Welcome

Dear Friends,

As Andy and I embark on this journey called parenthood, we are learning so much moment by moment. In an effort to maintain my adult brain for the next 9 weeks, I thought I would share our vast learnings with you during these first several weeks of Whit's life; sometimes they may be helpful pearls of wisdom, but more likely they will be a chance for you to wonder why parenting classes are not a prerequisite for folks like us:)

This week's lesson:
Do not sit on your breast pump module.

The rest of the story...
So I was in the middle of pumping using my funky hands-free unit yesterday, and I decided it was time to sit down. As I gingerly placed my booty on my oh-so-fashionable inflatable donut, I settled in for an enjoyable session of feeling like a Holstein. Before I knew it, my nipples looked like they were the model for Madonna's cone bra, and I was in excrutiating pain. Not knowing why I had tripled in size, I feverishly started looking at all of the pump parts, trying to find out what happened to turn it into a medieval torture device. Finally, I noticed a muffled sound under my booty inner tube, and I realized that I was occluding the air output valve. Springing up faster than a pregnant lady who has spotted a free buffet in the cafeteria, I grabbed the device and found immediate relief. As my breasts returned to "normal," I swear I heard Whit let out a little giggle - good to know he has a healthy sense of humor.