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[bellamedispa]

Electrolysis Hair Removal

Whether you’re transitioning, dealing with PCOS, or simply wanting to stop shaving and waxing, electrolysis hair removal offers long-term results. This treatment can be done anywhere on the body and is effective for all skin and hair types.

The technique destroys the follicles, which means new hair growth will never occur. It is, however, a lengthy process. Make sure you have chosen the right electrolysis hair removal this time.

Let's discuss a few things related to electrolysis hair removal.

Cost

The cost of electrolysis hair removal varies depending on your individual needs, the area being treated, and where you get your treatment. Generally, larger cities will have higher rates than smaller towns. The average single one hour session costs about $50-$125.

Electrolysis kills only about 35 percent of hair follicles per treatment so it takes multiple treatments to permanently destroy all of the unwanted hair in an area. It can also take months to years before you see permanent results.

While electrolysis may seem expensive, it’s a better option than temporary methods like waxing or shaving. In addition, you’ll save money over time by not having to buy and maintain razors, creams, or other disposables. Plus, the psychological benefits of permanency can make it worth the investment. Most people find that their hair growth progressively decreases after their first few treatments. In some cases, hair even stops growing completely. This is true for both men and women.

Pain

Electrolysis produces permanent results, works well on all skin and hair types, is safe for pregnant women, and can be less expensive than laser treatments. However, it can be quite painful — even with pre-medication with anesthetic topical cream — and will take several treatment sessions before unwanted hair is completely removed from the intended site.

The process involves inserting a tiny probe into each individual hair follicle and applying a controlled electric current that damages the follicle to the point where it will never grow hair again. While a person might tolerate the procedure better in one part of the body than another, "it’s important to stick with it," says Elise.

It’s also essential to find a licensed, professional electrologist with experience using needle electrolysis (not electrocautery, epilation or photoepilation). The wrong tools can lead to scarring and infection. In addition, people with certain medical conditions, such as keloid scarring or hemophilia, should avoid the procedure.

Redness

Immediately following an electrolysis treatment, your skin may experience redness that lasts up to a couple of days. It’s important to moisturize your skin daily to keep it healthy. It also helps reduce the appearance of scars (fibrous tissue that replaces normal skin).

The redness associated with electrolysis hair removal is caused by the direct destruction of a hair follicle by the current used in the treatment. It is less common than bruising, and it usually goes away within two weeks. If the area is swollen or painful, try using witch hazel to help with the recovery.

While rare, some people can develop a small bump called a pustule that appears a day or two after a treatment session. These are the result of leaking blood from the damaged follicle. It’s important to know that a scab will form over the pustule and it will protect it as it heals. This is a completely normal side effect and it’s nothing to worry about.

Regrowth

Unlike shaving, waxing and plucking, electrolysis permanently closes hair follicles so that they never grow back. However, it takes several treatments to reach permanent hair reduction. Often, people will need to attend appointments every week or every other week for a year and a half to see significant results.

It is normal to experience regrowth after the first few sessions, as not all hair follicles are in their active growth phase at the same time. But by the eighth to twelfth session, most of your unwanted hair should be permanently removed.

It is important to remember that your progress is dependent on the skill of your electrologist and how consistent you are with your treatment schedule. It is also best to avoid using hair removal products that pull at the hairs, such as plucking, waxing and threading. This can cause the hair to grow back in an untreated area and slow your treatment progress. It can also cause a painful reaction and result in hyperpigmentation on the skin.

[eliseskincream-blog]

Elise Skin Cream

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[eliseantiagingcream-blog]

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[dixiedingo]

Balea McComrick (found dog au sheet)

OC sheet for my marvel OC; gives context to the Found Dog AU.

Note: I didn’t make this template but I forgot who did originally.

Name: Balea McComrick

Nickname(s): Lyra; Bal; B; P

Age: 15-16

Gender: Nonbinary (AFAB)

Birthday: February 26th

Race: Lunafaust/Subflaust

Species: Lunathymarian

Accent: American, slightly southern

Height: 5’2”

Weight: 140 lbs

OC's Appearance

Skin Color(s): (human) Olive/orangey skin (transformed (luna)) black with white spots (transformed (sub)) white with black spots

Hair: (human) Dark brown with light silver and blue ends, short cut (transformed (luna)) white (transformed (sub)) black

Hairstyles: Wavy bob

Eye Color(s): (human) dark brown (transformed (luna)) black sclera, white irises (transformed (sub)) black sclera, white irises; almond shaped

Unique Feature(s): Frequently seen with bandages on the face and arms; slightly muscular

OC's Clothing Style

Gym: black sports bra; gym shorts; black fingerless gloves

Fancy: black slacks, black vest, white collared button up, red bowtie

Pajamas: blue and white striped briefs, white wife beater.

Normal: Cream-colored pea-coat, black tank top, black jeans, black doc martins

Underclothes: Black sports bra, wine-colored boy-shorts

Accessories: Black muzzle

OC's Personality

Social: Extremely cold and distant for the most part; eventually warms up and comes off as a bit childish

Bravery: Puts on a bravery 'facade.' Is actually a bit of a coward.

Rebellious: Their entire job surrounds the idea of rebellion

Tidy: They're in charge of cleaning a lot, so they tend to be tidier than most.

Daredevil: Extremely free-spirited; they aren't afraid of taking action.

Bookworm: Enjoys reading, especially comics and fiction

Personality:

A complicated soul, Balea has a huge disdain for society. After being beaten, broken and bruised, they're wary of new people and more importantly, wary of being hurt again. Despite being as cold as they are, if you manage to get close, you'll find they're quite imaginative and a bit of a space-case. Extremely smart and analytical, they're a perfect right hand.

OC's Likes/Dislikes

Favorite Food: sushi

Favorite Drink: Energy drinks; bubble tea

Favorite Movies: Horror and action

Favorite Music: They love all kinds of music, but they like rock the most

Favorite Tv Show: true-crime related things (criminal minds, that kind of stuff); anything animated

Favorite Book: Helter-skelter

Favorite Holiday: Halloween

Favorite Season: Winter

Favorite Place: The park

Favorite Color: Red

Least Favorite Food: Anything that tastes like shrimp

Least Favorite Drink: beer

Least Favorite Movies: Anything with barely any plot

Least Favorite Music: Country-- but even then there are some songs they like

Least Favorite Tv Show: Most reality shows (though, they binge them since it’s ‘visual junk food.’)

Least Favorite Book: Fight club

Least Favorite Holiday: valentine’s day

Least Favorite Season: Spring

Least Favorite Place: McCommrick's Quarters

Least Favorite Color: Neon brown (seriously, what the fuck--)

OC's Habits

Overeating: Rarely

Smoking: Only the drugs Tracks provides to them

Spending Money: If they have ‘too much’ money, they’ll become neurotic

Gossiping: They love listening to it, they hate being a mediator.

Lying: Oh buddy--

Drinking: Frequently

Cheating: Only when they deem it okay (but never relationship-wise)

OC's Personal Life

Occupation/Job: Student; drug-dealer

Education: High school junior

Family:

Jamison McComrick (former guardian; deceased)

Kazuhiro Yamaguchi (paternal figure; deceased)

Bethro Major (Father)

Elise Major (mother)

History:

There was a luna-sub race war. Their father didn't want them to be killed, and so they were sent to earth in a ship as a baby since chimera lunathymarians were illegal. They landed fairly close to an orphanage and lived their days out before being sent off to a mutant orphanage via a misunderstanding. At 7, they were adopted by Father Jamison McComrick as "Rosita." Though, it was less to have a daughter and more to have a "malleable perfect being." As a consequence, he abused her for years, locking her  in basements, forcing her to study, and never letting her see the outside world. On one hand, they ended up a genius. But on the other hand, she had no idea how the world worked.

Once they turned 12 they began to rebel, sneaking outside. When she wasn’t allowed to eat, she would steal lots and lots of food. At 14, while stealing from a small corner store, she met Yamaguchi, a former pianist from Japan who became blind in an accident. She ended up working for him and becoming closer, and in turn, he adopted her. However, unfortunately, McComrick finds her again and ends up taking her. She begins to sneak back outside and saves her money to buy Yamaguchi stark-industry brand shades meant to help the blind see. In trade, Yamaguchi teaches her to play piano and subsequently plays her his most famous song, “The Butterfly Sonata.”

He then, after seeing the extent of her abuse, promises to adopt her from McComrick. The night he tried to steal her away though, he was shot by McComrick, and McComrick takes Rose in an attempt to leave for Canada. After nearly molesting her in the car though, she snaps and using her telekinesis, drives the car over a bridge and drowns, resetting her personality.

After being interrogated, she was put in a mutant orphanage home. Not having much to live for and focusing on her education, she attended school faithfully with no friends and no social life. At this point, she’d get harassed and bullied for being ‘too quiet’ and ‘ghostly.’ One day, she fought back and ends up earning the respect of Trevor “Tracks” Skye. Tracks ended up telling her about the gang of the area and pressures her to join.

Now becoming more comfortable with their gender, they're under Tracks' thumb and live in silent fear, doing his bidding for him.

Obsessions:

As a result of being held captive, they have a never-ending passion for music. A big cope for them is binging and reading fantasy books, especially ones where the protagonist saves themselves.

Fears:

Artemis

They have a natural distrust for older humans (usually appearing over the age of 50)

OC's Abilities

Power/Skills:

Sonic scream

Traveling among sound waves

Force manipulation (able to manipulate the nature of things. When they don't use it it works against them)

Flight

Regeneration (depending on how much they eat, that's the amount of time it takes for them to regenerate a wound-- the longest being 30 seconds. If mortally wounded, they'll be knocked out for 30 minutes and their personality is altered.)

Metal-based telekinesis

Strengths:

Handy

Good memory

Good with strategy

Quick thinker

Optimistic

Extremely determined

Weaknesses:

Low strength

Power level cut in half when in human more

They can only use their full power when happy

Soundproof rooms

Sore throats

When angry, they blackout, and Artemis takes control.

Equipment: extendable rod, low supply of gold and epmed, guns (semi-auto), guitar

Note: Artemis is their alter-ego so to speak. Since they're a chimera, they share a body with what would've been their twin. Artemis is much more aggressive and much more visually based. They no longer have access to Balea's powers, as they have their own. Their manipulation powers go from metal to light-based, and the only way to officially kill or weaken them is to blind them somehow as their powers are more so based on the concept of vision. They're more masculine and aggressive than Balea.

[ythmir-writes]

Requesting "Summer" & "Giles" from MidCin please, 'cos summer has been hoooot and having long hair now is terrible and suffering :'D

(AN: Ahhhhhh lovely leo! thank you for dropping by! and i know how you feel! im getting flashbacks of my time when i still had long hair myself ohman. it was hellish! so here’s something for Giles and his incredibly beautiful hair. I hope you enjoy!! AND ALSO ijustgotta say - the first things in my head for this prompt was all art you know, like Giles in muscle shirt sitting in front of a fan with ice cream. Giles under the sun struggling with ice cream. Giles in beach shorts. Giles with barbecue on the beach . Giles in a summer yukata. Giles in ponytail in swimming shorts in a pool. Giles hugging the airconditioning like in that meme- im gonna stop now)

SUMMER

fandom: Midnight Cinderellacharacters: Giles Christophe 

The chilly spring mornings were long gone, replaced by an almost oppressive heat that made even the shortest walk to the convenience store down the block an arduous trek. Giles would have gladly stayed in the sweet embrace of air conditioning. 

But they had run out of ice cream. 

And he had bet on the wrong side of the coin. 

“It’s only fair.” Leo had told him, grinning from ear to ear and nearly shoving the tote bag into Giles’s crossed arms. 

Giles had refused to take it. “One more time. Toss it again.” 

“You picked the wrong side four times out of five.” Sid had been guffawing the entire time, wheezing as he clung to the edge of the table “Just go get the ice cream already.”

“The walk isn’t even ten minutes!” Leo had added.

“Ten minutes of pure unadulterated hell.” Giles had said through gritted teeth, making Leo and Sid laugh harder still.

It was not that Giles hated summer. As a matter of fact, he appreciated the longer days, the endless green, and took joy in seeing the colors that came back after winter robbed them from the earth. Only that if he was granted by the gods the opportunity to tweak any season, he would not hesitate to remove summer from the equation and have a longer spring and fall.  

Wysterian summer was the worst in the world, sometimes reaching a hundred degrees and was humid beyond compare. Summer rains, if there were any at all, did nothing to help with the heat except make it worse because of how short they were. 

Giles fantasized about how convenient the summers were in other countries. He should go on vacation to somewhere colder. Like Stein. 

He was barely halfway and he could already feel his skin prickling at the heat. The back of his shirt was already sticking to his back and somehow he felt like he was getting heatstroke.  

This was how he was going to die. Under the summer sun. Buying ice cream for his friends who somehow managed to rig a freaking coin toss.

“Overdramatic ass.” Giles admonished himself, hearing Sid and Leo’s laughter in his head. “Just get it over and done with.” 

He picked up his pace, turning around the corner and almost weeping at the sight of the 7-Eleven. He bought the ice cream (three tubs so there would be no excuse until sundown), lingered at the magazines just so he could recharge, and then started to muster the herculean effort it would take to go back outside. 

Somehow it was worse than he remembered. Somehow the sun seemed closer to the earth. Somehow, he just remembered that he forgot to lather on sunscreen.

“Giles?” 

Giles turned towards the voice, felt the gentle caress of cool air and the rush of heat as the convenience door was opened and closed, and saw the girl waving at him. “Hello, Lana.”

“I didn’t recognize you with your hair up.” Lana grinned. “Wow. Did you braid it yourself?”

“Yes.” 

“It looks amazing.” Lana stepped closer. Giles hoped he did not smell of sweat and despair. 

“Thank you.” 

“You should teach me how to do it next time.” Lana continued. “But more importantly, I’m shocked seeing you outside in this weather without being near the beach.”

Giles raised his tote bag. “Lost the coin toss.” 

“Ah.” Lana raised her own bag. “Same. I swear Elise rigged it.” 

“I accuse Leo of the exact same thing.” 

“Why are our friends like this?” Lana shook her head in mock exasperation. “We should just totally ditch them and -” Lana stopped, eyes widening in inspiration.  “We should head for Alyn’s and make the meanest tallest ice cream cake in the shortest amount of time possible.” 

Giles grinned. “Send pictures for everyone else to salivate on?” 

“And pretend there’s still more but we ate all of it already.” Lana barked out a laugh, already turning on her heel. “Let’s go.” 

Giles followed her out, half-expecting to melt under the sun, for his skin to burn as punishment for leaving the comforting embrace of artificially cooled air. 

He didn’t. 

His feet felt lighter. The sun felt less cruel. The colors less harsher and somehow more vibrant than they already were.

“Race you to Alyn’s?”

Giles’ heart dropped. “It’s three blocks away.”

“Loser forfeits one tub!” Lana did not wait for him to agree.

Giles swore under his breath and tried to catch up. Lana knew he didn’t race. Lana knew he could literally keel over and die this time for real. He knew she knew and yet - 

Giles was also thinking that if losing the coin toss turned out to not be so bad after all, then maybe losing a tub of ice cream might not be so disastrous either.

04/182

[truthofherdreams]

The Coffeenante

every ship deserves a coffee shop au so here we are [the rock voice] you're welcome +ao3

Naomi is a creature of habits, you see. It keeps her grounded, after too many years as a reckless teenager with even more reckless thoughts. Many would find her daily routine boring, but she likes it that way, likes to know exactly where she is heading and what’s in the cards for her that day.

She wakes up at 7 every morning, gets breakfast ready and gets Filip out of bed, before school starts at 8. By 8.30 she’s at the shop, ready to start the day until 5. She doesn’t actually start before 9, though, so she always takes that half hour to go next door to the Coffeenante and order her coffee -- one cream, five sugars. On a good day (read: on a day where her favourite barista gets the morning shift) she will stay at the coffee shop and chat. Any other day, she will just go back to the shop and read the news on her phone before her own shift starts.

Habits, you see. They are a wonderful thing.

Still, nothing prepares her for the giggle that escapes her lips the moment she steps into the Coffeenante that morning. The coffee shop is almost empty but for a couple of customers, and Holden is next to the espresso machine, dying. Head hiding in his folded arms, he groans pitifully at the way the bell chimes above her, not even looking up. Naomi can’t help but smirk -- last night involved Drummer’s house and way too many bottles of vodka. Which Naomi loves on a daily basis, and was made even more entertaining by the fact that Bobbie was there, and ready to prove she could drink Holden under the table.

He’s never been really good at refusing a challenge.

Or at holding his alcohol.

Naomi refrains from running a hand through his hair, and instead plants both hands on the counter as loudly as she can, effectively startling him. Alex comes out of the kitchens at that exact moment, and just laughs at the way Holden now glares at her.

“Hello, Jimmy boy!” she exclaims.

He waves his hand in front of her face, still frowning. “Too loud. Too happy.”

She grins at him, even more so when Alex drops a shot of espresso in front of him and Holden downs it in a quarter of a second. He winces at the bitter taste, the frown a permanent feature between his brows. It shouldn’t make him look adorable, but it strangely does. Because Holden is really cute when he’s grumpy -- cuter still when he’s smiling at her, little wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. Naomi never thought that type could be her type. Everybody and their mother know she’s always been into tough, bad boys.

But the whole farmer boy slash former navy guy slash soft barista seems to be working on her. And Holden still hasn’t noticed it, because she’s quite good at hiding her stupid school girl crush. Not that he’s going to notice today of all days, either.

Alex takes pity on him, serving Naomi her drink before she even has to ask, and she hands him a crumpled dollar bill with a roll of her eyes. She takes a sip, coffee burning down her throat, before she raises her cup to Alex in a silent thanks. He replies with a lazy salute, two fingers against his temple, and a smile so bright it makes up for Holden’s sour mood.

She’s by the door, ready to go back to work, when she hears him say, “Now I know you’re not faking it, boss. No way you ain’t noticing that crop top when sober.”

Naomi smirks to herself.

Maybe he noticed, after all.

 …

 Jim is a man of simple pleasures.

He enjoys a good cup of coffee first thing in the morning, and how crispy fresh the Montana air is during the winter. He loves to relax after a long day of word, and seeing Alex and Amos bicker like an old married couple. He likes his job, the nice customers who come by everyday, and how life is much easier now that he’s not in the navy anymore.

He also really, very, enjoys the way Naomi Nagata looks.

There is something particularly enticing about the way she only wears a black tank top under her coverall, and strips from the waist up when she is not working, showing more skin than he know how to handle. She always has smudged of grease everywhere, up her neck and down her arms, under her nails, but her hair remains flawless throughout the day, soft and bouncy and perfect.

She’s the highlight of his day, and he wishes he was less of a moron and knew how to ask her out. Ade’s rejection still lies uneasily in his stomach, and he’s wary of the potential heartbreak with Naomi’s name on it. Damn Mother Elise for turning him into a romantic sap who can’t deal with only the physical aspect of relationships.

Still, she makes his day when she walks into the coffee shop, a little less so when Jim notices the scold on her face and the way she stomps angrily to the counter. He’s known her long enough now -- five years of her working in the repair shop next door, five years of making her coffee every day -- that he doesn’t need her order, just prepares it right away while she’s glaring at the muffins like they kill puppies for sport.

“Should I ask?”

He hands her the cup of coffee, and she glares at it too before she takes it. Holden didn’t think anyone could angrily drink coffee, but Naomi is proving him wrong right now. Impressingly so.

“Oh you know, only Fred Johnson-” she turns around in the middle of saying the man’s name to glare at the door as if he were here- “being a massive pain in the ass right now.”

Jim can't help but grin a little. Johnson, Naomi’s boss, has always been a pain in the ass, asking too much and expecting even more. It keeps Naomi on her toes, arms-deep into engines only she can fix, keeps her mind sharp.

“It's not funny, Jimmy,” she goes on, glaring at him this time.

Jim ignores the nickname that only his mothers use, and that Naomi has taken to using too when she wants a reaction out of him. She's just bracing herself for a fight he won't offer, because arguing with her is the worst and only makes him ache for her more.

“Quit, then.” Her glare turns into a deadpan stare. “You're wasting your brain cells on this job when you should be working on time travel with NASA.”

Naomi shakes her head, but a small smile tugs up the corners of her mouth. “NASA doesn't work on time travel.”

“Cause they haven't hired you yet.”

The smile finally reaches her eyes, and it makes Jim grin in return. Even more so when she takes a sip of her coffee to hide the blush blossoming on her cheek, giving a pinkish hue to her dark skin.

“You're too charming for your own good, Holden.”

And back to last name basis.

“Only telling the truth, Nagata.”

She rolls her eyes halfheartedly, but the smile remains on her lips for a moment longer before it turns into something sad. “You know why, though.”

He does. He knows all too well about Marco and the judge and how easy it could be for her to lose Filip. How much she fought for him. How she will put him first, always, even if it means a life stuck in a crappy garage, wasting her potential.

“At least the neighbours are nice,” Jim replied, as cheerfully as he can. The underlying meaning obvious.

Naomi fakes thinking, pout in her beautiful lips. “At least there's that,” she agrees with a wink.

Jim’s heart sings a sweet lullaby.

 …

 Marco is allowed to see Filip once a month, for two hours, in public. She would like it if he were allowed to see Filip never, but the kid loves his father too much despite the gang tattoos on his arms and the bracelet around his ankle. So the Coffeenante it is -- public enough for Naomi’s comfort, and too mainstream for Marco’s buddies to show up.

The perk of knowing Holden or Amos could suckerpunch him any time helps, too.

She sulks in a booth, hands wrapped around a warm cup of tea and eyes throwing daggers at Marco’s skull. Filip’s little legs don’t even touch the floor, his sneakers lighting up blue and red every time they tap against the seat. The sharp contrast between his Captain America t-shirt and Marco’s greasy old shirt is just painful, and Naomi looks away in time to see Amos sliding in front of her into the booth.

He glares in Marco’s general direction too, but his presence is almost comforting in a weird way. She’s always felt safe with Amos by her side, even if (or perhaps especially because) she’s seen him beating people to a pulp on multiple occasions.

“You okay?”

She replies with a nod and a sip of her tea, and they don’t say anything much after that during the ten minutes that make his afternoon break. When he goes back behind the counter, Holden comes to replace him in front of Naomi. It almost makes her smirk, how protective of her and Filip they all are, the three boys she now considers family. They’re more of a father figure than Marco could ever hope to be. Not that he’s trying all that hard anyway.

Holden comes with refills, sliding a cup of coffee toward her. Naomi winces at the first sip, before she finally manages a smile -- definitely some whiskey in there. Holden grins at her, bright smile and wrinkly eyes, like the whole point was to surprise her. She admires, and appreciates, his effort.

“We still okay for tonight?” he asks.

They’ve planned on going to see Power Rangers, all four of them and Filip, because even if the kid has a shitty dad doesn’t mean he can’t have a badass mom. He’s been looking forward to it ever since they started talking about it last week, watching old episodes on Netflix and asking her to buy the toys and everything.

“Of course,” she nods. “Looking forward to it.”

This isn’t about her -- this very much is about Filip -- but still Naomi hopes Holden will sit next to her and hold her hand during the movie. Just because she was too young when she got a kid and she’s in a shitty situation, doesn’t mean a girl can’t dream.

She’s always been a romantic at heart.

 …

 It is Mei Meng’s birthday, which means both Filip and Alex’s kid are invited to the sleepover, which means Naomi shows up at the Coffeenante about half an hour after the end of her shift at the repair shops. She changed out of her work clothes, looking more like the evening crowd -- hipsters and students from Eros U for the most part -- than she could ever do with her coveralls. She even took a shower, if the lack of grease on her skin is anything to go by. Jim pretends not to stare, but.

She sits by the counter with a deep sigh, too loud to be natural, her usual hey notice me. Not that Jim could not notice her if he tried. She’s on his mind all day every day, like a itch you can’t scratch. A very beautiful itch, mind you.

Jim busies himself with making Naomi a drink, before he moves closer to her, leaning into her space with his elbows on the counter. Her eyes drift to his mouth, just a second but long enough for him to notice, and it takes all of Jim’s self-control not to lean closer still and kiss her.

“That’s sad,” is all he says instead, almost mockingly.

Naomi grabs a handful of coffee beans from a cup next to the till, and throws one at his face. “Didn’t ask,” she replies petulantly. And then, “I’m bored, okay.”

Jim grins. Entertaining her is easy, and so that is what he does for the next two hours or so, chatting with her in between serving drinks for the other customers, sliding cupcakes her way ever so often because he knows she’ll skip dinner if she doesn’t have to cook for Filip.

He almost expects her to get bored and go home at some point but she doesn’t, and she starts ranting about space and Star Trek and space in Star trek and some other shit he doesn’t understand, but damn if he will ever stop her when she’s willingly spending time by his side. That woman is out of his league, truly, and the selfish part of him hopes she will never notice, because he couldn’t deal with not having her in his life anymore.

Before Jim knows it, he’s putting the chairs on the tables and sweeping the floor while Naomi keeps talking and talking and talking about Star Trek, and Battlestar Galactica. Star Wars. Interstellar. Firefly. Even fucking Armageddon.

She’s talking at him more than anything else, so Jim only makes a comment every so often to let her now he’s still listening. He gets her in a fury when he asks if Han really did shoot first, and grins to himself as he finishes cleaning the espresso machine. Naomi trots behind him when he moves to the kitchens, and sits on one counter while he cleans there, and keeps talking. He’s never heard her talking that much before. Not that he minds.

He’s almost done with everything when she finally stops, the silence almost deafening. It makes him uncomfortable for a second, before Naomi drops a bomb on his.

“You never asked me out.”

Jim is glad he has his back to her, because it partially hides the way his entire body freezes on the spot, eyes widening and mouth opening in surprise. He recovers after a few seconds, and softens his features before he turns around to face her. She has an almost innocent look on her face, head tilted to the side and eyes curious, like she didn’t just tipped his world off its axis with only five words.

“I didn’t think you were interested,” he admits. “And then I didn’t think you were ready.”

He moves slowly, until he stands between her opened legs. Naomi bites down on her bottom lip, and looks at him through dark lashes, and all his blood rushes south in a second. It leaves him dizzy and stupid, and he puts his hands on her knees.

“I’m ready. Are you?” Dizzy enough not to know how to answer. She laughs. “It’s a yes or no question.”

“Yes.”

Her kiss tastes like coffee and cupcakes, and Jim decides he’ll never get enough of her.

[ivyasche2831-blog]

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The Journey of Breastfeeding

The sensitive topic of breastfeeding has been something that I wasn’t that open to talk about. Do well and you’ll be deemed boastful and proud, don’t do well and you’ll be judged as lazy. Either way I go, people can still criticize. 

So why am I writing about this now? 

This post isn’t going to tell you what to do to increase your milk or how to build a milk stash or how to do it right. There’s already a ton of that in the internet. I’ve read too many articles telling moms what to do to be successful at breastfeeding but almost no sharing of personal experiences of the struggles and sacrifices that come with it. What I needed during my first few weeks is even just one story from a mom to tell me that yes, it is THIS HARD. And that yes, it will get better. So I now, I’m sharing my story to tell moms who are just starting off in their breastfeeding journey that yes, what you’re going through is normal. 

It’s daunting to even relive how it all went down, waking up each day with the uncertainty if I can survive another day of breastfeeding. I would’ve changed a few things if I knew better. But five months down the road and we’re still exclusively breastfeeding. What you’ll read are purely my raw experiences on the first few months of motherhood. I hope that new moms and mom-to-be’s can find strength and inspiration in my story. 

I always knew I wanted to breastfeed ever since we found out we were pregnant. My sister told me it’s even harder than delivery itself. Others told me it’s the reason why they suffered from postpartum depression. Many said it’s the most difficult thing they had to do in their life.  

Hearing all these, I signed myself up in breastfeeding classes and workshops, making sure I have the right expectations when it’s my turn. 

The moment I gave birth, Elise was placed on me for our first latch and skin-to-skin encounter. The next time I saw her was in the recovery room where the nurse had me breastfeed her. I remember seeing her latch for a second and then letting go. The entire fifteen minutes was just a repetition of that. I was worried she didn’t have the skill to suckle and that I didn’t have enough milk.

We were brought in my room together and we opted to have her room-in with us despite the exhaustion that 19 hours of labor caused us. I highly advise parents to do this! Once you put her in the nursery at night instead of your room, you won’t know the issues that may arise and better to have your baby with you 24/7 in the hospital so you have nurses to call and ask advice from. Rooming her in prepared and managed our expectations as to how it’ll be when we bring her home.

True enough, a lot of issues surfaced those first few nights. For one, I had flat nipples that made it difficult for Elise to latch on me. Imagine how frustrating that might have been for her. The nurse tried to solve this by using the syringe technique to pull my nipples out. The process made my toes curl in unimaginable pain and caused my nipples to bleed. This process was repeated every feeding time during our two day stay in Makati Med. The day we left the hospital, I had an open wound on my right nipple so we needed to drop by Rustan’s to buy a pair of Medela nipple shields as recommended by the lactation consultant in the hospital.

Elise was born 2.52 kg heavy, or should I say light. Our pedia was worried as Elise wasn’t feeding well and needed to catch up on her weight so she advised me to breastfeed and pump after every feed to condition my body to produce more. Day 3 postpartum and I was already pumping every 2 hours after her feed, while Ivan or our nanny feeds her via a small medicine cup. 

If I’d break down our routine during her first weeks, it was this every 2 hours:

Feed for 40 minutes

Pump for 20 minutes (while Elise drinks via cup)

Do other baby chores for an hour

Elise wakes up again to feed

I’m lucky if Elise can last 3 hours (counting from the time she started feeding), before wanting to feed again. Those rare instances gave me a chance to get an hour of sleep. If she’s still asleep on the 3rd hour, we needed to wake her up to feed to prevent dehydration, as ordered by our pedia. So far, this was the most exhausting thing I had to do in my 30 years of existence. 

Oh, and the growth spurts that lasted for ten days during her 3rd week, 6th week, 9th week, where she’d feed infinitely for the entire day. I’d only get fifteen -to thirty- minute breaks. We were feeding round the clock.

During the first week, I was only able to pump 10 ml or 0.3 oz of milk after pumping both breasts for 20 minutes every 2 hrs. I was worried with my output and also because Elise never looked satisfied and kept on crying after every feed as if telling me I’m not producing enough for her. My sister in law offered her sister in law’s breastmilk to help us cope. We gladly said yes. It made me feel safe though I still followed my two-hour interval of pumping and feeding to condition my body to adjust to Elise’ needs. 

Two weeks postpartum and I started feeling the baby blues creep in. Thoughts of doubt and feelings of despair consumed me. Will this ever get better? Will I ever be able to go back to my life? Is this all I do now? When will I be able to sleep again? But I pushed myself and just continued on doing my routine every single day. It didn’t help that we had small spills of pumped milk here and there. You do really cry over spilled milk, even if it’s just 5 ml worth.

Elise’ latch was still poor. It took us more than five minutes just to get a good latch. The frustration was mutual and we often cry simultaneously at the start of every feed. We are on and off the nipple shields as my lactation consultant told us we need to wean her off slowly so she can get the optimal benefits of breastfeeding without it. It prevented her from having the full breastfeeding experience and also hindered milk from being suckled efficiently.

We were following baby-led feeding and it made me scared of my own child – I feared my own child! Every after feed, for a split second, there’s relief that it’s done, followed immediately by dread & the agony of waiting for the next feed. 

Needless to say, I was stressed out. They say you need to be relaxed to induce milk production and maintain your supply. HOW?

What also made it difficult was finding the right position for us to feed. She seemed only comfortable with the cradle hold. She would always cry when we do side-lying, and it’s too time-consuming to arrange pillows for a football hold. We got ourselves a LaZboy and it’s the best investment ever.

As if it’s not enough to be drained physically, I was also mentally depleted. I read countless articles, even medical journals, to find answers as to how to increase my milk and at the same time reassurances that I won’t get mastitis if I oversupply. I was going from one end of the spectrum to the other. I was so confused I didn’t know which, from the countless advices I’ve heard, to follow. I made Kellymom.com and Livingwithlowmilksupply.com my best friends, when what really helped was talking to my husband who never failed to talk me out of my spinning head and reassure me of my daily progress. He was and is my sanity.

Cup feeding took its toll and I introduced her the bottle after only a month. She immediately took it and it was the first time ever she looked satisfied after a feeding. That day, I concluded she’d be happier with the bottle than feeding directly on me. It would be easier to pump at a schedule (my schedule) instead of waiting on her hunger to strike anytime. By doing this, I’d have more freedom and control and I can finally say goodbye to my nipple cream, the savior of my sore and cracked nipples.

The next day, we tried this. I was going to exclusively pump and just feed her the bottle. But during the first pump of the day, after ten minutes into the pumping session, Elise cried. Our nanny was warming up the bottle and she won’t stop crying. I remember feeling helpless, stuck on my pump, waiting for the twentieth minute to come so I can finally console my daughter. This happened three times that morning. 

I couldn’t take it to the point of retreating from my decision to exclusively pump and offered her my breasts again. She refused them, looking for the bottle that provided her a faster milk flow. I cried uncontrollably, hating myself for ever thinking I was okay to lose my bond with her through breastfeeding. The next couple of days, we went cold turkey on the bottle and “unli-latched” since then, and went back to cup feeding her expressed milk. 

One month postpartum and I found myself waking up each day with a feeling of doom. Is it another day of this? Or is today the day it gets better? For 3 months, the answer was always no. During this time, I was most prayerful. I begged God to lessen my suffering and grant me comfort, as I didn’t know how else to go on. Don’t get me wrong, Elise has given me so much joy and I don’t think I suffered from PPD. I enjoyed and found fulfillment in all other aspects of motherhood. But breastfeeding? It was excruciating. 

It helped that I forced myself out of the house to get some fresh air and perspective. To feel like I’m still part of society and my use isn’t confined in the walls of our home. 

The only silver lining at two months postpartum was Elise’ rapid weight gain that made me relax and bring down my pumping interval to 3 hours instead of two. I also experienced a little bit of normalcy when I get to leave home for work and just pump. Though I’d find myself in the strangest places especially when I do not have control where my next makeup job venue will be. I’d lay tissues in hotel bathrooms and sit on the toilet to pump for 20 minutes. My milk started stabilizing at 90 ml every 3 hours. I didn’t feel safe still so I continued taking in my fenugreek and malunggay supplements together with home-cooked meals from my mom like halaan, malunggay soup and mother’s milk tea from my sister in law. To have a strong support system is such a big blessing. My mom generously supplied me with all the food I needed and my sister in law who also just gave birth communicated with me each day, making sure I’m okay physically and mentally. I asked her almost everything I needed to know about motherhood.

We started introducing one bottle daily and she didn’t have a problem with nipple confusion this time. My milk supply already stabilized at 4 oz output every 3 hours.

Finally, we encountered a good problem for a change. There was no more space in our existing freezer for our milk. We decided to finally get a deep chest freezer to accommodate it and also because my first few bags thawed when our other existing freezer automatically defrosted. Lots of tears were shed that afternoon.

Three months postpartum and it got a little better. I had more time than just for a quick shower and a five-minute meal. I didn’t find the need to pump so much anymore as Elise didn’t need to be supplemented expressed milk as her weight gain stabilized. My nipples were still sore and blisters came and went every now and then.

I’d still wake up wondering when she’d feed less, and she did at just around 30 minutes instead of 40. And then, the most amazing thing happened ��� she started sleeping through the night! First at six hours, then eight then ten! Did I sleep straight as she did? Nope. The paranoid momma went on to pump every four hours in fear of mastitis. With one pumping session before I sleep that gets me 120 ml or 4 oz of output, then a dream feed from Elise at 1am or 2am on one boob and a haakaa on the other that gathers around 2-3 oz of milk, I was able to build a huge milk stash. 

Four months postpartum and the day finally arrived – the day when I found myself excited to spend the day with her instead of dreading breastfeeding. She’s feeding for a shorter duration at 20 minutes, still as frequent as every 2 to 3 hours, but sleeps through most of the nights. I got to relax a bit and was able to catch up on my TV series!

Just when you think you’ve got it all figured out, things changed. Elise no longer wanted the bottle. What to do with a halfway full 5.5 cu ft deep freezer? Up to this day, we are humbled to be given the opportunity to share our milk to preemies and other babies in need. 

We’ve decided to have me stay home with her as much as possible or bring her with me when I really need to be out as she now prefers the breast. You’d be surprised how breastfeeding-friendly establishments are nowadays, providing nursing stations for the privacy of their patrons. I’ve grown to find comfort in those spaces but I’ve gained enough courage now to just breastfeed her with a nursing cover anywhere in public as I don’t want to excuse myself all the time at social gatherings anymore.

Five months postpartum and she has been retrained into taking the bottle. She takes in less with it but at least she accepts it now. She feeds directly on me whenever we are home and things have been looking up lately. I’m weaning off my pump at night as I don’t need to secure a stash anymore. From 20 minutes, I only pump for 10 minutes or until my breasts feel comfortable. I’m hoping I can drop this pumping session soon without getting engorged.

She has also reduced her time on the breasts for just 10-15 minutes per feed now. Going six months, I find myself being able to do more. I’m gradually getting my freedom back, able to attend to other things than just Elise without feeling like I’m always running out of time. She’s growing at a steady pace and my pedia’s perfectly happy with her health. We get to do other things too than just feed! I’ve also started to miss and look forward to our breastfeeding time especially when I’m out for long. 

Direct breastfeeding has become easier now than bottle feeding. We don’t need to bring bottles when we’re out with her or clean mountains of bottles and pump parts. She regulates the milk I produce and there’s no more fear of undersupply or oversupply. I’m beyond amazed as to how the female body endures! It seemed easier to exclusively pump at the start as you can have more freedom and control. But I will never trade the teamwork and bond Elise and I have established. I thank her everyday for her patience and determination to stay on track with me.

Looking back, what would I have done differently? I would have trusted my body more and believed that it will follow Elise’s demand. I would’ve slept more and focused less on the output I’m getting from my pump. I would’ve enjoyed the early weeks of motherhood more with the faith that God will provide abundance when we show Him that we are also doing our part.