Travel planning with baby

It's done.  We've officially booked our first flight that includes baby James!  I must admit that this is upcoming trip is a daunting prospect.  We've navigated cars, taxis, trains, and buses, but the idea of taking a plane is so different!  There's planning and packing, taking the taxi to the airport, navigating security while juggling all the various and necessary baby items... and this is even before we make it onto the plane.  Once on, we'll have to figure out how James will sit/lay, how to make sure he's secure, how to deal with angry stares from fellow passerby in case he starts crying (I must admit, I used to be one of the starers.  It will be hard to transition to staree!), and, worst of all - how to deal with the potential ear pain involved in the landing.  And, once there, our bags may have been lost.  I personally can go for days without my luggage, but things will not be so easy with the little one. 

Travel used to be one of my favorite things.  Has all that changed?  Have I really changed into the paranoid and overplanning parent?  Parenthood has suddenly taken on a new level of seriousness. 

Nappy emergency

I'm beginning to understand why moms complain about all the equipment they need to prepare to leave the house, even before the baby is drinking anything besides milk.  It's not the things you need that take all the space - it's the things you MAY need.

This is particularly true for busy baby mommas who enjoy being out of the house for extended periods of time.  Yesterday, I left the house for lunch at around noon with James' uncle and father.  We were meeting friends for dinner at 6:30.  Since we now have a little one, I decided to ignore my usual motto that it's often easier, and more sensible, to simply plan for a day long expedition than to return home for a rushed 30 minutes in between.  I thought that with a baby, I would no longer want to be out all day.  I was wrong.  Clearly, having a baby has not completely changed my personality, because once out, I wanted to stay out.  We had lunch, went on a walk, enjoyed the lovely Spring weather in a park, stopped by a pub to watch a tennis match, and before we knew it, it was 5:30 pm... really too late to go home and come back.  It made more sense to remain.

This was slightly unfortunate, becuase I was not fully prepared for all situations.  I wasn't prepared for the huge poop that James did at 5:35, nor the leaky diaper that acted as little more than a sieve.  While the boys enjoyed the sports on television with our half-naked baby, I found myself in the bathroom scrubbing James' little outfit with handsoap, then holding a still slightly spotted and soapy onesy up to the handdryer for ten minutes as women looked amusedly on. 

The lesson:  prepare for the worst, even if you must carry an entire bag full of items you never use.  More diapers than you could use in a week, two extra changes of clothes, an extra pack of wipes, extra pacifiers... there must be more I can add to my defensive arsenal.  As this baby grows, so will the bag.  I shudder to imagine it, but nor can I imagine a world in which I am chained to the house. 

The outcome was that the baby looked fine, dinner was fun and fabulous, and we had a great time.  Not coming home was worth the added stress.  But next time, I hope to avoid it completely through proper planning.

An uncooperative breast

You may recall that I have been facing difficulties with a breast - mastitis, to be precise. I hadn't been able to kick this problem, despite three courses of antibiotics, massage, continued feeding on the breast in question, and a goal of drinking massive amounts of water.  Perhaps my attemps at these activities weren't as strong as they could have been, or there was a problem with my breast to begin with.  Whatever the reason, my mastitis seems to have progressed into an abscess - a pocket of infection that needs to be drained.  It's red, sore and difficult to feed with, and the nipple is looking slightly skewed.  (ok, really skewed, red and swollen - my husband refuses to even look at it.  Nope, no second baby for us anytime soon!)  Were I not so completely dedicated to breast feeding, I would have easily given up. 

My doctor has referred me to have an ultrasound so that the doctors can see whether the mastitis has progressed to an abscess.  If it has, I believe the solution will be to lance it and let it ooze.  Sounds lovely.  Pregnancy and breastfeeding continue to make my body into a punching bag for my own body.  It's like an internal version of Fight Club - it's just as secretive and serious, but no one on the outside can see the pain. 

As a temporary measure, I've begun steadily expressing from the affected breast and feeding James a bottle.  He had difficulties with the Medela bottles, but loves the Mimijumi bottle I was given as a gift.  It looks a bit odd - it's shaped like a breast to make the experience better for the baby - but it seems to work well.  I'm hoping that using this breast-shaped bottle will make it easier for James to return to the actual breast when the situation has improved.  If I can go through the added hassle of pumping, surely he can go through the added hassle of latching to the breast!

Things change... but stay the same

Eight weeks after the birth, I decided it was time to take a step away from bottles and nappies, and back towards the real world.  I braved the rush hour to meet with three of my colleagues after work.  We had arranged to meet at 5:30, and I figured we would have a glass of wine, then perhaps head to dinner for food, drinks, and cheer.  I would hear all the office gossip and news about how people had shifted positions in the dynamic organisation for which I work. 

I had forgotten it was Monday, that it is somehow more difficult to spend money when one has a steady income, and that, in a big bank. very little can change over 2 months.  My colleagues weren't in the mood to drink or spend (which I, still weak physically and financially, decidedly was) and I quickly learned that there was very little new gossip.  No one had quit or gotten fired, there had been no accidental "reply alls,"  and although I had begun over the past few days to look forward to returning, I was vividly reminded of how repetitive a 9-to-5 job can be. 

While it was fantastic to catch up with these women on their personal and professional lives on an individual level, it's clear that while parenthood can be repetitive by nature, the financial world - despite the air of excitement that surrounds the suited and booted rush hour crowds - can be just as much so.