Pumping Survival Kit

Even though we said goodbye a couple of years ago, Miss Medela made her way back into my life.

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Being a breastfeeding mom AND a full-time working mom was NOT how nature intended motherhood to work—it is not natural to be sitting hooked up to a noisy pump while your baby is rocking peacefully in someone else’s arms. Sorry Miss Medela—I just don’t bond with you quite like I bond with my child.

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Not only is it not natural, and not providing the nurturing connection between mother and child, it’s damn difficult. Every chance you get, you’re sitting by yourself with your pump. Forget eating lunch or taking a break with your colleagues. A working-nursing mom’s only lunch buddy is Miss Medela. And the relationship doesn’t end when you leave work. Every night you’re washing the pump parts out, making sure you have everything ready for the next day when you’ll be lunching again with your only work friend—the pump. Now, I do consider myself lucky because I work in a school where every two classrooms are connected by a back office. There is an extreme amount of privacy AND I can keep Miss Medela set up all of the time. I do not have to put it away or pack it up or carry it back and forth from home to work. And thank goodness, I do not have to pump in a bathroom, like others have had to do!

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For those of us who do not produce a whole lot of excess milk, pumping can be damn stressful. Before I went back to work, milk production was not a problem. I would sit in by nursing group and listen to the moms asking for advice on how to increase their milk production because they were “falling behind” now that they’ve returned to work. Been there. Done that. Happened to me with my first child. Probably going to be there again, I thought.

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Incidentally I have a friend who would literally pump an extra five ounces (like a WHOLE extra bottle) every morning. This is just not human. For me, I was elated if I had a surplus of just a few ounces a day. I was pretty diligent in building up my freezer supply before I had to return to work. And I was blessed that my maternity leave, coupled with the teacher-summer-off, made my little boy a whopping 7 months old when I returned to work full-time. Seven months of exclusive, uninterrupted, as-nature-intended breastfeeding.

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I do have a few things I’ve learned along the way that have made my relationship with Miss Medela go a little more smoothly.

The following is what I would call my pumping survival kit:
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1. A multitude of ways to make your pump do it's job: My pump had all of the following options available, and I bought them all. In fact, I wonder if Medela sells stock options...I should have purchased some!

A. AC adapter for car (great invention!)
B. AC cord battery pack (plus lots of extra batteries)
C. AC cord that came with it, PLUS an extra AC cord

2. Duplicates or even triplicates of pump parts.
At Baby Beloved, my breastfeeding-all-things-baby-and-motherhood store, I was able to purchase all of the extra parts (tubing, cups, valves, etc) for a very reasonable price. You can purchase some of the extra parts at Babies R Us, but they don't carry everything like Baby Beloved does. This cut down on having to wash items so often. I am up to EIGHT complete sets of horn-valve combos. This means that I can pump FOUR times before I have to wash a single part.

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3. Keep the pump at work, if possible.

When I went back to work after I had my first child, a friend who was done using her pump motor loaned me hers. With all of my extra parts, I was able to have a permanent pumping station set up both at home AND at work. How nice to simply bring bottles back and forth, rather than a big pump bag. How nice NOT to have to set up and take apart my pump every single day. This alone was worth every penny of every extra pump parts, and I'll bet the convenience of the two pump stations contributed to my sanity since I was having to pump both at home and at work after Drew decided to wean himself earlier than I had hoped.

Now that I am a mother of a second child, I am lucky enough to own two of my OWN pumps, because my health insurance foot the bill for a pump with EACH child. So I can keep one at work full-time and keep the other set up at home or bring with me on day trips or whatever.

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4. A microwave bottle sterilizer. I think the worst part of pumping is washing/sterilizing all the parts. Medela makes nice steam bags, but they don't hold that many parts. I keep a steam-bag with each pump all of the time, so no matter where I am, if there’s a microwave, I can sterilize. However, I purchased an Avent microwave bottle steamer, which is advertised to hold something like six bottles plus the nipples and tops. This steamer holds LOTS of pumping stuff and is done very quickly – 4 minutes. It makes my pumping life so much easier.

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5. Patience, flexibility, and an understanding that even though you cannot do it all, you are still an awesome mother. My first child began to wean himself at about six months, when I went back to work and he LOVED the easiness of bottles. The milk came so quickly, he didn’t have to work for it or wait for it. I kept on pumping at work AND at home. I pumped ‘round the clock. I almost pumped myself into the loony bin. Even with all of the pumping, I was still regularly dipping into my freezer supply which I had worked really hard to build up while I was on maternity leave. I was sad that Drew didn’t follow the plan of nursing when we were home together and only taking bottles at daycare. I was disappointed in myself because I had planned to exclusively nurse for a year, and I could see that it just wasn’t going to happen. I was mad that I didn’t produce mad amounts of milk (no pun intended), and therefore had to pump at home and at school and everywhere in between just to keep him exclusively on breast milk for as long as I did. Around 9 months, I had to start supplementing with formula.

This time around, I still built up the freezer supply, and nursed almost exclusively until I went back to work. In fact, this time around, I barely allowed Brayden to have a bottle unless absolutely necessary. I still planned to nurse until a year, but I was very aware that my plan was only my plan. Brayden was really the one controlling the plans. Having gotten teeth much earlier than Drew, Brayden went through a biting phase that made it next to impossible for me to feed him for a week or so, and I thought that was the end. But it wasn’t. And as school started, I was already dipping into my freezer supply to keep up with Brayden’s needs (even though I was pumping THREE times a day at work). I started experimenting with Similac Organic Formula in Brayden’s cereal to make sure his tummy would survive formula. Then I started letting him drink a couple of ounces of formula after he ate his cereal to see how he reacted to the taste. Things were going FANTASTIC until the Similac Formula recall. Why not add just a little more guilt to a working mother’s repertoire? But I’m trying not to let ANY of that get to me. Brayden still nurses once or twice a day. He gets a combination of fresh breast milk, frozen breast milk, and formula in his bottles throughout the week. He is happy and healthy, and I’m doing my best. That's about all a mother could ask for!

Drew is Two

Drew is two. Well he has been, for a couple of months. Our little two-year-old is a chatter box. And as much as he likes to repeat what we tell him...he likes us to repeat him, too...on command: Mommy say it! Daddy say it! His vocabulary has exploded. It seems to expand exponentially by the day. And while he used to make repeated requests with just one word--Outside? Outside? Outside? Outside? x 100 until the request was met, he now makes suggestions in sentences: Go ride big truck with daddy? Go ride big truck wih daddy? x 100.

At his two-year-old doctor appointment, the pediatrician noted that while Drew had enough command of the language to begin potty-training, we don't really have to start thinking about it until he turns two-and-a-half to three. Lucky for me, Mike had already been working with Drew a few months before Brayden was born. Drew had already peed and pooed on the potty before he turned two. Yippee! And now he goes pee at least once a day, sometimes more, on his potty. "I did it! I did it!" His treat is that he gets to flush the toilet. I hope this continues to be his reward of choice. I would prefer not to resort to unhealthy treats, but hey...whatever works if I get to stop changing stinky, poopy diapers. "P.U. Gross," Drew says each time we change his daiper. I agree.

One of Drew's favorite foods right now is pizza "izza" and whenever I ask him what he ate for lunch at school (daycare), he always says "izza day!" I doubt that Carrie serves pizza every day, but lucky for Drew that she must sometimes. He also loves macaroni and cheese "OH-cheese." Maybe not the healthiest version, but certainly the easiest are the Kraft Mac-n-Cheese bowls that we can make in just 3 1/2 minutes in the microwave. Drew loves to eat oatmeal "EATmeal" and "cereal and Nilk" for breakfast. Other favorites include "toast and jam" and maybe a sip of
Daddy's "offee." Of course, he's always up for "treat" whether that's a cookie, cake or a Flintstones vitamin. If we bring out any sort of cake, he will sing "Happy Birthday" to himself which sounds a little like "hOppy to Do."

Little Pookie loves to be outside and enjoys entertaining himself independently while Daddy works in the yard. All boy, he constantly plays in any dirt or sand he can find. Luckily he also loves playing in the bathtub, so even though he will throw a huge tantrm on his way back inside, he is happy to hop in the tub or shower. Each evening one of us reads him a bedtime story. His number one request: "read big tractor book."

When You Are A Mother

When you are a mother, you are never really alone in your thoughts. A mother always has to think twice, once for herself and once for her child.

~Sophia Loren, Women and Beauty

The Second Time Around

So we are a few months away from bringing another member of our family into this world. Pregnancy has treated me well so far (knock on wood), with the exception of feeling much bigger the second time around--and from the get-go. Positive pregnancy stick = immediate baby bump. I told a friend of mine recently that I didn't think it was emotionally healthy for me to check myself out in the mirror too hard--most especially the rear view, after a shower, for example. YIKES. As I was lamenting the other day, a colleague reminded me that it would be a problem if I were NOT getting bigger. Always nice to put everything in perspective. That's right. It's not all about me. It's about the peanut--who seems to be growing juuuuuust fine.

I have been fortunate to be able to wear the exact same maternity clothes as last time because (1) it's the same season of pregnancy give or take a month and (2) the clothes are still in style because pregnancy #1 was in 07-08. This has certainly helped the family budget. Plus I wasn't nearly as excited about panel-pants this time around as I was last. Actually I'm not really into panel pants at all--there are very cool pregnancy "belly bands" that allow one to stay in her pre-pregnancy pants for quite awhile because the "bands" cover the unzipped zipper and hold everything in place. Fantastic invention...especially the ones with the cute lace at the bottom to make it seem as if you're wearing a lace cami under your shirt.

While the pregnancy itself seems about the same, I most certainly am NOT the same. Much more laid back, I am enjoying just. being. pregnant. I really like to park in "Expectant Mother Parking." And guess what? Second time around = less guilt using those parking spaces because you show sooner. During my first pregnancy I kept my nose in books such as "What To Expect..." yadda yadda yadda. Embroyo. Got it. Fetus. Got it. Statements like "I will TRY to breastfeed and see how it goes." Try to breastfeed? How silly and naive that sounds now, knowing all that I know. I will breastfeed and we will be successful. This time around I am less concerned with figuring out which day each little cell is being formed and what color to make the nursery. All of that was very fun, exciting, and new. But this time I am more concerned about who this in my tummy, what he/she might be like as a person, what our first moments together will be like, whether or not I'll forget what it feels like to have a human moving around in my body. And maybe, a toddler running around is a little distracting, too. But because this could be my last pregnancy (I'm no spring chicken), I am really trying to enjoy the blessing and miracle that it is and remain calm and focused on the task at hand...grow the peanut safely and for as long as possible. My water broke 2 1/2 weeks before my due date with my first child. We'll see what happens the second time around.

Speaking of the peanut, we decided not to find out the gender. The first time around, in the flurry of nursery decorating and registering for scads of gifts we didn't need, it wasn't even a question. We found out. This time around, we're saving it for just us, in the delivery room--the kind of hold-your-breath excitement that we don't often get to experience in this impatient tell-me-yesterday kind of world we live in. Instant gratification--not the second time around. How about in 40-ish weeks?

Oh and speaking of NOT finding out...this creates all KINDS of responses. A lot of dads offer a high-five "way-to-go" sort of response. Most women don't seem to understand. How can you not find out? Don't you want to know? I couldn't do that. It's actually kind of fun to annoy people in this way. And because I teach high school, the students are very curious about what the name choices might be, when the baby is due and...why are we not finding out!?! Because our home is up for sale, I'm not itching to decorate a new nursery. And even if our home were not up for sale (not sold yet...sigh), I think I would still feel the same way. Like I told another with-child friend of mine, when the baby is born, all he/she needs is me. And of course, daddy--but uh...daddy doesn't provide the meals. And as I recall, not a whole lot of sleeping is done outside of someone's arms the first few weeks, and check! Got those.

A second pregnancy is a great example of the opposite of "If I knew then what I know now..." I actually feel like I get to put some amazing experience and knowledge in to practice. I often say to myself, or husband, or friend "This time I will..." or "This time we should consider..." Like I would prefer our hospital room to not be grand central station. While some people might find this offensive or selfish, I recognize the miracle of the precious, amazing minutes and hours post birth that I would like to be just ours--my husband's and mine--not to mention February germs and a mother's need to recover and rest and the baby's need to learn how to nurse. This time I would like to wear my baby more. I was intimidated and a little frightened of my Peanut Shell sling with Drew, and yet it was one of the most useful parts of early motherhood when I finally learned how to use it. I need to purchase a Mobi Wrap (one of very few "products" I would like to splurge on) because it can be used with such young infants. Already used the Ergo with the first--it's ready and waiting to be strapped on again....see how easy this is the second time around? Actually? Just kidding. Will there be surprises and challenges? Every day, I'm sure. Will bonding with a second child while nurturing #1 be difficult? Absolutely. Will there be tears? Many and probably often (damn post-pregnancy hormones).

Yet...I'm so excited...about the second time around.

Buddies

Buddies
(written by my father)

Morning
I awaken to the sound of
a friendly voice
not so far away
soon followed
by the National Anthem
nice beginning but
must do
those morning things
shaving
washing hair
that are always at least
mildly aggravating
but oh so necessary
if I am to face the day
with confidence
Yes quickly!
I hear little
footsteps
and a little voice
says
Daddy I can't sleep anymore
Buddies!
downstairs
we find
breakfast
nothing fancy
cereal
toast
perhaps a glass of
juice
or if it's Sunday
we might be the earliest
to arrive
at Hojo's
then a walk
in the new sunlight
a deep drink of
fresh air
the sweet song of
a cardinal
perched high
in a nearby tree
she goes her way
and I go mine
but only for awhile
soon we'll be together
again
it's great to be
Buddies

That is a poem that my father wrote about us oh-so-many years ago. I don't think I had my own copy until I was 19 years old, studying abroad in Mexico my sophomore year in college. My dad periodically sent me care packages of newspaper clippings from the States, letters about the goings-on in his day-to-day life, and some copies of poems he had written over the years--all reading material he thought I'd find interesting and a remedy to any homesickness I may have been feeling.

In any case, it has been years since I read the poem, but because my husband and I have our house up for sale, we have been cleaning and organizing like mad. And I came across this poem. And I cried when I read it. Then I cried as I was typing it into this blog. But the tears have nothing to do with the fact that my father and I are no longer "buddies." Unfortunately, he suffers from mental illness which makes it impossible for us to communicate in any "normal" sort of way or to have any resemblance of a normal father-daughter relationship. But that is life. People get sick, sad things happen. The sadness and frustration from the situation has numbed over the years. I hold on to many fond memories that I am lucky to have. ANYWAY...Nope. That's not why I'm so weepy. And it's not because I'm pregnant again and my hormones are raging all over the place, either.

I'm weepy out of sheer joy. Because when I read that poem I think of my husband and our son. They are buddies. And it is so dang heartwarming. In the morning when Mike has to do his "mildly aggravating" routine, there Drew is peeping into the shower, hoping to get a little laugh and a splash from Daddy. Or a little "pssht" of deodorant. Or a dollop of shaving cream on the nose that results in a joyous giggle. There they are...MY buddies.

"Me" Time

My husband and I recently took our first overnight trip together post-baby. At 16 months old, our baby isn't so much a baby anymore, though. I knew it would be emotionally difficult for me, because, again, this was the first time that both Mommy and Daddy would be gone ALL NIGHT. Luckily, my own mother drove 7+ hours from Illinois just to give us the gift of a night away. It made it much easier for me knowing that Drew was in his own house sleeping in his own bed with all of his own things in their regular spots. Some people might be thinking--wow, 16 months and you haven't left your child for even one night yet--that's a little extreme. Others might be thinking--wow, 16 months--I could never leave my child that young. My own mom didn't leave me even one time overnight until she was in the hospital giving birth to my sister...almost five years to the day that I had been born. So we all have our own ways of doing things and like I tell other friends expecting for the first time: you have to do what feels right to you. Lots of people are ready to offer their advice--sometimes you'll shake your head in acknowledgment knowing that their "expertise" will never come in handy for you. Sometimes you'll want to take out a pad of paper and a pencil because everything that the person is saying feels like just what you need. But I digress...

So off to Chicago my husband and I went--on the train. Ridin' the rails. How lovely it was that neither of us had the stress of driving, especially in Chicago traffic. Nor did we have to pay for parking at our hotel, which usually involves either expensive valet service at the rate of $50 per day--or a parking garage several blocks away which still runs $25 or more. Not to mention navigating a city that neither of us knows well. And once there, you don't need a car anyway. I had ridden the train to Chicago before, but I had forgotten how very easy and relaxing it is. There is SO MUCH room. Even my 6'4" husband had plenty of room to stretch out. Also, there is quite a lack of "red tape" to go through to get on the train--no security checks, long lines, etc. Your luggage is either with you or a few feet away. It's almost scary to think of how loose on security it is, so I try not to think about it. I don't know how long that will go on, but it's nice while it lasts. As we waited for the train to arrive and heard its whistle signaling its near proximity, I fantasized that it was 100 years earlier and I was wearing a petticoat and Mike was wearing a suit and hat. I refrained from snapping any pictures as the train arrived lest I really look like a tourist.

We stayed downtown on Michigan Avenue within a few blocks of where the Magnificent Mile shopping began in one direction and a few blocks from Millenium Park in the other direction. We arrived with no set plans about what activities we would do so we window-shopped on the first day, went out to a nice Italian dinner in the evening, and marveled at the art in Millenium Park in the evening. It is a very strange feeling to be able to come and go as you please with no worries about a little one. I had to restrain myself from calling home too much, but it wasn't difficult because each time I did call Drew was doing wonderfully, and Grandma sounded like she was having fun, so I relaxed more and more. On our second day, we visited the Museum of Science and Industry in the morning and Shedd's Aquarium in the afternoon. I've had enough musuems for a while.

During our trip we marveled at the skyscrapers, noting how urban Grand Rapids' skyline had appeared until we came to Chicago. I'm sure it was easy to pick us out as tourists given that we walked with our eyes to the sky for the majority of the trip. I love to get away to urban areas, to get myself a little culture, but I am always thankful that the hustle-and-bustle, bus fumes, and stopped traffic are not my way of life. I was also fascinated that Mike mentioned on several occasions how fun whatever we were doing at the time (riding train, staying in swanky hotel, eating in fine restaurant, exploring museum) would be for our kids when they are a little older. It's a given that Mike will introduce our children to nature, fishing, camping, hunting, etc. as early as he possibly can, so I'm so glad that my outdoorsman husband is excited to expose our kids to the city someday. How awesome that he realizes the importance of teaching that there are more ways to live than what we find in West Michigan.

By the time we got on the train in the evening of our second day, I thought my feet were going to fall off. It has been a long time since I've stood for such extended periods of time and walked so far in two days. But luckily, it was time to stretch out and enjoy the scenery for our trip home. By the time we arrived, Drew had been fast asleep for a few hours. Being in his presence, I felt complete. I think back to pre-pregnancy and the travel I used to do. Traveling abroad with students, a "girls weekend" here and there, a summer roadtrip with my husband, and my annual spring break cruises with my mom--these were all things that used to be major priorities. I used to say--oh, I'll never give up "me" time. I'm not going to be one of "those" mothers. Of course I'll still go on spring break. Drew can stay with Grandma for a week. Oops. I was wrong. My "me" time now consists of grocery shopping, going to the gym, or when I really spoil myself: dinner out with a girlfriend. Maybe not as glamorous, but there will be time for more exciting travels someday. Of course I miss those experiences, but oh how I would miss my time with my son so much more.

Drew's Birth Story

Sunday, March 23rd (Easter Sunday 2008)
• My water broke around 5:45 a.m. but I was confused about whether I might have wet my PJ’s or whether my water had broken because there wasn’t very much leakage, and most of the water-breaking stories I had heard involved gushing. I changed PJ’s and went back to bed. About a half hour later it happened again, but again it was more like involuntarily peeing a little instead of the gushing I was waiting for. So I woke Mike to discuss and consulted the What to Expect… book. Even then I was still confused—especially because I wasn’t due until April 10. So I changed PJ’s for a second time and we went back to bed with the plan that the third time would be the charm…no matter what we would just go to the hospital should the same thing occur again. Just a few minutes after we settled back into bed, more water came gushing out, and we were 100% sure that this was it!

• Because I wasn’t experiencing contractions, we prepared very calmly to go to the hospital. I had already packed my bag a week or so prior, so I finished some last minute stuff around the house while Mike took a shower. Interesting enough, the battery-operated candles, relaxing music CD, and back massager were all packed...but never even used. But I’m jumping ahead. So, we snapped a picture of me right before heading off to the hospital (not so pretty). We even dropped off the Easter ham & baskets to Mike’s cousin Becky’s house on the way to the hospital since clearly we wouldn’t be able to make the Easter dinner that day. No screeching tires or flying over railroad tracks were necessary en route.

• We arrived in emergency around 7:30 a.m. and got checked in triage to make sure that my “bag had ruptured.” It had indeed ruptured and I was dilated to just 1 cm, but cervix was thinned out—good news and bad news, both. I was hoping that I would be dilated much further, but I was glad that my body was progressing on its own. Once our labor and delivery room was prepared, we were carted off to spend the majority of our day there.

• As soon as we had the medical 100% that we would be admitted and having a baby, we called each of our parents. That was probably the most fun call to make since we had announced our engagement.

• Until 11:30 or so, we didn’t do too much. My nurse, Sheryl, monitored me and checked things out periodically, but since nothing much was happening in the contraction department, Pitocin was started and increased every half hour until contractions were going well. This is where my birthing plan (that I had even typed out on the computer, printed and put in a plastic page protector) took a turn. Of course, Pitocin would be where we got off track with the whole letting my body do its own thing. But since I was getting ready to meet my baby for the first time after nine long months, I sort of nodded my head and agreed to everything once we entered the hospital because no one was there to tell me otherwise.

• From 1:00 p.m. to 3:00 p.m. the Pitocin was increased in small increments and by 3:00 p.m. I could definitely feel a difference enough that I had to concentrate on the ceiling and breathing to make it through each contraction. However, at 3:00 p.m. Baby Drew wasn’t liking his position or the Pitocin and caused the nurse to come in and turn off the Pitocin, as well as have a resident doctor try to insert an internal HR monitor—TWICE. Yet ANOTHER situation that we had learned about that we were adamant against, and yet again we found ourselves nodding OK--twice. Because the first time the monitor came off. And I had to go through the experience a second time, which involved someone’s whole hand inside me sticking prongs into our child’s head. Not enjoyable whatsoever, causing me to have to breathe through the process because it hurt SO BADLY. The monitor never did work properly and luckily Drew responded well to the fact that the Pitocin was turned off. By this point I was dilated to 3 ½ cm and contractions were becoming difficult to breathe through.

• Contractions continued from 3:00 p.m. – 5:00 p.m without the Pitocin, coming closer together and getting stronger. Breathing turned to whimpering and moaning/crying. I remember feeling embarrassed that I was being too loud but it was all I could do to manage the pain for 60 – 90 seconds every 2 - 2 ½ minutes. Literally 30 - 60 seconds of down-time before the next contraction began. Mike was a good coach, but there wasn’t a whole lot he could do, besides hold the throw up bucket when I got sick—another side effect of the pain that I didn’t expect. I remember telling him to please be quiet and not say a word, and then he would say "you're doing great" and I would tell him emphatically--please don't even say that!!!!

• Finally finally FINALLY I was checked and dialated to 6 cm – good and ready for the epidural. Between dealing with contractions, throwing up, and bleeding from the internal heart rate monitor insertion experience, I thought I couldn’t make it any longer and I asked for the epidural. The worst part of the epidural was trying to be still while having a serious contraction and a procedure that could be dangerous if not administered properly.

• Following the epidural procedure, I was in heaven compared to what I had just gone through. I could still feel when I was having a contraction, but the intense pain was absent, as was the vomiting. Shortly after the epidural had taken effect (around 6:00 p.m.) I was checked again and surprised to find that I was dialated to a NINE. In one hour 5:00 p.m. – 6:00 p.m. I had gone from 6 cm to 9 cm. Was it that I was transitioning or was it that the epidural caused me to relax and allow my cervix to open? We will never know. I asked the nurse if she was joking--but she wasn't. She said she was on her way to call the doc because I was ready to push and she really thought that I would deliver before her shift ended at 7:00 p.m. What a feeling of utter excitement and joy!

• From 6:00 p.m. – 7:00 p.m. I pushed my heart out, but unfortunately Drew was “posterior” or face-up instead of face-down. We learned that it is much more difficult to deliver babies that way, so my pushing wasn’t making a lot of progress. And then…at 7:00 p.m. came the nurse change. I had really been impressed with my first nurse who had taken care of me all day. She was calm, encouraging, quiet, and seemed to really be on my side. She gave me great advice about how to push and her words and tone were just perfect. I really HATED the nurse who replaced her. She was annoyingly chipper, didn’t give good advice, and she had a “scolding” sort of encouragement. I think the worst thing about her is that she didn't seem sincere. An hour of her and when the doctor suggested we opt for a C-section, I’m sure one of the reasons I agreed was to get away from her. Actually, because I had a high blood pressure scare during the last couple of weeks of pregnancy, the doctor didn’t want to “take any chances.” He explained that since both Drew and I were in a non-emergency situation, though not making progress, it would be a SAFE idea rather than risk an emergency situation and end up with an emergency C-section anyway. It sounded like a reasonable explanation.

• Mike and I didn’t even really talk it over. I was all drugged up and we were both so ready to meet Drew, that why would we go against the medical advice? (I’ll answer that question in a future post). So we got prepped for surgery and off we went to deliver Drew. The anesthesiologist was UNBELIEVABLE. He basically narrated every single move that he and the doctor were making so that at NO point did I feel scared or think that something was wrong. He kept reassuring me and telling me how great everything was going. Just as Drew's head was being delivered he positioned a mirror so I could watch. Nothing short of a MIRACLE. At 8:58 p.m. our most beautiful gift entered the world. We thought Drew was just amazing and beautiful and perfect. Mike said in excitement, “He’s got four arms and legs!” I love that line--such a cute husband-y thing to say! Michael was videotaping the whole procedure so we have been able to relive the excitement and joy several times since--including the "four arms and legs" comment--hee hee.

• We watched as they checked Drew over and soon after the surgery, they gave Drew to me and wheeled us together to the recovery room where we could not stop saying how beautiful he was. I was “high” on all the medical drugs, but certainly more "high" on motherhood already. Drew got his first bath and I was given a bath, too! Until this experience, I had no idea what nurses do, because (thank goodness) I have never spent time in a hospital. Other than the one LD nurse who I didn't like so much, every single nurse that came to take care of me was absolutely phenomenal. Anyway...

• There is a short period after which a baby is born when the baby is alert but quiet. It is the most amazing couple of hours that you could possibly imagine. I believe that there is some medical explanation (and maybe even a name for it, which I can't remember), but it's clear: nature created a time for bonding, before the baby and momma start their rest and recovery from the birth process. Drew, Michael and I just stared into each other’s eyes. We made our first attempt at breastfeeding and were fairly successful. I was relieved that even though I had a C-section, Drew’s sucking instinct was strong. Around midnight we were finally cleared to return to our room.

• And that is the story of how precious Drew came into our world and made us Mommy and Daddy.

Emails Can Be Very Educational

My son Drew is about to turn ONE. Goodness. Where has a year gone? So I have been thinking a lot about his BIRTH day lately. Maybe I'll post his birth story on his birthday.

I know a whole lot more now than I did then, and I wish I would have known more then. It's all about education...self-education. And I think it is so important to try to pass on the education--to share with as many people as possible (encouraging my four subscribers to share with people who might benefit).

So, today I am posting an email that I received from one of my high school friends when I was pregnant. Yep, more than a year later, I still have it saved in my email account. Her words are too wise and too informative to delete. So I thought I would post it this evening. She was one of very few "cheerleaders" for natural childbirth--which I was very interested in while I was pregnant, am still very interested in now, and am HOPING to be able to do if we are blessed to have another child in the future.

My friend's email to me begins:

"Ahh, natural childbirth in the 21st century . . . (sigh). Okay, here goes my soapbox . . . When I was expecting the first time I was pretty much in your same boat. Of course I would like to have a natural birth (DUH). After listening for 30 years to my mom tell me how much her Lamaze class helped and how the hardest part of labor was waiting for the doctor to get there . . ."

I think it is so funny that my friend's mother had such an easy birth...mine did, too. Intersting that they both took intensive Lamaze courses. Hmmmmmmm. Were their births truly that easy OR had they been educated in the proper mindset? Had they been practicing the relaxation techniques with their husbands for weeks and weeks? My mom indicated that she and my father really had to practice regularly and seriously at home in order to not be embarrassed at class. The breathing techniques and exercises they rehearsed not only improved relaxation and focus, but sounded like they built physical endurance as well. My mom, too, told me about my birth story over and over while I was pregnant, maybe in hopes that I would start believing that it could be a lovely experience contrary to what most people described.

When I even suggested the possibility that I was planning to decline an epidural, the responses I got usually included "you're crazy" or "that's what drugs are for" or "why would you even want to consider that" and sometimes included rolling eyes. One of the most unhelpful responses was "they don't give you a medal, you know." Such support from fellow women, many of them mothers themselves.

My friend's email continues:

"I signed up for a four-week hospital birth class which someone said was "Lamaze-like". I was, like you, a little surprised at the short length of the class, but figured hey, if my Mom can do it so can I. Maybe the classes are shorter now since all the doctors and nurses are more educated about natural birth (Not like in the 70's, right? Our moms paved the way for us, right?). Unfortunately, the reality is that most standard birth classes these days only pay lip service to preparing women for natural childbirth. And that is just fine with hospitals - they would rather women learn about hospital protocols than about listening to their own bodies. Hospitals don't make money that way."

What she really meant was the four 2-hour long classes that the hospitals offer are great if (a) you know absolutely nothing and don't plan to read a single word before you give birth, (b) you want to know exactly how the birth progresses medically and you don't already own the book "What to Expect...yadda yadda", or (c) you want to practice breathing techniques for about 15 minutes total--with all four of the classes put together.

So were the classes useful? I think they helped my husband understand birth and newborns and breastfeeding a little better. But I had already read about 90% of the information that was being presented either online or in pregnancy books. The most fun for me was seeing the mesh underwear that until then I had only heard about. And I will admit that the postpartum depression discussion was serious, thought-provoking and valuable. Other than that, not such a wise use of our dwindling time as just-the-two-of-us. Interestingly enough we both sort of zoned out when the C-section video was taking place because we were both positive I wouldn't be having one--which we ended up having, but that is certainly for another post. And I was SO PROUD of my husband because I remember the class that we learned about the medical "stuff"--especially with the epidural and how it ties you to the bed, and you can't get up and walk around, and it makes nursing after birth more difficult, and is such a medical, sometimes dangerous procedure, etc, etc.--he said "I never imagined giving birth being so medical." And when he said it, I heard in his voice that he wanted a more natural experience than what was just described, and less danger to me and our soon-to-be-born son. If only...but again, I'll save my birth story for another post.

And my friend's email continues:

"While it is far too "un-PC" for OB's or LDR nurses to ever say they are actually AGAINST natural childbirth, most rarely ever see one, let alone having any experience actually HELPING moms birth the way nature intended. In St. Louis, most of the hospitals have an over 90% epidural rate, somewhere around a 40% induction rate, and a 30% C-section rate. Think about it."

I'm glad she told me to think about it. I had never thought about ANY of that before, and I was pretty pregnant when I received this email that I am posting.

"Here is what I think about birth classes. If you are serious about going the husband-coached natural labor route, you will need to take a class that really gives you time to actually practice the coping techniques, so they come naturally to you once labor really hits. These are usually private classes and there are lots of different programs (Bradley, Hypnobirthing, Hypnobabies, Birthing From Within, etc.).

Otherwise, I say just get some books (most of the methods have books available) and maybe practice at home if you want to. The other side of the coin is that no matter what technique you learn, once active labor really hits hard most women just do whatever their bodies tell them to anyway. And that's just fine. I think the main purpose of ANY natural birth prep class is to give you confidence going into early labor, because fear can seriously mess you up (have you gotten very far in Ina May's book?)"

At the time I received the email in this post, it was a little on the late side to find/start/participate in a different class. I remember that I tried to find some local Lamaze classes, and I pondered trying a do-it-yourself book study with my husband, but it just didn't pan out. I was pregnant, hormonal, working full-time. And I didn't have a lot of local support to turn to. I live about 10 hours away from this friend and didn't know ANYONE who had taken any other classes than the ones the hospital offered. But, at least now I DO know of some local resources (like classes and doulas and yoga), and I HAVE met some mothers who birthed naturally.

My friend mentioned Ina May's book, which she had sent to me in a care package. Did I mention what a great friend she is? I didn't finish the book all the way through, but the underlying message, the message which made me Google "doulas," was about peaceful natural births by empowered women. How amazing does that sound?

"Regardless of what you decide about that, I really recommend investing in a doula. Husbands are great, but they make lousy labor coaches. Even if they are conscientious enough to study up on labor coping methods, when you are in labor you will respond FAR better to suggestions from someone who has actually been in your shoes (my husband can attest to this!). And don't expect labor support from the nursing staff - they are stretched far too thin among their patients. Maybe you will be in a different boat if you go with the nurse midwife, but even so it can be helpful to have someone come to your house and help you decide when it's time to leave for the hospital - the LAST thing you want to do is show up too early!"

Getting a doula...I was pretty motivated to find one until the big disagreement with DH. Maybe for another post...because it is a story of its own and caused another wise email from this same friend that is worth posting.

My friend closes her email:

"Sorry if this comes off preachy-I just wish someone had told me all this stuff before [my son] was born. I was so sure I knew what I was doing, and I
had been perfectly healthy the whole pregnancy. I am still blown away by how a perfectly healthy woman with a perfectly normal baby can show up at the hospital in labor and turn into a C-section. As I am sure you have heard, things went just a little bit differently with [my next one].

Okay, I'm off the soapbox now."

I didn't take it as preachy at all--I took it as a close friend being honest and open and doing her part in helping to educate her soon-to-give-birth-for-the-first-time friend. We could all benefit from a friend like this, huh?

Baby Training Not For Me!

When I was pregnant with our first (and currently only) child, I read quite a bit, but mostly about how to breastfeed and about what was happening to my pregnant body. I knew all about foremilk and hindmilk, but I didn't know a thing about babies and their sleep patterns, with the exception that most of my friends who had babies/small children usually complained that they were sleep-deprived and were constantly warning me about the little sleep that I would be getting once Drew arrived.

Some family members as well as one friend of mine recommended to me a book about parent-directed baby-scheduling (but let's call a spade a spade...it was a book about training your baby to get on your schedule). Even as I type those words, I think about how far I've come in my thinking about my style/philosophies of parenting. The recommending family/friends talked about how the "methods" totally worked on their children and they were eager to back this up with data about how soon after birth their babies were "sleeping through the night" and how lovely it was to not have to feed their babies so often. I wonder if, in other cultures, it is common for women to brag about how long their babies sleep at night and how LONG they can go between feedings. Well, I have come to find out that I have a much different style of parenting.

Thank goodness I didn't waste my time reading the book during my pregnancy because prior to reading any of the "advice" (training instructions!) offered in the book, I had already had many intelligent and enlightening conversations with other mothers whose parenting methods felt more like mine. Granted, I don't parent too far from the perceived norm of our culture, but I definitely give more conscious thought to different areas of parenting than most other moms I come into contact with. I also do not take our pediatrician's word as the only way and/or best way to do things (like his advice to let Drew cry-it-out at 6 months).

Which brings me to why I even started this post in the first place. I want anyone and everyone (all four of you!) who read this blog to know that you don't HAVE to "train" your baby to sleep through the night by MAKING him/her Cry It Out. You can, but you really should read the research on the Ferber Method and any other CIO training methods. I am not an expert, but I have read enough to know that there is potential to damage your child's physical, mental, and emotional health if he/she is left to cry it out at a young age (yes, even six months, eight months, ten months...all too young in my opinion). Go ahead and stop reading this blog and read the Parenting Baby To Sleep blog. Or google those methods. There is information at your fingertips. You'll find huge fans of the CIO method, too. I'm just asking you to make an informed decision about why you would choose any "baby training."

OUR SLEEP STORY:
Like many, many infants, Drew came home from the hospital and slept most during the day and stayed up most of the night. It was frustrating for me and for my husband, too. He nursed every one to two hours for what seemed like years, but probably was only a couple of months. I would hear from other mothers at breastfeeding group about how their 6-week-olds were sleeping four or even six hours through the night. I'm not going to lie--I was pretty jealous. Then throughout the third and fourth months, Drew still nursed frequently. And some people thought this was not normal--but I knew it was PERFECTLY normal. And the lactation consultant and my bf group friends, and my favorite breastfeeding book knew it was normal. So we nursed on, Drew and I, meeting often during the night, neither of us sleeping for much more than two hours at a time.

My husband, the wonderful father that he is, really did want to help me find some sanity, though. He had read a bit about sleep rituals and schedules and he started a very lovely, soothing nighttime routine of bathing Drew, giving him to me to nurse, then rocking him to sleep. I think the continuity and regularity of the ritual helped Drew recognize bed TIME, even if he didn't sleep through the night. I truly believe that a regular bed time eventually helped us get to the sleeping through the night (even if it was much later!).

At the end of the fourth month (when Drew actually turned 4 months old), I remember being so excited that Drew had slept a four-hour stretch. And this continued pretty consistently, but again, Drew was still waking at least once, sometimes twice during the night. At Drew's 6-month check up, our pediatrician reminded us, no, he ENCOURAGED us, to make Drew cry it out to learn to soothe himself back to sleep. He also noted that Drew didn't NEED food in the middle of the night, that he wasn't waking because he was hungry.

A wise mother once wrote in her blog: if it doesn't feel right in your gut, then it probably isn't. And allowing my six-month old to cry while I PURPOSELY ignored him did NOT feel right to me, regardless of what the pediatrician or anyone else or any book advised. My husband was a little more eager to follow the doctor's advice--he really did want me to get more sleep, and he wanted Drew to get the rest he needed, too. But I'm blessed with a husband who trusts me, and even though he didn't necessarily agree with me in ignoring the ped's advice, he did his best to support me, and to take turns in the middle of the night when necessary.

And guess what? Gradually, Drew started sleeping longer. And if he woke crying, I nursed him if he wanted to. And if he just needed cuddling and rocking, well then we cuddled and rocked. And if we needed to sleep together for the rest of the night on the couch, that's what we did. And finally one night (when Drew had just turned eight months old), he went to bed at his regular time (8:00 p.m.) and didn't get up until about 5:00 a.m. WHA-HOO through the night! Write it on the calendar! And he started making that a regular habit, and soon 5:00 a.m. lengthened out to 6:00 a.m. And a little added bonus for Mommy and Daddy--Drew moved his 8:00 p.m. bedtime back to 7:00 p.m. -- on his own. So the best part is: I know in my heart that Drew goes to bed peacefully, and sleeps peacefully, all the while knowing that if he does need me, I'll be there. Most nights, he doesn't need me, but every once in a while he does, and I don't mind an extra snuggle with him.

So I suppose that I could boast about how my child sleeps through the night. And I could probably add that 7:00 p.m. to 6:00 a.m. is a pretty long time. How else did I have time to write this rather lengthy post??? BUT, I would much rather brag that I have NEVER and will NEVER use the Cry-It-Out method.


Disclaimer: I don't mean to offend anyone who has used the CIO method or any other baby training book. They just don't work for me!

ONE FINAL THOUGHT:

I don't want to be an average mom, or even a good mom--I want to be the absolute best mother I can possibly be. And I want to put myself on that path purposefully. If there is research to read, I want to know about it. I want to put Drew's needs first and foremost, whenever and however I can.

I am unbelieveably blessed to have met a fabulous mom in my breastfeeding support group. She makes me think and question and want to educate myself about parenting. And get this...I am eight years older than she is. But she is wise beyond her youth, and if you want to be a better parent, her blog is worth reading and studying.

Parenting Right

First I was silent. I was holding my husband's hand to my right, and a stranger's hand to my left. Every one else around me was reciting the Lord's Prayer, but I had stopped mid-prayer, already tearing up and unable to continue. As soon as we were done, I whispered to my husband, "I have to get out of here...NOW." On the verge of full-blown crying, I was glad that my husband and son were the only ones I had to climb over to get out of the pew. I needed to remove myself from the situation that had been unfolding in the pew in front of us: a father treating his daughter (maybe around two years old) terribly...and for no good reason. I could NOT take it. Now, he wasn't hitting her physically, but in actuality, he was hitting her...with his words, with his body language, with his harsh grabbing at her to settle her. We had been sitting behind this couple and their two kids for the whole service up to that point. The little girl was QUIETLY occupying herself with a book, some flashcards, and a cuddly. Was she moving around? Yes...but isn't that what two-year-olds DO? Was she muttering some two-year-old babble to herself? YES. Was she content during an adult church service meant for adult ears? ABSOLUTELY. Was her father making more noise grabbing at her and angrily "SSSHHHHHH-ing" her than the little girl was herself? Uh, YES. Was anyone else remotely bothered by the little girl? NO. By the father? YES. It wasn't just me who looked shocked at this man's behavior, although I was the only one crying about it. The girl's mom had already taken their fussy baby out of the church and into the lobby, leaving dad and the daughter alone. It seemed that once the mother was gone, the dad grew more and more annoyed and exceedingly harsh by the second. As I am watching all of this unfold, literally two feet away from me, I first said to my husband, "I can't watch this." Probably afraid that I might actually say something to the man, my husband whispered back, "You need to get a hold of yourself." And then the man's behavior continued and the tears start welling up in my eyes...and finally I made my mad-dash for the lobby, where I began sobbing.

I wonder how this father has already damaged his little girl's emotional health and how much he will continue to damage her into the future. It is no damn wonder that we get some pretty messed up kids in our classrooms. And of course I recognize that there are kids who have way worse parents than this little girl--these parents were in church for God's sake. Some parents are doing drugs on Sunday mornings. But nevertheless, this man showed no sign of love or affection for his little toddler, and was not worried at all about what the general public was watching. Jeez, I wonder how much worse it is at home. I should have been tipped off when I tried to smile at him when he first got his young baby out of her carseat. He scowled at me, too. How dare I show a little admiration for the cuteness of his baby.

So...here is where I would probably upset many people (if there happened to be more than three people who read my blog): I do NOT believe that it is everyone's right to be a parent. And furthermore, I am extremely offended by the people who abuse their fertility by continuing to have children when they have no intention of putting forth the love, effort and sacrifice that it takes to raise children who are mentally, physically, and emotionally healthy.

There, I feel better now...for me at least, but not for the poor little girl from church.

In Mourning

Well, the day has finally arrived. Whenever I decide to unfreeze it, the last bag of frozen breastmilk will be gone. I think I will wear black that day. And I should have a proper burial for my pump--I will put her away with pomp and circumstance. She will not be sharing a plastic bin with clothes that Drew has outgrown or toys that he no longer wants to play with. NO. She will have her own personal storage bin, and all of her bits and pieces will be stored away carefully in Ziploc bags. R.I.P. Miss Medela. Until we meet again. (Although, word on the maternity street is that insurance pays for a new pump with each pregnancy. WHA-HOO!)

I have some friends who will mourn with me, and who would probably even attend Miss Medela's burial, if I asked. I have other friends who would never consider breastfeeding and therefore wouldn't understand why I'm in mourning. And I have some friends who DID breastfeed, but did NOT have such a good experience. I try not to judge anyone's personal decisions/feelings about breastfeeding, but dang, it is difficult, given all of the current medical studies and APA recommendations.

Breastfeeding didn't exactly turn out as I had planned it. Despite the horror stories that I heard from most of my friends and/or colleagues who had breastfed, I was completely motivated, especially after having read So That's What They're For by Janet Tamaro. Plus, it was helpful that while I was pregnant, I visited a friend who breastfed her twins...at the same time... My goodness, I thought--if she could single-handedly provide nourishment for two babies, certainly I could provide for one. Because I had read so much, I also felt very empowered. The first six months were AMAZING and EASY and almost perfect. Getting started was a little frustrating, as in the hospital it seemed every nurse had her own "sure-fire" way to get Drew to latch on. But just like it was written in the many books/websites I read, eventually with lots of practice and patience both Drew and I caught on. Oh sure, I had to nurse (no pun intended) my right side back to health after a rough, very sore beginning. But other than that, breastfeeding worked for us. I can't think of anything so completely satisfying than to be the sole food source for your child. How amazing is it that by my body's design, Drew received the exact nourishment he needed?! And because he ate so frequently, he received the touch, love, and security he needed to foster his emotional health. So since it had worked so well during my maternity leave, my original plan was to breastfeed exclusively for a year, pumping while at work, but actually breastfeeding while at home. If only life worked out as we planned. Wouldn't that be easy?

During my maternity leave, I pumped frequently in addition to breastfeeding. I got my pump out initially to help heal the sore breast the first week I was home. I could pump from it, but not feed Drew from it. Then when I was able to nurse from both sides, I kept pumping here and there--usually right after Drew would feed. First of all, I was completely fascinated with how much I could produce. Second, I loved counting up the ounces in the freezer and figuring out how many days' supply I had in case some emergency arose. Thank goodness no emergencies came up, though, because I was able to build up a pretty respectable store in our freezer. And thank goodness, too, because once I started back to work, and Drew got bottles every single day, he became less and less interested in actually breastfeeding. How dare he! My letdown didn't come fast enough, nor was he very patient. So at 6 months, Drew had cut himself back to feeding only in the evening, and the wee hours of the morning (I was so thankful he still "needed" me in the middle of the night). And MAYBE (if I was lucky) he would nurse groggily before I went to work. Regardless, I had to not only pump at work, but pump at home in order to keep up with Drew's needs. And I was pretty much pumping my guts out, because I was rarely able to pump enough in one session to equal a feeding. I am still jealous of those over-producers out there!

Finally, after about two months of pumping at work and pumping at home, I thought I might go crazy. Not to mention trying to figure out how to work full-time and be a good mother. That is a whole different post! Anyway, as Thanksgiving neared, I caved. I started mixing formula with breastmilk, and I started reducing my pumping sessions little by little. OH THE GUILT. And not to MENTION the fact that just as I am beginning to give Drew some formula, the reports about traces of melamine in Nestle Good Start formula hit the news. OH DOUBLE GUILT. Let me just tell you, I can't wait until Drew can drink cow's milk, because I am completely embarrassed to buy formula. I would rather walk down a crowed street with two leaking breasts than to buy a container of formula in public. Shut up to those of you who think I'm being over-dramatic. (1) I like being a little dramatic (2) my kid's IQ will probably be higher than yours...just kidding...well, really I'm not and (3) I consider breastfeeding my child in my top FIVE greatest life accomplishments--especially in our culture which does so little to support breastfeeding moms!

Luckily, I have had a great support network of people to listen to and to help me through my trials and tribulations including my husband, my mom, some good friends who really do/did enjoy breastfeeding, and the lactation consultants in my breastfeeding group. So I've decided the next best thing I can do is to support other breastfeeding moms out there. And I'll be there for them when they're in mourning.