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Six Months Later...and the Surprises Keep on Coming!

Six months ago tonight, I was doing far worse than I currently am (though, I must say, not much beats blogging in your pjs while watching a movie with your significant other): I didn't have the easiest labor (for the gritty details, read the series I wrote here, here, here, and here), and Britton had some issues post-delivery.

I never imagined that my tiny baby who needed tubes to breathe and an IV to regulate her blood sugar would turn into this robust, outgoing, happy little girl that is currently sleeping in her crib.


Even though the pediatrician told us from our first post-NICU appointment onward that Britton would have no lasting issues from her dramatic first day, I had trouble believing him. Why is it that parents always imagine the worst?

The last six months have been amazing: Britton smiled at me for the first time, she learned to roll over (both ways now!), she can sit up, and she loves playing with Landon and I. Nothing makes my heart smile like peeking into Britton crib and seeing her beam back at me.

However, the last six months have been crazy difficult, too.

At one point, I was so tired that I couldn't fall asleep.

I would cry at the thought of having to wake up one.more.time without feeling rested.

I struggled with Britton nursing--she had tongue-tie, she had been bottle-fed in the NICU, she was (frankly) a lazy nurser who preferred the bottle. I finally started to pump exclusively, which took hours and hours of my time, kept me from going all sorts of places (who wants to haul around a stupid pump!?), and stopped me from snuggling with Britton as much as I wanted to (when you're stuck to a pump for 3+ hours a day, your baby has to learn how to keep herself occupied).

But, this week goes to show that being a parent is an ever evolving process. As Britton's six month birthday approached, I had decided that--for my sanity--I had decided to quit pumping and switch to formula. I was sick of pumping. I was sick of being away from my baby for hours each day. I was tired of having to haul that awful pump everywhere.

For kicks and giggles, I figured I'd give nursing one more go and end on a note of "well, I tried." I had come to terms with everything emotional that comes along with decided to wean before my baby wanted to.

Lo and behold: Britton latched yesterday morning. And all day yesterday. And all day today.

Six months into bottle feeding and pumping, my child has decided to nurse. I'm in uncharted waters here, as every site I search about beginning to breastfeed focuses on newborns and recently postpartum moms. Even websites that offer up advice for pumping mamas who are transitioning to breastfeeding usually focus on pretty small babies.

So, that goes to show you that babies can surprise you--even after you thought that they were (really) set in their ways. I have no idea how long this chapter of our lives will last, but I'm willing to take my cues from Britton since she obviously knows more than I do.

Happy six months, Britton!