I thought I'd share some more good pics. I may have to remove the first one after a while since it may be one of the most un-becoming photos of me ever, but I thought it was funny. It was taken minutes after pushing Lucia out of me. I still can't believe that was possible. The others are some more cute baby pics.

She's already changing so fast...Lucia now sleeps a mere 20 hours a day and the five she decides to stay up tend to be in the middle of the night. Breastfeeding breakthrough today though. She is now breastfeeding with the aid of a device called a nipple extender which is really an ancient torture device re-created by the La Leche League. It's kind of like a bottle nipple that suctions on to my nipple with a shower head at the end for the milk to come out. Instead of latching on properly though she likes to bite the whole device. It's progress though. At least now, the feeding time is cut in half and the milking machine is not in constant use.

I have to say that being pregnant, giving birth, breastfeeding and a mere week of no sleep gives me an appreciation I never had before for all birthmothers, my own and my other children's birth mothers. Adoption has it's own pain, but typically not of the physical kind (unless of course you get dysentary for 12 days in Bolivia while you await your child's visa). Anyway, those who say "How bad can it be? Women have babies in a thorn bush in a savannah, then run to catch up with their clan...Or, many women give birth to two, three, four, five, sixteen (have you seen that show?) children, it must not be that bad..." What I say to that is that the only explanation is that women just kick ass and can handle a lot. The reward is worth it for sure. She is so snuggly and soft and cute. But stitches near one's anus, blisters on nipples, milk engorged breasts as hard as basketballs which spray milk everywhere and peeing in your pants every time you cough is not very physically enjoyable or romantic. I am told that I should feel lucky that apparently I have no problem producing milk, but the volume is out of control. It is possible that we could stop buying seven gallons of cow's milk a week and just let me produce the family's milk supply. I woke up two nights ago, my shirt soaked from top to bottom with milk. I turned on the light and milk was pouring from my hands. I thought for a second someone had thrown a bucket of water all over me for a joke. But it's no joke.