I tend to be a person of total obsession focused devotion. I will go through periods of LOVING something to death like books, television shows, research subjects, and the occasional person.

Food is no exception.

When I am pregnant, well…let’s just say it can get worse.

Right now if my current obsessions do not die down, this kid will be born looking like Suzanne Whang from House Hunters or a crepe. 

For those who have never viewed the awesomeness that is House Hunters, I’ll give you the lowdown.

Suzanne Whang narrates as people look for a house to buy.

I love Suzanne Whang. She always looks totally pulled together and serene and whenever they film her she is in some perfect, beautiful, foliage-laden place that looks like it is right out of a home and garden magazine.

The show is always VERY consistent: They narrow it down to three house choices and then after much hemming and hawing and guessing on the part of the viewer, they tell you which house was selected. Then they usually follow up with the couple between one month and a year to see how their house turned out and how they like it. 

They always prepare food in their previous or new kitchen and there is always a party at the end. (The really sad ones are where they have to invite their realtor over because the obviously haven’t made a lot of friends in the new location.) 

Also, at some point the couple WILL be filmed holding a coffee mug while talking to the camera. (Which is a little weird and totally staged looking.)

They even have an international version.

I freaking LOVE this show. 

Jonathan?

Not so much.

Whenever I have control of the remote and I turn it to HGTV, there is an inevitable exasperated sigh and conversation with my House Hunters-hating spouse.

“Oh, look! Shock! It’s ANOTHER episode of House Hunters! Does HGTV have any other shows that they produce?”

“Of course, but people love this show so they produce lots of it. Think of it this way, House Hunters is like the Law & Order of HGTV.”

“Except shittier and way more boring. Seriously, I think that someone records the damn thing on their iphone and then edits it with Windows movie maker on their PC.”

So, let’s just say that Jon is NOT a fan and leave it at that.

He is a little more tolerant of my crepe fetish.

Usually, my crepe making occurs in the dead of night. Like, 3 am.  It’s a simple process and easy peasy.

2 eggs

1 cup milk

1 cup flour

2 Tbsp. melted butter

2 Tbsp. sugar

Whisk in a bowl, melt butter in a non-stick pan pour a small circle of batter and either spread with a  spoon or rotate circularly by hand (how I do it) until the crepe is smooth, thin and round.  Flip and remove from pan. Butter and sprinkle with powdered sugar, roll up and nom, nom, nom.  (Sometimes I add jam or lemon juice but really I am a fan of just the sugar.)

Recently, I discovered the awesomeness that is adding Nutella, bananas and strawberries to the crepes.

OMG.

NIRVANA.

The other day, I decided to make crepes for dinner. Usually, since I make them in the middle of the night, I hog all of them by myself, but I wanted to share with my family.  So, I headed to Albertsons to buy supplies.

There weren’t any carts available and I thought, “No biggie. I just need strawberries, Nutella and bananas. I can carry that.”

And I COULD have.  Except that I remembered we needed bread. And milk.  And eggs. And a box of Ding Dongs. (Ok, we didn’t really NEED Ding Dongs, but I usually go to the store with Jon and he has a way of putting things back on the shelf he feels aren’t good for me to eat. And yes, it is annoying as hell.)

So, there I was, in Albertsons with my arms piled high with precariously balanced items in my arms as I waddled my way to the check out counter, when it started to happen:

My maternity pants started falling down.

Shit.

I have no butt.  It’s flat as a pancake and so my pants often have difficulty staying up. Adding a globe-like stomach only makes it worse. I was wearing a new pair of maternity pants and they are a little big on me. Between my arms being too full to hitch them back up, being too roomy and having a behind that could pass for the Bonneville Salt Flats, I was doomed in this scenario.

I tried to just walk it off but they kept falling. So, I stopped and tried to shift but it was getting worse every time I moved until the band of my pants WAS DOWN AROUND MY UPPER THIGHS, PEOPLE. 

Let me restate the image in case you missed it:

I WAS STANDING WITH MY ARMS PILED WITH GROCERIES FLASHING MY HOT PINK MATERITY PANTY CLAD ASS IN THE CEREAL AISLE AT ALBERTSONS.

Luckily, no one else was around. 

There was NOWHERE to put my items without dropping them on the floor and I was totally scared the eggs or milk would fall and break open and strawberries would roll everywhere.  So, I slowly scooted backward to the corner of a shelf and leaned against it and tried to see if rubbing up against it would scoot my pants back up.

Picture a big, globe-like bear scratching his back against a tree.

It seemed to be helping slightly, so I kept it up.

Until an older lady rounded the corner and looked at me.

I’m sure it made her day to see a pregnant woman laden down with groceries with her pants half down and looking like she was anal raping the shelving unit where she shops for groceries.

“Do you need some help, dear?”

It was humiliating but I let her take my eggs and milk and strawberries so that I could set everything else down and pull up my pants.  She assured me she had been pregnant and understood and I mumbled a sincere thank you, gathered my groceries and waddled with all my might to the checkout stand.

It was really one of the more embarrassing moments of my life.

When I got home, I curled up in bed and flipped on the TV.

YAY! HOUSE HUNTERS!

It automatically cheered me up.

Except reflecting on it still makes me totally blush and cringe. I bet that Suzanne Whang would probably NEVER be caught in hot pink maternity panties with her pants down in the cereal aisle of Albertsons.

Dammit.

I need a crepe…

There is a commercial that is currently running by Medela, a company that produces breast pumps and other baby items. Obviously, they are a pro-breastfeeding company and in the commercial they make the statement that breastfeeding is “best for the baby and best for you“.

But what if it’s not?

Best, I mean?

Who exactly gets to define that statement?

A company?

A hospital?

A league?

Internet groups? 

Other mothers?

Or me?

I’m not breastfeeding this baby when it’s born.

I didn’t come to this conclusion lightly and since this is my 4th baby, I feel that I am knowledgeable and seasoned and not making this decision in ignorance or out of inexperience. If anything, it is quite the contrary.

I have always been determined to be a nursing mother, but 4 months is as long as I’ve been able to do it. I’ve struggled to get my babies to latch on and had mastitis each time.  Still, I nursed. And despite the problems, I loved it. I loved the closeness and the bonding and that I could give my baby something nobody else could. The positives to breastfeeding are obvious.

The main issue with me breastfeeding and how long I have been able to do it is that I have several herniations in my back and I simply cannot let my babies feed as long as they need to (no matter WHAT position I lie in). Eventually, I have to wave the white flag and supplement and my supply usually dries up.

Still, I have always tried.

This time the scenarios and issues with how I feed are different. Because my last baby died I am already a basket case of worry and anxiety and the kid isn’t even here yet. I’m struggling.  I worry about post-partum depression and anxiety. I’m trying to reduce as much stress and “things” as possible because I have no idea HOW I am going to be when he’s here. I think that the worry about keeping this baby safe and alive for the first 6 months are going to be pretty hard on me.

I do not sleep for months with worry over all my newborns-even when I CAN. I literally watch them perpetually to see if they are breathing. When I hear them make the slightest noise I wake up. I was just beginning to chill out when Matthew died. I can’t help but think this will make things worse, ya know?

When I have that much lack of sleep it also really exacerbates negative issues I have, so we are going to try some things to make sure that I get as much sleep as possible to try and be proactive about how I cope when he’s here.

For the first time, I am going to try (try being the operative word) putting the baby in his own nursery next door and use a baby monitor instead of having him sleep in the bassinet next to my bed. I think that this will be really difficult for me but I am still going to try becuase I know if he is next to me I will just sit and watch him.

And?

I’m bottle feeding.

I think that it will be a HUGE help if my husband and I take designated shifts with the baby.  Having my husband help out at night should make it easier. He is on board with my decision. He wishes I would try pumping, at least for a few weeks, but I am not going to. It would pretty much nullify most of the reasons why I’m not breastfeeding to do so. (Plus, he is a guy and doesn’t understand the process of milk coming in and then drying up and what an ordeal it is.)

I’ve thought about this for a very long time. Of course, I can’t know everything that is going to happen with this baby or how he is going to be, I can only make an educated guess. But I feel that it is better than putting myself in a situation that I KNOW will leave me more frazzled and stressed out.

To be honest?

I think formula is fine.

I do not think it is poison and never bat an eye when I see someone using it. Speaking of that, I will be on some heavy duty medication for my clotting disorder after he is born that they say should be safe in breast milk, but that makes me a LOT more nervous than anything I see on a package of formula.

I know the arguments are that the breastmilk is best but in my own experience, I can’t say that I have anything but the opposite experience as far as the health of my kids. James, who I nursed the longest, has horrible asthma and allergies and Matthew died of SIDS and he was nursed. In fact, the ONLY healthy kid I have is Christopher and he formula fed because I threw a huge blood clot after he was born and I couldn’t nurse.

Do I think these health issues (or non) with my kids is due to how they were fed?

No, I don’t.

I’m throwing that out there because of a particular internet conversation I had where a well-meaning breastfeeding activist kept throwing out the statistics of better health to me. THESE statisitics in my own family mean more to me, frankly.

I think breastfeeding is WONDERFUL and feel strongly that women should be able to nurse whenever, wherever they need to. I get angered at mothers being asked to leave places due to breastfeeding their babies and I do not doubt that it is the very best option for many moms and babies. I do not mind lactation education in the least and am really glad it is out there to dispell myths and provide support for people who want to nurse, as long as I feel that a contrary decision is respected, if not agreed with.

On the flip side, I also think that the reactions some people have to bottle feeding mothers and what is said to them in the name of breastfeeding advocacy is disgusting. I am weary of the implication that it makes someone less of a mother or a parent. Or that they are selfish if they choose to not attempt to nurse or pump if they don’t have health reasons that prevent it.

I worry about how I will be treated at the hospital when I tell the nurses I am bottle feeding because of the reaction my niece got when she bottle fed. I am hoping I will have that decision respected and will not be hen-pecked to death or pestered by the lactation specialist. I will have enough to worry about without that. I am probably going to be proactive and ask to have it noted in my chart that I just want to be left alone regarding it and hope my choice is respected.

To me, feeding your baby is a VERY personal choice and what works for some does not for others. After all: My boobs. My kid. My life. My choice.

Right?

Still, some of the comments I have already gotten at appointments and reading opinions and comments on the internet leaves me a little on the defensive. One person equated formula feeding TO ABUSE.

ABUSE?

For feeding a baby formula?

SERIOUSLY?

My jaw was on the floor.

I can’t help but wonder why the way a mother feeds her child is the business of another person or why I feel like I have to justify this decision to anyone, including myself.

People who have health issues where they cannot nurse or who have at least “tried” to nurse are usually given a pass on breastfeeding, even amongst the zealous, but what if you just feel strongly that nursing is not for you?  Why can’t that be respected as a parenting choice?

I feel that I have plenty of solid and justifiable “reasons” not to nurse.

BUT WHAT IF I DIDN’T?

What if I chose not to nurse just because I didn’t think it would be what was the best option for how my life and parenting works?

OR JUST BECAUSE?

What then?

Would that make me a bad, selfish person or less of a mother?  Is breast milk so much better to the point that a mother who chooses not to nurse should have condemnation heaped on her head?  I just don’t buy that.  I just do not think that bottle feeding makes me or any other woman who chooses not to nurse a bad mother or a selfish one, but I know this is the opinion some have (even if it remains unvoiced) and I find that kind of sad. 

The costs associated with death can be staggering. Little Maddie’s funeral is going to be over $7,000. I know times are tight for everyone but this is such a huge and unexpected cost for Heather and Mike to try and cope with on top of her loss. Please help if you can.

If you want to put this button on your blog, email me for the code.