I am planning to attend my first postnatal yoga class tomorrow or Thursday. I took Sarah’s prenatal class from January until the week before I delivered, and it was a wonderful oasis of peaceful time in my hectic pregnant/working/go-go-go life. I am really looking forward to doing something active again, and it is great that my baby can go with me. Hopefully I’ll meet some ladies there that I can connect with.

Steve and I have started working towards having a “schedule” to our weeks, with the understanding that we’re dealing with a creature of chaos in a Clifford-print diaper. But we figure if we start setting aside structured time for the gym, yoga, the dojo, baby bathtime, and a dinner out every now and then, we’ll start to feel a bit more human.

I hear many women describe themselves as breastfeeding “survivors,” bearing the emotional and psychological scars of poor latches, aching breasts, bleeding and scabbing, mastitis, thrush, low milk supply, and the like.

To date, I have had a pretty easy experience — Avery is a smart cookie and figured out how to latch well before we even left the hospital. I was a little sore the first couple of days, but liberal use of lanolin quickly resolved it before the first week was out. I’ve done some combat with engorgement and an overabundant milk supply, but I’ll take that over the alternative any day — at least I know she’s getting enough food.

But then yesterday, I had my first experience with a plugged duct.

And now I understand.

It hurt like holy hell.

We’re talking couldn’t hold the baby against my chest withough searing pain kind of hurt. Couldn’t sleep hurt. Gripping Steve’s hand and crying while nursing kind of hurt.

Thankfully, Cheryl Heymans, a lactation consultant I found through Special Addition, was able to help me out. Extra nursing finally finally finally got the milk through, but wow. I am still going through the regimine to make sure the inflamation goes down enough that it won’t come right back.

In case you ever need it, here’s the advice I received:

• Ibuprofen, a hefty dose (she told me to use whatever I had left from the hospital) consistently.
• Phytolacca (avaliable at People’s Pharmacy here in town) — the pharmacist said to take 3-5 pellets under the tongue, every ten minutes the first half hour, every hour until the problem calms down, and then every three hours from there.
• Nurse nurse nurse, and pump if the milk doesn’t start moving.
• Use cold compresses after nursing to help with the swelling.
• Epsom salt bath for the affected side, about 20 minutes with a handful of salts, as hot as you can stand.
• Take extra vitamin C and Zinc for a few days to boost your immune system and avoid infection.
• Rest, chill, and drink lots of fluids.

May you never need to know it.

So all the nursing warriors out there, I tip my hat to you. One skirmish was enough for me. I hope I don’t have to do another tour of duty. Like ever.

Where have I been? Um… Pregnant. And then having a baby. And now very very tired but living with this amazing experience.

Pregnancy was … easy. Am I allowed to say that? I never had any side effects to speak of, really. A little bit of swelling very very late. Round ligament pain throughout, since I had tight abs to begin with and they fought expanding every step of the way. Some abdominal cramping up front, which is part of what clued me in that I was pregnant in the first place. Exhaustion throughout. But that was *it*. I never got uncomfortable, never had morning sickness, never resembled a balloon. I didn’t gain eighty pounds or have lower back issues or pubic symphisis or any of the host of other discomforts so many ladies experience.

My doctor and midwife were quick to point out that I *made* it an easy pregnancy. I worked out the whole way through, ate decently, stayed hydrated, all that. Honestly, if I could give one bit of advice to pregnant ladies anywhere, it would be to stay active. It kept my mood light and made a world of difference in how I felt. I noticed that any time I went a week without a visit to the gym, I could almost feel myself getting lethargic, feeling stiff, growing roots into the couch. Not for me. Exercise kept me sane.

Labor (insanely short), postpartum experiences… well, those are hefty subjects that I can maybe tackle another time. I’m working on writing up the birth story, because I think it’s important. Already details are getting a little bit hazy. I feel I need to formally record them and process both the events and how they felt and affected me. It’s a big moment in life, probably the most absorbing, intense physical experience I’ll ever have.

And now, there’s Avery. She’s amazing. And luckily, she’s a very good baby. She was born June 7. So Stv and I are still in that new-baby twilight, where time has very little meaning. You live life in three hour cycles, essentially. We’re working on stretching out the nighttime cycles to be a little longer, but it is a slow process.

I’ve decided to blog Avery minutae on her own site, so you’ll be spared it here. She’s an integral part of my life, but there’s something that feels psychologically healthy about having a separation, still having a place where I can blog my perspective and the rest of my life in a context outside of my daughter.

So to follow Avery, check out AveryEWhite.com. There are photos and updates and such.

And hopefully, I’ll be back here soon. I miss journaling.

Coolest. Dresses. Ever.

I am participating in another writing challenge right now, but it’s a much more doable 100 words a day. The 301 was incredibly difficult for me. One positive — this time, I’ve actually put together almost ten pages of  a real story. I still seem to have a phobia about actually switching scenes, but even a meandering scene is at least a start. I’m getting to know the protagonists and it’s generating food for thought around the central conflict.

Work continues to be crazy busy, and I am sooo tired. Next weekend I’m going on a writers retreat. I promised myself I’d have at least ten pages written by then, so I really should be typing over there and not over here…

Wow. Just…. Wow. We had an amazing trip. Hawai’i really is a paradise. I actually cried on the last morning because I wasn’t ready to leave. There’s something about the breeze that is so fresh. It always smells good. We did a mountain bike ride down from the Haleakala crater, and I kept being distracted by smells. Eucalyptus, jasmine, the earthy scents of the wooded areas. It was the kind of air spas pay ridiculous money to have.

The beaches on Maui are mostly little coves, and if you get away from the big hotels, you’ll be one of maybe five people on your own perfect sliver of sand. Snorkeling got us within about three feet of some beautiful sea turtles, who just chilled at the surface with us. I had never seen one before, and to get that close was magical.

I could write tons about what we did, and maybe I will. But what I really wanted to do was post photos! So here they are … sorta culled through, but I apologize that there are still so many.

Female readers of this blog already know from their own long-standing, bitter experience just how hard it is to find a swimsuit that works. Really works. Doesn’t move, doesn’t dip too low or ride too high, doesn’t give you a muffin-top or a muffin-bottom (you know what I mean). It doesn’t require expensive salon waxing jobs with exotic names. The perfect swimsuit is covering but still attractive. Trendy is probably too much to ask, but we keep the candle of bright hope burning that it might be possible. Somewhere, our swimsuit is waiting for us, crammed on a rack or visible from one angle only on the pages of a catalog. We will know it when we find it, and when we do, we will all be able to fearlessly frolic, at one with our inner beach bunny.

I’m happy to report I have found one such suit. So pardon me while I shamelessly revel and gloat. But I am super pleased! STV and I leave on our vacation in Maui next Wednesday. Now, I would count myself blessed just to get to go to Maui, even dressed in a burlap bag. Hawaii has been a dream of mine for several years now. I good, active tropical vacation where I get to surf and hike and scuba dive and such is one of the things I had promised myself I would do one last time before we start a family. Part of this, granted, is that I also want one last cavorting session where my abs look decent in a bikini. STV claims I will get them back eventually, but I don’t believe him. At least not in their present state, honed by years of belly dance and a very brutal but effective personal trainer. I wanted a new bikini for said cavorting, so I got the green string top and fuller-coverage bottom pictured here. And OMG, they’re awesome. I can put them on and forget about them. It’s heaven in paisley print. I’m tempted to buy the tank and the string bottom, too, to have the whole suite of options but 1) they won’t get here in time for the trip and 2) heaven has a not-insubstantial price tag… isn’t that always how it goes?

Next in Kat’s list of feel-good videos:

Yes, it’s a commercial, but it also falls in my goofy-grin category. And, it gives you context to appreciate the associated, appropriately random xkcd comic…

So I went to one of Austin’s better-known vegan joints for dinner tonight. Vegetarian cuisine excites me, when I think about it philosophically — vegetables are beautiful, and the eclectic combination of textures and colors and shapes on a plate together looks fresh and inviting to me. So why is it that “vegan food” at Asian restaurants is too often shapeless lumps of fried “chewy vegetable protein?” (Yes, the adjective was actually on the menu.) I don’t want vegetable protein in a runny generic brown sauce. I want vegetables in an identifiable form. I’d rather go the beans and lentils route, with tofu thrown in, which is as close to the veggie protein concept as I think i want to get.

To be fair, I didn’t TRY said dish. Just the appearance was a turn-off. Maybe I’ll be braver next time.

This video has brought a big goofy grin to my face that I’ve been wearing all day. And you know what? I love it.

Where the Hell is Matt? (2008) from Matthew Harding on Vimeo.