An opinion on vaccines (because it's, apparently, on my mind)

Here we are, Internet.  My favorite baby is now 6 months old.  He’s in the middle of getting his first teeth and he goes from being hilariously happy to screaming like he is on fire in a matter of seconds.  He is becoming easier to burp (finally!) and he’s great overall.  We are going to see Dr. Soulpatch on Friday for his 6 month wellness exam.  I started scheduling his vaccinations for Friday afternoons so I can be home with him all weekend when he isn't feeling well.

I know some people don’t believe in vaccinating their kids, and to those people, I would like to say that you are foolish and ignorant.  Let me now tell you all a story.

Once upon a time, there was a man named Andrew Wakefield.  He was a British surgeon and medical researcher who published a paper in 1998 claiming there was a link between autism and the MMR (measles, mumps and rubella) vaccine.  For the non-sciencey folks out there: in order for a scientific experiment to be valid, it has to be reproducible.  This means the measurements made under the same operating conditions over a period of time and/or by different people should yield the same results.  Scientists tried for four years to reproduce Wakefield's results and were unable to do so.  It turned out that Wakefield had conflicts of interest and manipulated evidence. 

Speaking as a scientist, that is unethical at the very least and illegal in many cases as well.

Wakefield’s paper was originally published in a peer-reviewed medical journal called The Lancet.  His paper was partially retracted in 2004 and fully retracted in 2010.  He was also found guilty of professional misconduct in 2010 and had his medical license revoked.  You can read more about it on Wikipedia*. 

MotherJones magazine printed a fun article on how people that are anti-vaccine are stubborn about it.  I’m going to assume their stubbornness is not born of a desire for their children to die and/or suffer from preventable diseases.

Early this year, Amy Parker wrote an article that was published in Slate on her experiences growing up unvaccinated.  It’s, at the very least, a good read.

If anyone reading this is on the fence about vaccinating their children, I encourage you to do so, both as a scientist and fellow human.  Can you imagine a world where your baby gets polio?  Or measles?  Or dies of whooping cough?  Because that’s happening.  Babies are dying of whooping cough.  There was a 9 day old infant in my state who died of whooping cough around the time Hamburglar was born.  It scared me.  It takes a lot of work to make and deliver a baby. 

I would feel terrible if I could have done something to prevent an unnecessary death.  Like vaccinating my wee babe.  That’s also why I got the Vitamin K shot for McCloud in the hospital.  It didn't do any harm and, even though the chance of him getting a brain hemorrhage was super rare, I would have felt terrible if I could have easily prevented it and instead sat by and did nothing.

If you want to bed share and/or breastfeed your baby until he/she goes off to college, more power to you.  If you have no desire to breastfeed at all, who gives a shit?  If you're into attachment parenting or not?  If you like Dr. Spock or Dr. Sears?  I don't care.  That’s your business.  But you not vaccinating your baby is all of our business because it affects public health. 

At the very least, I encourage you to do your own research.  Don’t blindly follow someone who doesn't know what they are talking about.  And don’t adopt an opinion just because it’s the first one you hear.  I believe in your ability to think for yourself and make an informed decision using real science.

*I recognize that Wikipedia isn't considered a scientifically reputable source and some people question it's awesomeness, but I love it and I find it to be reliable for the things I tend to link to.  But, seriously, don't take my word for anything.  Research it yourself!  It will be awesome, I swear.

The Mombie Hour

I've been awake since 4 a.m.  A certain tiny terrorist (you know who you are!) woke me up before my alarm clock (which is set for 4:18 a.m.).  I saw it was 4, and I was okay with that.  I thought, “Oh!  I can make it in to work by 5 or a little after to make up for going in to work so late yesterday.”

That did not happen.

At 5:30 a.m., when I still could not get my tiny terrorist back to sleep (tinorist?  That doesn’t work.  I’m sure I’ll come up with something) I started getting grumpy.  The dogs wanted to go outside and eat their breakfast.  They were making this known through things like putting their noses on the baby and flapping their ears back and forth in a move I like to call “Helicopter Puppy.”  And Owen only does it because Rupert does.

The dogs are terrorists, too.

So, I declared my done-ness with trying to get my favorite baby back to sleep (“I’m done!  Go to sleep!”), I wrapped him in his blanket (arms out, since he’s so good at rolling now), I turned on his mobile (a free one I received from a coworker that plays classical music) and I fled the room, quietly but quickly.

As I whined about it to Mr. Adventure (who was up early, trying to get his homework done during the only time the house is quiet) he was sympathetic.  Then, we heard the much dreaded sound of baby squawks coming from the bedroom that indicated our tiny bundle of blood-curdling screams had not gone back to sleep as we had hoped.

Mr. Adventure tagged himself in to baby duty and sent me off to work.  At least here all the noise is white noise and all my problems are solvable.

Poor baby is teething, still.  Obviously.  And that first tooth still hasn’t broken through.  He has started grabbing my hand, putting my finger in his mouth, and shaking his head back and forth until his gums make a squeaking sound.

He will be six months old in 5 days.  I read somewhere when I was pregnant that each day drags on and seems like a hundred days, but time goes by so fast.  I think that’s a pretty accurate description.  At least of the first six months so far.

Hamburglar is getting ready to go through mental leap 6, according to the Wonder Weeks, and I’m assuming that is why he has been screaming like he is on fire.  Like the night before last, we were just hanging out, and he went from totally fine to screaming like he was on fire in about 15 seconds.  I still have no idea what was wrong with him.  Teething?  Growth spurt?  Practicing for a future career as the lead singer in a scream punk band? 

What else?  Rupert and Mr. Adventure just had birthdays.  I had cocktails!  It was amazing.  We played Cards Against Humanity and drank the pitcher of Washington Apples I made.  And it was nice, until my favorite terrorist awoke from his slumber in the middle of the night.  I bottle fed him then went to bed.

I saw some post on baby center or something that some chick had written that basically said, “Why would you drink when you’re breastfeeding?  Are you such a raging alcoholic that you can’t wait a year for a drink?”  To her, I would like to say, Andate a la verga!  Which, translated literally, means “walk to the dick” and basically means go fuck yourself.  But I like to tell people to walk to the dick.  As long as you aren't feeding your baby tit whiskey, you’re fine.  And, according to the research I've done, a glass or two of wine won’t kill your baby.  If you are too buzzed to drive, you are too buzzed to breastfeed.  Alcohol leaves your milk like it leaves your blood, so pumping to try to pull out the alcohol is stupid.  You should/need to pump to maintain milk supply if your breasts feel full and you’re still drunk and you should give your baby a bottle until you sober up.  La Leche League has some good info on drinking and breastfeeding.

Be smart if you’re going to drink.  Don’t drink like you did in college.  Or like I did in college.  Especially not like I did in college.

Kellymom has a really good breakdown of tips on drinking and breastfeeding, like waiting two hours after having a glass of wine or two.

Also, I don’t know if I’m doing it wrong or what, but I don’t think I like RLR for stripping diapers.  I know that I definitely hate my washing machine because it has that auto lock bullshit going on.  All I want to do is open the fucking washing machine to see if there are suds coming off my diapers still so I know if I need to keep rinsing or if I can dry them.  But no.  Auto lock won’t let me.  

I think the washing machine is in cahoots with the dogs and baby.  They’re plotting something.  I know it.

Also, Little Monsters diapers are amazing.

That is all. 

Teething is bullshit

Admit it.  You knew this was coming.  A post about teething.  "But, Olivia!  You hate cliches!"  Yeah.  I fucking know.  But teething is some serious bullshit.

I could spend the next three paragraphs whining about how tired I am, but instead I will write about the wonders of whiskey and frozen waffles.  I have a tiny airplane bottle of Jameson I use to rub on Hamburglar's gums on occasion, when it seems like that stubborn little tooth is particularly troublesome (none of that cheap whiskey for us!) and a friend suggested letting him gnaw on frozen waffles and OH MY GOD IT IS AMAZING.  Plus, once he's done crumbling up the waffle and throwing it on the floor, the dogs come and eat it, so clean up is simple.

He's been very interested in people food for a couple of months now, so we've been letting him taste things.  Most recently, I gave him a bit of banana.  He loved it.  And Mr. Adventure gave him some chili a week or two ago.  I was at work.  He said Chubs liked it, though.  It's fun watching him try new foods.  He takes it in his mouth and gets this contemplative look on his face, then he typically smiles, as if to say, "I like that."  But he tries to eat all food like it's milk.  He was sucking on the side of the banana, then started sucking on the peel.

I ran into a coworker who lives in my neighborhood yesterday.  She asked me how the baby is and I proceeded to show her pictures on my phone until she got a panicked look in her eyes and made an excuse to escape.  You may have won this round, polite coworker, but I will see you again!

Also, Fatty and I went to the grocery store yesterday, and all the crazies were out.  There were these two large fellows throwing around giant ground pork sausages in the meat section (and, no, that's not a euphemism for anything) and there was some crazy old lady by the cheese, coughing, and saying, "wait until you get bronchitis," and I wasn't sure if she was talking to me or the cheese or herself... and she kept trying to talk to me and then she took a step toward me with her hand stretched out in front of her and said, "Can I offer you a piece of advice?"  I said no thank you and walked away.  It was really weird.  Mr. Adventure was more concerned about it than I was, though.  He text me, asking me if I'd called the grocery store to complain and encouraged me to take a shower and give the baby a bath.  And I did.  But, as we all know, nothing good comes from showering before feeding a baby.

Within an hour of getting out of the shower (I even washed my hair.  An activity typically reserved for weekends), I was feeding my tiny man and getting him ready for bed and he spit up all over me.  Not once, but twice.  All over my nightgown and my hair.  And he looked so happy about it, so I laughed, and that got him laughing...  I rinsed my hair in the sink, but I'm pretty sure there is still baby vomit in it.  And I don't care.  Is that the mark of motherhood?

Also, holy balls I need some sleep.  Mr. Adventure's birthday was yesterday and we are having a cocktail/game night on Saturday.  I found this amazingly weird serial killer trivia board game thing and I borrowed Cards Against Humanity from a coworker.  I've got beer, a box of wine, a bottle of gin and a bottle of whiskey.  Magic will happen.

Oh, and I started a group fitness class.  It is an hour long on Saturdays.  Last Saturday was my first class and my legs just stopped hurting yesterday.

That is all.

Teeth are overrated

We’ve been suspicious for about a week and a half now that Hamburglar McCloud is teething.  Or beginning the teething process.  He has been super extra drooly, his cheeks are amazingly rosy and he has started chewing on his index finger.  Oh, and he won’t take a bottle.  It’s fine for me, because I feed him from the breast when I’m home.  It is not, however, fine for others.  According to Mr. Adventure, our favorite baby screams like he’s hungry, but refuses to eat.  I read that the sucking motion from a bottle can be super painful when teething, so that is my current theory.  Either that or he may be possessed.  He will be 4 months on Friday and we are going to see Dr. Soul Patch and I will question him as to whether we should get teething tablets or an exorcism.

One mama in a forum I was reading had stated that either people shouldn't have teeth or babies should be born with a full set.  Considering this is only the beginning, I'm inclined to agree.  I wonder if my boss will order me some chloroform?

Mr. Baby’s laugh is changing.  He has been giggling more and it’s pretty god damn hilarious.  Also, the nice thing about him not eating as much when I’m at work is that I am building up my freezer stock of milk and I wasn’t as worried as I normally would be when I dropped a full bag (5oz) of freshly expressed milk on the floor at work.  For all you pumping mamas out there… you know that shit is worth its weight in gold.  Or it should be.

Speaking of breastfeeding…

You know how breastfeeding is hard?  I have a girlfriend who has been exclusively pumping because she couldn’t get her babe to latch.  Turns out the babe was tongue-tied.  She’s currently on the hunt for a new pediatrician.  The official fancy name for tongue tie is “ankyloglossia” and means ‘crooked tongue’ in Greek.  Basically, tongue tie is when that little webbing type thing on the under side of your tongue restricts the movement of your tongue.  It makes sense if you can’t move your tongue right then you would have trouble latching.  La Leche League has some good info on tongue tie and breastfeeding.

I also read this article about how hard breastfeeding has always been and it briefly touches on the reasons that doctors were pushing the bottle/formula after it was invented.  It totally makes sense.  And you shouldn’t feel guilty if you can’t breastfeed or if you don’t want to.  All that really matters is that you’re feeding your baby.  And, really, anything has to be better than feeding your baby donkey milk or wine and honey.  It’s an interesting read.  I have an old book I bought at a bookstore in Pioneer Square when I first moved to Seattle.  Both the covers were falling off, so I got it for a quarter.  It’s basically a Ladies Home Journal style book from the 1890’s.  I was reading  about breastfeeding to see what it had to say and it suggested that breast is best, but donkey milk is the best animal substitute.  I think in modern times, formula is probably better than donkey milk (or “ass milk” as my head keeps saying.  Gross.).

Mr. Baby and I are road tripping to Seattle this weekend.  I’m hoping if we leave early enough, he will sleep at least halfway there.  And I’m hoping there isn’t too much snow on the pass.  I’m just excited for good sushi and dim sum and maybe some lil’ mahis at the Jolly Roger Tap Room… maybe brunch at that place I super love to go for brunch…  I mean, yeah, it’s nice to see friends, but I start planning all the places I want to go for food a couple of weeks in advance.  Lodging and whatnot may be up in the air, but I know for damn sure where I want to go for lunch as soon as I get into town.  Plus a beer sounds nice.  A good beer.  And who knows, maybe they will even have a baby bowl full of wine and honey.