A Lady Scientist- Blog

After my complaining last week, I took a personal day. I told Advisor that I needed a day off to just… do nothing or everything. He said that he understood and that he didn’t care. So, I took Thursday off. It was lovely.

I dropped Kiddo off at daycare, came home, got coffee, got back into bed, and just slacked. I read a magazine from cover-to-cover in one sitting, watched 2 episodes of Doctor Who (the last from season 6! Squee!), napped, and stared off into space. I woke up Friday in a much better mood and that has continued throughout this week.

I didn’t realize how much I needed some time where there were absolutely no demands on me. Time to just breathe and not worry about anything.

What follows is a lot of navel-gazing and just my rambling thoughts. So, feel free to click away.

(I always feel sheepish when I write these kind of posts. I feel that everything I post should be.. something… I can’t quite come up with the right word or words. Each post should be, well, maybe not profound, but not about something as mundane as my inner monologue. At least I should have a reason other than just sorting out my thoughts. In the end, though, apparently, my sheepish-ness does not outweigh my desire to sift through the detritus in my brain because I’m posting this anyhow. But I digress. A lot.)

The thinking I did on Thursday made me realize that a lot of my frustration comes from too high expectations for myself. I thought that at ~8.5 months into this parenting thing I’d be much better at doing it all. I figured that I’d be tired, but, eh, it wouldn’t be that bad. My expectations were that I’d be productive in the lab everyday and have an adequate routine at home to get everything done by a reasonable hour. Right now I manage to be semi-productive in lab through my sleep-deprived haze and I get a lot of things done, but not by a reasonable hour.

However, I have decided that my expectations were unreasonable. I’m not one that does well with little sleep (well, in undergrad I was a rockstar at that, but I think it has caught up with me). Also, Kiddo is only 8.5 months old. Taking care of a baby is hard. (Insert usual caveat here about it being amazing, wonderful, etc.) Kiddo’s needs are ever changing. So my routine is ever changing to accommodate him. Dr. Man has been largely out of commission the past month (but is now on the mend– and I do want to emphasize that he has done probably more than I would have if I had a broken bone), so that has made things extra challenging. I just never adjusted my expectations to fit the realities of the situation. Now, I’ve just got to figure out what are reasonable expectations.

I wanted to participate in feMOMhist’s blog carnival about having it all, but I realized that I couldn’t. I don’t have it all right now. In fact, I’m more barely holding it all together.

Dr. Man broke his big toe. Twice. And technically one break is an open fracture (don’t google that– the images are icky and his open fracture is distinctly not that icky). His foot is in a shoe to help the toe heal (no pun intended) and he’s in a good amount of pain most of the time. He also can’t carry anything or walk very much.

Kiddo is 8 months old, needs to be carried, often while walking. This means that currently I am doing the majority of the childcare and housekeeping. To be fair, Dr. Man is doing the best he can and majorly cleaned put the house last Friday. All that being said, the majority of the day-to-day stuff has now fallen under my purview.

This means that in addition to being the lactating one, I’m now doing all the dishes, cooking, bath time, packing of Kiddo’s stuff, taking out the trash, and the majority of other chores. Last night I was too exhausted to make the mostly prepared meal I had planned and we ordered out for pizza.

Also, I’m tired. Really, really tired. Kiddo has yet to sleep through the night. Tuesday night I accidentally forgot to turn the baby monitor back on after getting up at 12:30am (I turn it off when I go soothe him back to sleep so Dr. Man can continue trying to sleep) and slept soundly until 4:00am when I heard Kiddo’s wails. (Yep, mother of the year award right here.) It was the longest I’d slept since November.

Right now I’m just not doing a very good job at any of my jobs. Scientist, mother, or wife.

Or Breastfeeding: It is hard

“Breast is best” was continuously pounded into my head throughout my pregnancy. At the childbirth classes it was assumed that the pregnant partners would breastfeed (“Remember to tell the nurses that you are planning on breastfeeding. Make a sign if you think you’ll forget.”). I did a bit of research (read: Pubmed search) and decided that indeed breastfeeding would be best. Therefore I signed up for a class on breastfeeding and assumed that would be that.

The class was less helpful than I thought it would be. It was largely a propaganda session to convince all of us there that breastfeeding was the best choice (Really though, why would I have paid money for a breastfeeding how-to class if I didn’t plan on breastfeeding?). Still, I figured breastfeeding is natural and has been occurring for however many thousands of years and should be simple to figure out.

I’ll pause for laughter.

Yeah, I was wrong. Breastfeeding is hard. For the first few days I truly hated it. I had just made it through a little over 2 day long labor (53 freaking hours) and was exhausted. Kiddo didn’t want to eat and just wanted to sleep (that was the last time that occurred). And to top it all off, the nurses freaked me out about my milk not coming in 24 hours after delivery (I later found out that 3 days post-partum is common and 24 hours is very uncommon with first time mothers).

I was instructed to pump using the hospital grade pump for 15 minutes a side after each feeding. Keep in mind that a newborn feeds every ~1.5- 2 hours– timed from the start of one nursing session to the start of the next– and will often nurse for 30 minutes a side. For those of you keeping track, that means that at most I had a 30 minute break between nursing/pumping sessions to do vital things like eat and sleep.

Additionally, Kiddo had latch problems. As in he did not latch. Many of my memories around the two days after Kiddo was born involve desperately trying to get him latched and fed. (Finally a nurse gave me a nipple shield and Kiddo ate like a beast. Promptly afterwards the nurse told me I should wean him off of it. Not. Helpful.)

We eventually go the hang of it with the help of a wonderful Lacation Consultant at Kiddo’s pediatrician’s office. (I don’t know how much they pay her. But whatever it is, it’s not enough.) The wonderful LC fixed Kiddo’s latch and helped me figure out how to handle the engorgement issue. It was and has been pretty smooth sailing (thus far).

However, everyone told me that after a few weeks I would love breastfeeding and the bond it created between me and Kiddo. That has yet to be true. Granted it is possible that it has strengthened the bond between me and Kiddo, but I don’t love breastfeeding. I tend to be annoyed by it. I can’t be away from Kiddo or the pump for more than 3 hours (except at night). I haven’t slept through the night since three days before Kiddo was born. I have to carefully calculate the timing of a well-deserved glass of wine (or bottle of beer) or forgo it entirely. It causes me a lot of stress since I work and am away from Kiddo for hours at a time and have to be constantly concerned about pumping enough milk to keep up with Kiddo. Also, for the first 4 or 5 months of Kiddo’s life the only thing that would soothe him at times was the boob. And so on and so forth.

Still, I don’t absolutely hate breastfeeding and I think that it probably provides optimal nutrition for Kiddo. Also, I’d imagine that having to warm up or mix formula in the middle of the night would annoy me even more. Additionally, when we travel or run errands I don’t have to think about packing formula (which is not an inconsequential bonus considering how much stuff we cart with us). So, I absolutely do not think that formula feeding is any better. I just wish that more people had warned me that it was hard.

This post brought to you by an acquaintance’s query on Facebook about her new child.

Since becoming a new mother (about 6.5 months ago), I have been subjected to a wide variety of well-meaning advice. However, I have found (or at least can think of) two standard responses to problems I’ve had– and are very common problems— that I think are unhelpful. The advice givers are well-meaning and usually mothers of older (and by older I mean greater than or equal to one year) children. While at the time I was disheartened, lately I feel encouraged because it leads me to be hopeful that I, too, will eventually grow forgetful of some of the more trying times of during Kiddo’s early infanthood.

Situation: At 3 weeks old Kiddo never wants to be put down. Ever. Not even for 30 seconds so I can change position.
Response: “Just hold him, you’ll miss this time soon enough!” usually in conjunction with “Don’t worry about housekeeping/chores, they’ll keep!” and/or a side of some silly sentimental poem about babies not keeping forever.

When Kiddo was first born he wanted to be held. Period. If you had the audacity to put him down so you could, say, use the bathroom, he’d scream like he was being mauled to death by a thousand banshees. I begged my friends of older children for some advice on what to do. Almost universally I received the above response. All I could think then was “Yeah, yeah I’ll miss these times. But right now I’ve really got to pee.” I adored (and still do) holding my son as he slept and marveling over his tiny hands and eyelids and other wonderful bits, but I still needed to do things like eat and take a shower and occasionally change positions. I could easily put off doing the dishes and laundry and it never occurred to me to fret over chores. However, I really needed even 5 minutes to stretch.

I only got one useful piece of advice with regards to this situation. A friend of mine, after I texted her (which I could do one handed) pleading for help so I could just walk around like a normal human being, offered to come over and in the meantime she suggested I break out my baby carrier to wear around the house. It had never occurred to me to wear the thing sitting down. I used it and I ate my first meal with two hands in weeks.

Situation: Kiddo woke (wakes) up to eat every 2 hours. And I’m slowly going insane from the lack of sleep.Response: “Oh, so he’s waking up every 2 hours to eat. You should just co-sleep.” with a side of “No, you’d wake up. Mothers are all light sleepers!”

Yeah, again, totally unhelpful. While I’m not in my brother’s league for sound sleeping (he once slept through a tornado), I am a sound sleeper. In college I had to have two alarm clocks and one of the two had to be across the room. So, yeah, me and a smotherable baby in the same bed is Not A Good Plan. Also, Dixie Dog sleeps in our bed, so that would mean me and Kiddo relocating to the guest bedroom. File this under That Which I Do Not Want (this is selfish of me, but I really want to sleep/stay in the same bed as my husband). I really hated when people tried to tell me that I was wrong about being a sound sleeper and talk me into co-sleeping. The only piece of useful advice I got was to find a sleep training method Dr. Man and I feel comfortable with and start implementing it consistently.

It’s not that I hate advice because I don’t. (In fact, if anyone has a good solution to the second problem that does not involve co-sleeping, I’m all ears.) It’s just that telling me to just enjoy the problem is infuriating.

A conversation

Friend Who Wants An Unmedicated Birth: Well, what did your midwife have to say?

Me: Nothing. I had an OB

FWWAUB: Really? Well, you’re lucky you didn’t have a C-section. At least you didn’t have an epidural, right?

Me: Actually, I requested one.

FWWAUB: Then, of course, you had to have pitocin. Epidurals always stall your labor.

Me: Well, the team wanted to augment my labor with pitocin first. I asked to have an epidural before the pitocin was administered. I was tired of being in pain.

FWWAUB: Did they try to force a C-section on you? Did you or Dr. Man have to refuse?

Me: No. The team did everything they could to avoid one. And, apparently, it worked.

FWWAUB: Well, you healed so quickly! You must’ve been able to avoid an episiotomy, too.

Me: Um… actually no. After pushing for 2 hours, Kiddo’s head wasn’t coming through. So, the doctor asked if he could give me one. The next push and Kiddo’s head was out!

FWWAUB: My god! You must’ve been so disappointed with Kiddo’s birth.

Me: ….

I had this conversation a few weeks ago and I thought it was particularly apt with some of the blog conversations I’m overhearing.

Kiddo was born about 8 weeks ago (he’ll be 8 weeks tomorrow!). I went into early labor at 1:30am on Wednesday, June 29th. For those keeping score, you can see that the total amount of time was about 48 hours (53 hours if you want to get technical). I know that for most people early labor “doesn’t count” (not my words). However, my early labor was not textbook and since it’s my experience I say it counts. It wasn’t textbook as in by Wednesday afternoon the contractions were five minutes apart lasting 45 seconds. However, when I went into the hospital Wednesday night I was only 2 cm dilated and 50% effaced. They progressed overnight to where by Thursday at 6am, they were 2 minutes apart lasting 60-90 seconds (keep in mind that contractions are timed from start time to start time) but I was only 3 cm dilated and 70% effaced. Contrast this with the textbook early labor where contractions can be 10-20 minutes apart lasting about 30 seconds– max.

Also, Kiddo was experiencing suspicious late hear decelerations at first and then later a lack of heart rate variability (See here for an explanation. Skip down to late decelerations.). The latter triggered administering the pitocin. The longer I labored without making progress, the longer Kiddo was experiencing fetal distress. As was later evidenced by the meconium stained fluid when my water was broken.

After writing the previous two paragraphs, I’m wondering why I feel the need to justify myself (I ended up doing the same with my friend above). I am happy with my birth experience. I never started out wanting an unmedicated birth and was vocal about that. My medical team was excellent. I had my own L&D room where I had complete control over the temperature and the lights. I was continuously monitored, but with Kiddo’s heart rate concerns I was more than ok with that. Dr. Man was with me the entire time. Throughout the whole process the medical team told me my options and why they wanted to do whatever (administer pitocin, break my water, have me wear oxygen, etc.). During the actual delivery the lights were low (with a spotlight on my lady bits– trust me I wanted the doctor to see what he was doing) and the NICU team– that Kiddo ended up not needing– was very respectful.

All that being said I’ve still gotten people who tell me that I made the wrong choice with going into the hospital, being admitted, accepting the pitocin/epidural, not seeking out a midwife or birthing center, etc.

I gave birth exactly as I wanted to (ok, I could’ve done without Kiddo’s complications). Why should I be ashamed of that? I don’t know, but apparently I am.

Sorry about the radio silence, but I’ve been a bit busy.

I’d like to introduce Kiddo to everyone. He made his entrance into this world on July 1st at 6:46am (after I was in labor for just about freaking ever) and was 7 lbs. 15 oz and 20 inches long (technically 19.88 inches, but I’m rounding).

The name thing was difficult for us. We were debating between the last name of a president/civil war general and a family name. After he was born, it was clear that the family name fit him the best. So, we named him after his paternal great-grandfather/his dad’s middle name and inadvertently after Harry Potter’s dad. (I say inadvertently because we didn’t realize they shared a name until a friend of mine mentioned it.) I don’t have a really good blog name for Kiddo yet, so I’m open to suggestions in the comments.

I’ll probably post a birth story– mostly for myself and because I’ve always enjoyed reading other people’s stories– eventually. Also, I have some other thoughts on pregnancy and new parenthood that I’ve not been able to share. So, I’ll post those too… sometime.
—————
Now the Daycare Dilemma.

Finding a place for Kiddo has been difficult. We had solved this problem back in May and settled on Third Choice Daycare (for lack of a better pseudonym). About three weeks ago I got a call from Close-Second Choice Daycare saying they had an opening. We jumped at that. The location of Close-Second Choice Daycare is slightly more convenient than Third Choice and I liked the teachers much better. Also, they have webcams that would allow me to check on Kiddo throughout the day. So, we put down a nonrefundable deposit of ~$1000 (enrollment fee and 1st month– daycare is expensive!) and were pleased.

Now today we got an email from 1st Choice/On-Campus Daycare saying they had an opening. 1st Choice/On-Campus Daycare is literally a 5 minute walk (if that) from my lab, has nursing rooms (I could nurse Kiddo at lunch!), and would allow him to spend less time in daycare (due to almost no transit time). So, the question is: Do we forget about our large deposit to Second Choice and go with 1st Choice/On-Campus Daycare? Or do we tell 1st Choice/On-Campus Daycare, thanks but no? Any advice would be greatly appreciated!

That’s how big the in utero one is according to babycenter.com at 29 weeks (and two days, but who’s counting?). Pregnancy has been interesting. I did some research prior to getting in this condition, but that mostly revolved around safe practices during pregnancy (eg. Can I take Claritin for allergies? What should I avoid eating? etc.). What I didn’t research was the side effects of pregnancy on the host (i.e. me). Here are my top five things that took me by surprise:

1. Nausea.
   I heard all about morning sickness during the first trimester. The key word being morning. What I found out was that morning really means “It’s always morning somewhere.” My morning sickness/nausea lasted all frigging day. This seems like a rather large evolutionary disadvantage. I needed to be eating to help support the young I was growing, but eating was a difficult task to pull off successfully. When I did manage to eat most of my food consisted of carbs because it was what agreed with me. Still, the in utero one survived so Mother Nature must have figured something out.
2. Gastrointestinal Issues.
   I’ll try to avoid grossing anyone out, but let’s just say that my bowel movements have never held such a high importance in my life.
3. What Fetal Movement Really Feels Like.
   Whenever I asked someone what fetal movement feels like I got the same couple of answers: “It’s like popcorn popping.” Or “A goldfish swimming around.” Or “A rubber band pinging you from the inside.” To me it didn’t feel like any of those things. At first it didn’t feel all that much different from gas (icky, right?). After that it felt more and more alien. Right now, I’m half convinced that kiddo is going to make his entrance to the world a la Aliens.
4. Round Ligament Pain.
   I had never heard of this phenomena prior to getting knocked up. So, let me describe it to the uninitiated. It’s unexpected sharp pain that occurs randomly whenever you make normal movements– even involuntary ones. For example, I sneezed this morning (lots of tree sex is going on around here). Normally sneezing is fine as long as I have a tissue. This morning I felt a sharp, stabbing pain in my middle that made me gasp and look for the knife that had just been shoved in my gut. This is round ligament pain.
5. The Number of Idiots Out In The World Unsupervised.
   I’m normally a fairly tolerant person. However, I am getting rather tired of everyone having an opinion. From the woman at the coffee cart who criticized my caffeine intake (I was having a 8 oz cup of brewed coffee– not cocaine) to the acquaintance who informed me that my openness to having an epidural was tantamount to murdering my unborn child. Seriously, people stop. I know that everyone is entitled to his/her opinion, but can you stop sharing them with me? Yes, I know that too much caffeine is harmful. Yes, I know that having an epidural can lead to further interventions. Amazingly, I didn’t earn my Ph.D. on my looks alone. I know how to research a subject and ask intelligent questions of my healthcare team to determine the best choices for me. In summary, the population of the planet can stop their quest in educating me.
6. Reactions Everyone Expects Me to Have.
   Ok, I lied. I thought of one more. Everyone expects me to be super sentimental about all stages of my pregnancy. I’m asked if I’ve taken pictures of my belly (I haven’t). And I’ve been asked (more than once) if feeling my child move isn’t the most magical thing ever?!?! To be honest, nope. It’s cool, don’t get me wrong, but it isn’t the end all be all of existence. I found out I was pregnant a few days before my defense. When I tell people that, they look at me and ask how could I ever keep my mind on my defense?!? To tell the truth, it wasn’t that hard. I had been looking forward to defending for an awfully long time and I was very excited about the prospect of being done. That’s not to say I wasn’t excited about kiddo. It was just… well… defending was a big accomplishment and I was (and am) proud of it. Being pregnant was another thing to be excited about and not something to compete with the defense.

I’m sure that I’ve missed some things and they will be further blog fodder in the future. Also, I apologize for the sudden turn towards pregnancy that this blog has taken. It’ll probably only get worse as this is a pretty big thing in my life right now (both metaphorically and physically– my belly is huge!).

Things have gotten rather dusty around here. It’s been a while since I came around here. Between writing the dissertation, preparing for the defense, and various family dramas blogging hasn’t been a very high priority. Today, though, I got the urge to blog and I decided to run with it.

It’s a new year and I’m feeling very good about it. Not that last year was a bad year altogether. I mean, I got my Ph.D. last year (with about 10 days to spare, but who’s counting?). It’s more that I remember starting last year feeling like I was never going to graduate and feeling rather blah about life in general. Starting this year I feel hopeful. I already accomplished the biggest thing I thought was never going to happen (read: graduate) and that makes me feel like I can do just about anything. My postdoc focuses on an entirely different subject matter and the field really is wide open.

Also, I think the root of this hopeful feeling has been my recent (since my defense) change in work habits. I’m working normal work hours and not at all on weekends. I’ve started seeing Dr. Man in the daylight and spending more time with the Dixie Dog. I’ve read a ton of fun books and caught up on Doctor Who (except for the fifth season– I’m still waiting on Netflix). I had forgotten that I have interests outside of the lab and that taking off two whole days every week can recharge me. I just need to keep this in mind as I start my postdoc and fight the whole feeling of being under time constraints. Because I guess, I’m sort-of under a time constraint, as I’ll have a little one joining our family in the beginning of July. And from what I understand the wee one will take up a lot of my time and will not tolerate me working too late at night. At least this is what I’ve heard about having a new baby. I’ll have to wait to empirically test this until July, but after the trials of the first trimester I’m inclined to believe all I’ve heard.

Alas! I am so far behind on everything. I mean everything. And the more behind I get, the less likely I am to rectify my mistake. So, here it goes: I’ve sort-of moved houses to Lab Spaces

(I’ve been debating about whether or not to keep this space to vent about more personal things. Then again, I haven’t posted very personal things here for a while. So, that may be pointless.)

Anyhow, all that to say: I’d really appreciate it if you all ignore my awful rudeness in not announcing my move here earlier and come and visit me over there!

I really want to post this on Facebook, but I can’t. However, I want to get it out somewhere. I’m getting sick and tired of people posting political comments on Facebook calling people of different political beliefs (or ideals?) as idiots or morons or some other derogatory term. I have friends from across the political spectrum and I do not post political statements because I know it would hurt their feelings.

However, frankly, I’m getting tired of being called names. Below is what I really want to comment on a few people’s statuses calling me (not in particular, but people of the same political persuasion as me) an idiot, moron, or un-American.

“Perhaps, you would like to rephrase your comment. It’s never nice to name call.* At least, I like to think that you wouldn’t call me a fill-in-the-blank to my face. While we disagree on politics, I think it would be better for you to encourage people to write their congress person or to support candidates that hold the same opinions as you. Both of those are reasonable and highly commendable. However, calling someone a name will do nothing to convert them to your cause.

Also, what happened to being civil and polite? I know we disagree and I just avoid discussing politics with you. I do that because I know that we have two completely different opinions and that no matter what I say you will not suddenly agree with me. I know that because, most likely, no matter what you say to me I will not change my mind. So, we continue to disagree. However, I know that, in the end, you and I both have the best of intentions and neither of us are inherently bad people and there is room for both of us in this country.

*Besides it hurts my feelings.”