tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28931370548954695292024-03-13T03:24:56.029-07:00thoughtful mammaRambling Thoughts of a Mamma Doing Her Bestthoughtful mammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05101190032476967833noreply@blogger.comBlogger20125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2893137054895469529.post-10994202525210616942011-07-13T09:24:00.001-07:002011-07-13T10:24:29.629-07:00Another Year Passes Us By<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I cannot believe I have not blogged in 2011 and it is more than half over...alas the life of a working (outside of the home) mother of two little ones! On top of that our baby boy is turning 1 tomorrow! It was about this time last year, when after dealing with contractions during the night and nothing during the day, I was beginning to wonder if he would ever show his face (although, I didn't know he was a he at the time!). </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I'm not going to lie, when I found out I was pregnant for the second time there was some serious heart pounding, what the heck are we going to do fear (and disbelief) pulsing through me. While I knew we wanted another child (and planned on it down the line), I felt that it was too soon, our daughter was just barely 1 and the husband would be wrapping up the 2 year program he started when we had our daughter (which transitioned us to a one income family), right about the time this one was due. But, much like I have read time and time again, parenting is a journey that teaches you nothing if it doesn't teach you to give up on trying to control things. The husband who usually is the worrier stepped in in usual fashion when I lose it to say that "this is a good thing!" and "everything will be fine." While I certainly believed him and was happy with all the possibilities another child would bring our family, when you're the one carrying the bundle of joy it is impossible to escape the overwhelming weight (no pun intended) of the time bomb of responsibilities slowly ticking away. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Then there was the guilt. I did not know how but I knew this new addition to our family would change my relationship with my daughter. I already felt cheated that I didn't get to spend the amount of time I wished I could with her and now that time would be even less as I try to manage the task of trying to shower TWO babies with love, attention and affection in the 2 hours/day I get after work before bedtime. I mean I was still nursing her for Christ sake...I thought that was supposed to be some kind of safety net (don't count on it!). There were more than a few nights that I left her room in tears as her days of an only child dwindled and I felt increasingly more guilty of the change I was about to impose on her. Then on the other hand, I couldn't imagine my life without my brothers...I am certain that they are a big part of who I am today and I would not be the same person without them...how could I deprive her of the joys, traumas, torture, unconditional love, trouble, partnership and connectedness that I have experienced with my brothers. But fear is illogical in most instances.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Fast forward about 7 months because, yes I was that oblivious (in denial) to the fact I was pregnant and didn't even bother to take a pregnancy test until I was nearly 10 weeks, to right about this time last year. I had been laboring off and on for days and had no idea that my plans for a peaceful home birth were going to get blown out of the water as I detailed here: </span><a href="http://http//thoughtfulmamma.blogspot.com/2010/10/way-it-was-meant-to-be.html"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">http://http://thoughtfulmamma.blogspot.com/2010/10/way-it-was-meant-to-be.html</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> . But when I heard that cry (and the doctor say "you have a boy!") and saw that face, I knew our family was complete. As we've adjusted to being a family of four we have gotten to watch our daughter seamlessly transition from only child to big sister with such grace, love and joy that it fills my heart everyday. It only proves that our baby boy knew the right time to show up and that while I may not have felt "ready" (whatever that really means), much like with our daughter's pregnancy, he forced us to readjust, refocus on our goals and priorities as a family and I believe we are all the better for it. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">So, the last year has been a challenging, joyful, tiring, fun, stressful, happy, overwhelming journey for us that has been filled with more love then we could have ever imagined and we have one small(ish) baby boy to thank for it all. Our lives will never be the same and for that, I am grateful.</span>thoughtful mammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05101190032476967833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2893137054895469529.post-1954380553635233762010-12-30T12:56:00.000-08:002010-12-30T13:07:50.079-08:00Facing Fears<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Becoming a mother was one of the most enlightening, challenging and fear enducing events of my life. It has completely changed my world, in some ways further cementing and lending proof to strong-held beliefs. In other ways blowing open other notions I thought I would never budge on. In the last 2 years, 5 months, I have learned a lot about myself and have come face to face with myself in both positive and negative ways.<br /><br />One issue that I constantly struggle with is that of fear. It seems parenthood is rife with fear. Fear of failure, fear of irreparable emotional damage, fear of bumps and bruises, fear of toxins, fear of the worst. A lot of these fears are rational and justifiable some have more to do with our own personal baggage. One rather irrational fear that I am willing to admit to here is that nagging fear of not being my kids’ ‘favorite.’ I know how that sounds, I really do…how immature, right?<br /><br />Well the truth is I am a working mamma who is the sole bread-winner for our family as the husband is a stay-at-home dad by day and full-time student by night. This is a decision we both made and even when we made it realized (at least in theory) that it would be difficult at times. Of course I enjoy seeing the bond that my daughter is forming with her father and I am overjoyed to be married to someone who is as committed to this parenting gig as I am. But, these facts do not change the feelings.<br /><br />For those that have read some of my past posts, you know that my daughter was a rather difficult newborn who was very needy, wanting to nurse all.the.time. and would forgo sleep for nursing non-stop. You also know that I had some serious issues in the beginning with breastfeeding which were both physically and emotionally stressful for us both. While I had the support of the husband during these hard times, the fact of the matter was that at that point I was on maternity leave and he was still working so the burden mainly fell on me. Even through physical and emotional distress I tried to keep perspective and fell hopelessly in love with her in spite of all the crying, cracked nipples, mastitis, breast abscess and complete exhaustion. We were each other’s world, plain and simple. Even after I returned to work (one of the most difficult things I have <em>ever</em> had to do), she still preferred me in times of distress and of course in times of hunger, greeting me at the door with, in the beginning, outstretched arms and a smile, and later, squeals of delight and running into my arms. There was no denying my place in her world and needless to say, I was pretty invested in that place.<br /><br />As she got older, more people became fixtures in her life, mainly through the wonderful world of Skype™ where she gets to see her grandparents, aunts and uncles and cousins in real time. Then there were friends who are basically part of our family. As her world grew so did her connections with other people and in my mind, taking up space that was previously occupied by yours truly. I naturally wanted her to form bonds with other kids and hopefully form lasting friendships, but wasn’t really expecting or prepared for her to form bonds with other adults in her life. Seeing as we are pretty much on our own here with family hundreds of miles away, I expected her father and I would be the only real adult figures in her life, at least on any consistent basis.<br /><br />When grandparents would visit, I would of course be happy that they got to share in the delight that is my daughter, their grand-daughter, but there was also a feeling of possessiveness that would overcome me when they wanted to feed her, hold her, bathe her…again, I know, how immature! I wanted to be the one to do all of those things, almost exclusively. I felt like I missed so much being at work during the day that these were <em>my</em> moments and I did not want to give them up to anyone…at least not willingly. I had such conflicting emotions about wanting them to have their time with her but from a distance almost like she was a valuable piece of art, I didn't want anyone else to touch in fear of her being ruined or broken. I realized the absurdity of it all and the husband tried to keep me in check and bring me back to reality by stating the obvious…they are only here for a little while, they deserve their time too.<br /><br />Then, about a year ago, I found out I was pregnant. It was unexpected and a little sooner than I would have planned so I was pretty overwhelmed. The husband was overjoyed, albeit a little freaked out too as we had no idea what the heck we were going to do with the added responsibility on limited income. One of the first and most pervasive emotions throughout my pregnancy was that of guilt and fear. Guilt that I was ending her reign as the only child so soon, guilt that the little time I did get with her would now be lessened as I tried to spread my attention and time between two babies and fear that she would hate me for it. As the end of my pregnancy neared I literally would leave her room at bedtime in tears as the guilt was overcoming me and the fear of the uncertainly of how our relationship was going to change scared the crap out of me.<br /><br />Turns out that she loves her little brother and watching her blossom into a nurturing, loving little girl is both heart warming and bittersweet. In the beginning it was such a dichotomy of feelings…being pulled toward this sweet little newborn that required nearly all of my attention and feeling pushed aside as my little girl’s needs were being met by others. Things have, I feel, leveled out now that the boy is nearing 6 months and I have more time to spend some one-on-one time with her. The overwhelming joy when I return home from work is sporadic and there are times where she prefers her father over me, which, I’m not going to lie, stings a bit. But, then there are times where she prefers me and just wants to cuddle, which are the moments I live for. So, were/are my fears rational? Probably not, but I’m willing to bet I’m not the only one either.<br /><br />As I see my daughter form bonds with the other adults in her life and see her get excited to see her grandparents (either via Skype™ or a much anticipated visit) or to go play at our friend’s house I cannot help but see how it is contributing to her development and enriching her life. I want to nurture this and help her see that I am happy to see her give the people in her life hugs and kisses and attention. I want her to know that my feelings are not going to be hurt if she requests her bedtime stories read by her father. I want her to be a whole person, self-assured, loved, and to know that she is loved and supported by not only her parents but by those that see her as a person, not their daughter. So, this year, I resolve to remain confident in the bond I have formed with my daughter so as not to feel threatened by the other bonds in her life. I want to offer her opportunities to blossom into her own person while understanding that I will always love her and support her, but much like most relationships, holding on too tight is a sure fire way to have that person push even harder to break free, so I resolve to loosen my grip...at least a little bit.</span>thoughtful mammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05101190032476967833noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2893137054895469529.post-73043193181969080282010-10-12T12:58:00.000-07:002010-10-14T13:03:20.801-07:00The Way It Was Meant To Be<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">We welcomed our beautiful baby boy on July 14, 2010 safely in the comfort of our home …That’s how I imagined the birth announcement would read. Unfortunately, as much as I planned, researched, prepared and waited for my peaceful home birth, it was not meant to be.<br /><br />Deciding to have a home birth for our second baby was pretty easy for me and basically done before I even knew I was pregnant. After the experience of trying to have a natural birth in a hospital setting ended with what I felt was an unnecessary cesarean, I was bound and determined to have our second baby without all the interventions that normally lead to cesarean. Because we planned to have a natural birth for our first baby, we had done a lot of the research already so I saw our second pregnancy as really just brushing up on what we may have forgotten and learning all I could about vaginal birth after cesarean (VBAC). After finding a midwife who wasn’t scared off by the whole VBAC issue (which by the way is WAY overblown), we were on our way and feeling confident in our decision. We watched The Business of Being Born, only cementing in our minds that we were railroaded by the hospital protocols and policies resulting in the first cesarean. There was no looking back, only waiting and preparing.<br /><br />I had my 40 week appointment with the midwife on my due date which was a Wednesday, where she started me on some supplements and said to get moving, swimming, walking, sex, whatever it took to get things going. So off I went trying to stay as active as possible and even though contractions came and went beginning the next day, it was an exhausting weekend of contractions during the night only to have them die off once the sun was up. We were both getting a little impatient wondering when things were going to actually get going.<br /><br />Monday (7/12) night things started to feel different, soon after going to bed I was too uncomfortable to stay in bed but the contractions were still 10 or more minutes apart. I checked in with the midwife who said to try and get some rest and to call when they got within 5 minutes apart for at least an hour. By early morning they had teetered around the 5 minute mark but still sometimes as far apart as 6-7 minutes apart. I gave her a call and she decided to send her apprentice out to check me out and get things set up as she felt that things were definitely getting started. Soon after the apprentice midwife showed up and examined me (only 1 cm) and I had breakfast and went for a walk, the contractions died down again. I was beginning to feel like my body only wanted to labor in the middle of the night and it was getting to be tiring as I had a nearly 2 year old to deal with during the days so rest was fleeting at best. So, we spent Tuesday (7/13) trying to lay low and rest up as I figured it would be another eventful evening ahead of us.<br /><br />Sure enough, that night the contractions began sporadically around dinner time and continued throughout the evening only picking up after I decided to go to bed. Around 10 pm I began walking the floors trying to get the contractions to pick up and remain steady. By 11 pm they were reaching the 4-6 minute mark and I was asking the husband to begin filling up the birthing tub. It was about half past midnight when I was getting some relief from the warm water and calling the midwife to tell her that the contractions had been within 5 minutes for over an hour and I felt they were getting more intense since getting in the tub. She and her team had just finished attending a birth around 10pm that night and she said she would call back-up to come out and check me while she got showered and notified the rest of the team. By 2 am our birthing team had arrived and got set up and the contractions were becoming more and more uncomfortable, requiring me to really concentrate through them and I had stopped keeping track of them at this point. When the midwife checked me she was shocked to find out that I was at 7 cm already and that I had apparently gotten there on my own with little discomfort, she was confident a baby would be born later that morning, we just needed to get the baby to move down since he was still pretty high.<br /><br />So, the next 6 hours were spent squatting through contractions, breaking my water, walking the stairs in between contractions, and trying to stay hydrated. The contractions were getting pretty intense and there were several times where I complained of either being hungry or feeling like I wanted to throw up, the midwife said that was common during transition and that this was the hardest part of labor. Around 8 am, the midwife did a final exam and found the baby’s head still hadn’t budged in spite of all we were doing to get him to move down. At this point she felt that my level of exhaustion and his refusal to budge left us with only one option, a cesarean. To describe how I felt at that moment is so difficult when you think about the emotional and physical exhaustion of labor coupled with the emotions that accompany the impending arrival of a new baby; disappointment is an understatement, heartbreak also doesn’t quite encapsulate how I was feeling. I guess the best way to describe it is simultaneous disappointment, frustration, trepidation, relief, anxiety, confusion and that’s just to name a few. I was disappointed and sad that I wasn’t going to welcome our new baby in the comfort of our home and be able to recover from a natural birth at home, I was anxious about how the hospital staff would treat us when we got there as a home birth transport, I was fearful of having to undergo yet another surgery with the subsequent recovery, I was concerned about how our daughter was going to react to all this and I also couldn’t believe that I was going to have to get in a car and ride in rush hour traffic while in the peak of labor. All of this resulted in my blood pressure sky rocketing (much like it did during my first labor when they started talking about pitocin, epidurals and such) so it became even more necessary to get to the hospital but clearly it was not an emergent issue, the baby’s heart rate was perfect and it appeared he was still quite cozy.<br /><br />From what I was told it took about 45 minutes to get to the hospital (I had my eyes closed most of the way while I focused on breathing through the contractions) and I felt every minute of it. Moving had become increasingly uncomfortable as it seemed like the contractions were right on top of each other by the time we got there and I was wheeled to labor and delivery. The midwife had called and let them know we were coming and she had established relationships with the doctors there so they were ready for us when we got there. I put on the customary hospital gown and was on the bed while the husband handed off our daughter to a wonderfully available friend who met us at the hospital.<br /><br />Once they saw how high my blood pressure was they had me on my back, which was excruciating…no wonder most women complain about labor being so painful as most of them are lying in bed, I was so much more comfortable and the contractions were much more manageable when I was able to sit up, stand or adjust as needed but they were having none of that, they wouldn’t let me sit up even a little bit. While they did their initial tests and started pumping me with fluids, I was literally out of myself, I didn’t know which end was up and I just kept waiting for the relief of not being pregnant anymore, having the contractions stop and finally meeting this baby. It was so frustrating to have gotten so close to the end but still have to wait. What's more, the contractions are much easier to deal with when you are of the mind set that they will result in a baby, these contractions (in my mind) were now just pointless discomfort that weren't accomplishing a thing. When I asked about an epidural I was told that they needed to get the ‘two bags of fluid’ in me before that could happen and the doctor actually said, “Plus, we never know, once we get a good reading on what’s going on with the baby, it may just be time to go have this baby.” In my mind I was thinking “If you think I came here to push this baby out, you must be nuts!”<br /><br />When finally the doctor came over to the husband and began explaining the situation, “blood pressure is very high, much higher than normally seen as a result of labor pain...” “...contractions are strong enough for a vaginal birth but baby is not moving down...,” the husband kept asking “how soon can we get this done?” When finally the doctor said “I think the best course of action at this point is a c-section,” the husband snapped “We get it! How soon can we get this done?!” Finally, I was getting prepped to have the baby we had worked so hard to have naturally, surgically. The time between us arriving at the hospital and the birth of our beautiful, healthy baby boy was approximately an hour…it felt like eternity.<br /><br />Although we did not get the home birth we had hoped for, I do believe that our son benefited from my laboring at home and only going to the hospital once it was absolutely necessary. I never got the epidural, only the spinal required for surgery once I got in the operating room and afterwards I was glad for two reasons. First, the difference between the sound of a healthy, alert baby the minute he hit the open air was quite different than the groggily cries that our daughter gave after I had only been on the epidural for 2 hours before her birth were like night and day. Secondly, although I did have some mild shaking in the recovery room coming down from the spinal, it was nothing like the first experience of uncontrollable shaking and according to the husband ‘looking grey and dead’ coming down from the combined epidural and spinal. I will say that recovering from a second c-section was quite different and substantially more painful and I am thankful that the husband was home during the day for my maternity leave, entertaining our daughter and taking care of me. It's a gift I think all families should have, being home as a family while adjusting and getting to know the newest family member.<br /><br />I’m sure most people would use my story as an example showing why babies should be born in the hospital, I would disagree. I believe my story shows how babies benefit from the <em>least</em> amount of intervention <em>necessary</em>. There are women that absolutely have no choice but to birth in the hospital in order to safely deliver their babies, unfortunately it appears I am one of those women. But the fact remains that <em>most</em> women are fully capable of delivering their babies at home or in a birthing center under the care of skilled midwives and if more women chose this option there would be fewer c-sections, healthier babies and mothers, and women would be getting quality prenatal and maternity care for a fraction of the cost. I share my story in the hopes that women can see that even when you find out during labor that you are unable to birth outside of the hospital, it does not have to be a horror story where someone dies, under the care of skilled midwives you are monitored and a decision is made to transport before it becomes an emergency. It is unfortunate that there are babies and mothers lost in childbirth; it is even more unfortunate that there are some losses that could have been prevented, both at home and in the hospital. I can only hope that more women will become educated about their options and demand quality maternity care in which doctors work cooperatively with midwives so only the women that absolutely need medical intervention can receive it in the most efficient process possible. As long as pregnancy is viewed as an illness, needing medical intervention or as a means for doctors and hospitals to make the most money while trying to avoid litigation, there will continue to be unnecessary interventions resulting in unnecessary loss.</span>thoughtful mammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05101190032476967833noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2893137054895469529.post-72330058081752257192010-04-14T11:03:00.001-07:002011-01-13T06:11:48.563-08:00Getting all fired up!<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">A couple of hotly debated parenting topics have been bombarding the web in the last couple weeks, first it was breastfeeding last week and now it is spanking. These also happen to be two issues that I feel pretty darn strongly about (as do a lot of people based on the responses on-line to the recent studies released about these topics). As I have mentioned before, my decision to become a parent did not come lightly, mainly because I believe that children should be born into a family, and since I happen to define ‘family’ pretty broadly I will say for this purpose, a family is at least 1 person willing to make the necessary commitment, sacrifices and prioritization to that a child or children (which I discuss in more detail in my post, Accountability) to be the best parent they can be. Throughout my career I have focused on strengthening families in an effort to make children’s lives better and now that I am a parent I am trying to implement a lot of the lessons I learned in my education and professional life to be the best parent I can be.<br /><br />I had a brief stint working in the foster care system in Detroit (a true eye-opener to the struggles families are faced with) and as with any human service job, I had to go through regular trainings on a range of topics related to parenting, child development, etc. One of the trainings I attended discussed different discipline methods and the merits and shortcomings of each. The training specifically discussed how many parents still resort to corporal punishment or spanking their children, for a lot of reasons but mainly because that’s how they were raised. In fact a good portion of the training had to do with debunking the many excuses people use to justify spanking their children, from religious and cultural beliefs to the all too familiar “I was spanked and turned out ok” excuse. To the latter, the presenter pointed to children’s resilience to overcome many horrific circumstances and experiences to become well-adjusted, productive adults and reasoned that if you were spanked and ‘turned out ok’ it was IN SPITE OF spanking NOT because of spanking.<br /><br />This makes so much sense when you think about it. It especially gives explanation to all the people that are currently trying to point out all the exceptions to the recent study linking spanking to aggressive behaviors in children. The fact of the matter is that each child is a unique individual with their own personality, reactions to different stimuli and temperament and that doesn’t even take into account the differences in their external environments. So, of course not ALL children who are spanked will end up being aggressive bullies, some will retreat within themselves and begin to question their worth, some will resort to numbing their feelings later in life with any number of addictions, some will become victims within their future relationships and still some will turn out “OK.” But to use those that turn out ok as an excuse to hit is like pointing to those of us that were abused in other types of ways that are clearly unacceptable in our society and saying that it’s ok to abuse children because some of them turn out ‘ok.’ </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br />Now, I came from a family that spanked and even though I was probably spanked fewer than a handful of times, my brothers were no strangers to being spanked and I can tell you how horrifying it is to have to listen to a sibling being spanked, so I can only assume the amount of emotional and physical pain as well as humiliation the victim is going through. Probably because of this in addition to my education in child development and chosen career path within children’s services, I have always been opposed to spanking. I have always known in my heart of hearts that this was not the way to discipline a child. Through my education, I learned what I always knew to be true, spanking only teaches children that it’s ok to hit. There has been more than one anecdotal report where a parent is asked why they are spanking only to hear the reply “to teach them not to fight/hit.” So, given the clear absurdity of that statement, I find it truly baffling that still, 90% of parents believe it is ok to spank.<br /><br />The real issue comes down to figuring out a way to discipline our children that doesn’t have the possibility of disrupting their development or sending mixed messages about love, authority and discipline. It comes down to putting forth the effort in raising our children that doesn’t resort to heat of the moment reactions and violence. It is time to invest the time and energy to educate ourselves in being better parents, which includes the job of disciplining our children. Because I have yet to run across a study that points out the negative repercussions of time-out.</span>thoughtful mammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05101190032476967833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2893137054895469529.post-80602004802359397222010-04-13T11:23:00.000-07:002010-04-13T13:25:27.854-07:00The Breastfeeding Debate Heats Up<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The blogosphere has been lit up this past week due to the recent report in the Journal of Pediatrics, highlighted in this CNN article </span><a href="http://www.cnn.com/2010/HEALTH/04/05/breastfeeding.costs/?hpt=T2"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">http://www.cnn.com/2010/HEALTH/04/05/breastfeeding.costs/?hpt=T2</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">, which discusses the possible implications of not breastfeeding. One blog post that I found exceptional was The Feminist Breeder’s </span><a href="http://thefeministbreeder.com/when-it-comes-to-breastfeeding-we-cant-handle-the-truth/"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">http://thefeministbreeder.com/when-it-comes-to-breastfeeding-we-cant-handle-the-truth/</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">. In it, she points the finger at the severely lacking support system and misinformation in this country for women who attempt to breastfeed, causing many to turn to formula. What I found astounding was that even though she made it very clear that the current state of breastfeeding affairs is not the fault of the women who try and give up but the system and culture of the US, there were still quite a few women who voiced their displeasure with her post. A lot of the issues have to do with feelings of guilt that these women feel that yet another piece of research is saying what all of us with half a brain already knew…breast is best. I saw that a lot of women instead of embracing the Feminist Breeder’s point that a shift needs to happen within our maternity care system and the support available to new mothers wishing to breastfeed, they were trying to come up with anything to prove that her statement that MOST women are able to breastfeed with the right support wrong. From cancer diagnoses to antidepressant medications, women were trying to come up with all the different reasons women CAN’T breastfeed. I’m not saying that these issues would certainly add a whole other obstacle to breastfeeding but it seems like women are trying to find a way to agree with the mantra that our bodies are flawed by pointing to the very rare cases.<br /><br />I have chronicled my own struggles with breastfeeding in spite of being pretty darn educated and how I overcame them even with a less than stellar Lactation Consultant (LC) experience. I feel pretty confident that I can not only empathize with those women that struggle in the beginning to breastfeed but also speak to the Feminist Breeder’s points in her post, which a lot of women, I think are still not getting. There were so many times in a very short period of time where I felt like giving up would have been so much easier on my self, my daughter, my husband and our family. I was even told by more than a few well-meaning people that said I had given it more than most women and there would be no shame in giving up or just giving formula until I worked it out. But instead of giving up I pushed through severe pain, extreme doubt and sought out the necessary support to ultimately succeed in my desire to breastfeed my daughter well past her first year of life and that was with four weeks where I only had one viable breast. Was it easy, absolutely not. Does this make me a better person/mom than those women that are overcome with the doubt and end up questioning whether they are doing the right thing for their babies, I don’t think so. I think it just indicates how stubborn I really am, but more to the point, it proves that even obstacles that seem insurmountable can be overcome.<br /><br />Since the onslaught of the formula companies taking over the feeding of our newborns and infants, we are losing valuable resources that other countries have…a group of women in our immediate circle that have direct experience breastfeeding; a normalization of breastfeeding if you will. A friend of mine who gave birth to her children in Sweden over 30 years ago, told me that ‘you know, you just don’t hear about all the problems (not producing enough milk, being ‘unable’ to breastfeed, etc.) women have with breastfeeding that you hear in the US, women in Europe breastfeed and there’s very little discussion about it.’ This really got me thinking about the huge paradigm shift that must happen in this country in order for more women to be able to succeed in breastfeeding their children. Part of that paradigm is how women’s bodies are viewed (literally and figuratively). The Feminist Breeder points out that it is easy for women to believe a doctor, or who ever is telling them that they just can’t make enough milk because we as women have become accustomed to believing our bodies are flawed in some way.<br /><br />I am truly baffled that in a country that supports a multi-billion dollar porn industry, the true repugnance that you hear and see when it comes to women breastfeeding. From stories of women being kicked out of retail stores or told to feed their babies in the restroom to nasty comments being made on public transportation when a breastfed baby, heaven forbid, gets hungry. I have even heard people refer to breastfeeding as disgusting. It seems that with the overload of nudity, sex and porn available to most Americans we have lost sight of what these breasts are really intended for, to nourish and sustain a growing baby, breasts are in fact, quite amazing when you think about it. A woman’s breasts produce the exact formula (pardon the pun) of nutrients her baby needs, adjusting the recipe as her baby grows and their needs change while also providing valuable antibodies that will protect her baby from illnesses and will boost their immunity more than any vaccine or over the counter remedy. So, I think the focus needs to be on how important women are to not only be able to grow a human being from a couple cells but to then be able to nourish that child completely for their first year of life and beyond if necessary. The paradigm shift needs to be within our culture of degrading women to believe that they are somehow less than or not valuable if their tits don’t stand up on their own, it needs to be within our men’s view of women’s bodies and what they are capable of and above all it needs to be within my fellow women’s minds and bodies. We need to take back the beauty, the miracle and incredible abilities we posses as our own and believe that our bodies are perfect the way they are and STOP believing the doctors, nurses and anyone else that tell us differently.<br /><br />I think breastfeeding is a good analogy to parenting. In order to do it well, it takes educating yourself, putting forth the effort even when it isn’t a lot of fun and finding the necessary support when you need it. If someone chooses not to breastfeed for their own personal reasons in spite of all the common knowledge indicating its importance, they should feel comfortable with that decision and not require validation. For those that really tried and were made to feel like they couldn’t succeed, I truly am sorry, I hope you have made peace with it and can move on knowing that a lot of us were formula fed babies and turned out ok and whatever you gave your baby in those first few days/weeks/months were beneficial. But for those of you looking for an excuse to give up, I understand, I truly do, unfortunately the decision to give up is just that, a decision that you need to make based on all the information you have. Seek out the support you need be it through a lactation consultant (although, I highly recommend getting a recommendation from someone and lining this person up BEFORE you give birth), La Leche League International (</span><a href="http://www.llli.org/"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">www.llli.org</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">) or other breastfeeding support group in your area, because I am here to tell you, you CAN do it, it DOES get easier and it is SO worth it!</span>thoughtful mammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05101190032476967833noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2893137054895469529.post-78177359535370709732010-04-08T13:18:00.000-07:002010-04-08T13:19:47.684-07:00The SAHD Conundrum<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">As I have mentioned before, our family is a tad non-traditional, for instance, currently I am working full-time (outside of the home) while my husband is staying home with our daughter during the day and is a full-time student during the evenings. Adjusting our lives to live on one income and some financial aid has certainly been a challenge but I am finding the emotions tied to this role reversal more of an issue for us, or at least me.<br /><br />First of all, our current situation was born out of necessity and mainly my own emotional baggage. Even before I knew I wanted kids I knew that there was no way I would be able to hand over my three-month old to a stranger and be done with being the person they spent the majority of their time with, so when I became pregnant we were faced with quite the predicament. What the hell were we going to do after my maternity leave was up? We discussed several options but neither of us really made enough to support our current rate of expenses and needless to say neither one of us were enthused by the possibility of bargain shopping for child care either. The husband never finished college and had always wanted to even though he has been rather resourceful in finding pretty good employment that paid well (most of the time more than the jobs I had after earning two degrees!) and so the motivation was always lacking. At one point in our many discussions of what to do he said off-handedly “I can always go back to school and stay home with the baby during the day.” I went into full research mode to find out the possibilities. Neither one of us ever took out real student loans before, but when I needed a few thousand dollars to finish my masters program I was offered way more than I needed so I figured it was worth finding out more. Long story short, we decided after much deliberation, that it was worth the sacrifices that would have to be made in order to have one of us home with our child during their first year or so and it would put him in a better station in life working towards a career he was actually interested in with more earning potential in the long run (of course hoping that it would be enough to support all of us while I stayed home with the little one while bringing in a small income doing my own thing).<br /><br />So, here we are in a situation born out of necessity that neither of us really envisioned ever really happening. Mostly, it has been a good thing, our daughter gets the love and security of being home with one of her parents every day and we have created quite the family unit. On the other hand, I’d be lying if I said it hasn’t created its own set of challenges. To begin with, other than some babysitting jobs in his late teens, the husband didn’t really have a whole lot of experience with kids and especially babies (in fact, I don’t know if he ever held a newborn before his own), but we both felt that we were both fairly educated people and even with his limited first-hand knowledge, would do a much better job than a lot of the people out there parenting. And, let’s face it he isn’t the only male in our group of friends I’ve heard say “I’ll gladly be the one to stay home with the kids while the wife goes out and earns the dough,” obviously oblivious to the overwhelmingly difficult task they are ‘signing up’ for. This has led to more than one misinterpreted recommendation or comment about how he spends his days with our daughter, which in turn has led to myself feeling more than a bit resentful, left out or disregarded.<br /><br />Then there is the usual frustrations that I’m sure many stay-at-home moms have but because the majority of husbands in those situations aren’t feeling like their missing out on much shrug it off as the usual mommy gripes and there are plenty of blogs, mommy groups and such where similar mommies with similar gripes can commiserate. I find these gripes coming from the husband more than a little frustrating…first of all, one or both of us must have done something right in our lives to deserve this child from most accounts seems pretty darn close to perfect. Secondly, given some of the working environments (and bosses) he has had to deal with in his life, being in the comfort of our home with the cutest 1 year old around bossing him around, how bad can your day really be? Finally, the resentment that I want to be the one home with her watching her grow and develop and being the main contributor to that development is sometimes too much for me to handle when I hear him ‘complain’ about how she wanted to be held all day or wouldn’t let him out of her sight or wouldn’t let him cook dinner in peace.<br /><br />Then there’s the reality that in spite of the fact that he does a lot and WAY more than most men, he still tends to spend her nap time on the couch watching TV or taking a nap (and this is after sleeping in until 8-9 am in the morning because oh yea, our perfect little one sleeps a good 13-14 hours/night). While, on the weekends when I am home, the TV would never come on during the day if it were up to me and I rarely take a nap (even though I am currently 7 months pregnant and always tired), mainly because there is always some pressing chore that hasn’t gotten done (yes, in my opinion), laundry, sweeping/mopping/vacuuming, bathroom cleaning, meal planning, etc. So, in my limited time at home it seems that a lot more would get done around the house if I were the one at home…again, resentment rears its ugly head.<br /><br />So, when the husband came down with the flu last week, resulting in me staying home for a few days to take care of things, I expected to be overcome with the gripes of SAHMs or those that I have heard him voice. I would be lying if I said that it wasn’t exhausting, from 9 am to nearly 9pm every day I was not sitting still, there was always something that needed to be done, but instead of feeling exhausted at the end of the day like I normally do after ‘working’ all day, I felt invigorated. Spending all day with my daughter uninterrupted was like a dream, even in spite of figuring out a way of cooking a meal with a toddler tugging at my leg and wanting to be picked up, cleaning up after meals, moving along the laundry, running errands and maintaining some type of order during the day all while taking time to keep her engaged and entertained and then at the end of the day cleaning up. I’m sure what most SAHMs would say would be yea, you did it for a few days, give it a month and see how you feel. Besides taking a shower in the evening instead of the morning (which was my choosing by the way, if I had gotten up at 8am, instead of waiting for her to wake up around 9am, I would’ve had plenty of time to shower and get ready for the day) and realizing that my eyebrows were in some serious need of tweezing by the end of the 4th day, there was little discomfort in my days with her. This realization is yet another glaring illustration of how the one job I was meant to do with my life is be a mom. Even when I hear myself type that it sounds absurd given the majority of my adulthood I didn’t even think I wanted kids of my own, but since the moment I saw her perfect little face, I knew it in my bones to be the truth and at the same time I felt my heart breaking with the realization that it wouldn’t be reality any time soon.<br /><br />So, here I am supporting my dearest while he goes to school to gain the knowledge to pursue a career that I hope will fulfill him and provide for our family, while I wait patiently to be the one at home with our child (or I guess by then it will be children!) and using this time to study, learn, practice and prepare to do my own thing. Photography has always been a passion of mine given that I was raised by a father who was equally obsessed and gifted with a photographer’s eye, so it seems fitting that my life has come full circle and I have realized that being a photographer would fulfill many of my enduring dreams. I say to myself and my husband that our daughter was a true gift in so many ways, she has been the catalyst for us to live better lives and be better people but more importantly she has lit the fire under us to get off the proverbial and literal couch and follow our dreams to a better life for ourselves and our family and for that I will be eternally grateful.</span>thoughtful mammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05101190032476967833noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2893137054895469529.post-12474167861018269772010-04-02T06:34:00.000-07:002010-04-02T06:37:03.533-07:00Our addiction to sugar<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">After watching Food, Inc., I expected to be more moved than I was. Although I did learn a lot and listening to farmers’ stories was a perspective I had never gotten before, most of the information, I already knew. There were several things that stood out to me though, one statistic in particular “1 in 3 of those born after 2000 will develop early on-set diabetes.” Another piece of this statistic is the fact that this is the first generation who will not live as long as their parents…now if that isn’t something that gets you thinking, I don’t know what will. That is truly frightening to me, probably more than all the horrific details that go into our meat centered eating, which may sound strange but let me explain.<br /><br />First of all, because of my optimism and belief that knowledge is power, I believe that the shift to us eating less meat and more people realizing the economical, environmental, animal welfare and health benefits of a veggie or low-meat lifestyle will be inevitable. It just makes too much sense for it not to become more and more normal, and maybe part of it is because I live in Austin, Texas where there are quite a few veggie friendly restaurants and grocers and many people living what is currently called ‘alternative lifestyles’ when it comes to food. So, although I agree with the message of Food, Inc., I think the scariest of all the information had to do with Genetically Modified Organisms (GMO’s), namely the obscene uses of corn and our addiction to sugar.<br /><br />The reason I feel like sugar is one of our biggest issues is that it truly is an addiction that once on that hamster wheel it is extremely difficult to get off of. The fact that sugar can be found in almost all prepackaged foods in one form or another, whether it’s high fructose corn syrup (HFCS), dextrose, fructose, cane sugar, etc. and don’t even get me started on all the sugar substitutes that hide in just about anything and everything, makes it nearly impossible to avoid. Because, as it’s mentioned in Food, Inc., we are programmed to respond to three tastes (salt, fat and sweet), manufacturers put either loads of salt and/or sugar/sweetener in their foods (especially if they are billed as low-fat/fat free) making them appeal to our need for these tastes.<br /><br />As I’ve mentioned before, some of our parenting choices are looked at as a bit kooky, even by our well-meaning, supportive and loving parents. After reading Sarah Kamrath’s article, </span><a href="http://www.mothering.com/food/my-sugar-free-son"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">http://www.mothering.com/food/my-sugar-free-son</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">, I was struck by her statement that she felt little resistance to avoiding refined sugar with her five-year-old son. Although our friends probably think we go overboard with the whole sugar restriction, the biggest surprise for me is the overwhelming need of our daughter’s grandparents to push sugary treats on her in spite of our desire to limit them. She did not have any refined sugar before her first birthday and I was delighted to see her more interested in destroying her birthday cake than actually eating it. This in fact was my intent when I decided that we would be limiting her sugar intake, with less exposure you have less desire for these tastes. But feeding her some sugary treat was like a mad mission of her grandparents when they would visit.<br /><br />Given the fact that we have diabetes on both sides of our family, I am further amazed that our parents do not fully respect our decision to limit her sugar intake more. Unfortunately, it seems in our country, sugary treats are seen as an expectation of growing up and who doesn’t want to see a child’s eyes light up with excitement when they taste something sweet? I guess I just can’t see that light in her eyes without feeling a sickening in the pit of my stomach that here I am with the power (currently, because I am not naive enough to believe I will always be able to control what she puts in her mouth) to control what she eats and I am allowing her to acquire a taste for something that literally could lead to serious illness and early death. I understand the addiction to sugar, I grew up loving the taste of candy, cookies and cake (as well as the other 2 tastes of salt and fat) and still struggle with resisting those urges, and because of it have struggled myself with excess weight and consequently gestational diabetes, so why wouldn’t I want to help shield my daughter from this struggle by preventing or at least curbing the desire for these tastes from the beginning.<br /><br />The fact of the matter is that most sweet cravings can be satiated with a juicy orange, a crunchy apple or even a carrot. True, you shouldn’t over do it on fruit either but I would much rather have my daughter begging for another piece of fruit, the sugar of which is easily digested and absorbed by our bodies, than a sugary piece of candy or cake that will cause a blood sugar spike and ensuing melt down. I am all for having a treat here and there but in order for it to be considered a treat and not a normal event, it must happen rarely. I like to think that our daughter has improved our life in many ways, one of which is strengthening our desire to live a healthier lifestyle, which includes eating less meat, less sugar and a more varied diet of veggies.<br /><br />With the holiday weekend upon us I find myself filled with dread as I will yet again be the only parent at a gathering concerned with limiting the sugar intake of my child. I have to become the police, always with a watchful eye on either another child or worse, another parent, slipping her some candy without my knowledge or consent. It makes for a stressful time especially considering that she will want to have what the other kids are eating so enthusiastically and once she has one taste the games begin with her begging for more and me either giving in ‘just one more time’ or having to continue to say no and having an even closer watchful eye that she doesn’t go to someone else for it. It’s no picnic to feel like I’m alone on this island and being criticized for my limits and even though my dearest does support me, he is much more willing to give in to the whole ‘it’s a party’ or ‘it’s a holiday’ excuse to give her more. So, this weekend when you are approached by someone else’s child who wants some candy, try checking with their parents first and don’t assume the answer is going to be yes. I’m fine with being the bad guy in this instance because I feel like it is my job, my duty to protect my child from all the dangers in the world, even if it is disguised as a bright pink pillowy soft bunny covered in sparkly sugar.</span>thoughtful mammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05101190032476967833noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2893137054895469529.post-33487495342906888912010-02-18T08:35:00.000-08:002010-02-18T09:17:05.046-08:00Negativity to Consumption<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I’ve had more than a few conversations about who owns the media and therefore who controls the messages we get sent on a daily basis, but I still cannot let go of the fact that we do have free will and the ability to form our own thoughts, opinions, beliefs…right? I mean, isn’t that the beauty of being human (and supposedly one of the higher evolved species walking around this planet), the ability to choose? This is why all the hate and ugliness baffles me…I realize that part of it is cyclical and it’s a vicious cycle to break but I also believe in my heart of hearts that there is more good in the world than bad and therefore we should’ve already taken over by now! <br /><br />The main thing holding us back (besides complacency), I believe is the media. I know my idealism can come off as naïve at times but I really don’t see what the draw is to watching all the negative things that happens around the world 24-7. I mean, wouldn’t you much rather see news stories about the selfless acts your fellow humans are doing for those in need on a daily basis? So, I grapple with the question, is it the media showing us reasons to hate, distrust, horde, and in all other ways check out or is it human nature to need to see others suffering, hating, less than us in order to make ourselves feel better about our own situation?<br /><br />I admit that I can be a bit of a conspiracy theorist but I can’t help but wonder who benefits from keeping us in this state of uncertainty and fear? It’s no secret that money is the ruling power/religion of our world and our country in particular. So, I wonder, do we spend more when we are feeling vulnerable (after all, our President suggested that it was our duty as Americans to go out and spend after 9/11 when we were all feeling rather helpless and raw)? If we saw all the selfless acts of generosity and everyday examples of heroes amongst us would we spend less and if so why? Do we feel less inclined to spend when we feel safe and secure? These are the kind of thoughts that consume me at times. <br /><br />So, the real question is why do we consume so much in the first place? I mean, besides the calculated marketing tactics used by every company that wants to win our loyalty. There have been enough Oprah shows that tell us that spending is just another way we fill the void that others use drugs, alcohol or food for. The thing that is so abhorrent to me is that the people that point this out are portrayed as kooky, liberal, hippies who are stuck in the free love years and need to wake up and smell the Starbucks double espresso, macchiato, no foam, no fat soy latte. We have become so consumed with our consumption that we cannot fathom living on less. This is self-evident in the countless families that rarely see their children because both parents are working 40+ hours/week, to keep up with all the bills for the biggest house they can get a mortgage for, nicest car they can get approved for, name brand clothes and all the dance, karate, soccer, gymnastics, ice skating lessons credit can buy.<br /><br />It’s hard for me not to look at the enormous homes, where children have their own wing of the house, bigger SUVs, where siblings don’t even have to watch/listen to the same DVD or music or heaven forbid have a conversation or play a game together and the dinners bought at fast food driveways after swim lessons on the way to karate and wonder what we’re really getting out of this disconnectedness. Is this really the life we want? Is this what family life is now? Is it that hard of a connection to see the issues with ‘kids these days’ is that parents are too busy trying to give their kids everything that they miss the mark on the one thing that kids need the most…their parents’ time and attention? Is it that hard to see that we are being controlled and it is effecting our lives, children and spirits?</span>thoughtful mammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05101190032476967833noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2893137054895469529.post-25148081329377229992010-01-25T12:59:00.001-08:002010-01-25T12:59:55.479-08:00Accountability<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I have referenced my somewhat ‘radical’ views on parenting before and how those views are received by the general public. There are common themes behind my stance on parenting; accountability, staying present and simply, putting forth the effort. I by no means believe I am a perfect parent nor do I expect I will ever be perfect but I take this knowledge and work harder rather than throwing my hands in the air and saying ‘what’s the point?’ At the root of most of my frustrations with a lot of parents today is that like marriage, they have entered into parenthood without any forethought, consideration or discussion about the responsibilities, commitments, sacrifices and compromises this endeavor will require (to do it well). It doesn’t take a genius to understand that parenting is hard work and a huge commitment, yet there are still people out there that believe that having children will not change their lives and they set forth to prove it to themselves and others, and then wonder why things aren’t turning out like the ideal they had in their heads. I like to say these people get into parenting for the Christmas card not to actually parent, they want to have the nice picture of a ‘complete’ family (whatever that’s supposed to mean) and not have to put forth the effort it takes to be a decent parent. Much like marriage, when you enter into parenthood without considering all the effort and responsibility, inevitably reality prevails and resentment rears its ugly head.<br /><br />For a long time I said I didn’t want children, unfortunately most people took this to mean that I didn’t like children, in fact, it was quite the opposite. When I said I didn’t want children, I didn’t believe that I would ever be ready or willing to make the enormous commitment I felt needed to be made to be a good parent. Either because of my education, my upbringing, my empathic nature or maybe just my own insight, I always felt that I was one of those people that truly understood how difficult it was to be a good parent and how much time, energy and commitment it took without actually doing it myself. I used to say (and still believe) that ‘having a child makes every second of your life more work’ and I didn’t mean this as negative (ok, maybe in my 20s it seemed like a negative) but just reality. It all seemed so daunting and unachievable. I didn’t want to have a child and end up resenting them because I felt they squashed my dreams, ambition or freedom. Obviously this changed but not before a lot of soul searching and discussions with my husband, the other key factor in the decision making process. I absolutely refused to be one of those women that had a child with someone who wasn’t as committed to the job of parenting as I was, I refused to be a single parent like so many women who are actually still married and wondering why their husbands don’t help out more with the kids.<br /><br />Ok, so I’ve only been a parent for 17 months and there is quite a bit of parenting left to do, but both of us have stepped up to the plate. We’ve rearranged our lives, made sacrifices and are making the commitment (much to the disillusionment of more than a few people in our lives) which means we are living off of one income now, not socializing as much as we or our friends would like and in general making our daughter our #1 priority. Overall, we feel we are doing a pretty good job, our daughter seems happy, healthy and thriving. I have heard more than one person insinuate that this won’t last long or that somewhere along the line ‘something’ will happen that will change our little girl into a demon beyond recognition. They use their own children as examples (obviously without realizing the assumed disappointment within their statement, whether their children are in ear shot or not) and then try and compare themselves to us. Now, this constant comparison is rather annoying anyhow because it is impossible to be the same person, parent, partner, etc. because of the multitude of variables, but to insinuate or compare our parenting to yours under a veil of ‘just you wait’ attitude is insulting to say the least.<br /><br />It all comes down to accountability, which is a tough pill to swallow for many parents (hell a lot of people in general have a problem with the concept!). Of course every child is different with their own set of quirks that make them an individual and it is our job as their parents to figure out what makes them tick and from there go forth helping them interpreting the world around them including the boundaries, rules and expectations. Part of this is being an example to your children; you cannot expect from your children what you are not willing to do yourself. I will avoid specifics to protect the innocent but I will suggest that instead of throwing your hands in the air the next time you realize your parenting train is veering off the tracks, why don’t you take accountability for any mistakes that have been made (because we are all human and we ALL make mistakes…even in parenting!) and think about changing course. Instead of chalking it up to ‘we’ve tried everything,’ give it another go and see if there is another parent out there dealing with a similar issue that found a way to make it work, a resource on the internet that can offer advice, a parenting class or support group in your community that may offer an alternative approach or even seek professional help. I know it is difficult to ask for help, and when we are dealing with our overwhelming job of parenting it is really difficult not to let our egos get in the way, it is a job laden with guilt, responsibility and the possibility of having long-term effects on another person’s life. Which is why I think it is even more important to get help when you need it. Be willing to accept the fact that you may not know everything just yet.<br /><br />I find it particularly interesting that when a child grows up to be a success in whatever way that family defines success, it is always attributed to the stellar parenting that child received. Yet, when a child ends up in jail, on drugs or even just not successful, there is always someone/something other than the parent to blame. This of course is one of the many things that weighed heavily on my mind in my journey to parenthood, because I know that whatever the outcome, I am responsible for this new person and how she turns out will be a direct reflection on me and my parenting (along with my husband’s of course). There comes a time when we all must accept the job we did as parents, both the good and the bad, and hope that we have equipped our children with the tools to navigate this world in a safe, genuine and capable manner. If something turns out differently or you find yourself looking at your grown child with disappointment then maybe it is time to turn the judgment on yourself and accept that you are not perfect either and if your children are not grown yet, you still have time to change course. This would be a lot more constructive than trying to criticize what other parents are doing.</span>thoughtful mammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05101190032476967833noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2893137054895469529.post-43957244370492217452010-01-13T10:52:00.000-08:002010-01-13T10:53:27.239-08:00Mourning a loss, does it really ever end?<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The Summer I turned 30 was grueling, my grandmother had suffered a stroke that April and even though I was able to celebrate with friends for my birthday in June, it really was just a respite from the weekends spent in the car making the 3 hour drive to Dallas to be with my grandmother and father, who had put his life on temporary hold, in the hospital ICU, then the rehab center and finally the nursing home. It was a devastating loss for me even though I knew she was better off after suffering for nearly 4 months hooked up to machines and unable to speak her wishes, I knew she didn’t want to live this way, we had many conversations about it. My grandmother was a very independent woman after enduring an abusive relationship with my grandfather, raising two boys on her own in the 50s/60s and working nearly everyday of her life. I admired her perseverance and her ability to love unfailingly.<br /><br />She and I always had a special relationship since she never had a daughter and I was her first granddaughter (and was the only one for 16 years). She lived with us at one point in my childhood when my parents were still married and when my father was trying to provide a home for us after the divorce while he traveled for work, I lived with her again in middle school. There were many nights where it was just the two of us, we talked about her family growing up, how close she was to her father and sisters and how protective she was over her baby brother. She told me stories about my father and uncle’s antics growing up and I saw her undying love and pride for her boys. There was even I time when I thought I wanted to be a single mother because of her stories, even though I know there were hard times and it was probably the most difficult thing she ever did.<br /><br />Her death was the catalyst that started our discussions to have a baby. Even though I didn’t expect her to be attending my child’s wedding, I did always believe that she would be there for the birth and would know that I was a mom. When that was no longer an option I was filled with great sadness and then fear…there was no guarantee how long my father would be around and I most definitely wanted my child to know him and more than just a memory in a photo. I find it ironic now that my daughter whose middle name was in honor of my grandmother resembles her in many ways. I am not a religious person but I am a spiritual person and I believe that my grandmother is with me in one way or another. I still miss her, deeply, and still have moments where I think about calling her and it’ll be five years this August since she died. I don’t think I will ever stop missing her and wishing she was here for me during this journey through motherhood. I wish I had asked her more questions, I wish I had visited more; I wish that my daughter will understand the importance of grandparents and realize the time you get with them is precious and should not be taken lightly.<br /><br />I don’t know if it’s the pregnancy hormones or just my natural cyclical way of mourning, but I have been thinking about her a lot lately and missing her all over again (more than usual). Maybe it’s the whole life/death thing, while pregnant and dealing with all that goes along with bringing a new life into the world, I can’t help but think of death too, those that will not be here to meet this little one, another child I will have the overwhelming task of trying to convey the stories of a person they will only know in photos. It seems like I am never really done mourning my losses, is anyone?</span>thoughtful mammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05101190032476967833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2893137054895469529.post-66055048019058130642010-01-13T07:42:00.000-08:002010-01-13T07:43:01.340-08:00The Business of Being Born<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I watched the documentary The Business of Being Born Monday night as it has been recommended by more than a couple people who know my stance on natural birth. It presented a lot of really good information (albeit, nothing I didn’t already know), but I think the best thing about this movie is the representation of the normalcy of the people seeking natural, un-medicated, uncomplicated births, specifically home births. I think most people think those that choose natural birth are more than a little wacky and those that choose not to give birth in a hospital by a doctor are just plain nuts. This documentary does border on continuing to portray that image but manages to present a good cross section of people that show that those that are choosing these ‘alternative’ options for their child’s birth are normal, educated, informed consumers that have weighed all the options and chose the one that they feel is the safest and most comfortable for them.<br /><br />I have to say though, watching this has only opened up the wounds that I thought had nearly healed completely from my own birth experience. Even though it did not end up being the labor and birth that I desired I had convinced myself that the interventions that occurred were necessary and in the end I had a beautiful healthy baby girl, and isn’t that what this was all about anyhow? I can’t say that I haven’t replayed the events leading up to her birth over in my head, wondering what went wrong or what I could’ve done differently… I was laboring fine on my own at home, from all accounts I was in active labor for a good 5 hours (early labor for 24 before that) before heading to the hospital where I found out at check-in (to almost everyone’s surprise) that I was dilated to 6 cm, I thought ‘this is going to be a breeze!’ Then the interruptions and interventions began…<br /><br />I had become pretty swollen towards the end of my pregnancy, although all I really noticed was the size of my feet and lack of ankles, so the first order of business (getting the hep-lock in a vein) proved difficult. I do have to state here that although my doctor is one that supports natural birth the hep-lock was the one point of contention that she would/could not budge on, the whole point of me not wanting an IV was because I didn’t want a needle in my arm so the hep-lock, in my opinion, was no better than being tied to an IV. Two nurses who must have just gotten out of nursing school each tried twice digging around in my arm to find a vein the needle would stay in before finally calling an anesthesiologist to put it in my hand (real comfortable!), this ordeal went on for about an hour where they would leave and come back and while I waited for the anesthesiologist I even began to hope they had forgotten about me…no luck. Needless to say my labor stalled almost immediately, I was still having contractions but they had slowed down to the point where I was able to take a little nap and never really picked up after that. The ‘cascade of interventions,’ as those in the know call it, began. After 6 hours with no progress the decision was made to break my water, 6 more hours with no progress it was time for Pitocin and consequently an epidural. When the baby ‘didn’t react well’ to the contractions induced by the pitocin resulting in turning it off almost immediately, the decision for cesarean was made.<br /><br />My story is one of many where things are going smoothly until getting to the hospital and you’re put on the clock. There are several theories as to what causes this, some believe the change in venue or the actual act of being transported is enough to interrupt labor causing it to stall. Another theory, which I believe is what happened in my case, is the fight or flight reaction we mammals posses. When <em>any</em> mammal in labor feels they are in danger or that they are in a situation where their newly born off spring won’t be safe, something is triggered that causes their labor to stall. I think it is difficult for most humans (male or female) to feel safe and comfortable in a hospital setting, it’s loud, there are people poking and prodding you at all times of the day or night, the staff are constantly changing, etc. So is it any wonder that when a woman arrives at such an environment in the midst of labor, a very emotionally and physically charged event that is known to make even the most composed woman feel vulnerable and out of control, her body sends a message that she and/or her baby are not safe? Most that are educated about natural birth agree that when they suggested breaking my water I should’ve gotten up and gone home. But, like most people, I didn’t feel that was an option and at that point I was so exhausted from missing two nights of sleep and being in active labor for over 12 hours I was willing to go with the suggestions of my trusted doctor. In my opinion, even if I had walked out and let labor commence on its own again at home, I would’ve eventually had to go back to the hospital and what would make that trip any different than the first?<br /><br />No one can make this important decision lightly (unfortunately I think the majority do by assuming they have no options) but look at the facts and do a little research. It is hard to overcome the cultural pressure we all feel to go to the hospital to give birth. In my processing of my own birth story I admit to my own visions of what I pictured as giving birth and the hospital bed, the nurses, the nursery, visitors coming to the hospital, they were all part of what I had always envisioned as normal. There are plenty of resources out there that highlight the risks and benefits of all the possible options and interventions, one of my favorites is Henci Goer’s The Thinking Woman’s Guide to a Better Birth. In it she highlights the ins and outs of maternity care and half the book consists of the extensive research and professional references she used in writing the book. The Business of Being Born presents a lot of the important information about the maternity care system in our country in a way that is easily digestible, but be forewarned it is clearly supportive of the out of hospital birth, but given the facts… it’s hard to argue with the facts.</span>thoughtful mammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05101190032476967833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2893137054895469529.post-34396163458483135282009-11-04T08:23:00.000-08:002009-11-04T17:36:13.921-08:00We all have a choice<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_x-325OD-nxw/SvIqvw-_16I/AAAAAAAAABg/_xNV2LFblBQ/s1600-h/n568315516_1193569_5032.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_x-325OD-nxw/SvIqvw-_16I/AAAAAAAAABg/_xNV2LFblBQ/s200/n568315516_1193569_5032.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400425903261996962" /></a><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I know that a lot of people think the whole organics thing is just a bunch of bull designed to make us spend more money on trendy foods…I know because I used to believe that too. It was about 10 years ago when the whole organics trend started popping up in my world and I remember thinking “Oh, great, eating fruits and vegetables is no longer good enough, now they have to be <em>organic</em>?!” Then I relied on what I normally do when faced with questions I don’t have the answers to, research, research, research.<br /><br />Turns out that there is a multitude of research, stats and information regarding the organic movement (which has been around a lot longer than 10 years) and why it is so important to our health and the environment. Now, people in my parents’ generation are often the ones turning their nose up at the idea, but these ideas are not new. They have always been aware of the risks associated with all these chemicals on our food (hello, Silent Spring was published in 1962 and I’d hazard to guess that even though it resulted in DDT getting removed, this issue hasn't really improved since then), they were just hoping that they could dilute the facts enough to prove that the risks were minimal and by the time you get it on your plate, they’re even less.<br /><br />Well, it’s not just the risk of ingesting these chemicals directly from the food (which is pretty significant by the way) but also through our daily lives. These chemicals leach into our soil, water systems and air, effecting the delicate balance our ecosystem hangs by and effecting all life on this planet. Now, I have heard people state that “people have been saying that the world is coming to an end for ages,” like that justifies us ignoring them or something. I find it truly abhorrent that we have become a society that doesn’t care about the impact of our actions today on future generations. Even if you don't care about the environment though, it doesn't take a huge mental leap to see there is a connection between our food choices (and sedentary lifestyles) and the astronomical rates of obesity, heart disease and diabetes in our country.<br /><br />When I hear people say that “buying organic is too expensive” or even “buying healthy foods is too expensive,” I think to myself these same people who complain about the cost of buying 'healthy foods' (or organic) are the same ones that don’t have a problem laying down inordinate amounts of money on shoes, bags, cars or housing they can’t really afford. Now, don’t get me wrong, I understand that there is a price tag associated with buying organic, and there are people that honestly cannot stretch a dollar any further than they already are…I’m not talking about these people. I’m talking about the people that support places like Wal-mart, stating that it’s cheaper and they’re just trying to save a buck, while pulling up in their Hummers and Escalades. Not to mention there have been a number of celebrity chefs, cook books and blogs showing how buying more plant based foods is not only the healthiest but also the cheapest. The problem is that most people don’t know how to prepare a meal if it doesn’t come out of a box or the freezer and in my opinion this is not by accident.<br /><br />It didn't start overnight, it actually took a gradual shift to organics for me, I started buying from a local organic delivery service so I didn't have to hunt down organics and within a year most of our produce was organic or locally grown. When I choose to spend the extra money it takes to buy organic, I believe that not only am I making a decision for the health of myself and my family but I am also sending a message to the mass production food industry that they will not get my money or support. It comes down to more than just money here (at least for me), I feel that the importance of supporting local farming, sustainable business practices and providing food with the least amount of genetic engineering, chemicals, hormones and pesticides is worth the extra $.20/lb. We will continue to live in what most would call a modest home (which has more than enough room for the three of us), take care of our paid off cars so they run as long as possible for us (in the hopes that light rail will finally be available before then so we don’t have to buy another) and cook our meals at home where it is not only cheaper but healthier so spending the extra $.20-.50 for organic is not a hardship. This is the food that will nourish mine and my family’s bodies, so I really don’t see it as an option to choose price over health. It is only when we make a collective shift away from the foods that pose such great health and environmental risks that there will be real change in our food systems and health.</span> </div>thoughtful mammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05101190032476967833noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2893137054895469529.post-7651912314345271532009-11-02T17:02:00.000-08:002009-11-03T05:27:59.729-08:00Princesses, fairies and kittens oh my!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_x-325OD-nxw/Su-EDwF58kI/AAAAAAAAABY/TUmYjPRLbJg/s1600-h/DSC_0330.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399679678224659010" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 134px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_x-325OD-nxw/Su-EDwF58kI/AAAAAAAAABY/TUmYjPRLbJg/s200/DSC_0330.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">I believe I was born a feminist, it’s the only explanation that in spite of my mother’s efforts to get me to conform to the gender roles of being female, I constantly questioned it’s rational and fairness. I remember being forced to wear dresses and pig tails and if it weren’t for my brothers and cousins the only toy choices I would’ve had growing up would’ve been dolls and an easy bake oven. I especially remember a time when I played on a co-ed soccer team with my little brother, after the game I saw the boys taking off their shirts to cool off (probably mimicking what they saw their fathers or older brothers do) and when I attempted to do the same, my mother told me that I couldn’t. When I asked why, she said ‘girls don’t do that.’ I was 7 years old and already learning about the inexplicable privileges of being a boy [man]. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><?xml:namespace prefix = o /><o:p></o:p></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Don’t get me wrong, I liked being a girl (and still do). I was the only girl in my immediate family and the first granddaughter to my paternal grandmother who had two boys and no daughters. I realized at a very young age that being a girl was special and a good thing, and this message is something I credit with my self-confidence growing up and avoiding nasty relationships with boys/men. It is a message I hope to send very clearly to my daughter, which is one of the reasons her father and I choose not to limit her to traditional girl roles…which sounds crazy when you think about the fact that we are talking about a 1 year old. It seems our need to force our children into ‘appropriate’ gender roles is something that begins before they even show their beautiful little faces, which is exactly why I chose not to find out the gender of our baby when I was pregnant. I didn’t want my unborn child inundated with gender specific wardrobe, toys and stroller before they even took a breath. I wanted to focus on the joy of bringing a life into this world and all the possibilities that go along with that. I felt that once we found out the gender of our baby, others (and possibly even us) would begin limiting the possibilities based on this one characteristic without seeing the whole person.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">I know a lot of people saw my views as wacky because most have not delved into the vast amount of sociological, educational and developmental research that shows the effects of our traditional gender roles on boys and girls and how they feel about themselves as a son/daughter, student, brother/sister, and later in life, wife/husband/partner, employee and parent. I get strange looks whenever I bring this up because lets face it this is an issue that is systemic and therefore rarely thought about or even noticed (although there are a lot of very valuable programs out there that are trying to make a difference). It just seems natural to push pink, purple and dolls on girls and blue, green and trucks on boys without considering the message we send with these ‘choices.’ While I won’t go into all the research that shows that these gender roles tend to stack the deck against girls, stifling their development, dreams and choices, I will mention that there is significant longitudinal research findings that indicate that there is a point in a young girls’ education (somewhere between elementary and middle school) where her answer to the popular “What do you want to be when you grow up” question turns from “doctor,” “astronaut,” and “lawyer” to “nurse,” “teacher,” and “mom” (while boys answers don’t change much over time). There is also extensive research that tries to discount the gender wage gap (in case you aren’t aware, women are still making approximately $.75 to every $1.00 a man does) by showing that women are only getting paid less than men because they choose traditionally lower paying jobs like teaching and social work or they are choosing to take part-time work to spend more time with their families. Is it really a choice or are girls following the limited paths they were given growing up through the messages sent to them either at home, through media or at school?</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">While dressed as a green dragon for Halloween my adorable little girl kept getting called a boy (something that truly doesn’t bother me in the least) and some even had the nerve to say “but she’s a girl, she should be dressed as a princess or something frilly.” The fact of the matter is that she picked out her costume (as much as a pointing, grunting, mostly non-verbal human can) and any observer could tell that she felt pretty special wearing it and she was in fact the cutest dragon around if I do say so myself. Isn’t Halloween all about pretending and fantasizing anyhow? Wouldn’t this be an opportunity to instead of trying to cement those gender roles by dressing our girls as princesses, fairies and kittens encourage them to explore their imagination and be anything they want, why not wizards, ninjas or lions? </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">I know what most would say “but she </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">wanted</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"> to be a princess.” I suppose that could be true but only based on the limited choices given to girls in the first place and the messages sent from the time they are born (sometimes even before). I mean, if given the choice to ‘dress up’ for Halloween as a kitten where I get to wear a set of ears, whiskers, a black leotard and a tail or a princess where I get to wear a big frilly dress, shiny shoes, glittery make up, jewelry and a tiara…it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that a child will most likely choose the flashier of these two choices. The same can be said when perusing the clothing racks and toy shelves of children’s stores where I am forced to shop in the boys section in order to get my little girl a pair of pants that aren’t pink or purple or has ruffles on the butt (or shorts that actually cover up her butt!). Girls are given the choice of pink, pink or purple and princesses or flowers; boys are given the choice of blue, grey, green, red, orange and yellow and cars/trucks, animals, airplanes/rocket ships, bugs and robots…get my drift?</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">I have heard people say that boys and girls are ‘just different’ and while I agree that there are obvious physical differences and even some physiological differences that distinguish the two, I would also like to point out that each of us </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">humans</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">, both male and female, are different from the next, so why differentiate based on this one aspect? The fact of the matter is that we are all unique and this is the message that should be sent to our children find your uniqueness and flourish. Being yet another princess or fairy in a land of other princesses and fairies sends the message that you should try to blend in and be like every other girl, which is not only impossible but sends a pretty significant message to our daughters…don’t stand out, hide your uniqueness, just try and be the prettiest of princesses. It filled me with such joy to watch our little girl walk around in her dragon costume with a big smile on her face feeling special I hope she never loses that smile, confidence or feeling that she is unique and special. Because like a National Organization for Women (NOW) bumper sticker that I’m sure most of you have read, “Well Behaved Women Rarely make history.” Go ahead little girl make some history.</span><o:p></o:p></p>thoughtful mammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05101190032476967833noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2893137054895469529.post-54680804430240852472009-09-24T12:23:00.000-07:002009-09-25T05:42:09.954-07:00the new feminist revolution<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Back in the day, before I knew I wanted kids, when I was in the heyday of my youth and falling in love with the freedom of college, the knowledge it offered and the opportunities it gave me to meet some of the most important people in my life still, including my husband, I felt I was unstoppable. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I guess it started as early as high school, when I started my 'countdown to freedom' sometime in my junior year. I saw college as an opportunity to spread my wings, exercise my independence and learn about the world that I was so curious about. I remember when I was making light of my best friend getting stressed about whether she was going to get her college application completed in time, she told me "you don't understand, you want to be successful and do something with your life, I just want to be a mom!" I remember being completely shocked by this statement for many different reasons but mainly because at that point in my life I couldn't imagine only aspiring to be a 'mom.' I had bigger plans.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">I remember feeling at a very young age that I was out of my element and people my age just didn't get me. This is why college was such a revelation, it was the first time in my life where I could have thoughtful conversations about significant issues and really felt like I was on the same page with these people. It let me explore my 'radical' side and really articulate my thoughts and beliefs. This was also where I found what I really wanted to do with my life(only after realizing that being a veterinarian would require a better grade than a D in Chemistry!). It was a long slippery slope of going from marriage counselor to sex therapist to finally social worker. Although at the time I didn't realize that's where a degree in Family Studies would land me, I <em>knew</em> I didn't want to be a <em>social worker</em>, too messy and not enough pay, but I did want to help families, that much I knew.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Getting my degree was a bumpy road filled with failures and successes, but I did it and armed with my degree and idealism, I was ready to save the world! I got what, at the time, was my dream job, working for a residential program for adolescent girls with mental illness. I quickly worked my way up to managing the program and staff within 3 years. Ever since then I have been working my way up, including earning my Masters in Community Services something I hoped would offer me more opportunities and more money. Whenever the subject of children would come up in it's usual hypothetical way in our lives, we both would joke that he would be the stay-at-home parent while I continued to exercise my feminist rights climbing the professional ladder. </span><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">I dreamed of being a Director for a non-profit or possibly even starting my own non-profit. I even went so far as to see us living large on my salary, taking great vacations, partying with our friends, going out to nice dinners and following our every whim. He didn't mind this dream either.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">This dream came to a screeching halt when we finally got pregnant after nearly two years of discussions, planning and trying. As the due date approached I found myself hoping for an alternative to working full-time so that I could stay home longer with my baby (I could not imagine having to hand my 3-month-old over to a stranger to take care of for the majority of the day, and I was becoming blatantly aware of my <em>inability</em> to do this). I found myself no longer looking for positions with more money and power but with more flexibility and no travel. My future began to quickly take on a completely different look. What had happened to my dreams, goals and ambition? I was a feminist damn it, I need to be out there chasing that carrot for all the women before me that didn't even have the opportunity to enter the race.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Then I remembered a conversation with a roommate in college, one that started when she said something along the lines of "if it weren't for the women's movement, I'd be married with kids and not spending all this money on tuition!" I was shocked that she had it all so wrong...the point of the women's movement was not to limit women but to offer women the <em>choice</em>. I guess I am finally realizing this reality...because now my dream consists of being able to be a full-time mom, being the primary influence on her growth and development and showing her the world. Now, my best friend from high school is an inspiration to me because, I finally understand that being 'just' a mom is probably the most important job there is.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span>thoughtful mammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05101190032476967833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2893137054895469529.post-49571556453984128242009-09-23T09:43:00.000-07:002009-11-02T19:58:47.403-08:00'crunchy' and the mommy wars<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Being what most would refer to as a parent of the 'crunchy' variety is more challenging than I ever <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">could have</span> imagined. It seems everyday, I learn more and more about how people can throw judgement and even scorn our way because we are doing something 'different.' It started when I was pregnant.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">When I <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">divulged</span> my plans for a natural birth and to use cloth diapers, I was shocked at the responses I would get. People would say "Are you crazy? You'll be begging for an epidural!" or "Yea I give you a week before you go to disposables." When I saw a really good friend who was due a few weeks before my due date (who also planned on a natural birth) basically attacked at her own <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">baby shower</span> by family and friends, it was difficult for me to contain my outrage. What is it that would bring such aggressive criticism from women who were there to support her? Luckily I didn't have a similar experience, mine were more passive aggressive, snide comments like "good luck," or "we'll see." If I (or her) were to achieve a labor and delivery without the use of medication would that somehow take away from their birth experiences? Is having an epidural a rite of passage into true motherhood these days and if you don't have one, you're not accepted into the mommy club? I still can't figure this one out.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Fast <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">forward</span> to today, I am a proud mother of a beautiful daughter (who was <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">unfortunately</span> born via c-section after 46 hours of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">unmedicated</span> labor...another blog for another day) and yes, we are still using the cloth diapers, making her food (she has yet to have a jar of any packaged baby food), eating organic and hormone/<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">gmo</span>-free foods whenever possible and we strive to ensure she gets the rest, stimulation and comfort she needs. The criticism continues, from hearing "that won't last" or "wait till you have the next one" to "you should just make it easier on yourself." Again, what is so threatening to other parents (moms) that they feel the need to criticize our choices? Do they feel like we are criticizing their choices by not doing as they do? If that is the case, I can honestly tell you we don't...we don't have time for that!! </span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">The scary part is, if we were plugging our 1 year old in to the TV/DVD, feeding her cake and soda everyday and keeping her up till she passed out from utter exhaustion, we would get next to no criticism!! Since when did trying to do the best job possible raising our kids become a point of contention? I hear people say things like "they won't break," or "they'll survive," and I agree, children are resilient, some have survived horrific beginnings to go on and become decent adults who make a positive impact on our society. My point is that I did not get in to this parenting gig so I could figure out a way to make it easiest on myself, or to skate by hoping that resilience will pull her through in the end (and I'm NOT saying that other parents did or are). I did a lot of soul searching and discussing with my husband before deciding to do this; and I got in to this to put all my knowledge and experience into doing the absolute best job I can do. I don't want my child to 'survive' childhood, my hope is that she will thrive, at least in part, because of something we did as her parents. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">I believe as Oprah or Maya Angelou said that 'when you know better, you do better,' so if I know (because of all the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">research</span>, the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">AAP</span> and countless examples in our society) that my child should not be consuming excess salt, sugar or TV at this age then why should I 'just do it' because I 'drank pop' or 'watched <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">TV</span>' as a kid? Isn't this whole parenting thing about correcting at least some of the mistakes our parents made because they didn't know any better? I really don't want to start an argument because you choose to do things differently than we do, but I cannot help but ask, what is it about our choices that leave so many feeling threatened or defensive? </span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">I am doing the best I know how in raising our daughter and I will believe that most are doing the same. The beauty of our society is that for the most part we have choices and as a family you should make yours based on your own family values/beliefs. Just remember that when someone is doing something that you can't figure out why they would take the time, money or effort to do, they are doing it because they feel it is best for themselves or their family. If you don't understand and want to...ask, but try not to do it in a condescending way. We all have a lot to learn and if we choose to, we could learn from <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">each other</span>, but only if we approach it in a non-judgmental, receptive manner. Mommies, put down your bows and arrows, we're all doing our best.</span>thoughtful mammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05101190032476967833noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2893137054895469529.post-9225529757441878902009-09-08T17:01:00.000-07:002009-09-23T11:24:49.677-07:00oh yea, let's go there...<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">I have really been trying to think of a diplomatic way to talk about this, but really, I'm so damn pissed about it, I can hardly see straight. So here it is, my opinion (and it's always been a strong one). </span> <div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">They have been airing this commercial recently (and by 'they,' I mean those scary people we allow to hijack terms like christian [read 'not a terrorist'] and patriotic). These people find their ways into the curriculum that educates nearly 90% of American youth (and hello, the other 11% are attending private [read religious] schools), as well as in our media, where American youth are really getting their education. I'm glad I can't think of the name of the organization [read cult] that is paying for this ad because I wouldn't want to give them any credit (even if only a handful of people read this and they mostly agree with me!). </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">It's basically a montage of elementary age children saying what they are going to be when they grow up, it reeks of the stench of right-wing conservatism. And, of course it ends with the all so famous "I am a life" message. Now, don't get me wrong, I am perfectly aware that a pregnancy can end in many painful ways and no matter how it happens there is a woman and possibly a family on the end of that pain. That includes when a woman has to make the decision herself to end a pregnancy. There are of course many very justifiable reasons (based on our own sensibilities) that most of us (even christians) would be able to forgive her for. Then there are the other reasons...</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">The fact of the matter is I am glad I have not changed my stance on this issue after becoming a mother (and I've seen it happen to women I consider my contemporaries, so I was kinda worried). A woman's right to her own body is paramount to a civilized society. Now, I am a feminist, through and through (and my feminist theories could be a whole other blog) but I put great effort into not being a 'femi-nazi' (I believe you 'get more bees with honey') so a lot of people that know me can be surprised with some of my 'radical' beliefs. I could get into all the issues that oppress both men (because I believe feminism is as much a male issue as it is a female issue) and women in our culture. But this one has to be the priority, because if women lose any right to any part of their body then they become less worthy than men and in a sense, lose power over their own body, even in intimate relationships where trust and dignity are crucial. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">I won't even go into the fact that the majority of these people that run these ads playing the 'what if' card are no where to be seen once they have talked a woman into walking away from a decision she had made by pulling on that ever so delicate string that was ready to unravel anyhow. Where are 'they' when this woman is now faced with a child she cannot support, who doesn't have any support or safety net of her own? It is hideous that there are so many perfectly healthy, children who are in dire need of love, attention and a family in our very own country (yes, Angelina, you don't have to travel across the world to be a hero) and yet there are people trying to convince someone who is making the toughest decision of her life while trying to consider the possible outcomes for this unborn child that she should just trust in "whoever" that everything will be ok. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">When I look at my daughter who, I hope never has to deal with a pregnancy that ends in any other way than she intended, I am filled with overwhelming love and commitment to ensuring her safety and providing a supportive environment that teaches her she can be and do anything she dreams of. It saddens me that there are people that for whatever their reasons are, cannot look at their child with the same amount of love and commitment, or just don't have the ability to care for them the way they know they deserve to, or are dealing with demons that most of us can't even imagine. Now, I have spent the majority of my 'professional' life in social work, so I am all about helping people keep it together, but because of my direct experience with those in need, I also understand how overwhelmingly difficult it can be for those with even the best intentions. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">It is difficult not to impose our own beliefs (especially the strong ones) on others. When we feel we are acting on behalf of the innocent, the helpless, it can be even more difficult not to want to make that decision...for <span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-STYLE: italic">everyone</span>. Keep in mind though, we are talking about adult women, they are American citizens, afforded the right to an education, to earn a living (albeit, still at a fraction of what her male counterparts earn), to vote, to ride in any seat on the bus. Therefore, they should be afforded the right to their own bodies whom "God," her mother, or whomever she believes 'gave' to her. Remember that nobody makes a decision to end a pregnancy lightly, and believe that whoever is making that decision has the best interests of all involved. Not an easy pill to swallow for many, but it had to be said. <br /></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div></div>thoughtful mammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05101190032476967833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2893137054895469529.post-91524834137291432012009-09-02T18:06:00.000-07:002009-11-02T20:03:27.147-08:00religion, spirituality or whatever you want to call it...<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">I openly admit to not being a religious person. Not that I haven't attended my fair share of church services...I was baptized Catholic, confirmed Methodist and have experienced several other denominations along the way. In fact during my early adolescence, I had a really good time meeting some really good people at church. It was in the United Methodist church that I attended when I was between the ages of 10-14 that I realized that church didn't have to be the stuffy hypocritical experience that I found the Catholic church to be. At Sunday school we talked about the crazy partying some of the older kids did the night before and there was the expected hooking up on the youth group ski trips and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">overnighters</span> with other churches. I also attended a christian summer camp where I again, met some really good people and had a really good time, even learning about the Bible and Jesus Christ...overall, I cannot say I personally have had a 'bad' experience with religion. </span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">So, why do I say I'm not 'religious?' I guess mostly it's because of the underlying <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">hypocrisy</span> of most of the organized religions out there. That, and the judgement...I mean, I haven't read it cover to cover, but I know there is something in the Bible about not judging. Yet, I see people using religion all the time to judge, persecute, and otherwise hate (another topic, I'm pretty confident is covered in the Bible as something not to do). Now, I am fully aware of the cropping up of new churches taking a new spin on religion not only to lure more attendees (in case you haven't heard, churches are really hurting for followers...seems I'm not the only one feeling a little bored with main stream religion), but also to feed the overwhelmingly obvious appetites of the new 'spirituality.'</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Spirituality, a word that used to be associated with new age, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">hippy</span>, off the deep end, holistic medicine, incense burning folk living out in the desert tripping on peyote. It is now a word that is becoming more and more common to our vernacular. It's a word I associate better with than religion, since it seems to encompass more than just a belief in God, Allah, Buddha, etc. To me it embraces the entirety of beliefs out there. Do I believe in "God?" I really don't know (I lean more toward no), but do I believe in <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">something, </span>bigger than you or I? Yes, it's nearly impossible to deny that we are surrounded by forces beyond our control, be it mother nature, the universe, whatever you want to call it. So why must I put a name on it?</span><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">The topic of religion is becoming more of an issue around our house now that we have a child, as we both feel it is our responsibility to introduce her to all sorts of options out there and not force our beliefs or lack there of on her. Not only that, but let's face it, for the most part, the average church has a good deal of good people attending them and can that be all bad. Church is more than religion, it is a sense of community, connectedness, security...all the things that we as humans truly need to live a fulfilling life. So how do two non-religious people introduce religion to their child while remaining unbiased? I think it comes down to the golden rule, which I think most religions are supposed to be teaching but somehow it gets lost along the way...being a good person, someone who doesn't judge others, who helps those in need, who lives their life with integrity, and truly treats others as they would want to be treated.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">But why do we need religion to live our lives this way? Sometimes I feel like I live my life with more integrity than a lot of the crazy right wing religious fanatics that get all the pub. I mean really, bombing abortion clinics, saying that AIDS and the war in the middle east is "God's" pay back for homosexuality? How are these acts supported by anything Jesus Christ preached or lived his life by...and how can anyone who calls him their 'savior' truly believe that they are doing "God's" work? This is when I get really frustrated with the middle of the road, honest to goodness, good people that truly live their lives as <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Christians</span>...why are you letting these nut cases <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">high jack</span> your religion and beliefs and represent them to the world?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">In the end, I'm sure we will find our own way of showing our daughter the good, the bad and the ugly, all while encouraging her to make her own decision as she sees fit. <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Either way</span>, we will be teaching her to be a good person, to be honest, to be grateful and to <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">never</span> judge. As any parent does, we will do our best to set a good example by doing ourselves what we expect of her.</span></div>thoughtful mammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05101190032476967833noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2893137054895469529.post-68666029704125857472009-08-24T11:30:00.000-07:002015-09-11T11:11:20.079-07:00sleep and the transientness of babyhood<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">I don’t know if there is a subject more prevalent in a new parent’s conversations, thoughts and desires than sleep. There are many books regarding getting enough, how to get your baby to get it and how important it is to be a functioning parent. Although I had heard that babies sleep whenever and wherever they need to in the beginning, my Sweet Pea was not one of those babies. She was apparently very sensitive and seeking comfort by nursing all the time and only fell asleep while nursing and when I tried to set her down she woke up and began screaming as though she was starving, even though she had just been nursing for no less than 45 minutes approximately 10 minutes ago.<br /><br />Needless to say, after 7 weeks of sleeping in 5-10 minute intervals and maybe if I was lucky (and laid real still) 30-45 minute stretches at night sleeping where else, on the breast…she was TIRED and cranky (and I didn’t even remember what it felt like to actually sleep) I had checked out all the books my library had on sleep and ‘difficult’ babies and after reading [skimming to the parts about sleep] all of them, I didn’t feel any more prepared to get my precious girl to sleep. She was in fact so tired that she was what all the books described as ‘overtired’ and so sensitive that unless she was nursing she was crying. One book changed our lives, ‘Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child’ by Dr. Marc Weissbluth. Although Dr. Weissbluth advocated the ‘cry-it-out’ method (he actually offers other options too) which at this point I was totally opposed to, I felt that at 7 weeks she was still too young to just be left to cry all alone, the mere thought of it broke my heart, I kept reading and learning. The thing that I found most important was all his research in sleep and sleep disturbances; he really breaks the anatomy of sleep down and the neurological importance of sleep in all its facets. I had learned (like I didn’t already know) that sleep was not only necessary for a healthy baby’s attitude but was very important for that brain of theirs which is growing at the speed of light!<br /><br />So, you’re thinking, this seems like something someone with the education and background in child development that I have should have already figured out. In a way I guess I did and that is probably why I was so worried about getting that little girl some quality shut eye. So, when at 8 weeks we hit a wall and even despite my desire to not listen to my precious baby cry, she had reached a point of exhaustion (and probably frustration too) where nothing would soothe her. My trusty breast that had provided comfort for all that ailed her up until now was letting me down, she didn’t want it, she didn’t want anything, she was TIRED and needed sleep. I tried everything that I had read, swaddling, rocking, shhhing, white noise, EVERYTHING, nothing worked! It was at this point that I realized that all the things I was trying in order to comfort her were only causing more distress…all I had left to do was walk away with tears in my eyes as I heard her cry her exhausted cry. Then, the most amazing thing happened, after about 20 minutes of crying she stopped…she had actually fallen asleep! That was a pivotal evening for all of us, it was the night we realized that sleep was actually possible. I am not saying it was easy; I spent the rest of my maternity leave (approx. 4 more weeks) continuing to help her sleep first at night and then during the day in some structured way, there was a big part of me that wanted to chuck it all and just hold her for those last fleeting weeks (and some days I did just that), but for the sake of my own sanity as well as the development of her growing brain, I continued on.<br /><br />By the end of week 11 and my maternity leave, I had successfully gotten her to sleep in her bassinet for 5-8 hour stretches at night and sometimes up to an hour for naps. DH took over when I went back to work and there were many times the topic of who got the easier baby to care for came up. He finally had a baby that didn’t mind him holding her and feeding her and one that was actually becoming rested and much more pleasant…even darn right happy. A lot of people might think like he does, that he got the good end of the deal, but in reality I’m glad that I was the one to see her through those early weeks of unrest. As I watch her grow at an alarming rate, I cherish those early weeks where all she wanted was to be held and close to me.<br /><br />She still sleeps, really well actually and it is a rare occasion that I need to get up to tend to her before 6 or 7am (there have even been moments where I had to wake her up to nurse her before leaving for work), so those early months when I had to go to her 1 or 2 times in the night, gave me some quiet moments with her that I will never have again. When I heard the usual comments of “you’re still nursing” or “you’re still going to her in the night,” I thought (and did not always say) that these moments are fleeting, it does not last forever (no matter how it feels at the time), why do people try and rush through this brief, early period? I think most people are so hung up on resuming their old lives before children where they could sleep whenever (and for as long as) they wanted that they miss out on irreplaceable moments. I also believe that if more people would look at these moments for what they are, momentary, they might be able to appreciate the preciousness of them instead of resenting them. Losing sleep holding a baby new to this world looking for comfort is something I will take over losing sleep hoping a teenager looking for their place in this world, finds their way home unharmed. Appreciate every moment.</span>thoughtful mammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05101190032476967833noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2893137054895469529.post-51559538299350572722009-08-21T05:51:00.000-07:002015-09-11T11:07:09.597-07:00Breastfeeding drama<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Being of the somewhat ‘crunchy’ persuasion (I wanted and planned for a natural birth, we use cloth diapers, eat organic, I prefer holistic methods of dealing with what ails me, etc.) it was no surprise that I intended to breastfeed my child. I mean, come on, we ALL know that it is not only the best option but human milk is what human babies are supposed to survive on…another soap box for a later time. I did the usual research I do when embarking on the unknown and read what I could find (although I never did get around to reading 'The Womanly Art of Breastfeeding' which everyone suggested!) and talked with my friends and other women who had successfully breastfed their babies. I counted on the fact that I could do it even though I knew that it would not be easy, I mean not only do I have few to no models to normalize the whole thing for me, but I live in the US where breastfeeding is still looked on as fairly primitive and in some circles ‘disgusting.’ But hey, I’m not one to shy away from a challenge or an opportunity to prove the naysayers wrong. Due to a c-section delivery (a WHOLE other story for another day), I did not get to attempt breastfeeding until approximately 1.5-2 hours after our darling daughter was born while I was in the recovery room. She of course was pretty groggy from a long labor and finally the drugs necessary for the c-section and I was still recovering so it was slow going at first. When we finally got in our room and really got in to it, it seemed to go pretty well; the usual issues I’m sure, dealing with the IV (what a pain), getting a pain-free latch, finding a comfortable position, etc. The biggest issue was keeping her awake long enough to nurse adequately but she was wetting and dirtying the ‘required’ amount of diapers to prevent nurses from pushing formula so I figured all was well. Needless to say it was a blurry eyed filled couple days with visitors coming and going and little to no sleep before heading home with our new baby/family, but overall it seemed that the breastfeeding thing was going along ‘smoothly.’ Given the discomfort of some family members who were in town (and my own reservations of bearing all to the world), I felt the need to consider everyone’s feelings (a mistake I think many first time moms make) and attempted to continue to learn this new skill undercover, while trying to give everyone a piece of their desired time holding her. Again, overall, I thought I was doing pretty good, she seemed to latch on and nurse although, still falling asleep every time. Little did I know, these were the salad days and I should have been taking advantage of her sleepiness and the visitors to get some much needed sleep. The problems began when my daughter was 11 days old, I felt a small lump that felt sore to the touch on my right breast. I assumed it was a clogged milk duct (I had a friend that had one and had heard it was common in the first few weeks of breastfeeding). I called my ob/gyn office who told me that I needed to continue to nurse to try and get rid of it and to call them if I got a fever which would indicate an infection (mastitis). So, I launched into my research again as well as trying to get my daughter to nurse longer than about 10 minutes before passing out. I tried everything that I read would help, dry heat, wet heat, hot shower, massage, trying to line her chin up with the clogged duct while nursing…for days. At one point I felt like I was doing more harm than good as my breast was getting so sore from all the pressure from my determination to massage it out. On day 16 (postnatal) I woke up to my breast feeling like it was on fire and painfully engorged (i.e. huge and hard as a rock). I had taken my temp during the night in the hopes that I had a fever so I could finally go to the doctor and have them fix this, finding that in fact I did have a fever. Of course it was a Sunday so I went to the Easy Care Clinic in pain and highly emotional since I was feeling like this could derail my plans to continue breastfeeding my baby. I was in so much pain and in tears when the nurse and doctor examined me and confirmed that yes it was mastitis and prescribed antibiotics and instructed me to see my doctor for a follow-up in two days to make sure it does not progress (OH MY GOD, it could get WORSE?!!!). That day and night I was a mess, sobbing as my daughter took her first bottle of formula because the one breast she would take was cracked and bleeding (which at the time I thought meant I could not use it), I felt like a failure and I had only been a mom for a little over two weeks. Apparently I was such an emotional mess that my dear, well-meaning husband called my parents unbeknownst to me to tell them they needed to speed up their arrival by 4 days because he was worried about me (worried I would do what, I still don’t know?). I was less than thrilled when I found this out, like I really needed a bigger audience for my emotional breakdown and failure! They were there the next day, completely unaware of what to do or how to help. In fact, they even offered to babysit while my husband and I ‘went out.’ Could they not see that I was hanging on by a thread here, going out was the last thing on my mind! I needed to figure out how to resolve this excruciating pain and oh yea, make sure my new born baby wasn't going to starve to death! On day 18 I showed up for my follow-up with my doctor’s office. The mid-wife that supervised my very long labor saw me and when I showed her my breast (l was getting much better at this and it was becoming a non-issue for me) she kept her calm demeanor when she said “We need to get you to a surgeon today, that is an abscess.” What?! You mean it’s not getting better? I didn’t think I could feel any worse…I was wrong. The events of the rest of the day ended up unraveling as I made probably the worst decision of my life, I kept an appointment with a lactation consultant (LC) instead of seeing the surgeon (of course this was after the LC terrified me about what a surgeon would do to my breast, possibly further interfering with my ability to continue to breastfeed and that together we could ‘take care of it’ with the “least intervention necessary”), I think I’ll save that story for another day. I scheduled the surgeon for day 20 just in case. Day 19 came and I was still dealing with the pain, a cranky, tired baby who wanted to nurse ALL the time. I continued with the regime prescribed by the LC throughout the day (cabbage leaves, ibuprofen, pumping/nursing every 1.5 hours). When my husband got home that evening I needed a break and a shower since I knew I wouldn’t be able to get one in before my surgeon’s appointment in the morning. At this point my breast was in such pain that even the water from the shower felt like fire. When I got out of the shower I noticed a creamy substance dripping from my body, horrified I looked in the mirror and it was coming from the abscess, the water from the shower had broken the delicate skin that had been stretched to its limit (not to mentioned bruised from all the pumping the LC recommended). After much distress and trying to figure out whether it could wait till my appointment in the morning, I went to the ER by myself to spare my baby exposure to the nastiness that lurks in ERs. While there the surgeon on call aspirated the abscess with a large syringe; I am willing to say that being shot or engulfed in fire might be the only things I can think of that could be more painful than this experience, but again, this is just a guess. I dealt with 46 hours of un-medicated labor before needing a c-section less than 3 weeks earlier and I was confidently declaring this to be the most pain I had ever experienced. I was sobbing by the time he was done, so much so that a kind nurse offered me morphine to help with the pain. My husband picked me up and the responsibilities of being a new mom were thrust upon me again. Day 20, I was finally heading to the surgeon’s office, my husband met me there to take care of our daughter who still wasn’t happy unless she was nursing, while I went in for the procedure. The surgeon sliced the abscess open and drained it …again, I am dealing with the most excruciating pain I can describe, a little more than 12 hours after the first time. When she made me look down at the quarter size hole in my breast so I knew what it needed to look like until it healed, instructing me to wash it out daily and if need be pick any tissue out with a q-tip, with tears in my eyes, I was overwhelmed. As I cried again, exclaiming that I just want to be able to breastfeed my baby, she explained that it was possible and that I would just need to continue to try and get her to take the breast to make sure it did not happen again (You mean this could happen again?!!). This would not be the last time I cried about this, the next few days were filled with doubt, tears and wavering (I mean, I was a formula fed baby and I turned out ok). It was during these days of wavering that my husband actually stepped in and said the right things at the right times, when I said “I don’t know if this is working,” he replied, “what do you mean, you’re doing great!” What?! Did he not see the mess that I was? After several more conversations like this he said “Look, we both know that breastfeeding is best for her but we also know that formula won’t kill her and you’ve given it your best, there’s no need to kill yourself over a choice.” I know for a fact he did not know how important those words were, and I can’t even pin point why it made such a difference but with that statement, it was decided, I was doing this. Maybe it was my stubbornness, him giving me permission to quit was what I needed to push me past my wall of insecurity. It could have been both mine and my daughter’s stubbornness combined, since the only thing that seemed to soothe her in those first few months was breastfeeding, but we made it through, together. Sweet Pea is now a week from turning 1 and we are is still breastfeeding, albeit only about 2-3 times a day as I believe she is actually self-weaning herself like the good girl I had hoped, sparing me the emotional turmoil of having to make the decision to cut her off of what seemed like such a source of comfort for her for so long. After several weeks of breastfeeding her with one breast while making a few attempts to get her on the healing breast, we made it through and although the scarred breast is still not her favorite, it did and still does produce, some. I made it past my conservative goal of breastfeeding her to 6 months (which in those early weeks seemed like it would take a miracle) and am actually making it to a year. The scar on my right breast is not big but it also is not attractive nor out of sight, I see it every time I look in the mirror after the shower and it is not even a smooth scar, I can feel it and even see it’s ridge through the fabric in my bra, something I’m sure a common observer wouldn’t see. My husband claims it is not that big nor is it a big deal; we both got more than we bargained for in this whole breastfeeding saga. Although, I do sometimes mourn what I felt were pretty darn good looking breasts pre-pregnancy and breastfeeding, I find myself walking taller, standing up straighter, not afraid to showcase these new breasts that have nourished my child for nearly the entire first year of her life and have taught me a lot about what this body of mine is worth and capable of. So, I will say good-bye to these breastfeeding days with a sense of bitter-sweetness, I will be happy to have my body back and to no longer have to deal with the nuisance of pumping while I'm away from her, but I believe my daughter and I have shared in a special relationship that was worth the tears, pain and turmoil of the early days, that has taught me a lot about what it takes to be a mother and the benefit of perseverance. </span>thoughtful mammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05101190032476967833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2893137054895469529.post-57124832123246502792009-08-19T11:35:00.000-07:002009-08-19T11:35:00.355-07:00Beginning thoughts...<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I like to think of myself as radical… I look deeper into things than the average jane (or joe) and although I strive to make people comfortable around me (call it the middle child syndrome or maybe it’s the many years in the human service field…but then we get into the whole what came first the chicken or the egg debate… I digress) I have from time to time felt the growing discomfort I can stir in people. Anyone that knows me, knows that I don’t mean to do it, but I have been known to ask some uncomfortable questions and I guess my hope in doing so is that I at least make you look at the world from a different perspective, considering even for a moment that we may not have it all figured out just yet.<br /><br />I guess I feel that if we are too comfortable in our daily lives then most likely we are falling into some sort of complacency and nothing scares me more than complacency. If I can challenge even a little of that and get you thinking about something, someone, some circumstance that you never thought of before, at least for a few minutes, then I have done good work. Don’t get me wrong, I am not a judger (well, at least I strive not to be), I like to look at all sides of the subject, even the ones I don’t agree with, but I will say that I have put a lot of thought into most of my opinions/stances (some are just gut reactions) and believe pretty strongly in what I say. With that said I don’t subscribe to the red-faced, spitting rantings of maniacs without a clear thought in their head; I prefer to have thoughtful conversations with intelligent people who realize the importance of an open dialogue.<br /><br />If I provide entertainment, so be it. If I provide useful insights or resources, great. If I make you angry, I truly am sorry, I mean no harm, I am in fact a pacifist. If by chance I have caused you to think differently or at least accept that there are people that do things/believe things differently than you or your family and you can be okay with that, realizing that neither is right nor wrong, just different, I am getting closer to one of my many goals in life, love and parenthood. </span>thoughtful mammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05101190032476967833noreply@blogger.com1