The Making of M.O.M.

First of all I want to make it clear that this is NOT intended to start a breastfeeding vs. formula debate.

Studies show that breastmilk is best for babies. Period.

However, women who either cannot breastfeed or choose not to breastfeed are not horrible mothers. Anyone who proposes such thought is narrow minded, shallow, ignorant and has clearly never struggled to nurse a baby who won't latch or struggled with milk supply issues or simply has zero compassion for a Mom who just did not enjoy breastfeeding.

Breastmilk may be best for baby but it does not equate immaculate mothering. In fact, I've met Moms who breastfed their baby yet stunk at mothering. Most days, I'm that Mom.

So why do I even bring all of this up?

Because last night I had to give Ella her first bottle of formula and it broke my heart.

Not because I believe that I'm letting her down or I'm not a good enough Mom or even because I think I'm hurting her. None of those could be further from the truth. In fact, to date, 50% of our children were fed formula for the majority of their first year of life.

The reason it broke my heart is because I love breastfeeding.

I love that it allows me time with my baby that no one else gets. I love that it soothes her when nothing else can. I love that only I can do it. I love the closeness I feel with her as she suckles and drifts off to sleep. I love that I can provide that for her.

I love it when she nurses, unlatches and grins and me, then latches back on, smiling the entire time. I love it when she's done eating and she's got remnant milk on her chin and she's content and happy and satisfied.

I love that my milk gave her those fat, squishy cheeks.

I just love everything about it.

But since I've been sick with that stomach virus and then in the days following Ella felt less that spectacular and in turn nursed less, my milk supply has plummeted. Yesterday she was not my sweet, happy-go-lucky, smiling baby. She was fussy and cranky and clingy. She wanted to nurse but she didn't. She wanted to be held but she wanted to be put down. With the exception of last night, she's slept horribly, waking up and screaming every 2 - 3 hours and not settling until I nurse her back to sleep. Then 2 - 3 hours later crying out again.

And I really believe it was because she was hungry for milk that I did not have. I've not been able to save up any milk in my freezer because my body was making the exact amount she needed every day. I've been on supplements to boost my supply for several weeks so that I could have a reserve in my freezer but then the virus hit and we used what little was in the freezer to satisfy her while my dehydrated body recuperated.

So I'm sad. Just sad that this could be the beginning of the end. Sad that I'm having to mix up bottles of formula for my girl because she's hungry and I cannot produce what she needs. Sad because I can still remember each time I nursed my other babies for the last time.

And I'm disappointed because I really want to nurse her for a full year (or beyond) and allow her to self wean. And I'm so frustrated with my body because of it's lack of production even with me on supplements for the last 2 - 3 weeks (and on and off for the last 9 months).

I'm going to keep nursing and pumping and drinking lots of water and taking the supplements and see what happens. If anyone else has any other suggestions I'd love to hear them. But, if this is the end of nursing her I can handle it. It will stink but I can handle it.

Wow. Can I tell you how much I struggled to get this post written? The photo quality will stink (though the subject matter will be presh) because I'm writing on Luke's work laptop and, whatta ya know, Bankers don't NEED photo editing software.

Who'd a thunk?

Anyway, the 9th month for Ella appears to be the month of the tongue.

It seems to make an appearance no matter where she is, what she's doing or how fast she's crawling to get there. I'm surprised it's not windburnt. Or sunburnt. Except that it's been icy cold here in the South so other than the running out barefoot to put the trash outside, we've not seen the light of day. And that's just me. And I don't wag my tongue because it's not so cute when I do it. Kinda like that baby cottage cheese on grown ups. Not so cute either.

But I'm telling you, the tongue is out. A lot. Whether she's playing, crawling, talking, cruising (oh yes!), her BFF Licks A. Lot is out, greeting and licking anyone she comes in contact with.

The only time her tongue is not out is when it's on the inside doing it's thing. You know, roughing up paper or small pieces of lint or globs of hair. You know, normal baby teething things.

What's that? Your baby doesn't teethe on those? Probably because your baby isn't a Goat. "LellaGOAT" as Aaron calls her, eats just about anything in her path. In fact, she's learned to startle, drop and then rapidly crawl away from me when I say, "GOAT! What do you have?"

Yes, I call my baby by the name of Goat. Have you heard our last name? I mean, it couldn't get any worse.

I really believe that EllaGoat thought that her special little gift from Jesus was all the wrapping paper scraps left from the Christmas massacre of 2010. In hindsight, I should have just put about 7,264 slivers of paper in a cup and written, "Merry Christmas Ella! Love, Mom" on it and made her little paper eating self delighted.

And I would have. Except for all the CHOKING that would have been involved. And that probably would have put a damper on the Christmas cheer.

When paper is not readily available, the Goat is happy eating whatever else is handy. Sometimes even real, live, people food. Her favorite this past month seems to be yogurt. She's also digging sliced cheese.

But when all else fails, she opts for letters.

I just wanna squish her til she screams. And sometimes I do.

She pulls up on anything more than half an inch off the floor and she crawls like a champ. She's abandoned the 1 arm, 1 toe army crawl and is up on all fours, often following me around the house, from room to room, eating whatever is in her path.

Seriously. Check out the paper. Again.

This is the pull up table she got for Christmas. Nevermind that I gave it to her 2 weeks before Christmas because she was desperate for something to pull up on that wouldn't fall over and her other 5 siblings didn't deem as "MINE!"

Lucas and Ashlee gave her table the once over and were done with it. Aaron and Olivia played with it quite a bit the first two days but by Christmas morning it was all Ella's. Clearly I planned it that way. Except, not at all.

And man, she's proud of herself too when she gets the song going. She even does this hilarous little head bob to "dance" to the music. I use the term dance loosely. What can I say? She's got her Mom's moves. And apparently my upper thighs. But remember that time I said that was still cute on babies? Picture cute baby thighs right now. I'm begging you.

Her face in the above picture is her give away face. See how it's closed and her tongue is not protruding? That means she's hit the jackpot and managed to weasle something in there without me noticing. Shortly after taking this picture I made her mad and pried open her jaws and took her little snack away.

Did I mention she's learned how to throw fits? Wonder where she learned that from? 5 guesses.

Despite her mother constantly digging into her mouth, she remains a happy, fun, smiley baby girl. An active happy, smily, fun baby girl. She's always got somewhere to go and someone to follow (or escape from).

I am going to try super hard to video her laughing this week. Mostly because it rounds out her persona as a goat. She has the cutest little machine gun/goat laugh. Oh my word. Seriously y'all. Your face will bust it's so cute.

When her mouth's not full she'll say MaMa, DaDa, Buh Buh and Doouh, which I think the latter means Dog. She waves and signs "More." She's drinking from a sippy cup and still nurses 4 - 5 times a day. When her belly gets good and full at supper, she sleeps for nice, long stretches at night. At her 9 month check up, she weighed 20 lbs 5 oz. And I don't remember how long because length is not important in the dispensing of medicine and I need all the available memory I can get. I wrote it down. Somewhere.

She's curious and inspects things with her fingers, eyes and, of course, her mouth. Her pudgy little hands reach up to touch my face as I rock and nurse her before naps and bed. It just melts my heart. She offers grins easily and is so affectionate. She loves being in the mix with her older siblings and still tolerates their doating affection.

She enjoyed Christmas as much as a 9 month old can. And she especially loved ripping (and then trying to eat) the paper. She was so content to crawl around and see what everyone else was getting into.

I'm just not sure how or why the Lord ever though we'd be worthy of any of our kids. But Ella seems to be the icing on the proverbial cake. Luke and I comment often about what a sweet and happy baby she is. Our entire family just loves on her all day long and though she longs more for the "freedom" of crawling and doing and seeing, she is still just as content to sit and be held or kissed or squished.

I'm just so bummed that I didn't get to make the trip to Arkansas last week and introduce her to so many of her extended family members. I know they'd have eaten her up, just like we do every, single, day.

We love you EllaGoat and we thank God for you daily.