Family

It's strange for me to think about the people that I call family. Of course, there is my dad, and my brother, and one step brother that I am still in contact with. As for the rest of those that I spent most of my childhood calling "family," well, I don't really know what they're up to. It's been 12 years since I have spoken to my step mom, and just as many, if not more, since I have spoken to her other two sons. I am not angry about this, I really think it was for the best. Part of me wishes I knew how they've ended up, though I know it's not really the end. I sincerely hope they're in better places in their lives, but I do not call these people family anymore. 

When I was just 14 years old, my then family had to move from our small three bedroom home. Time ran out for us to be gone, but we'd yet to find a place to live. My parents told us (my step brothers, myself, and my biological brother) that we needed to figure out where we were going to stay until they found some place. Thank God I was going to church. Thank God that one girl felt the need to speak to her parents about my situation. Thank God they were hospitable. Thank God, for them. 

It has been 14 years (literally half my life, haha!) since I started living with them. It was not permanent at first. I stayed with them for 10 days the first time. They must have sensed that I needed more, or they felt bad for me. My parents did find a place to live, but it was a two bedroom apartment in a shady part of town. Since there were more boys than girls, the boys got one bedroom, and my parents occupied the other. I was given two cubicle walls to block off the dining area as my "bedroom." When I look back at the 14 year old girl, I do feel bad for her. But I feel sort of disconnected from her, like she's not the younger version of me. Anyway, you can see why a family who had an available extra room, was willing to allow a girl who was sorely in need of a little privacy, stay at their house a couple days a week. 

In the interest of not writing a novel tonight, I will skip the details of how I became part of this new family. Suffice it to say, that we all bonded and now refer to each other as family. I have a new mom, and three sisters, plus their husbands and children. Like any family, there have been ups and downs, but always forgiveness, always love, and always Christ. We've gone through difficult things together and have shared joy in each others' joy. Even though I live in a different state than the rest of them, I know the bonds that God has allowed us to form, will not be broken. 

My mom and sister just drove through hell of Earth (almost literally) to come visit me for a few days. I was so blessed by them being here. They got to know my children a little bit more, be in my home, and see one of my favorite places, indeed, the only place near Tucson that makes it tolerable, Mt. Lemmon. The best part was how natural it was for them to be here. We immediately fell into our normal, comfortable, way of talking and just being with each other. How strange that this family I have had for just half of my life is so "normal" for me. Strange and yet, wonderful. Thank God that He allowed this to happen. 

My mom and sister left yesterday, and today I am definitely feeling the loss of not having them nearby. I am thankful that we are able to visit, but it just never feels like enough. Good gracious, do you hear what I am saying, people!?! I love my family, and today that seems to be rare. It's never my intent to brag about anything, but I feel it must be expressed how grateful I am for these people. I look forward to living out the rest of my life with the knowledge that God gifted me with an amazing psuedo-adoptive family. 

I love you!!!

My Greatest Responsibility

All of us adults have responsibilities, right? As a parent, we have many more added to the list. (In an effort to not write a novel, I won't list all the responsibilities that I can think of right now.) As a stay at home mom, my first and most important responsibility is raising my children. There is a whole subset of responsibilities that fall under the broader, "Raise My Kids" title. For me, I have rarely sat down to think about which ones I feel are most important. Surely, some of you do on a regular basis, think about which responsibilities are most important and deserve the most attention. Those of you who love lists and operate well from them, surely you have thought about the ultimate goal in raising your children. But I, who is very spontaneous, often forget how helpful lists can be. Maybe I should write one, or even make it an art piece somewhere in my home so that I see it every day and am reminded of my ultimate goal.

So, what is the ultimate goal? This might be, and probably is different for everyone. Certainly I have come up with different answers in the nearly five years since becoming a mama. There is one however, that I think trumps all the others. No matter who you are, this one thing should be the most important. And I know not everyone will agree with this because we're not all of the same creed. But this is what I believe. 

After absolutely sobbing my eyes out twice while perusing Facebook this afternoon, I have landed on the single most important thing I can teach my kids. Why was I crying? Well, I read a couple of different stories about children dying. One was a baby who struggled to live for several months, but finally lost the battle to survive. The other was a pair of teenage sisters who died suddenly in a car accident. Two very different stories, but every bit as heart-wrenching  and tragic. I cannot imagine losing one of my children. I just absolutely can not fathom the heart ache. The anguish. The hopelessness. How does one move on from that? I have friends who have lost a child, and I honestly don't know what to say about that. Except that I know where that child is, and that truth alone, offers a glimmer of joy and peace. This brings me to the most important goal I have in raising my children. Because after every other goal is met and accomplished (I hope!) or even if I've failed in some areas, there is one that stands above them all.  Some responsibilities that are fully met, may be helpful for the duration of the lives of my children while they're here on Earth. But There is one, that if met, will be helpful for the rest of eternity. 

If I fail at everything else as a mother, I pray to God that my children will find, and know Jesus. That their faith would be pure and whole and true. That beyond any shadow of a doubt, they (and I) would know that there is a place reserved for them up in God's Holy Kingdom once their time on Earth is done. 

The truth is, God could call His children home at any time. We may have a time to grieve with our child, as in the case of the wee babe, or it may be sudden, like the sisters. Either way, we're not in control of that. Really, we're not in control of their salvation either. Certainly God has not laid the responsibility squarely on the shoulders of parents, but God does call us to teach our children about Him, and to raise them to know Him. 

There is an abundance of debate on the age at which children are held responsible for their sins. Well, I don't really care to debate that. It's not my point. My point is, I need to make sure I am teaching my children about Jesus. This includes reading the Bible with them, praying with them, teaching them specific stories and lessons from God's word. Most importantly, I think, it includes showing them what it means to live in and for Christ. Talk about a huge responsibility. It begs the question, am I living fully in Christ? If not, I better start. 

Heavenly Father, thank you for the wonderful blessings of my dear wee babes. You know my heart and  you know how much love it contains for these little ones. Lord, I know that ultimately, they are yours. I know that they are simply "on loan" to me, and will be used for your greater purpose here on Earth. I ask, God, that you would fill my cup with your love, kindness, goodness, gentleness, patience, peace, joy, self-control and hope. Fill it up, Lord, until it overflows onto my children. I pray that through me, and others, they would see you glorious love and grace, and that they would yearn to know you. Soften their hearts towards your truth. May I be a guide for them when they're young, to see what you are like. And when they get older, please God, may they seek You personally. I don't know how much longer I have with them, but please help me to remember my promise to teach them who You are. I pray for all of these things for Your glory, and in Jesus' name. Amen.

PS - If you're reading this, and you don't have faith in Jesus, that's okay. Out of love, I pray that you do find Him. But if you're not there yet, I hope that you at least see the love I have for my children. 

People are People

I've been thinking about this post for a while, but I was worried that some people will be offended. Then I decided, it was worth it. This blog is a way for me to put my thoughts down in writing, and thus get them off my chest. Writing things down has a way of helping me feel more peaceful about things, and it helps me to stop thinking about it all the time. Personally, I don't think there is anything too offensive about what I have been thinking, but you never know. No offense is intended, so hopefully it won't come to that.

Maybe this is something that "grown-ups" already know, but I have only recently come to this realization. People are people no matter where they are. We are fallible, we make mistakes, we have strange personalities, and we need Jesus.

When I was serving active duty in the Air Force, I recognized that many civilians expected much more of me when I was in uniform. (To be fair, the AF also expects a certain standard of conduct when one is in uniform.) But at the end of the day, when the uniform comes off, we are all just regular people. Some service members  don't see it that way, but I will tell you, most of the ones I worked with DO. If we held ourselves to a certain standard while in uniform, half the stuff I witnessed (and participated in) would not have happened. It wouldn't have even been a thought. I am not trying to "reveal" anything about the true military life, I am just trying to say, we're not some special breed of human that somehow is above reproach. We were regular people before the military trained us. And while we are (mostly) highly skilled in our job set, we are still just people.

The same goes for all of those that we hold in a higher esteem. Church staff and evangelists, teachers, politicians (HA!), celebrities (including famous athletes), law enforcement, even our parents are just people.

So why do we expect more of these individuals? Because they're people that we're supposed to be able to look up to, maybe? These are people that we can strive to become when we're little. They hold respectable positions in society, doing respectable things. And our faith in humanity is crushed when we're let down by one of these people.

The recent death due to drug overdose of a beloved actor throws us for a loop. The infidelity of a respected church member can have us accusing the entire Church of being hypocritical. The rape of a service member by another service member has us calling for more protective laws and discipline of the military. We wonder how something like this could happen, not realizing that no matter who you are, there are temptations and struggles. Even with a strong support system, the temptation can be too great to defeat.

The truth is, as long as we're putting our faith in humanity, our trust in society, we're going to be let down. Certainly we should still hold people to a standard, but we need to recognize that people are just people no matter where they are. And people have a tendency toward sin. I know that I have a tendency toward sin. There are things that I have done that I am not proud of, and even ashamed of. I've let myself down!

The good news is that there is another place in which to put our trust, a better place. Maybe I should say person. God is always faithful, always true, always just, always loving. He is the one in which we should always look to in order to restore our joy and our hope. We may not always understand why things happen, and God doesn't always give us an answer right away. But we can trust that He loves us and orchestrates life to work out for the best for those who love Him. God's promises are great, and He is faithful to fulfill them, no matter who has let us down and no matter how many times we let Him down. He alone is to be highly esteemed, and He won't disappoint.

This post is not in any way meant to demean people or make us feel badly about ourselves. It's simply a wordy expression of my experience in learning to put all of my trust in Jesus, and not to fret too much when I or others falter. I love people and there are certainly those whom I respect. I do believe that if you know someone who is in a bad way, God calls us to help in any way that we can. It may hurt, and it may be difficult, but Jesus is our strength. He will fill us all the way up, until we're overflowing with His love. At that point, we are able to love more deeply and more purely, even when it's hard. When we allow Christ to dwell within us, we are better equipped to handle the tragedies that a sinful world must face.

House to Home

We are so blessed to be living in a house that we, for all intents and purposes, own. It's been a long, long journey that I will gladly tell about in another post. For now, I am going to share my struggle to keep perspective. After all, I did claim that this blog was about my struggles and occasional victories in the minutia of life.

We've been living here now for eight months. There is this part of me that wants the house to be perfectly decorated, where everything has it's place, and looks "just so." This part of me is constantly clawing to take over every other part of my thinking in regards to the house. The house is great, but wouldn't it be better if... If we had a mantle over the fireplace, if Audrey's room was decorated the way I want it, if all the walls were painted like an interior decorator was hired, if there was a blooming garden in the front and back, if the backyard had a retention wall, and for that matter, a full size cinder block wall to keep the desert out, if the pack rat in the shed was gone, if the cabinets in the kitchen were redone, and we added a bank of cabinets, etc., etc., etc.

There are several reasons why all of this and more cannot be accomplished. Probably the reason why none of this has been done despite everything else is that, it takes a lot of money to do all these things. Some of the projects are fairly cheap, others are a pretty penny, overall, it's a small fortune. But there's also the factor of time. It takes a long time to build up a garden. It takes time to accomplish DIY kitchen and home projects. And it certainly takes time to build a 40 foot long, 6 foot high cinder block wall. It also takes a certain amount of knowledge. I should know the best way to sand and then either paint or stain the kitchen cabinets. I wouldn't even know where to begin to build another bank of cabinets and possibly a "work space." I should know exactly which colors I should paint individual walls and rooms as a whole.

Blah, blah, blah. I could go on about all of these things, and most of you would probably understand how I am feeling. Right now, life does not feel "settled" like I think it should. I have a blue wall in my living room, but no art hanging on the wall. If perhaps I had something hanging there, then I would feel like that room (or area of the room) was finished, or settled. But as it stands, almost every time I look at that wall, I feel stressed out that it is left undone, incomplete, and needing attention. I long for that time in my life, and in this house, when I feel settled, and comfortable with how things look and how they're organized. I long to not have the next project, especially the ones that I know we have to save for, hanging over my head. But what's the real problem here? It's not that my house is not in an "orderly" fashion. It's not that the house needs actual improvements (like the retaining wall to keep the backyard from eroding entirely away.) It's not that when I look at other people's home that are finished, I feel a sense of inadequacy. The problem is my heart.

Where is my heart in all of this? I don't think there is anything wrong with wanting to take care of my home, and taking pleasure in making things beautiful (painting, art, etc.). What I think is wrong is that I spend SO MUCH TIME thinking on these things. What if I have all these things done so that my house is exactly how I want it, but I do not have love? The Bible says I have nothing, if that is the case. Really, what good is it to have a beautiful home if I don't use it for the Glory of God?  If I have a beautifully decorated home, but my relationship with my family is ugly, what then?

My point is, it shouldn't matter that my home is in a perpetual state of improvement.

"Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things." 

This verse isn't talking about the physical accomplishments of man. God is not necessarily concerned with who can make things the best of everyone else. He wants us to embody an attitude like this verse. We aren't supposed to bother our minds and our hearts with whether our homes are settled. We are to think on the blessings, on the good things that we see in people, on the abundant examples of God's grace in our lives, and around the world. When we retrain our minds to think on the positive that God provides, then all of the little things that once bothered us suddenly seem so insignificant. And when we retrain our minds to think on those things, it becomes of utmost importance to us to act on them. And that's when we are acting in God's will most effectively.

It's not always easy because the devil likes to strike us where we're already weak. He knows that I struggle with worrying about how my house looks, and he lies to me and tells me that I am right to worry about it. ("You can't possibly invite people over when your house looks like that, Tammera.") God says otherwise though. We know that God provides for all of our needs, and he certainly has! I don't need my house to look like it was designed by an interior decorator in order to minister to my family and friends. We have food, water, clothing, and shelter, and I am still breathing. That's pretty much what we need to make an impact for God's Kingdom. 

Instead of being stressed out by what is not finished, I will strive to set my mind on Christ and on things that are true, honorable, just, pure, lovely, commendable, excellent and worthy of praise. I think in doing so, I will find much more rest and peace in my mind and heart. My perspective, I am confident, will shift from a worldly point of view, to a Kingdom point of view. 

PS - Every time I set out to write a post, I think, "this one won't be very long." Then I end up writing a wee novella. I apologize for my long-winded tendencies. 

What My Kids Are Teaching Me

Growing up there were so many things that I thought I would certainly be teaching to my children. I started babysitting when I was 11 years old, and continued until I was probably 21 or so. From those experiences, I thought I had a pretty good handle on how to teach stuff to kids. All those important life lessons like, how to share, how to be kind, staying calm when you are upset by something, that eating your vegetables is good for you, too much sugar is bad for you, etc, etc. With all this experience that I had, I was sure to be a fantastic mother one day. And I was told so by many people actually, that I was going to be great at it. Well, actual motherhood was a rude awakening.

It is one thing to teach a couple of kids who have been fed, and been taken care of by their parents until I showed up, how to share. It's an entirely new animal when I am the parent that is feeding and taking care of the kids all.day.long. What I didn't know as a teenager is that there must have been a lot of effort put in by those parents to teach their child all the blessed lessons of life during those hours before I arrived to handle things. What I did was simply remind them that those lessons were supposed to be called upon in every situation, and all day long, to know how to behave well. The only thing that I perhaps taught those kids is that the lessons their parents taught them, apply to every person and in every scenario. As someone who ultimately had very little authority, I think it was helpful for the children to see that what they were being taught at home wasn't just some whack idea that only their parents adhered to. That actually, these lessons were part of learning to function well in our society. But that's not what this post is about, really.

What I meant to say was that when I became a mother, and for about 18 months after said event, I thought I was going to have an easy time of it. How hard is it, really, to play with a baby, feed her, change her diaper, bathe her, read her a book, and put her to bed with a kiss, "goodnight?" Don't get me wrong, I know that motherhood is physically demanding from the start. You never get to sleep the way you used to. Every task, no matter how minuscule and insignificant, takes at least twice as long. Privacy no longer has meaning in your life. And every aspect of life that used to revolve around oneself, now revolves around a nonverbal human being demanding everything from you with a reach of her hand, and perhaps a grunt, whimper, or a full on scream. Still, even with that brief insight into early motherhood, let me say that once you have to be mentally active in teaching a child, it becomes quite a bit more difficult. It did for me at least. Maybe some of you are just natural at all these things, but as a lot of these lessons revolve around the embodiment of the fruits of the Spirit, I will venture to guess that we all have a lot to (re)learn when teaching our children.

Here's what I mean, and here's what I've become aware of (again) about teaching my children. When I tell Audrey that she needs to chill out because Asher didn't mean to knock over her tower of blocks, I must provide the example. The harsh (and maybe too honest) truth is, she probably learned to have that reaction from....ME! Holy crap, what am I teaching my children? I know she didn't get it from my husband because he doesn't ever get angry about anything, not kidding. The man is incredibly level headed. It is already difficult enough to teach my children using my words. How much more difficult will it be to teach my children if my actions consistently contradict what I am teaching them? I wish that old adage, "Do as I say, not as I do," had more weight in reality. We laugh at it, but I wish I could say that, instead of having to learn these difficult lessons right along with them.

What I hope they see in my flaws, is that we all need the redemption of our Heavenly Father. We will all struggle throughout ours lives, maybe not with the same issues, but with something. But through those struggles, we are supposed to turn to Christ, seek His wisdom, and his forgiveness. After we've done that, we are to strive to become more Christ-like. We don't just give up trying to be better at life, we keep on the good fight, we run the race, and we keep our eyes on the Kingdom of God.

Favorites

It's a long held truth that parents shall never admit to having a favorite child. It doesn't matter how well you do or do not get along with any of your children, you love them all equally, all the time and there is no arguing with that. Well, I am here to tell you, that is not always the case. That's right, I have a favorite child. Now, the fact that I have a favorite will never purposefully be shown to any of my kids. The goal is that they never suspect that they are not the favorite and that the other one is. 

Alright, before everyone gets all worked up, let me explain. I do have a favorite child, and it cycles through each them throughout the day. The fact is, sometimes they're all my favorite right at the same time, and I am overwhelmed with love for them and thankfulness to God for trusting me with such wonderful blessings. 

Here's what I mean. When Audrey surprises me with her wit, and then turns around and is goofy like I remember myself being at her age, that's when she's my favorite. Or when she tries to use grown-up phrases but doesn't quite get the semantics. Also, I love when she asks to sing my "local (vocal) exercise songs" and then tries to sing along, but is off-key ninety per cent of the time. Sometimes she calls to me from whatever she's doing, "Mama. I love you." She melts my heart. She gets excited about absolutely everything (not exaggerating) and her eyes light up in the most beautiful way. Oh, that girl, she is definitely my favorite.

Using her homemade telescope!

Then sometimes Asher is my favorite. This kid LOVES music, and he's little. Little things are always cute, right? Asher can be right in the middle of the most epic fit, but if I put on the soundtrack to, "The Polar Express," he immediately gets up off the floor (onto which he gingerly laid himself so as not to hurt himself on the tile whilst throwing said fit), and starts jamming to the tunes. He is also a very sweet boy. He will be loyal to his family until death, I am sure of it. He copies everything big sister does, sometimes to his detriment. But he also does things for his little brother that are not asked for. Like he will bring Callan a toy if he notices that one is not within Callan's reach already. He will even bring Callan a blanket because obviously, everyone loves his/her blanket as much as Asher loves his. Haha! The only time Asher is not sweet in fact, is when it comes to his blanket. Nobody is allowed to snuggle it but him. Not mama, not daddy, not Audrey and especially not Callan. Still, my heart swells and I laugh when I hear him say, "No, Nannan." (No, Callan.) That settles it, Asher is my favorite child.

Except there's Callan, too. Oh, the sweet Squishy snuggles of an almost 7 month old baby. He is the most laid back baby ever. He rarely fusses and when he does, you always know why (hungry, tired, poopy). He's happy to snuggle, but he's great at playing on his own. He finds his older siblings endlessly entertaining, and for that matter, he thinks I am funny, too. (He's right, I am hilarious. ;) ) He is SO strong. He is army crawling all over the place, and he is so curious about everything. He has been the poster child for being "on track" developmentally. He makes it easy to be a mother of three. The best thing about Callan though, is when he wakes up in the early morning (around four or five) and nurses with me. Then he falls back asleep, and cuddles me until he wakes up for the day. Oh, how I will miss those sweet snuggles when he outgrows babyhood. This baby is for sure my most favorite. 

Do you see why I call him, "Squishy?"

So, there you have it. They are all my most favorite children ever. I truly am a blessed mama, and I really do thank God for the time I am allowed to spend with them. They enrich my lives with so much awesomeness, I pray that I leave a mark in their hearts that is worthy of our Lord's love for us.

Breastfeeding

Every new mom hates the engorgement phase of breastfeeding. You know, when your milk has come in right after giving birth. You're sitting there for the first day or two thinking, "This is so sweet, breastfeeding my baby. I am providing life-giving nutrients. It's truly miraculous." And then, your milk comes in.Your boobies flip out because they have no idea how much milk your adorable gift from heaven may need, so they just go crazy and produce WAY too much. Thus, for several weeks, new mama's boobs are like giant, milk-filled balloons. This is not a pleasant experience, oh no, it's awful. Despite the pleasure some dudes get out of thinking of giant tatas, they are strictly off-limits, so you better just turn off the light, and go to sleep. I knew one mama whose father came to visit after she gave birth to one of her sons. She had been an "A" cup and her breasts inflated to a "D" cup within a couple of days. Her breasts were so painful that she told her dad that she was not going to wear a shirt or anything because it was excruciating to have anything touch them. That's right, people, she walked around bare-boobed in front of her father just to spare herself the pain. And you now what? I can't blame her. Those babies HURT when they're full of milk. They get hard, like cut-through-diamond hard. And they get lumpy. Tell me the last time you thought of sexy as being a lumpy breast? Never....that's when. They get red! Yes, like an inflamed wound, they get red and hot to the touch. I am surprised my children did not get third degree burns on their wee cheeks for the heat my boobs were putting off. Maybe I could have cooked dinner off of those knockers if anything was allowed to touch them. Then there's the buying nursing bras thing. Good gracious, who knew bras came in that size, eh? "There's no way my little boobs could ever fit a bra like that." So you take the bra that looks like it will fit, try to keep the breast pads on so you don't christen the dressing room with "Essence of Milk," and try to put the bra in place. Great, you got about half the boob covered. That's when you realize, those gigantic bras that your tiny boobs could never fit in, yeah those bras were made for you. And, do you want to know the best part? The best part is, if you take your bra off to say, step in the shower, the sheer weight of them without support causes them to leak like a firehose. Oh, I am not kidding. If my boobs had been in a pissing contest, they would have won, hands down. Don't try sleeping without a bra either. Unless you want to wake up in a puddle of fresh squeezed mama's milk in the morning, you better keep those puppies under wraps and have a spare towel to absorb the mess.

Finally, you decide you can't handle the new growth where your regular boobs once were, so you express some milk to try to relieve the aching, milk making factory that are your boobs. The problem with that is, then your fantastic, life-giving tatas, think, "Oh, the baby needs more milk since it just ate some. Let's make some more so that this baby will never go hungry!" And there they go. They're off to make more milk for your precious little angel. Thus, the cycle continues until your body finally stops this nonsense, and your supply evens out. Sure, your baby may still choke upon "let-down," but that's to be expected for at least another couple of months. The point is, they are once again manageable, and you've stopped knocking everything off the shelves at target with your set of Dolly Partons.

And that's just the normal part of breastfeeding. It could take days and numerous posts to talk about all the complications that can arise.

If you haven't inferred this by now, I am not necessarily attached to breastfeeding. Some moms love the act of being the sole supplier of nutrients, and in essence, life, to their baby. While I appreciate all that breastfeeding is, I generally do not find it fun or awe inspiring. I breastfeed my babies  because I recognize the benefits for it, and, well to be honest, it's room service free of charge. But I have learned something new about myself and breastfeeding in the last couple of weeks.

My six month old baby was not gaining weight as quickly as I thought he should. His older brother did the same thing, and despite numerous discussions with his pediatrician about this, she did not seem concerned until he was finally off the charts. With that in mind, I worried that my new baby was going to do the same thing, and there was no way I was going to let that happen. So, I began to supplement his breastfeeding with formula, since I know that is what other pediatricians have prescribed to other babies for the same issue. It began slowly, with only 4 ounces of formula a day, and with always nursing my baby before giving him formula.

Somehow, it got away from me though. One week I noticed that I was slowly dropping in supply, so I did a couple of days of power pumping. Thankfully it helped. I also began eating oatmeal every morning for breakfast, which despite other mama's assurances of increasing supply, did not make a drop of difference. So, I just kept up the pumping.

I don't know how it happened. If I thought really hard, I could probably figure it out, but for now, I cannot think what went wrong. Sometime last week, I started going dry again. I ate oatmeal, I did some casual pumping, but alas, I dried up. Let me tell you, coming from the perspective of not really enjoying breastfeeding, and the whole aforementioned beginning phase, this was heart-wrenching. There is nothing like being UNABLE to provide for your child the way you once did. Not doing it by choice is one thing, but not doing it because you physically can't, that's hard. It's as if your own body is saying you're not good enough. Ouch! Well, boobs, you're not good enough for me, and if you don't get your act together, you will be dealt with. I decided to go on the defensive and conjur up some low supply remedies.

Now, most women would take these one at a time to see which one works best. Not me....Oh no. I am taking all it, full force! The peanut butter oat bites also have brewer's yeast, and flaxseed. I hope they're good.

So, this is my arsenal of hope. Hope that I can once again provide that special tincture concocted just for my baby. Did you know that breastmilk will produce antibodies to germs that your baby contracts before they show signs of the illness that those germs create! What an amazing feature. What other liquid on Earth is so advanced? It provides the exact nutrients that your baby needs depending on the age of the baby. Yes, it changes not just from week to week, but it can change from feeding to feeding. It is always being produced (though production can drop, obviously), and as long as there is demand, there will be supply. 

Speaking of demand, the baby is calling me!