More pictures! I started a new album, since the old one was getting so bloated.
Grace's last feeding yesterday took AN HOUR AND FORTY-FIVE MINUTES. At first I thought she might have reflux. She's always been Spit Queen, and for the last few days she's been fussy while nursing and very distracted. Her favorite thing to do is to clamp on as hard as she can (they should make bank vault doors out of nursing babies) and twist her head around to one side so she can stare intently at the blinds or the fan or James or the cat or air particles invisible to the adult eye.
I looked all this up. Apparently I have a distractible baby. The website I went to (kellymom) is all gung-ho about breastfeeding, which, rah! but whoever writes it clearly experiences breastfeeding as lollipops and bunny tails. I don't. I love nursing Grace, but feeding her is boring. BORING. And difficult. She's so heavy now that she sinks waaaay down into any pillows I can shove under her, but she's not got the head control that most babies of that weight have. She does have the strength, though, so every randomly firing neuron means another claw mark on my chest (I've resorted to covering her fists with socks for every feeding) or a fist-sized lump on my nose. You know how on cartoons and comic strips, when characters get into big fights, it's just this cloud of dust with "&^%$@!" for a caption and arms and legs poking out at random with great vigor? That's my baby. My heavyweight champion baby. My biceps and wrist muscles are turning into titanium.
Kellymom tells me I have a distractible baby. There's nothing wrong with her (yay!). This perfectly normal (hoorah!). Babies of her age often take hours to nurse at the end of the day (say what?). She'll probably get better around month four (shoot me now). Enjoy your bonding time together (riiiight)! Things that will help are to nurse her in a dark room or with a nursing cover on (I can do that) and minimize sounds, meaning no TV or radio. Um. No. Nononono. TV is what makes life bearable these days. I CANNOT spend an hour and forty-five minutes every evening staring at my kid while she slurps away and does pirouettes in my lap. I will go stark raving mad.
This might mean I'm a bad mother, but I suspect very few women would be okay with this. Breastfeeding is not a magical wonderland full of friendly wizards and pretty unicorns. It's a good thing, but it also really sucks sometimes. Pun! Totally intended!
I'm so glad I'm cute! The cuteness, it is what keeps me alive! Hooray!