Closing one door

A little over a month ago, Jacob nursed for the last time.  Back in May when he started growing his molars, nursing became very painful and I was only able to keep him on for a few minutes at a time, which led to him dropping his naps because I couldn't nurse him to sleep without crying in pain.  He started nursing less during the day, though he would still ask for it.  I had already stopped offering it except for nap and nighttime, but since it was so painful, I stopped offering it all together.

Over the course of the next few months, he went from nursing 4-5 times per day to only once.  Then we'd have a day of no nursing at all, which was strange but also very natural.  He wouldn't ask for it and it wouldn't occur to me to give it to him until I went to bed and realized we hadn't nursed all day.  Then we'd have a couple days in a row, then he'd nurse once or twice, then another couple of days of nothing...

Finally in mid August, my good friend had a baby.  Jacob saw her nursing and asked for milk for the first time in days.  I knew he was asking because of the baby, but I gladly latched him on.  He nursed for about 3 minutes, and then was done.  That was the last time.

For a few weeks he'd still ask for "Mommy milk", so I'd open my shirt and offer it to him.  He'd either look at it and say "no", or he'd ask for soy milk instead.  It's been 5 weeks now and though he nurses his stuffed animals on the crocheted breast my friend made him, and still calls my breasts "milks", he has no desire to drink from them.  With his 2nd birthday being 3 weeks after he last nursed, I felt alright about it.  During our horribly rocky start I didn't ever believe that we would make it to 2 years, so the fact that we just about did makes me unbelievably proud.  I also feel confident that this was Jacob's decision, and though I have gone back and forth second guessing myself about whether or not I should have tried harder to nurse him through the pain, I know that cracking my nipples would not have made things better for either of us.  So this door is closed, but I have nearly 2 years of memories and experiences that I can use to help other mothers who are struggling.

The last photo of us nursing, at the Big Latch on in DeKalb County on August 13th

There are 3 different methods to weaning, Mother-Led, Baby-Led, and Society-Led.  Society-Led weaning is when a culture has rituals that dictate the time when the baby is to wean, and the age is the same for everyone in that society.  The weaning becomes a celebration, a rite of passage into the next phase of life.  It is not something we see in this country very often, so I will focus on the 2 methods we see the most, Mother-Led and Baby-Led.

Mother Led Weaning-determined by the mother.

There are many reasons that mothers choose to wean their babies; they could be going back to work and find that pumping is difficult, perhaps their baby is older and they want to get more sleep, maybe the mother wants to get pregnant and has not gotten her period back; whatever the reason, some mothers decide to start the weaning process themselves.  The baby might resist it, or the baby might be completely fine with the change.  Normally it is best to start with the mother's least favorite nursing, which is sometimes right before bed or during the night, and drop that one first.  Substitute something equally good in the eyes of the child such as a book, a lovey, or a cup of milk.  Watch for the child's reactions to see how best to proceed.

Despite this method being a mother's choice, some mothers are still quite emotional after weaning their children.  Perhaps the nursing relationship was not what the mother expected, maybe it was very difficult and she felt that she had done as much as she could.  It is still important to be understanding of mothers who choose to wean, because we never know what someone else's motivations are or how they are feeling about their actions.  There are lots of valid reasons to wean your child, and any amount of breastfeeding is beneficial.

Baby Led Weaning-determined by the child.

Baby-Led Weaning is very rare before 1 year of age, though some babies choose to end the nursing relationship as early as 6 months old.  Sometimes mothers will stop offering to nurse but will gladly bring the baby to the breast if he or she asks for it.  Some toddlers will drop night nursing and maybe start to nurse only a couple of times a day, then over the course of months it may become more like every other day until one day the child is just done.  It can be shocking, though overall it might appear to be gradual.  Or sometimes the baby simply quits out of the blue, which is normally looked at as a nursing strike and temporary, but despite the mother's attempts to bring the baby back to the breast, he or she is just done.

The biggest hurdle of baby-led weaning tends to be reluctance on the mother's part to end breastfeeding.  Because the child is in charge, the mother might not be ready to quit, but she wants to respect the child's wishes and does not want to force the issue.  So there can be lots of grief when a baby decides to wean, even if the mother was ready to stop nursing, she might be conflicted.

A eulogy for the mother I used to be/possible rebirth

The very first parenting book I received when I was pregnant was The Baby Book by Dr William and Martha Sears.  I had never heard of Attachment Parenting before, but when I read the first chapter, it all seemed to make perfect sense.  Attend to your baby's needs.  Simple.

I knew that we weren't going to co-sleep (because we were given the scary hospital information about how dangerous it is and we, first time parents, believed it) but other than that, everything else that was mentioned in this chapter sounded exactly like the mother that I wanted to be.  I had been so chill in my pregnancy, and although I am generally an anxious person, I had this idea that my prenatal calm would transcend into my own parenting style.

I don't think anyone should follow strict guidelines for a certain type of parenting if it doesn't make sense for your family, you can take what works for you and leave the rest.  But sometimes you just find that your sensibilities tend to match what others have put a name to and so you kind of insert yourself in that group.  Whatever you end up doing, it's all personalized, because no two babies are exactly the same and no two parents are exactly the same.

I knew I wanted to be gentle, and by that I mean that I didn't want to yell or be too strict, I wanted to listen to my children as individuals with their own feelings and be respectful of their personal development.  When you have a newborn, the idea of discipline seems so far away.  Newborn babies live in a world of "yes", or at least they should.  Everything that a newborn wants is pretty much survival, they want to eat, sleep, be close to mom, and feel taken care of.  This is not to say that taking care of a newborn is easy, it's most certainly not.  It wasn't for me, and it isn't for lots and lots of people.  But I never really thought about saying "no" to Jacob when he was first born, the only times I would really lose my cool were when we had trouble nursing and I was frustrated at myself for not getting it, or when he would scream if I put him down.  I was upset at myself, or at the situation, and sure, sometimes I felt angry at the screaming baby, but really, it wasn't just the newborn, it was my reaction to the newborn.

Despite the handful of times that I left Jacob to cry for 2 minutes so that I could scream into a pillow or sit in child's pose and just breathe, I was generally a gentle parent.  When I look back now, I feel that, despite my ridiculously high expectations of myself, I did a pretty good job.  Jacob knew his needs were going to be met, and I came through.

Flash forward almost two years, and that gentle, attentive mother is nearly unrecognizable to me.  For the last year, I have cranked up the Mommy guilt machine to 11 and kept it there.  With issues like Jacob's inconsistent napping, testing boundaries, learning to use the word "no", and all of the typical kinds of behaviors that his age tends to have, I have started crumbling.  When Jacob turned one, it was like a switch turned in him and suddenly he was this toddler.  With his newfound mobility and verbal communication came resistance and a temper that I had never seen before.  It hit me like a punch in the face.

And while all that I am saying is very typical (and many of you are probably literally nodding your heads right now) my reaction to it has been far worse than the behavior itself.  I have lost all of my gentle parenting strategies and even when I try to use some of them, I find myself succumbing to a deep anger, followed by a suffocating guilt.  It is crippling.  I do not, at this present moment, feel equipped to be a parent.  I have no idea how to calmly deal with what I am being given, despite the numerous books I've read and people I've spoken with.  I can have all the understanding of what his age is capable of or I can use some of the 101 alternatives to yelling or spanking , to get me through a difficult moment, but the anger finds me.

*I, personally, am against spanking my children, and I have not or will not hit my son.  Despite how angry I get at him, my guilt is from raising my voice and losing my cool, but not from physical violence.

I get the most angry when I feel out of control, and as anyone with a child will tell you, feeling out of control is a large theme.  When I ask Jacob to bring me his shoes and he yells "no!" and runs away, my instinct is not to be playful and make a game of it, or to realize that he is not even two yet and he is expressing his identity by saying "no" to me.  My instinct is to get upset and yell "Bring me your shoes NOW!".  This is not constructive, and of course, does not work.  Jacob will just run faster and farther, and then I will feel horribly guilty for yelling.

When he stopped napping I completely unraveled.  Every day I would tell myself "today is the day that I don't lose my temper" but come naptime, I would find myself crying or yelling in front of my son who just spent the last two hours playing happily in his crib.  As much as I feel thankful that I generally have a very well behaved, polite, sweet boy, I cannot help but cling to those aspects of our relationship that are damaged.  Naptime is one of those things that I cannot let go of.  Every day that goes by without a nap, I feel like ripping a chunk of my hair out.  And instead of playing with him when his crib playtime is over, I don't even feel like looking at him.  As horrible as this sounds, I don't want to be around him right then.  Because I feel like he has taken something from me.

This isn't fair to Jacob.  He is so young, and so innocent, and my reaction to the situation is not helping him understand or learn anything, all he is seeing is that Mommy is mad.  I am tired of being Mean Mommy, I am tired of being something that is so far from what I feel for my son.  All of the love I have for him is being clouded by my actions, and that is not right.

Is there hope?  There has to be, right?  Can I go back to being that gentle mother that I started out as?  If so, how?  I wonder how many of you have felt this but have successfully made the journey back to the type of mother you want to be.  I know we're never going to be perfect, and we shouldn't.  We need to make mistakes to grow and to show our children that it's okay to be human.  So how do I pick myself up and show myself and Jacob that you can better yourself when your motivation is someone you love more than yourself?

I feel like that mother, the one whom I used to be is waving at me across a river, beckoning me to come join her but I need to build myself a bridge.  I just have no idea where to start...

Responding to the call

This entry is a response to this post about hidden female aggression on the fantastic and empowering website Roots of She.  If you're not familiar with this site, I highly suggest you give it a glance.  I get a lot of uplifting and inspiring messages on my daily visits.  

The call to women asked these questions, and here are my responses:

• What is it that you most desire in your connections with other women?

Openness.  I look for women who I trust enough to be tender with the vulnerability I offer them, and who are similarly open with me.  When we trust each other and are honest, the real joy of the relationship springs forward.  We begin to enjoy our real selves, including all of our flaws, which makes us more relaxed with each other.  

• If you knew it were possible to create the kinds of relationships between and among women that you really want to see in the world, what qualities would those relationships have?

Empathy, joy, and acknowledgement that we are all struggling.  We would never try to put on airs of being perfect, or having it all together when we are actually rapidly falling.  At least not with each other.  Women would be open and honest about their flaws and struggles, and likewise, what makes them laugh and what fulfills them.  We would LISTEN to each other and admit our own struggles, not in an attempt to make each other feel better but because we want to share ourselves, our whole selves, with other women.  Women who truly want to see each other succeed and feel each other's pain when we hurt.  We wouldn't spend so much time dwelling on our own mistreatment or vulnerability because we would be cathartically releasing that negativity to the open arms of our beloved sisters.

• What’s the most tender, vulnerable thing you could ask for?

Honesty.  When I do something to offend someone else (which, being human, I inevitably do) the most loving thing that person can do for me and our relationship is tell me how what I said or did hurt them so that I can become aware of my actions and hopefully not hurt them in the same way again.  When I offend someone and I am not made aware of it, not only will I most likely keep up the offending behavior, but our relationship will take on a falsehood.  I, being unaware of my negative actions, will believe that we are strong while my dear friend is hurting.  

I am a sensitive person, and sometimes criticism plagues me, but if what is at stake is an important and loving friendship, then no amount of my pride being hurt matters.  In these types of situations, honesty is a gift that my friend gives me because they care about our connection and want to see it flourish.  

Wading through the flood of advice

When you're pregnant, and especially if this is your first baby, you can become flooded with unsolicited advice from everyone; family members, friends, strangers in the checkout line; everyone has an opinion.  It can be completely overwhelming to be so unsure about this brand new chapter of your life and have constant tips and product reviews thrown at you.  This swing saved my life!  Make sure you put that little one on a schedule right away!  You're not drinking enough water!  


After you have your baby, the advice keeps on coming.  He should be sleeping through the night by now, just let him cry and he'll get the hint.  You don't need to breastfeed past 6 months.  You shouldn't drink coffee if you're nursing.  


Not all advice is bad, and even most of the people who are offering advice that you might not want to hear are probably offering it with the best of intentions.  This entire blog is dedicated to helping mothers by providing them with, yes, researched information, but also my own personal stories which I offer freely as a form of advice.  Some of you may not want or need to hear everything I have to say, and some of what I say may not apply to you.

Despite the intention of the advice giver, it can be very frustrating when you are a new mother struggling with taking care of this helpless little creature and you are bombarded with suggestions.  Even if everything you are ever told is great advice, it can still be difficult to hear so many different viewpoints.  I remember being a brand new mother, totally out of sync with what my baby needed and out of touch with my own maternal instincts.  I believed most of what anyone told me, except for a few comments which I immediately knew in my gut to not be the right path for me and my son.  I was so desperate for help that it was very difficult to weed through the commentary and pick out the solution that I needed.

Now, here is some unsolicited advice which you can take or leave, depending on what you need:  listen to your instincts.  Open yourself up to those who you trust deep inside, whom you feel in your bones have your best interests and needs at heart and block out anything which leaves a bad taste in your mouth.  Do what feels right for yourself and your baby, and politely ignore the negative.

Just as it is never too late to switch providers when you're pregnant (and I know some women who have switched at 37 weeks because their babies and bodies told them to) it is never too late to seek out positive influences.  If you see a lactation consultant because you feel that your baby isn't latching properly and she immediately tells you to supplement, but you want to exclusively breastfeed and you know that your baby is gaining weight well, you can find someone else.  If you see a pediatrician who tells you that you must vaccinate but you have decided to wait or not to vaccinate at all, you can see someone else.  If you have a friend who constantly tells you that your baby should be doing this and should be doing that, you can meet some new friends.

Motherhood is stressful enough without negative influences.  Don't feel that you need to cut out a dear friend just because of some hurtful comments, unless you feel that it is right, but maybe have a heart to heart with this person to tell them how those comments make you feel.

I am in no way saying that you should not listen to others' advice, in fact, sometimes the greatest asset to a struggling mother is her supportive friends who can share stories of their own struggles and offer help to get through difficulties.  When you are vulnerable and hurting, though, it can sometimes be easy to trust anyone with a diploma on their wall, or anyone with a child because they do have something to offer: experience.  But this experience may not be enough to provide you with what you need and there may be others out there who are more suited to help you.

Trust your instincts, mamas!  Trust yourself and your baby and you can find some amazing support and develop lifelong relationships along the way.

The New Mother's Manifesto: Part Two

A Condensed Version of my Birth Story

When I was thirteen, I discovered that my birth mother had preeclampsia during her pregnancy.  She had it so severely that she was sedated during the cesarean at 36 weeks as well as for 3 days afterwards.  I knew that it was genetic, and so from that point forward I always expected that I would have a cesarean birth when the time came.

The day I met my birth mother (incidentally the same day we conceived Jacob) she told me that she had preeclampsia with all of her pregnancies, as her mother did with all of hers.  She strongly emphasized that I should not fear becoming pregnant or giving birth, however, because she said despite how rough her last half of pregnancy was, she still loved every moment.

When I found out that we were expecting, I researched cesareans.  If this was how I was going to give birth, I needed to know what I was in for.  My friend had just experienced one, so I asked her lots of questions.  I DVR'd "Birth Day" and "A Baby Story", searching for the cesarean episodes.  I did not know at the time how harmful those shows actually are to a pregnant woman, because the hospital experience which is shown is so highly edited that even the toughest labors all seem like puppies and rainbows as soon as the baby comes out.  But that's what I wanted to see, a smiling, peaceful woman strapped to a table, with the beaming glow of new mother on her face as she snuggles her baby while a curtain discreetly covers her abdomen.

As my pregnancy progressed, my blood pressure remained in the normal range, and by 36 weeks, the highest it had ever gotten was 130/90.  My OB was never concerned about what I told him was my "high risk" of preeclampsia.  He always just told me that we would wait to see if my blood pressure spiked and then go from there.  When I found myself in the last weeks of pregnancy, realizing that I could very well not be following in my birth mother's footsteps, it also dawned on me that I might be able to give birth vaginally.  I had never, since the age of thirteen, imagined myself pushing out a baby.  That was never an option for me.  But now, I could see it, and often, as I was falling asleep I would imagine the doctor pulling my baby boy out of my body and handing him to me, just like in the movies.

At 39 weeks, it hit me; I am going to deliver vaginally.  And I have no idea how.

I had spent the last ten months (and thirteen years) researching cesareans but had not paid close attention to vaginal delivery.  I skimmed the section in "What to Expect" (again not realizing it's potentially harmful effects) but I never took a birth class, aside from our hospital's weekend express childbirth class, I never looked up what a doula is or does, and I never thought seriously about natural pain relief.

Yoga had been something I had done for years, and did constantly throughout my pregnancy, and so I did imagine myself doing pelvic tilts on a birthing ball to help in labor, but because I was never mentally prepared for how to deal with the pain, I gave in an accepted the epidural at 3cm.  At the time, I loooooved it.  It was so wonderful to not feel anything, to not have to get up out of bed, I felt like I was on vacation.

Here's what I discovered after getting the epidural:
1) It's unreliable.  Mine wore off every 3 hours.  I had to get it replaced at 9cm because it almost completely wore off and my body and mind were not used to handling pain so the 9cm contractions felt excruciating.
2) Because it was uncomfortable to turn over, I couldn't sleep.  I tend to flip from side to side in bed, but being hooked up, you have to carefully lift yourself and roll over all of the tubes before settling in.  Plus I was being checked on every hour.
3) My labor would end up being much longer due to my immobility.  I got the epidural at about 3am and Jacob was born thirteen and a half hours later.  My labor still could have been this long if I had not had drugs, but not being able to move has been proven to prolong labor in most cases.
4) Jacob was born sleepy.  This will be discussed in great deal in Part Three.

As per my original birth plan (once I realized that I could make one) the epidural was turned off at 10cm.  I wanted to feel where my pain was so that I could focus on where to push him out and I wanted to feel him leaving my body.

Jacob was at a zero station when I began my "test pushes".  The nurse was concerned with how high he still was, but I had made it this far without a cesarean and I was not going to give up now.  I held my breath, tucked my chin, and pushed with every ounce of energy I had been storing up.  He dropped to a +2.

I began pushing at 3pm and shortly after, a nurse came in and whispered something about my c-section papers being put on my chart.  The nurse who had been working with me shushed her and said that they weren't going to tell me that.  This only made me push harder.  For the next hour and twenty minutes, it was me, Tim, and the nurse, and I worked harder than I ever thought I could.  The nurse pushed around my tissue to make room for Jacob's head when it started to get stuck.  Tim held my leg (sometimes both) and counted to ten with each contraction.  The pain was severe.  I felt as if I had one long contraction during the entire thing.  My "resting" time in between contractions was not restful, I looked at my monitor to see if it was all in my head but my contractions stayed high throughout.

At one point, I was asked by the nurse if I wanted to take a break and wait out this next contraction.  I threw off my oxygen mask, shouted "no c-section!" and kept on pushing.  I was NOT going to give up after thirteen years of never expecting to experience this.  At 4:21pm, the OB pulled out Jacob Reese.  I immediately began bawling and exclaimed "I did it!".  He was beautiful, he was tiny, he was mine.  It was puppies and rainbows.

Except that the moment my baby boy was pulled from my body, he was taken away.


Continued in Part Three...

The New Mother's Manifesto: Part One

I was a perfect mother.

Being a gentle, yet effective parent came so easily to me, it was all just pure instinct.

I understood the stages that my baby was going through, what he was capable of learning and understanding at each stage and how to respond to what he needed.  I knew that he needed plenty of tummy time, he would need me to hold him constantly (and I was available physically and emotionally for that) and that he needed me to nurse him around the clock.

I knew what the most developmentally beneficial reaction was to any situation that my baby threw at me.  Crying in the middle of the night?  Nurse the baby.  He'll go right back to sleep.  Refusing solid foods?  Patiently keep offering it until he eventually ends up loving whatever I give him.  Reaching for something dangerous?  Calmly tell the baby "that's not for you" and he'll listen.  (And never reach for said object again)

I knew that nursing the baby was easy.  I knew how to latch him, how often to feed him, how to increase my supply, but that it ultimately would work out beautifully because of all of the preparation I had done.  I took a breastfeeding class, so I was fully prepared to breastfeed.

I was attentive, loving, patient, I reacted with humor to frustrating situations, I modeled desirable behavior, and I still took time for myself and my marriage.

My house was spotless, (or at least consistently ready for company) I always looked somewhat put together, I made healthy meals for my family, kept track of the bills, and I made sure to always have time for my friends.

As I said, I was a perfect mother.


And then I gave birth.

Continued in Part Two...

The liberation of parenting on the go

As much as I consider myself a people person, (and I do, seriously, I'm like a dying plant without water when I don't see my friends for days) there are those days when it just feels great to hang out with the Cub alone.  It particularly feels great when we go out together.

I remember before I had children how awkward it would feel to eat at a restaurant alone, unless I had my laptop, a book, or some sort of school project to alert the other patrons that "I'm totally here to work on something, otherwise I would have lots of friends with me, I swear!"  But now, having a child makes it "okay" to go out alone, because I'm not alone.

Of course it's completely okay to eat alone, I'm just referring to my own insecurities.  I applaud anyone who eats alone at a restaurant without any "armor".


Today we went to one of our usual spots for shopping and getting out of the house, Target!  As I was putting Jacob in the carseat, I felt that he had peed through his pants.  I didn't have any back ups in the diaper bag, but I had just bought him some new pajamas, so I changed him in the car.  No back up socks, but luckily the weather is inexplicably gorgeous today so he was fine without.

When I first noticed he was wet, I thought how I had wanted to go to lunch and my first reaction was, "well, maybe we have to go straight home".  But I quickly realized that I had the extra pants and was able to make it work.  Totally kept my cool, didn't stress at all.

That initial reaction was my inner parental anxiety telling me that something is not going according to plan.  I am a Type A personality and am working on my own control issues, plus some anxiety regarding my futile, subconscious attempts to be a perfect mother, so little bumps like this, which are really nothing in the grand scheme of having a child, can sometimes stress me out.

I mean, believe me, we've had our giant poop explosions at the grocery store with no back up clothes and we're a half hour from home, or the occasional my toddler wants to nurse in the middle of the checkout line and has pulled half my breast out of my shirt moments.   We always get through.  And by "we" I mean us, parents, mothers, we always get through.  Somehow, either with a sense of humor, or by growing an extra pair of arms, we always get through.

It's liberating to be completely alone with your child when something happens, you deal with it, and then go to lunch unscathed.  Sitting at Noodles & Company, just me and my little pesto-covered boy feels great.  I'm a mother.  This is me spending time with my child and it feels wonderful.


And of course there is the other side of the coin, those days when he's fussy during the entire shopping trip and I drop my cartful of items and leave because I can't take it.  That's what makes days like today so great.  And for me, anxious, Type A me, who is struggling to accept my own imperfections, parenting on the go is a necessary step in my path towards feeling comfortable with my skills as a mother.

One small step for parenting, one giant step for me.

A point of stability

My husband is on vacation this week, and like many of you probably would, I'm taking advantage of having another person around who can entertain/distract Jacob while I get some stuff done.  Of course, this only works to a point.  Because I'm his mother, the one who nurses him, and the one who is with him most of the time, Jacob still comes to me a lot, even when Tim is home.  But he loves his Daddy, and he (and I) have been really enjoying having him home.

Yesterday was a freakishly cold day here in Chicagoland, and so we decided to stay in.  I worked on some crafty projects, and Tim played with Jacob during the times when he wasn't playing independently.  I played with him a little as well, still fed him and nursed him as I always do, and by the end of the day I didn't feel as if I had spent a significantly shorter amount of time with my son as usual.  We only have a small apartment so it's not like we were all in separate rooms.

But as I sat down in his rocking chair to nurse him to bed, Tim lifting Jacob to me after kissing him goodnight, there was a moment.  My baby boy, suspended in front of me at eye level, gave me a great big toothy smile, his baby blues shining at me, and I saw him.  My vision focused in, stalled for a moment, and I really saw him clearly.  I realized that this was the first time I had truly focused in on my son all day.

Despite how many times I picked him up, gave him food, or read to him, I wasn't truly present all day yesterday.  My mind was always whirling, thinking of my next project or the pile of dishes in the sink, and I never really let myself halt, even for a few moments, to be with my son.

We all have days like this from time to time.  Our running to-do lists catch up with us and when we are allotted some time, we naturally go to these tasks.  When our children don't demand our attention (which is sometimes rare) it's easy to divert it.  And this is not wrong, or bad parenting, and our kids won't suffer from the occasional "busy day".  But in that moment, when I saw that giant baby smile, I felt a longing.  Jacob was about to go to sleep, but I wanted to keep him awake.  I wanted to play with him some more, really be with him the way that I hadn't all day.

As sad as I am for the feeling of longing I felt, I am also thankful, because now, when that pile of dishes looms over me and that stress begins to build, I will remember that moment where I saw my boy so clearly, and I will use it to give us both that extra time that we need to just be together.

Why I love nursing a toddler #1

Welcome to the April Carnival of Breastfeeding Hosted by The Motherwear Breastfeeding Blog.
*This was a post I published back in September, but I thought it fit this month's topic of "extended" breastfeeding so here it is again!!


A couple of weeks ago, Jacob was having a rough day.  He resisted his nap, and so by 5pm, the "witching hour" as some like to call it, he was especially fussy.  I had nursed him on the couch, and when he was done, he wanted to stay there and play, which is usually a no-no for me, but since he was so fussy I gave in.

Sitting on the floor in front of the couch, watching him walk from side to side, I let my guard down.  He was having so much fun and seemed to be okay, as long as I stayed where I was.  Just as that thought entered my mind, he began to fling himself down on the side of the couch.  It was like I could see it in slow motion; his tiny head falling right above the (unpadded) arm of the couch, me rising to save him just a moment too late.

The second his mouth hit the arm, he screamed.  No delay, like he had when he was an infant and would accidentally hit his head, no, this was instantaneous pain.  I immediately scooped up my poor hurt boy and ran him to his room.  Holding him on my chest for a few minutes to calm him down, I didn't realize how much blood was coming out of his mouth until he looked at me with tear-stained eyes.

After grabbing a washcloth and dabbing his mouth, I popped my little man on the boob and let him nurse for as long as he wanted.  This turned out to be about 45 minutes straight.  I hadn't done this since he was a newborn, but it felt so good knowing that I was helping ease my baby's pain.

Jacob ended up breaking his upper labial frenulum (the piece of skin holding your top lip to your gums). This is a common way for children with tight frenulums to release some of the pull on their lips, (and make nursing easier!!) but it's no less scary because of that.  Because of the nature of this injury, his mouth would have kept on bleeding for a period of time, but it was boob to the rescue!

Here are the ways that nursing a child with this particular kind of injury is helpful:

• The pressure of the nipple on the cut helps to slow the bleeding.
• Breastmilk is a great way to wash away the leftover dried blood in the mouth.
• Nursing releases oxytocin, which is calming for both mother and baby, helping to calm the hurt little one.

With any kind of injury, particularly when your child is a little toddling machine and the head bumps and face plants are inevitable, being able to nurse your child when they're hurt is mutually beneficial.  It stops their crying, sometimes eases their pain (depending on the injury), and helps to calm you while your baby is preoccupied.  Since Jacob has been a toddler I've had plenty of opportunities to use this wonderful, natural remedy, and I know a lot of mama friends who do the same.  

Just another amazing thing that our bodies can do for our little ones, and the benefits only increase as they get older! 

I am domestic because I choose to be.

According to a 2000 study, when employed men return home after a work day, their blood pressure lowers, while employed women upon returning home have raised blood pressure.  (Marco et al., 2000)  This is biological proof that women feel a stronger pressure to keep their homes clean and organized than men do.  Despite the changes in how women's roles have been viewed over the years, and the growing number of women in the workforce, it is still mainly women who take care of the children and the house, even when they are employed.

When I became a stay at home mother, my responsibilities naturally began to include housework alongside taking care of my son (which I realize is not the case for everyone; many stay at home mothers share the responsibilities of housework with their partners).  And though it seems to make sense with our current situation; my husband works 40 hours a week with a 45 minute commute both ways, coming home just in time for dinner and putting Jacob to bed; I can't help but feel sometimes like I am turning my back on my resolutely feminist 8 year old self who used to proclaim to my homemaker-mother, "When I get married, my husband and I will make dinner together every night and clean the house side by side!".  (My parents still have a very 1950s-style arrangement)

This is not to say that DH is in any way against sharing the load, in fact, he pretty much does whatever I ask of him.  The problem is that, while I believe that our arrangement really is the best way to take care of the house and Jacob, as DH provides the sole income, I sometimes feel that I am trapping myself in a domestic box of tasks that I put more energy into than anything which is purely for myself.  I am not alone in this way of thinking.

Before the advent of electrical appliances such as the dishwasher and the washing machine, women hired servants to help with the housework.  But when these new, power-sucking gadgets were invented, boasting efficiency with daily chores, women were expected to ditch the entourage and, in using these machines, produce a sparkling home, free of any perceivable trace of dirt.  What was made to help the housewife ended up causing more pressure to have a perfect home.

Women have always been expected to do it all; take care of the children, make nutritious and tasty meals (to even the most picky members of the family), keep a clean and organized home, transport children to various extracurricular activities and participate in some ourselves, do all of the shopping for the family (and keep a running inventory of all household items in your head so that you don't miss a thing on any shopping trip), keep track of important dates and appointments, and be loving and attentive wives and mothers.  Where, oh where, in that mess of responsibility does it allow time for Mom to do something for herself?  Maybe something completely alone, something educational, something social, or something that makes Mom feel like a woman or her own person before going back to wearing a mess of hats all at once?

There is no doubt that women feel this type of pressure whether they are employed or work or stay at home.  This pressure can come from your partner, family, or friends, but I believe most of this pressure still comes from society.  Pretty much any ad you see about domestic items all feature women.  Those horrendous swiffer ads that used to run where the woman's mop is singing how much (he, I presume) misses her are offensive.  Really, we're going to compare a woman's romantic life to her mop?!

My husband and I love to play the movie trivia games called Scene It!  There is a game called Scene It! Squabble which pits men against women in a battle of "Guy Movies Vs Chick Flicks".  It's supposed to "break stereotypes" by having the women answer "Guy Movie" questions and the men answer "Chick Flick" questions.  Now, if that weren't offensive enough, because despite my love of a select few romantic comedies (I'm sorry, but Jennifer Garner is just too dang cute in "13 Going on 30") I primarily like to watch movies that have action, science fiction/fantasy, superheroes, etc.  "Guy Movies".  I know way more about "Star Wars" than I do about "Pretty in Pink" and I'm proud of that.

*There's nothing wrong with women loving romantic comedies, that's not what I'm saying, what I'm saying is that it's offensive to assume that women know less about action movies than movies where the female lead is hopeless until she meets a man whom she hates at first, but wouldn't y'know it, ends up falling in love with.  But I digress...

The most offensive thing about Scene It! Squabble are the game pieces.  Are you ready for this feminists, cos it's a doozy!  For the men, the game pieces are a hammer and a sports car.  For the women, a high heeled shoe and a frying pan.  A frying pan?!  


I recognize that I have made a decision that I would stay at home, take care of our son, and lighten the load for DH by taking care of most of the household chores.  But, does being a homemaker and stay at home mother mean that I am no longer a thinking, feeling woman?  According to those swiffer ads, I'm not, because apparently women are in romantic relationships with their floor cleaners.

As I said before, my parents have a very traditional, 1950s-style home life.  My mother has always been a homemaker, and my father worked his 9-5.  When I was young, I resented my mother because of her seemingly subservient role in the family.  I wondered why she let my father be the one who demanded food on the table and a clean house while she had no life of her own.

During undergrad, I interviewed my mother for a project, and discovered that she was not the weak, subservient little housewife that I always imagined, but she was a woman who made a choice when she got married that she wanted children, and wanted to stay home with them, as her mother had done with her.  She loved coming home every day to her mother, and loved helping her in the kitchen, like an iconic mother-daughter baking ad from the era.  It took my mother awhile to realize that I was not going to be like her, and girls my age were not like girls of her generation.  Instead of coming home from school and baking with my mom, I came home and played outside with my friends.

But having this new information about my mother, while it still pains me in knowing all that she's lost (professional skills, computer knowledge, etc.) helps me to see her not as simply a mother and wife, but a woman who made a choice.  Now, I am a woman who has made a choice.  One that I never ever thought that I would make, but I've done it.  And this is not to say that I will never work a full time job outside of the home, in fact, I am working towards my IBCLC so that I can help DH in providing income for our families, but even if I decided to stay home indefinitely, that would be my choice.

In the meantime, I am at home, and I cook, and clean, and take care of my child, but that does not mean that I am a caricature.  Stay at home mother or homemaker does not equal mindless Stepford Wife.

I'll take the hammer, please.

Mommy Wars...again?

As I am writing this, my son is only 11 months old, which, in the grand scheme of life, makes me relatively new to this whole motherhood adventure.  My blog is even younger than my son is, so I know that what I am about to discuss has been a very long and ongoing problem amongst the community of mothers, and particularly those who frequent online blogs and websites.

I am getting very tired of the "Mommy Wars".  For those of you who are not familiar with the concept, you are either ridiculously lucky to not have experienced the effects for yourself, or you just never knew that it had a name assigned to it.

The "Mommy Wars" is a term used to discuss the judgement and ridicule from mother-to-mother regarding differences in parenting issues and practices.  Stay at home moms versus working moms have been at it for decades.  Breastfeeding versus formula feeding.  And most recently, at least on the sites that I frequent the most and in my personal life, Attachment-style parenting versus the Babywise or Ferber methods.

Let me preface this entire tirade by admitting my own personal judgements and faults.  I am human.  I am a mother.  And I make judgements, just like everyone else.  I am just as guilty of feeling sorry for a baby being left to cry alone for an hour as someone who may feel that I am creating an overly dependent child by picking up my son when he cries.  And while I do have judgements, I like to think that I try my darndest not to express them to those whom I think these thoughts.  Because in my life, my friendships are vastly more important to me than a debate in parenting style.

I have friends who have a different approach to raising their children than I do, and you know what, that's okay.  It's perfectly fine.  In fact, it's what makes us individuals, and as far as I know, there is no such magical parenting style that creates the perfect, independent-yet-trusting, obedient-to-a-fault wonder child.

Obviously, as a Certified Lactation Counselor, I have a very strong opinion when it comes to breastfeeding.  There is absolutely no debating the health benefits, as hard as one tries.  It is healthier for a child than formula.  However.  We know that not every single baby who is formula fed is destined to a life of chronic ear infections and obesity.  And we know that not every breastfed baby glides through life never getting ill.  Statistics prove that breastfeeding is healthier for a child, but every child is different.

And every mother is different.  And while I have my strong opinions and researched, evidence-based information supporting the benefits of breastfeeding, I know mothers who either chose to formula feed from birth, or weaned their babies after six months because they felt that it was right for them.  We all do what we know is best at the time.  

We are always going to have our own opinions, and I can tell your right now that I will still vent to my husband about why I can't bring myself to let Jacob cry himself to sleep.  However, I care much more about the people in my life than the possible reasons why they do things differently than me.  It doesn't matter in the vast realm of my life that we have different parenting styles, what matters is when people offend me or other mothers in their judgements.

When you call someone who picks up their baby every time they cry a "child worshipper", it's offensive.


When you call someone who leaves their baby to cry themselves to sleep "neglectful", it's offensive.


When you say that someone who breastfeeds their baby over a year is "selfish", it's offensive.


When you say that someone who chooses to wean their baby is "selfish", it's offensive.

We will always have our differences, our opinions are what makes us individuals.  But in all of our opposing viewpoints; breastfeeding, formula feeding, attachment, cry-it-out, baby led napping, parent led scheduling, spoon feeding, baby led weaning, cloth, disposable, public schooling, home schooling, unschooling, whatever the case may be, we are all mothers.  And we all struggle.  We all laugh, cry, feel immense guilt and pressure, feel overwhelmed and overjoyed, are prideful of our developing children, are worried that our children are not as developed as others, have supportive partners or are doing it on our own, we are all mothers.

"The heart of a mother is a deep abyss at the bottom of which you will always find forgiveness."