Carlsbad Cavern in the Guadalupe Mountains

It’s been quite some time since our last blog post! Life happens, and we just needed a little break from trying to make content. This week we had some special visitors come to see us, and we decided to finally make it out to New Mexico’s mountain range! Joey and Janine came all the way from Washington to meet baby Mav, and he was automatically super friendly with them! I’m glad that he felt comfortable enough to play and laugh with them while they were here.

Any who ~ on day one, we decided to all drive out to Carlsbad Caverns. It’s about 2 hours and 45 minutes away from home, and the drive is probably the most boring drive I’ve ever seen. (maybe not.) We left super early in the morning since it’s first come, first serve for tickets, and after a certain time, they close all admissions. The admission fee is $15 per person, free if you’re active duty military. While we were waiting, we walked around the building that had some history about the mountains and how the caverns were formed. I will say that our number one tip is to bring a lot of snacks and food. There isn’t much there unless you want to drive 30-40 minutes to the closest town for fast food. The restaurant in the visitors center only had cold cuts, and the only café there had no cars parked out front. Super sketchy, we took a hard pass on that.

When we finally made our way into the caverns, it was a short hike to the bat amphitheater which was an outdoor seating area where you could watch bats exit the caverns every evening to go hunting! We did not stay for that unfortunately. The descent into the cavern is not for the weak legged. It starts out gradual, and then it seems like the guy who was excavating for the path just got tired of it and did super steep shortcuts. The initial scent going into the cavern is also very unpleasant. It reminded me of how a wet Asian bathroom smells like in a hole-in-the-wall restaurant, no bueno, all guano. The underground sits at about 56 degrees, so if you’re not a fan of being chilly, definitely bring a fleece and wear pants.

Maverick was amazing the entire way down, slept like a champ. Once we made it to the Big Room, it was game over for him. I think it was something to do with his ears popping and the cold. So if you go down with a baby, make sure you’re ready to nurse a grumpy baby. I’m more than sure we woke up all the bats in the cave, sorry Batman.

Milksnob covers coming in clutch for cave feedings!

Maybe we’ll go back to see what that Big Room had, maybe we’ll just be left to wonder. Either way, it was a fun trip with Uncle Joey and Auntie Janine! Oh, and before I forget, Mav became a Junior Ranger! :D Click here for the link to their website if you’re interested in planning your own visit.

Tips on how I increased my milk supply

Pumping can be incredibly discouraging. It’s tiring. It’s tedious. It’s time-consuming. You can’t just strap the flanges on and let the machine go full speed on your boobs and expect good results. Pumping is an active process that you have to engage in. If you watch your LO (little one) nurse, they tend to vary in speed and depth of their suckle, so what makes you think you can pump at one speed and suction for a full 40 minutes and have the same outcome? The answer is you can’t. And honestly, you have to be in the right mindset with all the factors in place for it to be a good pump session. Being positioned wrong, having the wrong bra, being dehydrated - these all can have an impact on your output. So I’ve put together some tips that have worked for me and a few of my friends.

But first, disclaimer: The content on my website is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or other qualified health providers with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read on this website.

So not all of these will work instantaneously. It’s going to take some time and a whole lot of patience to see changes. Be kind to yourself, mama. You’re going to do great, you ARE doing great. You are a great mama no matter how baby is fed, whether it’s breastmilk for formula. But if you’re really wanting to breastfeed, I hope these tips help you toward that goal!

Seek assistance from a lactation consultant

Before you discharge from the hospital, ask to speak with the lactation consultant. You want to make sure that you get your baby’s latch assessed. If your baby’s not latched correctly, it can really do some damage to your nipples making breastfeeding harder than it already is. If you plan on pumping, it’s a good idea to bring your pump in to be sized for the correct flange. It’s also good to ask how to pump to get the most out. Sometimes you think that something is meant to be easy, one click of the button type of thing, but pumping is much more than that. Write all your questions down before you deliver, so you get the most out of the session. When you go home and you need help troubleshooting it, see if you can speak with a lactation consultant at baby’s follow up appointment. You can always ask for help.

Ensuring you’re using the correct flange sizing

As I mentioned above, using the correct flange size is important. You won’t be emptying your breast effectively if it’s too big, and it can really damage your nipples if it’s too small. This is one reason to bring your pump when you deliver. Sometimes using lubrication like approved nipple balms can help prevent chafing as well.

Using thermal packs to help with your letdown

I find that when my breast are “warmed up” (literally…) they put out the most milk. That’s why I like to pump after a warm shower. If not, I’d say invest in some thermal packs that you can just pop in the microwave and place on your chest before you pump. Sometimes that helps with the letdown, and it can actually make it feel a little better. My letdown is very painful, so the heat packs really help relieve that pain.

Hand expressing to help stimulate your breast

In the earlier days of lactation, right after birth, you’ll notice that your milk is super thick and can look gold. This is that nutrient dense colostrum you’ve heard about! It’s extremely hard to get out with a breast pump on those first few days, so the best way to collect it is by hand expression. The important thing to remember when using your hands to express milk is that you want your fingers to be at the BASE of your nipple, and instead of “pressing” your fingers together to “squeeze it”, you want to press STRAIGHT BACK against your chest and COMPRESS forward. If you squeeze at the nipple, you’re going to get sore, but you’re also pinching off the milk ducts where the milk would come out. Always hand express after pumping because the pump will leave behind some of that fatty hind milk!

National Breastfeeding Week: An appreciation post for all mommas who tried their best

Like most mothers, I had already set a goal for myself to breastfeed my child as soon as he was born. As a nurse, I was obsessed with the thought that all of my knowledge and experience helping other moms breastfeed, that it would come naturally to me. Although it felt like it did, my son didn’t gain a lot of weight, still experienced jaundice, and was supplemented with formula. In those early weeks, I was really hard on myself.

Maverick’s first feed, straight out the womb

Breastfeeding is a lifestyle choice that mothers make. It is something that many mothers work at because let’s be real, this shit is hard. It consumes an unimaginable amount of time throughout the day whether you’re pumping or feeding your baby straight from the teet. On average, I spend almost 4 hours of my day pumping or nursing Maverick - a lil boy that STILL loves to nurse at night. And to protect my supply, I will force myself out of slumber and hold those flanges up to pump milk out, even if it’s just 2 ounces.

Breastfeeding is a commitment. When others say, “at least you get a break from your kid when you go to work, etc.” Is it really a break? Can I use pumping as “an excuse” to take a break from work? Because I can tell you that it’s the last thing from being relaxing. Pumping is hard work. It’s stressful. And when you don’t make as much as you thought you would, it’s heartbreaking. Knowing that you are your baby’s sole nutrition, there’s a lot riding on these “relaxing pump sessions” everyone gives moms such a hard time about.

Breastfeeding is tough, but so are you momma. Remember all that you’re doing for your baby. Enjoy that bond that only you and your baby have during those late night, early morning nursing sessions. I applaud all of you for doing your best.

Whether you breastfed for a few days, a few weeks, 6 months, or you’re still going - you did that for your baby. Celebrate that.

Regaining my light: 13 years later [TW: Suicide]

I think it’s interesting that I haven’t written a dedicated blog about my brother’s suicide on Okami & Co. I guess I made an effort to keep this mental health journey about me, and not let it gravitate toward my dead brother’s mental health that got the best of him. I think that’s hard: to pull my feelings away after being told that “he is why you’re depressed.” I guess it made me feel like I wasn’t my own person, even in my depression, I still fell under his shadow. A shadow he no longer casted but for some reason seemed inescapable.

Trigger warning: Suicide

So I’m going to make a vow to myself to make sure my mental health journey remains about me and to not let it seem like it revolves around my brother after this blog.

13 years is long enough.

Two angels in this photo

TLDR: In July of 2007, shortly after my 17 year old brother graduated high school, he hung himself at a playground I used to play at with my friends. The night before that, he ran away from home. Before he ran away from home, he told me to tell everyone he was sorry. I tried to run after him, but the MP told me to go back inside and that they would go find my brother. The found him too late. This had a major impact on my mental health.

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I don’t think I was the same after that. I was angry at the world, and some days I still am. I get frustrated with myself when I think about walking back inside rather than going after him. I get scared when I wake up from the recurring nightmare of running down a dimly lit street toward the General’s house and to our bus stop just to watch him get away or even looking for help before that. I get frustrated blaming my parents: my mom for not being there, and my dad for “not trying hard enough to look” as my 15-year-old self would have claimed. (I know you tried Dad.)

But mostly I get mad at myself for letting myself spiral so out of control and not ask for help sooner. My emotions were so raw as I grew up. I didn’t know how to channel my anger or my grief. I lashed out. I started smoking (an awful habit that I did on and off). I pushed a lot of people away, which I still do. I don’t find ways to connect to people, because I feel like no one will take the time to understand why I am the way I am. I was lucky enough to have people who encouraged me that things would eventually get better, but I didn’t see it at the time. I was too frustrated with everyone. Even more when the one person who reminded me of my brother took his life 3 years later, leaving me on my own.

And now I’m doing therapy to figure out how to retrain my body to react to these emotions that I feel when I think of these memories. My body doesn’t react to the word suicide well. My heart rate and respiratory rate increases. I get dizzy. I feel faint. Every time. I worry excessively when I hear a friend is feeling some type of way toward suicidal thoughts, and my initial reaction is to shower them in extreme love and non-judgmental support (in getting better, obviously.) I get irritated when I hear colleagues say patients are “crazy” or “pshycho” because they’ve been admitted for suicidal ideation. Instead of trying to help them, they reinforce the stigma that surrounds mental health.

And you assholes all wonder why no one in the Army wants to get help. Because you’re all assholes, and if you read this and you get triggered, then yes b*tch, I’m talking about you.

I don’t really know where I’m going with this. I thought I could navigate this blog well, but I’m becoming distracted.

Right, my brother. He died when he was 17. He was supposed to be a dad, but his girlfriend ‘changed her mind’. He just graduated high school and I guess he had aspirations to join the air force, or maybe go to culinary school. (Did I try to live vicariously through him? Maybe.) There are some things about my brother that I remember vividly, there are other things that I don’t. I miss my brother, but sometimes I get angry at him for making living so hard.

I feel like his death set the precedence for my teenage and young adult life. I would be lying if I said that it didn’t cause my family to distance themselves from each other. I still feel very distant from my family. Although, my baby brother and I are reconnecting and re-establishing our relationship and it makes me happy to see him grow into a healthy young man. And I hope he continues to grow like that. I’m happy that he found someone that will be his rock through the good and the bad. (Thank you Janine.)

My thoughts are still all over the place…

My brother. I guess therapy must be working, because I feel like I’ve let go of so much emotional weight. My brother. I no longer want to live shadowed by your past existence. I don’t want to continue dedicating things in my life to you; I am now reclaiming my accomplishments and my victories as my own person. I wanted to live in your “legacy” but I’ve outgrown the need to live for you, because I want to live for myself. I want to live for my child and my husband. And if anyone has an issue with me moving on from you, then keep to yourself, because it’s going to happen anyways.

Public Service Announcement: I am looking forward to growing out of my grief, and if you want to stay in it or you want to try and pull me back into it or are looking to make me feel guilty and call me selfish then please, go kindly fuck yourself. thank you.

My tattoo on my ankle is the signature in this photo

My brother. I’ll always remember you. I’ll remember the small and very brief life lessons you taught me. Like how I should expect Maverick to bother me at night and ask me if his outfit is okay for his first day of school. Or that I can only experience pain from other people if I let them hurt me. I’ll remember your goofy smile. I’ll imagine you dancing every time I hear My Boo Google Play. I’ll remember how annoying you were. I’ll remember that you were the dumb Ferrer and I was the smart Ferrer since we had the same classes when I was in MIDDLE SCHOOL. I’ll remember letting you copy my homework, wow that’s sad.

I’ll remember you, and every July 15th and October 5th, I’ll celebrate you. But I think it’s time for me to let you go and let myself live. For me.

I love you. Rest well,

Jak

Motherhood Unplugged: Falling into the trap of expectations

It was so easy for me to fall into the pit of comparison and expectations when it came to Motherhood.

I mean, how could you not get mixed into it? I was a new mom who spent all of maternity leave living through social media simply because we couldn’t leave the house (thanks Corona.) I spent my tired hours scrolling through these picture perfect moments that Instagram moms were posting on their feed. All of them with their plants, and fun quarantine crafts, and fat babies who had wardrobes nicer than mine. I awed at nurseries that were so particularly put together down to the knobs on the dressers. I envied the mothers who had babies that slept quietly through the night for 11 hours, or the babies who seemed to hit milestone after milestone, all while my baby was still crying in my ear.

Remember that social media is a HIGHLIGHT REEL, so all you see is the picture perfect snapshot

I want to preface with the fact that I absolutely love Maverick and everything that he does puts me in awe, from him holding his binky to him halfway rolling over. Even though I didn’t ever want to think that I would doubt Maverick’s ability to just be a baby, I kind of was in a way. I was comparing him to all of these babies that had different circumstances than him, different goals than him, different everything from him. I know how hard it is to be the child that hears their parent say, “look at your auntie so & so’s kid, they do XYZ. You should do XYZ.” I never liked that. I hated being compared to other kids.

I low key was doubting the ability of myself to perform as a mother, and in a way, doubting my son’s ability to just… grow

But the point is, if I already know that it sucks being on that side, the last thing I want to do is put Maverick in that same position. I expressed my concerns to Sean one night, and he just kept rambling off all the things that Maverick could do. He could throw his binky clear across the room. He could hold his big head up without our help. He smiles and he laughs whenever we’re in front of him dancing and tickling him. All the things that I love, but for some reason was discrediting.

Maverick may not sleep through the night yet. He hates tummy time with a burning inferno passion, and he absolutely refuses to roll back over once he’s on his tummy. He will cry to high heaven until we pick him up from his Mamaroo. But he sings along with nursery rhymes, he blinks away water without being afraid, and he nurses like a freaking champ to fill in all his baby rolls.

As for me, I may not get to spend every waking moment with him because I am a working momma that works long days. I may have half of my husband’s storage in Maverick’s room still. And I already regret missing out on all the photo and video opportunities with Maverick’s “first XYZ”. But my baby is giddy to see me walk through the door from work or when he wakes up in the morning and I’m the first person he sees. And that’s what matters to me.