first-time mom opinion, it’s really silly NOT to breastfeed. Studies are coming out that it improves the long-term health of both mother and baby, it’s facilitates good bonding time, it’s free. Plus, I read that I would burn roughly 800 calories a day just producing milk… which is nice because I consumed roughly 800 ice cream sundaes while preggers and swimsuit season is fast approaching.

On the advice of my doctor, I signed up for a one-night Breastfeeding Basics course given through Mission Hospital. The instructor preached the benefits of breastfeeding, showed us positions and warned us about the evil perils of letting your newborn use a pacifier. Pacifiers are your competition, she lectured.

After giving birth to beautiful baby Taylor, the lactation consultant stopped by our room to see if we had any questions. I commented about my girl’s never-ending appetite and strong bite, other than that all was peachy keen. Again I was warned to not give her a pacifier and some mumbo jumbo about it would only be pacifying us and not good for her. That night Chris accompanied Taylor to the hospital nursery for her hearing screen, where a nurse, in an attempt to soothe Taylor, placed a gloved finger in her mouth. After feeling the chomp, she asked Chris if we were giving her a pacifier. Chris said no, the lactation consultant told us not to. To which the nurse replied, Yeah, well the lactation consultant goes home and nurses her five year old.

Turns out Taylor LOVES the pacifier and is still a fantastic feeder. She gaining plenty of weight, and between meals we’ll giver her a pacie to chomp on if it looks like she’s about ready to have a melt down. So I guess that makes me a bad breastfeeding mother, huh? Say what you will Le Leche league, but because of our pacifier I was able to take a shower AND blow dry my hair today… so at least I’m a bad breastfeeding mother with shiny hair.

Our growing girl

Taylor had her two-week check-up yesterday, and our girl is growing like a weed. She’s up to 8 lbs 8 oz and is now 20 ¾ in long - 8 oz more than her birth weight and 1 ¼ in longer. The doc said she looked great - still a tad yellow, but nothing to be concerned about. Her belly button should be working it’s way out in the next few days, and we’re given the okay to trim her nails next week. Her fingernails are so long that we’ve had to keep her in mittens since birth so she doesn’t scratch that beautiful face… but the way she swings her arms around makes her look like a itty-bitty boxer.

(Note the first-time mom, rookie mistake of getting plush, white changing pad covers - Thank goodness for lap-pads.)

Happy Birthday Ruby

Five years ago today, our first child Ruby Blue was born… which makes her 35 in dog years, right? And because I was eight-months preggers on my 30th birthday, I figured Rubes and I will take the afternoon to celebrate loving life in our thirties. Which means we will watch numerous episodes of Sex in the City, drink martinis, laugh about how stupid we were in our twenties and plan a hot Caribbean vacation for our birthdays next year.

Daddy's little girl

During our 20-week ultrasound when we found out that Taylor was a Taylor and not a Jack, the look on Chris’s face summed up what the next 18+ years of life in the Amys household is going to be like: Chris wrapped around her little finger, and me being the bad cop. He kept saying, I’m going to be tough, and I just laughed at him - I have a dad, I know the routine. The phrase doesn’t read, Mommy’s little girl.

In the minutes after delivering Taylor, Chris held her in his arms and I heard him say, Precious, I will get you whatever you want. Yep, he’s toast. I’m going to be the sole disciplinarian of this family. That is until she starts dating, which the thought of already puts Chris in a cold sweat. Let the countdown begin: 15 years and 352 days until Chris starts flexing his dad muscles to underage boys.

Bippity-boppity-boo

My sister Libba made the trip to Asheville this weekend to meet her new niece. Chris and I were able to ask her to be Taylor's godmother, she happily accepted and promptly began practicing turning pumpkins into carriages and rags into ballgowns. Anything for our little princess.

The weather was beautiful, so Libba and I loaded Taylor up and were super mobile. We walked all over downtown, ran errands and visited Chris at the Club to let all of the old ladies swoon all over our girl. Taylor was so calm and collected throughout all of our journeys. I'm LOVING my chilled, zen-like baby... knock on whatever that she stays like this, but I have a feeling she's buttering us up for her teenage years.

We loved spending time with Libba and she was very helpful around the house and with Ruby. Plus she took some fantastical photos of all of us. That's one HUGE bonus of having a sister who's a professional photographer... I will never have to deal with Taylor having a meltdown in the Sear's photo department.

The Rube abides

A quick update on our four-legged daughter that sleeps through the night. Ruby has been adjusting to Taylor's arrival wonderfully. She understands how important the baby is to Chris & I, and is very attentive to all of Taylor's coos and cahs. There hasn't been a ton of interaction, but we will catch Ruby gently sniffing Taylor's head from time to time... and then she'll look at us like, So when is she going to be old enough to throw me the tennis ball and feed me treaters?

Let the sun shine

We got the all-clear on Taylor's bilirubin levels yesterday. YEA! We just need to make sure she's well fed and keep her in the sunlight. The weather today is GORGEOUS, 75 and sunny. Good thing she got a new pair of shades... what a diva.