Ramble Ramble

I have 3 websites launching this week (like, TOMORROW), and our big trade show next week, and I am FREAKING OUT because I have so much to do and so little time to do it, and I feel like one of those cartoons where the steam inside the character’s head keeps building and building and building until their head explodes, and dear GOD do I want this week to be over, and then, maybe then, I can relax and not feel like this giant ball of OMGOMGOMG!

So um, yeah, posting may be a little sparse until later this week when I might be able to, ya know, breathe or something.

P.S. Your comments on my last two posts have not gone unnoticed–when I have time to intelligently respond to them, I will, but for now, let me just say–You guys are the best, and I know that more every time you leave me such thoughtful comments!

This is a somewhat awkward blog post, but I can’t seem to get it out of my head, so I’m putting it up anyway. I’d love to hear your thoughts.

Lately, I’ve found that a number of the bloggers I read are dealing with the issues of infertility & miscarriage. It’s heartbreaking to read their struggles and frustrations and hurt and anger, but the grace they show in their writing of these events is amazing to see. They make me cry, and they make me think, and they make me hope along with them that things work out this time.

Here’s the part I’m struggling with–I feel hesitant to leave comments for these lovely ladies. Not because their situation makes me uncomfortable, or because I don’t know what to say (although, sometimes I don’t. But that’s not the issue here). Instead, it’s because I always wonder if I may inadvertently add pain to their day. That sounds kind of self-centered when I read it back to myself, but let me splain where my thinking comes from.

We all know how it goes in the blogging world. You leave a comment and often, you get a return visit (not always, but often). Or, for those of us who have CommentLuv enabled, you get to see the most recent blog post title in the comment. And for some of these bloggers, they have read my stuff in the past (and some still do), so they know who I am, and what my blog consists of.  And it’s pretty apparent that it’s baby central around here lately. It’s what my brain wants me to write about lately, and so that’s what I write.

So whenever I go to leave a comment for one of these ladies, I hesitate because I don’t want to inflict my baby-ness on them, since the lack of baby-ness is what is causing them pain. I would hate, HATE, to add even an instant of additional hurt to their world, especially for something as small as a comment on their blog. So I sit with their page open, thinking “ok, what did I post today?” or “She has commentluv enabled, I should wait until my post title is different” or “does the support I’m offering in this comment out-weigh the sting that might be felt if she comes to my blog and reads about the kid?”

And I guess that’s the gist of my question–does the support I would offer in a comment out-weigh the possible sting of coming to my site/seeing the blog post title/knowing who I am and facing a baby? I know what I would do in real life, but in real life we don’t have comment forms following us around.

Internet, what would you/do you do in these situations? Are there other corollaries that are as fraught with tension? If any of you have experienced a miscarriage or infertility, what do you say? What would you/do you want?

Three times a day, I leave my desk and head upstairs to an empty office. There is no phone, no computer, nothing but a chair, a desk, and a door with a lock. Three times a day I sit in this empty office and willingly connect myself to a machine that makes me feel distinctly like a dairy cow, so that my kid can eat the next day. Ah, the joys of pumping.

I don’t like anything about pumping. About the only thing I like is the little bit of satisfaction I take in filling those bottles up everyday. Other than that?  I don’t like that little room, which is always either freezing or about a billion degrees. I loathe the actual pumping process–I find that it hurts no matter what I try, and to fully empty the boobs I have to mash the hell out of them, so that’s fun too. I don’t like the stress of “did I make enough milk for the kid to eat tomorrow?”  I definitely don’t like the weird situation of sitting with my boobs exposed at WORK. I mean, that’s a bit of a mind trip right there.

Mostly, though, I don’t like the catch-22 of guilt and frustration that comes from spending 90 minutes a day not working while at work. Especially right now, when I’m so crazy busy. I feel guilty for taking the time to pump, and then I feel guilty for feeling guilty because, hello, feeding the kid isn’t exactly a frivolous way to spend my time.  It’s not like I’m screwing around doing nothing.

I also know that most people (myself included) probably spend that much time not working while they are in the office–reading blogs, making personal calls, chatting with coworkers, etc. But I think part of what my pumping schedule does is make me feel like I can’t do any of the rest of that–like I already have my “non-work” allocation. So I find myself stressed when a coworker wants to chat about the baby in the hallway, or when I need to make a personal call to deal with insurance, or when I spend 10 minutes eating my lunch. I end up trying to do anything non-work related while I pump, which just adds to my stress about the whole thing.

I know we could put the kid on formula, and there will come a day, I’m sure, when that happens. I have nothing against formula (except maybe the cost, but then I’m kind of cheap about some things), so it’s not a matter of any kind of disdain for that option. But for now we’ve made the decision to commit, as much as possible, to breast milk. So for the time being, I’ll continue to lock myself in that little room,  hook myself up to that milking machine and pump away.

Today’s list is the top 20 email subjects in my inbox.

Sounds thrilling, I know, but wait! Before you run away, let me give you some context.

Our childcare situation is pretty cool–I work, and N.C. stays home with the baby. He’s the stay at home dad. Which is all yay for him and yay for the baby, but kind of boo for me. I may have mentioned before that it rips me up a little bit inside to think of how much I miss with the kid by being at work. So when I went back to work, N.C. started sending me emails throughout the day, complete with photos, to help me stay a little connected. At first I thought it would suck, that constant reminder that I’m not home (where I want to be), the constant barrage of proof that I’m not with him. But honestly, those little emails are the absolute highlight of my day. Some days, I get one or two. Some days I get five. They all have pictures or a sound recording. And they absolutely brighten my day. And I keep them all, so my inbox is filled to overflowing with emails of the kid’s day to day.

But, my husband, he can be a bit of an oddnik. So some of the titles of these emails…well, you tell me:

1. Good morning from Mr. Surly McSpitup
2. I’m pretty sure cannibalism is from YOUR side of the family
3. Tonight we dine on lamb!!
4. Part hungry, part koala
5. Happier pooped nekkid baby
6. Bellytiiiiiiiime!!
7. Disapproving baby sez…
8. Aeriel survellience photos for your pleasure
9. An interlude in fussy and squealy
10. Monkey McSillyhead
11. Glornaps McMonkeyKnobs
12. Burrowing baby can haz milk bottle
13. BabyTronic functional and online
14. I thought ADD came much later
15. Clearly this weird behavior comes from YOUR genes
16. This is what happens when Dad gets bored while feeding… (ed. these are the ones that always give me pause)
17. Late feeding on the starboard side
18. I dub thee…SwaddleTron!
19. That’s not a bottle, that’s a PHONEY!
20. The King in his throne and a soggy Dino head

This is just a sampling of the strange email subjects that fill up my inbox. If someone were to hack my email, I figure they’d be VERY confused for a while!

As always, more lists can be found over at Anna’s at abdpbt!

Hey, how bout some letters, hmmm?

Dear Work,

Please stop trying to kill me. I beg of you.

Overworked,
Me

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Dear Battlestar Gallactica,

I know, I know I’m late to finding out how awesome you are. But you are totally rocking my world. I’m already sad to think of you ending, even though we still have 2 more seasons to get through. What will I do without my fix of Starbuck & Adama & co.? Until then, you keep rocking.

Wondering who else is a Cylon(but don’t tell me!),
Me

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Dear Kid,

So I know you’re probably going through a developmental spurt or something, but mommy’s not loving this sleep thing you’ve got going on–or rather this lack of sleep thing. The multiple wake-ups every night is not helping mommy’s stress level, so if we could go back to how things were a week ago, sleepwise, mommy would REALLY appreciate it.

Awake only through caffeine,
Mommy

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Dear Internet,

Thank you for providing me with moments of inspiration and humor this week. The laughter, intelligence, fun, and perspective you’ve given me during this stressful time have really helped. Keep it up!

Thankfully,
Me