Warm Chocolate Milk

Good Crazy!

2012-01-21T13:51:00.000-08:00

Life is crazy right now,REALLY crazy with these three. I lined them up and snapped this photo the other day. I have it as my lock screen on my phone and I keep looking at it and thinking about how lucky I am. It's crazy, but good crazy!!

To cry it out, or not to??

2012-01-16T13:21:00.001-08:00

I would write a post about sleep deprivation and how I really don't believe in the "cry it out" method and think it's probably best to comfort your baby and keep her close. I would also add though, that I hate it that people judge and that there is SO MUCH guilt involved in those times when you've done everything you can, when you've rocked and fed and changed and fed again and so, after 4 hours, you make the decision to put baby in her own room, in the crib, just so you can lay down and close your eyes for a few minutes .... but you lay there and all you think about is if you're psychologically damaging her as you lay there and listen to the faint screams from the other room. So you get her, and you sit in the chair with her, but then you wonder if you're psychologically damaging yourself...and your other kids, not to mention the hubby who you used to laugh with, you know, what's his name???So then you put her in the co-sleeper, but she cries some more, so you pull her over and feed her while you lie down and close your eyes just for a minute (but there's this voice in the back of your head, this LOUD voice, that yells, if you fall asleep and suffocate her it won't matter if she's psychologically intact or not. So you drag yourself up... Back in the chair..... And wipe your eyes with a cold wet baby wipe. Yea. I would write a post about that if I wasn't so damn tired!

And just so you don't worry, I took her to the doctor today, because I was just sort of hoping (well, not really hoping, but thinking) that maybe she had an ear infection, or something, and maybe it was the cause of the sleeplessness, and that they'd just hand me an antibiotic, or something, and we'd be all good! Well.... She's "all good" not sick even a little bit. :)

Correction

2012-01-12T14:47:00.001-08:00

In last post... "Now" not "not". Ashleigh is NOW full time breastfeeding. I am so glad :)

Hard work pays off!

2012-01-12T14:26:00.000-08:00

For those of you I have not already updated, Ashleigh Hope is now full time feeding at the breast (except every other Saturday when I work at the clinic for 6 hours). I am so happy. There is no more pumping and bottles and washing and syringes and tubes taped to breasts! No more frustration, just mama and baby and some Fenugreek tea.

Ash now weighs over 10 lbs! She is two months old and in the 25th percentile for her weight, but we're happy with that. My grandmother was a very petite lady, so maybe she takes after her.

Lately we've hit a wall with sleeping though. Namely..... Ash just doesn't like it much. Sleep, that is. Which makes for a very tired, very forgetful, very weepy mama at times. She has been "sleeping" in the co-sleeper beside my bed since we brought her home from the hospital. But Last night after several hours of off/on nursing, crying and restless "resting", I put her into her crib in the room next to ours. I just HAD to sleep. ................Oh the guilt. Lots of guilt with that, and after going into her room 4 or 5 times and moving the fan in there and a nightlight we both fell asleep for a few hours until she woke and I brought her to my bed to nurse again.

I snapped this photo today while we were home along. Wes is at school and Nana came to take Liam ice skating. As you can see from the dark circles under my eyes, I still have not had rest, but as the smile on my face shows I am so happy and in love with the sweet little face next to mine.

This is what early motherhood is.... Bliss, exhaustion, and love.

It goes so fast I know. So fast that sometimes in the blur of sleep deprivation you almost miss it. I'm trying very hard to burn these memories into the back of my mind. I think she is my last little one. It's bittersweet. A part of my will be glad to move past the baby days and onto big kid stuff with my three, but another part will miss that little 2 month old face of hers, as I miss those baby boy faces I used to kiss.

Until next time...... take care.

Good Enough

2011-12-26T16:54:00.000-08:00

It's good to feel appreciated! I made it through the holidays this year without my annual tantrum! I think I am mellowing a bit in my middle age. I've decided the key is to lower your expectations. Sounds depressing when I say it like that, but it's really not bad. So, we didn't get to the popcorn and cranberries we usually string onto the tree, and we forgot to sing Happy Birthday to baby Jesus when we ate the cupcakes, Ash pooped on her dress, and my Christmas socks were in the wash on the 25th. I may not have snapped the "perfect" holiday photo but ah well. Really my Christmas was just as good anyway.... probably better.

I think it's Ashleigh's presence that has made me realize these things. There seriously is just no time for perfection when I have three little brown- eyed faces staring up at me each day, so we gotta strive for "good enough". And even with my "good enough" these past few month, despite all my shortcomings and mistakes, my oldest still gave me this mug for Christmas, so I think we're doing okay.

Merry Christmas!!

2011-12-24T13:35:00.000-08:00

Hope you are enjoying your time with family and friends!!

I'm wishing you all the best in 2012!

It takes what it takes, and it's hard to see the sun when you're standing in the middle of the Hurricane.

2011-11-16T13:00:00.000-08:00

Things are going better, with the nursing, and with other things too. The storm is settling a bit. The sun is peering through all that "cloudy". Which is good....

I'm still frustrated though. Yes, the progress is great and when I look back to where we were 3 weeks ago I am truly greatful to be able to now hold Ashleigh in my arms and nurse her. But as with many things in life the improvement does not seem to be happening fast enough. I've never been good at being patient. My lactation consultant pointed out to me the overall progress, saying that she knows it's hard for me to see when I'm in the midst of the hurricane...... and she's right. We've come so far. We've worked so hard and we really should be thrilled with all the great things we've accompished together, Ashleigh and me.

My mother, she keeps saying "It takes what it takes" meaning if it takes 6 weeks, or 8 weeks, or whatever, to get her to nurse, well it does not matter. She'll get there. And I know she will.....

It's kind of ironic in a way. I mean, if she's anything like me she'll battle the pudge all her life. So why is eating and gaining weight such a problem now? When she's 19 and complaining to me about her underarms or her soft belly I'll tell her about how I had to pump after breastfeeding her and scape the fat off the top of the settled milk to give her the extra calories. She'll shudder at the thought, and I'm sure blame me for her current state.

But where we stand today, I'm sick of pumping. I really do love/hate that pump. And I feel bad that I cannot meet her needs on my own, just at my breast. It goes back to that whole caveman theory. Would she survive if we were living in a cave and didn't have breastpumps, lactation consultants, infant scales, SNS feeders, droppers etc? Thankfully we have these tools.... but I still wish we didn't need them.

Cloudy

2011-11-07T06:18:00.000-08:00

I sit in the bathtub watching the milk literally poor from my breasts, clouding the water around me. "This has got to be some sort of test", I mutter to myself. My baby sleeps in the next room. She sleeps soundly full from the bottle she gulped a few hours ago.

I've resorted to holy water now. After two weeks of taping a tube to my breast, dripping my pumped milk into her mouth as she spits it back out, after two weeks of stretching a too small shield over my nipple, and two weeks of tears, and pleading, and practicing... I feel all that's left to try is the holy water. After my bath I sprinkle a few drops on my breasts and then go into her room to make a cross with it on her forehead. I've never been very religious, but like jail or the Superbowl, breastfeeding troubles seems to bring out the God in people.

I think back to when Weston and Liam were infants. I know I struggled nursing them too, but somehow the memories are cloudy. I remember tears. I remember sitting in the Lactation Consultant's office. I remember arguing with nurses, but the details have been lost. That's good I think. I don't want to remember this part of Ashleigh's infancy. Instead I'll replace these memories with the sweet smell of her hair, the feel of her smooth skin next to mine....I'll remember how Liam loves to kiss her and Weston is so proud.

There are times when it feels completely hopeless and I have visions of pumping every day for the next two years and I can hardly bare it. "One day at a time." Like an alcoholic, that's my breastfeeding mantra.

If I didn't have the boys, I think I'd go insane. I'm thankful for their distractions. No one can focus on this 24 hours a day. When something so important goes so wrong you tend to forget about all the things that are going right. I have Weston and Liam to remind me.

Look at this picture (I've been staring at it for hours). The image might not be crystal clear but when I look at it I am reminded...I have three healthy beautiful kids, a nice warm house and a husband who loves me. Whether Ashleigh sips her breast milk from skin or plastic really is not here nor there in the big scheme of things. I snuggle her skin-to-skin. Her needs are met and her family is close. The years will cloud the details but that will remain.

Post-Partum Ramblings

2011-11-06T15:08:00.001-08:00

Today as I stared down at her perfect little sleeping face, I thought about how lucky I am to have her. How I have dreamed about her, and wanted her for as long as I can remember. I thought about how there were many times I thought I'd never get her. That'd I'd never have her to hold in my arms, (tears were welling up in my eyes- as those of you who have been in this state know, they come so easy these days)....and then, her lip quivered (and my tears of joy turned to tears of fear).

In the moments that followed my mind raced with the thoughts of, "OMG she is going to wake up and I am going to have to FEED her!!!" (feeding has become such a challenge) and then to "What kind of horrible mother fears for her child to wake up?" and then " .... ME that's what kind!"

It starts early with this little one, the "mother guilt". She is having trouble breastfeeding. I think it's a combination of things that has caused the problem. A perfect storm of sorts, and I can only hope and pray that time and patience will be the cure. Those of you who know me know how important breastfeeding is to me. So it's kind of ironic, and I can't help but think, Is she doing this on purpose? To make a fool of me? Is this how she rebels.. already, at 2 weeks? What did I do to deserve this?

Ah yes, the "the Mother guilt" is thick here.

Do you think Father's have "Father guilt" ?? .....doubt it.

More Than Pretty

2011-10-31T12:12:00.000-07:00

Now that I've been the mother to a daughter for all of a week (literally one week). I've started realizing I say to her, "You are such a pretty girl "(she is) about 35 times per day.

I'm doing it to her already.

I didn't tell my boys that often that they were handsome at one week old. Instead I said things like, "You're my big guy" or "You are so sweet!" So as I sat their holding my baby girl in my arms, drenched in pink and heard that phrase "Such a pretty girl" escape my lips for the third time in about 5 minutes, I sort of had a freak out!

I'm doing it to her already....placing value on her looks rather than on her capabilities (and I call myself a feminist!??!) So while I'm working on changing my own lexicon for baby girls, I'm also noticing the words that come from others. "Princess" seems to be a top choice.

I was once at a gathering where a mother of daughters was telling us why she avoids the whole princess campaign. She said, "Princesses represent inherited wealth. What does a princess do? other than look pretty (good question). Princesses represent beauty and women values for their image. This image is what every 5 year old girl hopes to become. So when she's 13 and looks into the mirror and a "princess" she does not see... well, it can be hard on the self esteem."

Even before I had a daughter I could understand this, now I really do. I don't want that for Ashleigh.

So I've been doing a lot of thinking about this over the past couple of days. My first reaction was to ban the pink! (But I like pink..... and glitter, and ruffles...).

There's nothing wrong with the color pink. Pink is not the problem (and everyone knows that a little glitter always makes life better). The pink comes down the the "just because I'm a feminist does not mean I want to be a man" See earlier post (click here). She can be a girly girl. In fact I want her to be a girl who is proud to be a girl!

So, I'm okay with the pink and the glitz, but I am not okay with the words. I'm not okay with the typical American narrow view of beauty, the Barbie phenomenon. So it begins today. From today forward I will praise her for a good breastfeeding latch, for a nice long nap, for the projection she is able to obtain creating such a loud voice from such a little body. I will speak this priase to her all while dressing her in pink (and other colors too).

I'm not saying I'll be perfect, or even that it's not okay to tell she's pretty (like I said, she is!)once in awhile. I just want to be sure I let her know that there is so much more to her than that. So much more...

***Fair warning**** If you buy my daughter a Barbie or a t-shirt of bib that says "princess", it's going in the trash!

Skiing

2011-10-28T00:14:00.000-07:00

The nurse I had at the hospital this time kept comparing breastfeeding to skiing. "It's like learning to ski" she would say, at one point referring to my breasts as "used equipment". Well, sure... it's like learning to ski and the learning curve is steep and hard and it takes time and practice and I get that, but Ashleigh and I, I feel like we haven't even climbed to the top of the mountain yet.

I know so much about breastfeeding, but that does not make Ashleigh open her mouth any wider, or able to know how to use her tongue in the right way... and she really does not care how much of an "expert" I am. When it's hard, it's hard, and who likes to do something hard?

I don't blame her, but it's so frustrating and the tears they come so easily these days, like some big river that cuts right through that ski hill mountain.

Why does it have to be hard AGAIN? I ask myself. I struggled with BOTH Weston and Liam and I know so much more now and I'm doing everything "right". Why the hardness? Why the mountain??

All I can think is God does this to help me. To help me be more humble (it does not matter what you "know") and to help me to be a a more understanding, more compassionate, and more creative Lactation Consultant some day. I need to remember these days, the foggy, exhausted, emotional frustrating days...... when I meet with patients who want to quit. I get it. I really do. But I also know how gratifying it is when they do get it, and how worth it. How empowering and how cool. They need to know this, too. I need to show them that it's worth climbing that mountain, and even worth the falls and even injuries on the first few trips down it's steep slope. It's so worth it. As I sit here at the bottom of the rocky side and I can't wait to be smooth sailing and free flying down the sunny side with the wind at my back. Ashleigh and I, we will get there. We will......

Good Intentions, But Bad Mothering

2011-10-09T18:22:00.000-07:00

Some times even when we have the best of intentions we screw up. That was me tonight. It had been another 80 degree day IN OCTOBER and I am almost 38 weeks pregnant. I'm tired and out of sorts.

I "went through the motions" of a bath for Liam. Weston was downstairs watching Transformers, Nate on the Computer. I pulled him out of the tub and brought him into my room and set him naked , except for a towel, on the bed and, laid his pajamas and his wart medicine next to him on the bed and went back to the bathroom to get a band-aid.

See, Liam has a large plantars wart on his foot. I have been diligently putting "just a drop" of this medication on the wart each night for 3 1/2 weeks now. Just one drop and a band-aid, then we move on to pajamas and bedtimes stories. This is tedious. I know. But I decided it was a better option for a 3 year old than the wart freeze stuff at the doctors office. "Less traumatic" I had decided.

On my way back from the bathroom I heard a scream and when I entered the room, there he sat..... Towel off, cap of wart medicine open, and a pool of the skin burning liquid on his hands, legs, and the bed.

Yep. I panicked.

I scooped him up and ran to the bathroom and started splashing and rubbing soap and water all over him. In my frantic application I got some soap in his eyes. By this point we were both screaming and Nate came running. Thank God I have a calm husband.

In the end it's just a few blisters and some reddened skin. He'll be fine.

But I'm kicking myself for the stupidity. A split second decision to go back and get a band-aid leaving a toddler with a harmful medication without a childproof top. It could have been much worse. I keep thinking if I just would have gotten the wart taken care of at the Doctor's office in the first place this would not have happened. I made that decision because I thought it was "less traumatic" but this option turned out to be much more so.

Good intentions..... bad mothering. (sigh).

3 More Weeks

2011-10-03T09:04:00.000-07:00

Everywhere I go people keep saying to me, "It must be any day." Or "You haven't had that baby, yet?" This is hard. I still have three weeks to go. This is just what my body does. It expands.... and expands, and no I'm not having twins.

Yes I'm sure.

I've been here before..... I'm down to the waiting, the agonizing, anxious waiting.

This is probably my last, so even in the agony I'm trying (really hard) to savor it. I'll never be here again. In this "with child" state. So even though there are parts I hate, I'm trying to focus on the things I love. I'm trying to think about how I'll tell this child, in years to come, how "I grew you in my 'tummy'" and how "I felt you kick and hiccup and turn and it was so silly". How "I dreamed of what you would be like you're even better than my mind could imagine." and How "I loved you even then".

I'm trying to think about the miracle of it all instead of the circumference of my thighs and the anxiety I have of all that's going on. Why is it that these days, these long days, are always so much better though the haze of nostalgia? Why do the years make you forget the discomfort and the fear that they bring?

This should really be the most worry free time. My baby bundle is safe and warm and I know where, he or she is, and that they're happy (probably). What more does a mother need?

For me the worrying begins as soon as the lines on the stick turn pink. I keep thinking it will get better, (the anxiety),..... when they're born... when they can sit up.. or walk, or talk, or when I can trust them not to put things in their mouth, or trip down the stairs.

But it never leaves.

It only changes. Will other kids make fun of his new haircut? Will his seatmate be nice? Will his teacher be patient? Will he skate as well in the hockey game as he wants to?

That's what being a mother is. The worry. But thankfully it's also the joy. No one is as happy for him when he scores that goal. No one else understands exactly what each wrinkle in his forehead means as it pertains to his mood and his thoughts. That is saved for me.

I'm so glad I get to experience it all again. To live it X3. My heart is expanding with the rest of me. Already starting to fill with more love for this new member of our family.

Three more weeks.

Where We Are

2011-09-28T15:21:00.000-07:00

The weather is cooling down. Thank God! We're 3 weeks into the school year with about 3 weeks to go until baby #3 arrives and things are.....well... "challenging".

Second grade is hard. There are a lot of expectations in 2nd grade. (It's changed a lot in the past 26 years since I was there.) I think especially since Wes is such a physically big kid and the older brother, it's sometimes easy to forget that he's just a 7 year old boy (and maybe emotionally a little younger than that). He's had a lot of changes recently and more to come on the horizon. He's so much like me. And let's face it, if it were me standing in those size 3 sneakers... I'd be FREAKING OUT! So why am I the least bit surprised?

His "freak outs", I've found, are contagious. My 3 year old seems to somehow be immune (more on this (Perpetual Christmas type child later), but I am definitely totally susceptible to the "freak". I blame it on my weakened pregnancy state, but the truth is it's just who we are (Wes and me)... "freakers". The weirdest part is the guilt. There is just. so. much. guilt... with motherhood in general, but especially for me in parenting this boy. Guilt for what I've done and not done, and think and don't think. Maybe it's because he's my first... my parenting experiment.

We've had some "memorable" mornings here in the Berlien household lately. There have been tears (mine included) and arguing, and there might even have been some flying hair gel. For the sake of sparing my children (and myself) some embarrassment as they read this in years to come, I think we'll just leave it at that.

One particularly difficult morning I found myself standing in the 2nd grade hallway at Weston's elementary school, with no makeup, no shower, and a shirt that was several sizes too small for my swollen 36 week pregnant belly (and body). There I stood holding a used tissue in one hand and Weston's backpack in the other, thinking that this MUST be some sort of punishment for my adolescent years, when I heard some incredible word's of wisdom out of the mouth of a 7 year old boy (not my own) who was hanging up his coat nearby. He said, "I don't want to be here right now either, but it's just where we are (shoulder shrug). We have too." In that moment I was so grateful for these words. I watched the color come back into my Weston's face as he heard them spoken. Wes's eyes widened and he said, "You don't like school either??!!" but what he was really saying was..... you are now my new best friend and I love you!!!!

"Who does?" The boy responded. "It sucks!"

I wanted to hug him, this gangly toothless child stranger. I swear I almost did. But since I don't know this kid, I decided against it. I was so happy to see the connection it made in Weston and feel the validation it caused in me. We needed it.

Thank you God for landing this child in the right place at the right time. We both needed to hear that it's okay that we are not "loving" things right now, but it's just where we are and, really, exactly where we need to be.

My First Video...

2011-09-27T19:00:00.000-07:00

I recently made a video (a few actually). I wanted to share one here with you but either I am completely incompetent or something sis wrong with Blogger video upload (I prefer to believe it's the latter) Anywa,y if you are interested, you can find this one on Motherhood and more by checking out my youtube channel Warmchocmilk. See link below. Thanks!

http://www.youtube.com/user/warmchocmilk?feature=mhee

Independent Minds

2011-08-02T15:19:00.000-07:00

The longer I am a parent the more I realize that my kids really do have independent minds of their own.

That I can't force them to act or think in a certain way or say the things I want them to say.

Sometimes this is incredibly frustrating.

Sometimes it makes me worry to the point of tears..... but other times it makes me drop my mouth open in brilliant amazement, in pure awe of who they are....

Today I had a little of both (the frustration and the amazement). I'll choose to share with you the later.

My Weston created this caterpillar/ dragon fly for his new sibling out of garbage, and I just LOVE it!!!..... and HIM so much more than all the frustration in the world.

He's mine.

28 Weeks

2011-07-28T18:21:00.000-07:00

Hi all- I just wanted to give a little update. I'm 28 weeks now and getting very excited to meet this little one who's been keeping me up at all hours of the night and causing my ankles to look like marshmallows.

My boys are doing well. Weston is toothless and spunky and preparing for 2nd grade, 1st communion, and Mite Hockey try-outs this year.

Liam had ear surgery this summer and is doing well. He learned to swim, said good-bye to diapers (even at night!) and starts pre-school this fall.

My quest toward becoming a Lactation Consultant is in full swing. I'm loving every education hour, every class, and every minute of contact with breastfeeding mamas and babies that I get. Nate and I found a babysitter that we trust and who is often available so we've had some lunches and even a few evenings out sans little boys!

I can't wait to post photos of our new little addition in 12 short weeks!!! Take Care, Susan

Update

2011-04-14T08:07:00.001-07:00

Just wanted to give a little update to those of you who used to read my blog and know my heart. I am pregnant with our third child! (Yay!!) Due in October. I am over-the-moon thrilled.

Also, in other news I have started teaching breastfeeding classes at the clinic where I work, and my preceptorship at the Breast Feeding Resource Center is going splendid.

Life. is. good.

2011-02-01T02:01:00.000-08:00

I'm no longer writing posts over here. But if you are interested in Breastfeeding information please "like" my facebook page, "Bosom Buddies". Thank you!

Time to Step it Up!

2011-01-31T06:59:00.000-08:00

Over the years we have facilitated a culture that undermines the amazing ability of women's bodies to create a substance that is far superior to what is concocted in a laboratory. In the media we objectify women's breasts by viewing them as purely sexual objects and we fail to depict breastfeeding as the norm. Finally the U.S. surgeon general has said, "enough is enough!" by issuing a statement last Thursday calling us to action to help make breastfeeding easier for America's mothers. This call to action is not only directed at companies who have the ability to support breastfeeding by allowng time and space to pump, but it is also directed at YOU the American public. You have the ability to support breastfeeding through your attitudes about breasts and breastfeeding. ....And trust me, we NEED you.

While the American Academy of pediatrics recommends breastfeeding for one year, only 13% of mothers are currently doing so exclusively at even 6 months. This is not only a public health concern, but an economic issue for our country as well. A study done by the U.S department of agriculture concluded that a minimum of $3.6 billion anually would be saved if the prevalence of exclusive breastfeeding increased from current rates to the Surgeon General's goals (Weimer 2001).

So the next time you see a women huddled in the corner with a blanket drapped over her shoulder. Please don't get red-faced and embarrased or make a rude comment. Boldly walk over, congratulate her, and thank her. It's the least you could do. Really.

Susan

What happened???

2010-12-01T12:20:00.000-08:00

Well, I lasted about as long blogging as I did breastfeeding. Maybe there's something poetic in that, or maybe it just says I get bored of things easily, (even things I'm passionate about, which is maybe not one of my better glaring personality traits).

Lucky for my husband and children the concept does not apply to my feelings toward the humans in my life. Nope. I'm pretty much still as crazy about the three of them as I've always been, and don't see my obsession lightening up anytime soon.

So people keep asking me, "What happened to the blog?"

I don't know. It just died I guess. I'm not saying it won't make a revival. Easter time is just around the corner and you all know weird ideas surface in my head when I start making analogies. Anyway, whatever the reason I've decided (for now) my story is done being told to the public. It's not too exciting a story anyway so I think you are all better off reading something by Chelsea Handler (that was a joke...she has no story of any value whatsoever but for some reason I am fascinated by her filth and hang desperately on to each and every word she writes..that's talent!)

I'm focusing on other creative efforts for now, quilting, scrap booking and cleaning last months Popsicle slime off the entry way rug.....you know, that sort of thing. I'm also trying to get my career going.( and when the career of your dreams is one that barely exists...it sure takes a lot of work) One of the things this blog was good for was helping me to figure that out (what I want to do with my life). Post after post of my rambling about breastfeeding helped me to realize it's one of the only things. besides my mother my husband or my kids, that can bring me so much joy, such a sense of accomplishment, and also can drive me so stark staring mad that I want to stick my hand down the garbage disposal (and aside from the personal injury part.....I think that's a good thing.)

Who knows? You may hear from me again. In a few weeks my fickle fingers may start aching for the keypad, or in a couple years you might catch a glimpse of my mug grinning back at you from the inside of a novel at Barnes and Noble. You'll know it's mine because the title will be something about Porn Star Boobs, Vampires, or Little Girl's Who Win Arm Wrestling Matches Against Boys On The Playground And Grow Up To Be Sarah Palin (you get the idea...something feministic).

So long my friends. Thanks for the laughs, the comments, and the heartfelt sympathies. You've helped me in ways I don't yet even understand.

See ya!

Be "Nice" To The Breast Nazis.

2010-11-09T12:18:00.002-08:00

Breast Nazi’s, Boob Police, Le Leche Ladies, there are a lot of names out there for lactation consultants. It seems most mothers either love them or hate them. Breastfeeding is an emotional issue for many. Opinions are strong and tempers are quick to flare when the subject comes up (and it comes up...a lot).

Worship or despise them they are now, more than ever, a growing and influential part of the health care team for both mothers and infants. I’m lucky enough to be on my journey to joining this exciting profession. Last week I completed the first step, a one week intensive course that involved a lot of images of enormous breasts on a slide projector in a large room full of passionate outspoken women.

It was fantastic! I don’t often get to have three meals a day with people who agree with me so much (some of them were even Twilight freaks as well). We learned about all the anatomical structures of the breast and how milk is produced. We learned about diseases and conditions that affect breastfeeding and what role medications play. We discussed study after study (after study and replicated study) that outlined the positive health benefits to feeding human milk to human babies, and the detriments and deficiencies in formula.

All that was wonderful, but I think the reason I connected with these woman is that “they get it”. These women understand that breastfeeding is so much more than milk.

Breastfeeding rates in this country are embarrassingly low. I saw one statistic that states only 12% of woman are exclusively breastfeeding at 6 months, even though the Academy of Pediatrics recommends exclusive breastfeeding for at least a year. Changes need to be made in our hospital practices and in our cultural beliefs about breasts and breastfeeding. A study by Bhandari in 2008 estimated that 13 billion dollars could be saved annually if we met the breastfeeding goals put out by the surgeon generals. This as you can see is a crisis.

I came home even more enthusiastic about this new profession than I already was. I ‘ve begun bringing it up in conversation pretty much any chance I get, not only at work ,but with friends and even strangers in line with me at Target. "Did you know I'm going to be a lactation consultant? I'm super excited!"

I’m intrigued that the most common response I get when professing my fascination with my new occupation is..something like this, “Well, I hope you aren’t going to be one of the mean ones…the lactation consultant my sister had was so pushy….”

I don’t know how to respond to that. When you tell someone you are going to be a barista at the local coffee shop no one says “ I hope you’ll be one of the nice ones.” Or even if you tell them you are working toward your PhD in Anthropology..."nice" just usually doesn't factor in when you choosing your life's work (at least not for me I guess).

I’m sorry these people had a bad experience. I don’t know what to say about that, Maybe that woman had a bad day or maybe her words were perceived in such a negative light through the hormonal haze and fog that is new motherhood.

I will tell you this. People don’t go in to the lactation profession for the perks or the prestige. They go into it because they are passionate about breastfeeding. They understand the emotional and health ramifications involved and so when a woman says they are going to quit (especially of the lactation consultant thinks this decision was made prematurely or based on inaccurate information), she may come across as disappointed.

Lactation consultants see our main role in addition to educating and supporting the mother and maintaining her milk supply, as advocating for baby and preserving a part of biological nurturing that is so vital to our survival it defines us as mammals.

Lactation consultants are trying to make changes, and as you know change is often met with fervent resistance. Charisma helps to facilitate ones message, but it takes strong minded passionate individuals, who are not afraid of criticism to prevail. Please remember this the next time you ask them to be “nice”.

Anti-bullying: What will happen to society when the playground lessons cease?

2010-10-28T11:11:00.002-07:00

If Weston picks his nose on the playground when I’m not there, I kinda want the other kids to say, “What the heck are you doing? Ya weirdo? That’s gross!!”

A certain amount of “bullying” seems to help kids learn what is appropriate. We all know their peer judgments seem to be a lot more important than their parents. Kids are contsantly testing their limits. Weston will sometimes, when annoyed at his brother, do something not as blatant as hit him, but something more questionable, like shut his hand in a book. Then he look at me like, “What do you think of this mom? This okay?”

Part of me thinks that mild bullying is part of a natural and important ridicule process that that teaches kids about socialization. What if the “anti-bullying” laws become so strict that kids are afraid to object to these sorts of behaviors amongst their peers? What will the future look like? How will these kids function in society if no one says anything about them walking around with their hands down their pants at age 6?

Certainly it’s not right to tolerate severe bullying. But where do we draw the line? And to what extent if any should the judicial system be involved?

Last year when a boy kept spitting in Weston’s face (and other kids’) on the bus, I was the first one to call the principle. I thought I wanted that child kicked off the bus, but as time went I realized that a better justification was to teach Weston to fight back –with words, and to stand up for himself. To know that there is nothing wrong with him and that it’s the kid who is spitting who has the problem.

What happened to Pheobe Prince is devastating. I don’t know all the details. I must admit though, when I heard she had slept with several boys on the football team and was flirting and being seductive with several more (more with girlfriends). I thought to myself, “Well getting a little flack for that sort of thing is probably okay.” Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad for her to learn early that, that sort of behavior is not well tolerated.

It seems possible that what turned this tragic was not the bullying itself, but Pheobe’s response to it.

I’ve learned the hard way a time or two that things go more smoothly for me in life if I keep my mouth closed more than it is open. Some opinions are best kept to myself; especially at certain times. Peer reactions have shown me this, and in the long run, I’m a better person for it.

Dreamy Days

2010-10-24T14:03:00.000-07:00

I picked up a leaf off the driveway as we were all piling into the car. A bright yellow and orange symbol of the season. I handed it to Nate when I sat down and said, "Look at this leaf, it's perfect!"

He smiled, took the leaf from my hand and poked the stem though the loop in the air freshener on the rear view mirror, "Just like our day!" He said.

I kept glancing at that leaf, on the way too and from the pumpkin patch and throughout the rest of the day, thinking about our trip to Zoo Boo and our daddy-made dinner and all the great recent times. It was perfect.

That was yesterday.

Not everyday can be that sort of dreamy movie-like perfection, of course. It's just not possible. So it was only inevitable that today would fall short.

Today I glanced at the leaf still hanging in the car...... now crumpled and faded. I stifled a laugh. It's comical. Life.

Today there were too many activities crammed into too short of time frame. It was one of those days when the kids were short on sleep and the parents were short on patience, the house is a mess, my cough seems to be coming back and I'm too exhausted to even think about dinner. (Read : NOT perfection here).

I want every day to be like the dreamy days. It's funny, life is just not like that. Often times after I put my kids to sleep I lay in bed "missing them". When the day is done and their eyes are closed it's easy to think of them in that dream-like sort of way. It's easy to focus on their perfection. Why is it so much harder to have that mindset when they are awake?

Does it make me a terrible person that I seem to like my family best when they are sleeping?

Congested

2010-10-18T04:13:00.000-07:00

My head is congested, not only with the phelgmy remnant's of this virus I can’t seem to kick, but also with thoughts. The ideas are getting all clogged up; ideas about loans, contact hours, daycare, budgets then run to ideas about how to motivate Weston in school and wondering if he’s challenged enough, from there the worrying thoughts continue,…. How will I ever wean Liam off his pacifier? Why is he not interested in potty training? Are we consuming too many juice boxes? …They then can get really deep and sorted as I ponder my desire for a third child while simultaneously thinking about things like our budget, my career, or the importance of “zero population growth”.

Thankfully yesterday I found the remedy for this type of congestion (the thought kind, the phlegm kind I’m still working on, if you figure that out will you let me know). Out on the lawn, below a stretch of clear blue sky we caught some of the last precious rays of autumn sunshine as we hurled, propelled, and plunged our bodies into the crunchy cool pile of leaves. My thought drifted like leaves caught by a gust leaving me clear, peaceful, and happy as I looked at my two smiling boys bounce. Their joy is contagious.