Archive for June, 2009


June 23, 2009

I’ve seen my CEO maybe three times since I’ve been back from maternity leave.  The first time, I was exiting the room where I pump, breast milk in hand, and he walked by with pretty much the entire executive committee.  He said “welcome back,” and I smiled sheepishly and scurried off to my cube to hide.

The second time I was headed to lunch.  Not bad at all.  Nice conversation.  Breast milk incident officially replaced with normal colleague interaction.

Today, I was in the kitchenette cleaning off my breast shields and pump what-not and guess who walks in?  Yup.  And we then proceed to have a five minute conversation about some meeting later in the week, all while I rinse off various bottles and membranes.

Seriously?  This is ridicules.

I guess it’s better than being a guy on the same floor as him and running into him on my way to the bathroom on a daily basis.  I think.



June 23, 2009

As in relief, not as in dirty diaper.

I just returned from a visit with the breast surgeon and she gave me what amounts to a 95% all clear… the one looks like a cyst and she’s not concerned at all.  The other does look like a fibroadenoma with calcification.  She says the edges look fine, there is no blood supply, and it generally feels like a fibroadenoma.  Because of the calcification, there is shadowing on the ultrasound, which is something cancerous tumors have (the sound waves can’t penetrate the mass so it appears to have a shadow on the screen), which is probably what prompted the radiologist’s concern.  The surgeon said she wasn’t concerned about the lump, and that she didn’t want to do a biopsy (something about fistulas and spurting milk, all of which sounded highly unpleasant, plus I’ll take any excuse to avoid a needle), so instead I’m just supposed to come back when I’m done breastfeeding. 

Yippee!  I don’t have to worry about this.  I don’t have to stop breastfeeding.  I don’t have to turn this into a cancer blog (ok, now I’m being dramatic).

My kinda website

June 22, 2009

Go check out Let’s Panic About Babies  right now.

No, I’m serious.  You must click that link.  You must then fall off your office chair because you are trying not to laugh out loud at the “what kind of mom stereotype are you” fake quiz.  And that’s only the beginning.

So cute my ovaries hurt

June 18, 2009

Yes, I realize this confession officially makes me crazy, but Heather over at  just had her baby, and while I’ve never met this woman, nor conversed with her (heck, I don’t even comment on her blog, I just lurk), looking at pictures of her newborn baby girl gives me baby fever.

And my kid’s only 7 months old!

Only someone who spends 8 hours a day away from her baby could possibly be so delusional as to even let the thought “I want another one” pass into her brain this soon.  No no ovaries.  Sorry uterus.  You guys are on the bench until at least 2011.

Not exactly a first word, but…

June 16, 2009

Sure, we’ve been hearing the small one babble “dahdahdahdah” and “ma ma ma” for weeks now, but it has always been indiscriminate and varying in the number of “dah”s or “ma”s, so we thought little of it beyond its enduring cuteness.  This weekend, however, were introduced to “guh.”

As in dog, but drop the beginning and only go with the drawn out g sound.

And not just “guh” whenever the small one felt like singing, but only when our beagle-mutt wandered into the room in the that forlorn way that only a creature with bassett hound blood can muster (and Eeyore).  It’s probably because both my husband and I always chorus “is that your dog?” whenever the mutt is in sight, and the small one lunges his body towards the fur ball he so desperately wants to grab. 

We even went to a friend’s house the other evening and when I pointed to their lab and said “that’s a dog, just like Watson” I was greeted with a smile and an assertive “guh” from the small one.

Am I insane to find this completely awesome?

And yes, poor Watty is now officially referred to as “guh” whenever my husband and I want to talk about him without his knowing, as in “you are so walking guh tonight” or “did you feed guh yet?”  As if the poor animal wasn’t neglected enough, he’s now been reduced to a consonant.

Boo for Boobs

June 11, 2009

So it’s been awhile. Sorry ‘bout that. And now onto the post…

The “girls” have been causing problems as of late, so this can officially be categorized as a boob bitch session. You are forewarned.

About two month ago I noticed a pea-sized lump in lefty… no big deal, as I’ve had fibroadenomas before (three, to be exact), so I simply went on with my breastfeeding self. A month later I found its friend on the other side. I called my doc and scheduled a “I’m so not worried about this but so as not to be the chick who was all ‘sure, I felt that thing ages ago, what do you mean it’s malignant?’ I’m coming in anyway” appointment. My doc, despite reassurances that everything felt harmless, scheduled me for an ultrasound “just to be sure.”

This week, I went to said ultrasound. Only the night before said ultrasound, lefty decided it would be an awesome idea to get mastitis mere centimeters away from the very spot where the next morning’s prodding would occur. Yippee for 100+ degree fevers and first trimester like exhaustion. Did I mention how I’m not a real big fan of the girls right now?

And so in I go the very next morning, fever back down to a mere 99 and breast throbbing. I must say, the tech was extremely merciful, and even checked to see if I had an abscess in the mastitis-y part (on that front, I was a-okay). I redressed and sat ready to put this whole inconvenience behind me.

And then the radiologist came in. Almost everything he said should have reassured me, like “the one looks like a textbook fibroadenoma” and “both have smooth edges, which is a great sign.” But out came a stream of qualifying statements said in a tone that put me on edge. Because I’m lactating, apparently it’s difficult to accurately scan my breasts as there’s just so much going on in there. And then there were calcifications on the one lump. Plus, he described the other lump as a complex cyst, and recommended that it be monitored by a breast surgeon (the hormone changes related to breastfeeding could “change things”). I couldn’t tell if his tone of defeat and caution was one of “I wish I could say everything is a-okay but the test was too inconclusive for me to let you off the hook completely” or “oh shit, I am so not going to be the one to tell the 28 year old she may have something to be worried about if I’m not 100% sure.” Yup, panic.

This is the point at which I begin to kick myself for only have $150K in life insurance, as that probably won’t even cover books by the time the small one goes to college.

The next day I spoke with my doc, who said, based on the notes, she’s not worried. She still has no idea why these lumps would have appeared, but she is not in the least bit concerned about the c-word. And then my shoulders removed themselves from my ears.

I’ll be seeing the surgeon in two weeks. My fear is that I’ll be told to stop breastfeeding. Or that I’ll have to get the lumps removed (been there, done that, rather not do it again). I’m not even contemplating the other option. Seriously. That would be melodramatic, which is so outside of my personality, right? (I love me somes denial.)

Oh and did I mention that, post bout with mastitis, lefty has decided she no longer needs to perform (she’s “recovering”), and now Lady Lactates A Lot (read: me) has only one back up bag of milk left in the freezer? After all that, I now have to work on upping my supply? Fuck you, boobs.

No really, I didn’t mean it. Just work with me, ladies. I’ll even buy you something pretty.

So how have you been?