There was a lapse in healthy living last week after a frantic, miserable 48 hours for baby duck and I. My first week back on the healthy eating bandwagon saw a 3 pound drop on the scale. Then there were 2 days of misery; crabby, hungry, angry nursing misery.
If nursing the monkey hadn’t gone so horribly wrong I probably wouldn’t have panicked. If the duck weren’t so little I also probably would have taken it in stride. If we hadn’t spent 10 weeks doing everything we possibly could to get to a place where nursing was easy and pain free I probably would have been okay. But listening to your little one cry and yell and then claw at your chest as he tries to get something to eat is heart breaking.
When the monkey was 8 months old I made drastic changes to my eating and exercise habits and our nursing relationship, already on shaky ground, ended much earlier than I was ready for it too. It broke my heart and so I will admit that I freaked out a bit when my supply tanked last week. I kept eating the same healthy fruits, veggies, and grains but I also added back more fats and starches into my diet in hopes that it would jump-start my production. That, combined with a whack of oatmeal and ‘lactation’ cookies, meant that by Wednesday things were back to normal on the nursing front. I’m grateful that I had a stash of pumped milk in the freezer and that baby duck, frantically hungry, was willing (albeit begrudgingly) to take a bottle.
But there’s nothing like seeing yourself on TV to get you running and jumping back on the healthy eating bandwagon . Milk or not I don’t want to be wearing maternity jeans for another single, solitary day!
And while it might be negative motivation it worked.
So do the charmingly honest comments from the firefighter.
Watching me put on a wrap to carry the baby duck in a few weeks back he asked if it was underwear for my back breasts.
“Huh” I thought to myself, until I looked in the mirror. Apparently to a six year old my rolls are size-able enough to resemble breasts.
Just yesterday he was keeping me company in my office while I edited photos, chattering away about anything and everything that came to mind.
“See that picture there” he asked, pointing to a photo from the 10K I ran last May. “The one where you were a lot smaller”
Who needs negative self-talk when you have a six year old to remind you that your body has changed and not necessarily for the better.
So my back breast toting, maternity pant wearing, and mirror-avoidant self is back to tracking and vigilantly monitoring what I eat; one eye on the calories and nutrient intake and the other on the baby duck, making sure he’s happy and fed too.