My Son Doesn’t Sit Still for Pictures

Sometimes, I envy some of my friends. So many of them have beautiful albums of professional quality pictures of their children, posing peacefully, smiling for the camera. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I have hundreds of pictures of my kids. The baby is almost always on my back – the only place she will sit still for more than a few seconds. And my son is almost always a blur.

I get the comments: “We would love to see more pictures of your son!” or “Make sure you get more pictures of him, time goes by so fast!” or, my favorite: “Oh, sometimes I forget you even have an older kid!” Really? That’s fine, he has enough people who care about him and who don’t need to see pictures of him to remember he’s there, random person whose name I forget and who I deleted after that comment.

I captured this one picture. My daughter is holding her toy out to me so sweetly, and at the very moment I clicked the shutter, my son streaked by in the background. I say “streaked” because he was indeed buck naked from having taken off his wet bathing suit. And I realized that’s who my son is. The little boy who simply can’t be bothered to stop for the world to catch up to him. Just when you think you have a grasp on where he’s standing, he’s gone in a flash. And that’s one of the reasons I love him so much. He’s taught me so much about enjoying him in the moment because if you blink, he’s gone. If you look away, you’ll miss the latest thing that he does that will just blow your mind. Just today, I turned my back for a split second and boom, he was reading. He’s not yet 4 and he read a 10-letter word. Just like that.

So now I know. I need to put the camera phone down. When he’s sitting beside me, I need to look into his eyes, see the brilliance that shines within his tiny, perfect soul, take it all in and imprint it in my mind. No picture would ever do him justice anyway.

In The Night

Night times are tough with young kids. Baby girl is more than 9 months old now, but there are still typically two wake-ups to breastfeed, preventing me from getting a long, uninterrupted night of sleep. This is actually a vast improvement compared to about a month ago, when she would wake up 4 or 5 times and require that I go soothe her back to sleep, simply because she couldn’t do it herself. I think we’ve managed to teach her to self-soothe, but night weaning is not yet on the horizon.

We did the cry-it-out method with our son which worked almost immediately – one night of letting him cry in several-minute increments and he went from multiple wake-ups to sleeping 10 hours straight. Letting him cry broke my heart at the time and breaks it again every time I realize what we put him through, especially now that I know more about what happens physiologically during those crying spells. But, you do what you can with what you know, and that’s what worked. Today, we know better, so we are doing better.

Our first “issue” is that Baby Girl still nurses to sleep. The only times she falls asleep other than when she is nursing is when I’m wearing her, and the odd occasion when a long car ride coincides with her nap time. But she fights those car naps tooth and nail and it’s never a long sleep. Regardless, I just don’t have the energy to teach her otherwise. I nurse her at bed time, she falls fast asleep and no matter how hard I try to gently wake her up to put her to bed “awake but tired” which is what is recommended to teach babies to fall asleep on their own, she’s out like a light. She no longer wakes up crying every 2 hours, but she still has at two feeds in the middle of the night. I used to take her to our bed, but that is a place for fun and games for her now, so I quietly rock her while she nurses, then place her back in her bed. Sometimes she is still stirring, other times she’s fast asleep again.

But the kicker is that although a small part of me is worried about the precious minutes of sleep I’m not getting, I’ve now come to love those night time feeds. Her happiness when I walk into her room and she realizes mama is there puts a huge smile on my face. I love how her little body settles in comfortably when I start breastfeeding her but what truly melts my heart is how she’s gotten in the habit of gently petting my arm when she feeds. Her little hand moves up and down my arm, tickling the skin in a repetitive, unconscious, soothing motion. It soothes her, it soothes me, and we sit there loving each other.

With that light touch, I’m reminded to drink it all in. Those coveted full nights of sleep will come soon, too soon. The time will come when she won’t need me to hold her anymore, will spend the night in her bed rather than part of it in my arms. One night soon, I’ll wake up after a full night’s sleep, hear silence, wonder if everything is ok, and the sadness that those precious moments in the early hours of the new day are a thing of the past. So in the meantime, I thank her for sharing this time with me.

 

 

How to Ogle Breastfeeding Moms

Listen up, bros! I’mma do you all a favor. Sit your asses down and I’m going to teach you all you need to know about catching a glimpse of some fine boobage when you’re out in public.

See, there is this thing that’s happening called nursing in public. Moms everywhere are starting to do it more and more. They still get dumped on by people who are offended because they think it’s disgusting but what’s great is that the more people shit on mothers for breastfeeding out in the open, the more they go out and do it! And what does that mean for all us guys wanting to scope out some tittehs while on the go? Boobs everywhere! But man, you gotta know how to look for it.

Do you see that breastfeeding mom over there on the park bench? Yeah, the one that looks like she’s just holding her baby. No, you can’t see the boob because the baby’s in the way but trust me, she’s breastfeeding. Trouble is, once the baby’s latched on, your opportunity to see her nip is probably long gone. That baby’s going to be in the way the whole time and thanks to her super high-tech boob-hiding shirt, that luscious melon is going back in hiding the instant that kid is done eating. Your best bet is to figure out when a mom is about to pop her ta-tas out before she actually does it.

There’s one now! See how she’s settling into that bench with the armrest? She just reached inside her shirt to unclasp her nursing bra. In a minute, she’ll pick up her baby, cradle the little thing and she’ll reach under that flap on her shirt to free her boob. But damn, you have to look quick! Because before you know it, that baby’s gonna be in the way and once he starts eating, say bye-bye to the nipple. THERE! Did you see it? No? Me neither. Damn, she’s good at doing that discretely!

Well, if you missed it the first time around, there are other options. First of all, you could always stare really hard. Don’t worry, they don’t give a shit. They’re too busy chatting with their baby, singing them songs, looking lovingly into their eyes and all that other sappy stuff moms do. So just look real close and maybe, just maybe, the baby will pull away for a second and you may get to see a shadow of a nipple or something. Your best bet, however, is to get up real close to them. The closer you are, the better the chance you’ll get to see something. Maybe if you stand right behind her and look right over her shoulder? They don’t like that as much, though.

Ok, it turns out it’s actually really, really hard to see anything juicy. The way people are talking about it, going on and on about how gross it is, how moms need to cover up, how it’s so offensive, you’d think these milfs were going around topless, shouting from the rooftops and waving those things in everyone’s face. But the truth of the matter is, moms are really good at being super low-key about it, hiding all the naughty bits so before you know what you’re staring at, the baby’s stopped eating, has fallen asleep and you’re going to have to go back to checking out the Victoria’s Secret catalog if you want to scope out some proper cleavage. Now there’s a bunch of women that are happy to flaunt it…

Stash Shot Saturday

Welcome to the world of babywearing. And thank Facebook for providing such a great forum to exchange ideas, tips, safety considerations, videos, advice, and general chatter about everything from how cute squish is in his ring sling, to how to tie the Frankencarry. And the swaps. Oh, sweet mother of all that is holy, the swaps. The Babywearing Swap, the Canadian FSOT (for sale or trade) and be still my trembling credit card, the High End Babywearing FSOT.

And if perusing all the wonderful wares that babywearing mamas across the world were putting up for sale or trade wasn’t enough, every Saturday, moms post mouth watering pictures in what is referred to as SSS – Stash Shot Saturday. They lovingly display their stash of babywearing accoutrements for all to drool over. Or in my case, for me to use as justification to buy just one more wrap. I mean, I just saw a stash with 40 wraps! What is one more handwoven?

Here is my first SSS picture.

Would you believe me if I told you it’s actually quite modest? So here they are.

1 – 1st bundle on the left (purple): Half Wrap Conversion standard Tula, Oscha Paradise Juliet

2-2nd bundle on the left (rainbow): Wrap Conversion Mei Tai – Girasol Symphuo medio weft converted by Mama Bird Carriers

3-top wrap (light blue): Uppymama Catch handwoven doll wrap

4-2nd wrap (slate grey): Sewfunky mesh ring sling (for swimming with the bub)

5-3rd wrap (green with brown and fuchsia pinstripes): Omega Organics Moss and Leaves handwoven ring sling

6-4th wrap (grey and slate variegated colors): Omega Organics Russian Blue handwoven, size 4 (3.9 m)

7-5th wrap (orange): Didymos Cinnamon Pfau, size 5 (4.2 m)

8-6th wrap (light blue): Uppymama Catch handwoven, size 6 (4.8 m)

9-bundle on the right: ERGObaby Camel carrier

Notice no two items are really the same? So really, I don’t have an extravagant stash, just a number of different items that do different things in different sizes. Yup. Not over-the-top at all 🙂

Wear All The Babies!

So in addition to breastfeeding and all the politics, controversy and activism attached to it, there is another subject I’ve become passionate about – babywearing. Turns out dealing with a young baby and an incredibly active toddler is muuuuch easier when you can just strap one of them on you. I’m simplifying a little, but that’s pretty much what it boils down to – babywearing is, well, wearing your baby. Using anything from a technological marvel you have to be an engineer to figure out, to a long woven wrap, you tie your baby to yourself. It can be as easy as clicking a buckle or as complicated as tying the most complex knot around 20lbs of squirming baby. There are hundreds of videos showing how to tie dozens of carries. Cities have babywearing groups, meet-ups, libraries and all promote the same thing – safely carrying your baby in a manner that will promote emotional and physical development all the while providing a practical way to go about your daily life.

I started wearing my daughter out of necessity. Picking up my toddler at daycare everyday while trying to push an umbrella stroller in three feet of snow was just not an option. So I pulled out my second hand Snugli carrier and made the daily trek with my baby snuggled warmly against me, under the large panel of fabric zipped to my winter coat to make room for her. It worked. But not for long. The Snugli is what is jokingly referred to as a crotch-dangler. As in, your baby dangles by their crotch. If she was uncomfortable with it, she sure didn’t show it. She would pretty much fall asleep in it before I even zipped her up. Until she got bigger, which is when it became uncomfortable for me to wear her in that contraption. So out came the ErgoBaby which, as the name implied, allows baby to sit in a more ergonomic position. Then I joined the Ottawa Babywearing Group on FB.

The OBG is this amazing group of women ranging from soon-to-be moms with a passing interest in babywearing, to mothers of multiple children who are a living embodiment of attachment parenting. And, not to knock the city you’re from, can I just say that wow, we are really lucky to be graced with the best bunch of amazing mamas here in Ottawa. So, not to negate all the time I spent carrying either of my children before that point, I think it’s safe to say this is where my babywearing journey began. Within a few weeks of perusing the group posts discussing all forms of babywearing, I owned my very first woven warp – a no-frills black and lime green Chimparoo wrap that was perfect to practice with (and Canadian-made!). Within a few months, I owned my very own Uppymama – arguably the gold standard of handwoven wraps, made by pixie fairies out in Red Deer Alberta, using unicorn hairs and breathed on by the gods themselves. Or so the price tag would have you think. These pieces of gorgeous gossamer are so highly sought after (or HSA in short form) that every week, the weavers pick a select number of names from hundreds of entries for the right to purchase one of their beauties. That’s right – if you win, you win the right to spend 100s of dollars on 3 to 5 meters of fabric. I won the draw on my second try – I’ve heard of some moms trying for 18+ months – and I will admit, when I told my husband and he assumed I’d won the wrap outright, I didn’t exactly correct him.

But, carriers and wraps aside, the truth is that the experience of wearing my daughter for hours on end – while she sleeps, while she nurses, while she laughs and everything in between – is priceless. Sometimes, when she’s playing by herself or when she’s in her car seat, I miss having her on me. I miss her little heart beating so close to mine. I miss bending my head down and kissing the top of hers. I miss her fingers in my hair, no matter how much I scold her when she gets a handful. I love the freedom it gives me to hold my son’s hand and to chat with him when we walk home from daycare. So yeah, I’ve turned into that mom. The breastfeeding, babywearing, scarf-in-the-hair Birkenstock wearing momma. I couldn’t be happier, my children couldn’t be happier and our family as a whole couldn’t be happier.

Enough is Enough

I wrote an article yesterday about a breastfeeding photograph I posted to the wall of a discussion group on Facebook. The photograph was reported and removed less than 24 hours after it went up. In the picture, my nipple was exposed because my daughter had unlatched, thus possibly violating Facebook’s nudity policy. After it was removed, I notified the group of its deletion and in response, dozens of other members of the group published their own breastfeeding pictures, each one of them truly beautiful and inspiring.

This morning, I received a private message from the woman who removed the photograph. The message was somewhat of a back-handed apology which started off with “I’m sorry I reported your pic to FB but I stand by my decision”. This mother explained she had been unable to breastfeed her own child due to post-partum complications and found looking at photographs of breastfeeding mothers very difficult. Although she considered breastfeeding to be a beautiful thing, she believed it should be kept private in order to avoid offending mothers who wished they could breastfeed but couldn’t. She confirmed that she had decided to leave the group since the subsequent response to my photo being deleted – the dozens of breastfeeding photos “plastered” on the group’s wall – made her realize she didn’t share the same values as the other members of the group. I responded a non-committal “Thank you for letting me know, I’m sorry you were offended.”

At first I felt very sorry for this woman. I still do. I celebrate breastfeeding because of how amazing of a time it is in a mother’s life and I feel so grateful that I’m able to enjoy this relationship with my daughter. To look forward to this and to have it ripped away must indeed be devastating. But the more I reflected on this woman’s logic, the more I started shaking my head.

The reality is that this is not the first time I’ve heard this argument in criticism – sometimes in outright denigration – of public breastfeeding. Now that more and more women are taking steps to normalize breastfeeding, it’s common to read comments from other mothers expressing this very sentiment. Women are calling breastfeeding mothers “pushy” and “superior” because they can breastfeed when others can’t. They accuse a breastfeeding mother of “flaunting” the fact she can do this when others couldn’t.

I recently read an opinion piece from a Detroit woman raising concerns about the power the formula industry wielded in her home town. She explained that the argument that “supporting breastfeeding mothers offends women unable to breastfeed” was becoming so prevalent – promulgated primarily by the formula industry – that businesses and establishments that previously displayed signs supporting breastfeeding were now being shamed for taking such an “offensive” and “discriminatory” position. Although I shuddered at the fact some people were going so far as to call breastfeeding support “discriminatory”, I wondered whether the writer was overreaching when she postulated that the formula industry was behind this push. But then I started thinking it through.

Why is it that public breastfeeding is one of the only circumstances in which this tactic is used? There are countless women in the world who wished they could get pregnant and can’t, yet no one would ever deign to propose that photographs depicting and celebrating pregnancy be removed lest they “discriminate” against women experiencing the devastation of infertility. I miss my deceased father daily yet I would never think to ask my friends to refrain from celebrating their own father this father’s day, in recognition of my personal grief. So as it relates to breastfeeding and this idea that supporting breastfeeding is offensive to mothers unable to lactate… is it so farfetched to think that someone is driving this campaign? Maybe someone with a vested interest in marginalizing breastfeeding in a push-back against the increasing body of research and legislation supporting it? Someone with the resources to fight this societal shift towards the acceptance of this most natural and beneficial process? Ok, I may be getting ahead of myself and jumping on the conspiracy theory bandwagon.

But let me be clear. I will celebrate breastfeeding. I will voice my joy at being able to share this amazing relationship with my daughter. I will marvel, every day, at the fact my body gave her life when I bore her, and continues to give her life, health, love and confidence through breastfeeding. When she grows up, I will tell her about this special time we shared, just like I often tell my toddler about the months I spent breastfeeding him. I will support mothers who breastfeed because I know that they need it. I know that they undoubtedly cursed their child at one time or another, for needing so much from them. I will applaud them for waking up at all hours of the night to nurse their infant, yet again, despite how sleep-deprived they may have felt. I will respond to critics and let them know I stand against anyone who advocates hiding breastfeeding behind bathroom doors, in dark closets or behind cumbersome blankets. I will support mothers who wish they could breastfeed but were unable to, and vow to be there for them in the event they get a second chance. Breastfeeding is beautiful, it is natural, and it deserves to be celebrated.

Deleted

I recently posted about my decision to become more active in celebrating and normalizing breastfeeding and to this end, I decided to pose for a series of photographs with Sara McConnell, a photographer who’s artwork depicting breastfeeding mothers and children can be seen across our city in various breastfeeding- and family-friendly establishments. The results were beautiful and I will cherish the photographs for years to come, well after I have stopped nursing my (currently) 6-month-old daughter. I also joined a number of breastfeeding groups as part of my social media profile, as well as local “mom” groups where discussions ranged from babywearing, meal ideas, potty-training frustrations and everything in between. When I read, two days ago, that Facebook had recently and very quietly changed its policy on breastfeeding photographs to remove the restrictive clause that photos could not show exposed breasts, I decided to post my favorite picture to the group page of one of these mom discussion groups. The picture is of me breastfeeding my daughter. No, she is not latched on my breast in the photograph. She did what breastfeeding babies do all the time: she pulled away, unlatched and stared up at whatever was distracting her. But any mother who has breastfed a child will know that this is a photo of breastfeeding in progress.

I love this picture. I love the inquisitiveness in my baby girl’s beautiful eyes. I love how my finger is softly caressing her wispy red hair. I love that her little body is wrapped around mine the way it does when we sit like this together. I love that I will always have this reminder of that special moment. So in honor of the changes to the Facebook policy, and with the good faith belief that this picture met the revised regulations, I posted the picture. I didn’t post it on my own wall – not that I would be ashamed to do so. But since I long ago made the decision to socialize with colleagues via Facebook, and since this aspect of my identity as a mother is not one that I have chosen to share with them, I knew my own Facebook profile was not the appropriate place for the picture. Instead, I posted it on the wall of one of the motherhood discussion groups I had joined, knowing they supported the publication of breastfeeding photographs. The response was overwhelmingly positive, and the administrators of the group also voiced their approval of the photograph.

But that didn’t matter. When I attempted to log in to Facebook the next morning, my account had been temporarily disabled and was reactivated only after I acknowledged that the photograph had been removed and certified that none of my remaining content violated Facebook’s nudity and pornography policy. With a sour taste in my mouth, I logged back in, and immediately posted a notice on the group page where my photograph had previously appeared, advising that it had been removed. People voiced their shock and their disbelief. And then, in a show of solidarity the likes of which I have rarely seen, stranger after stranger, one mom after another, started posting their own breastfeeding photographs. From selfies to professional portraits, each and everyone of them beautiful.

In my haste to log back in to Facebook after the photograph was removed, I’m not too sure what I did but I apparently waived my right to appeal the decision to remove the photograph. So it’s no longer on there, and I’ve decided not to repost it. Instead, I posted a more traditional picture, with baby latched on and no nipple to be seen. It is just as beautiful and precious to me.

Ultimately, my goal was not to offend anyone. It was simply to share a picture I had previously been unable to show around, to a group of women I thought would be receptive to it. And they were receptive, on the whole. Save for what I’m sure was a minority, one of which saw fit to report the photograph. Joke’s on her, I guess – with the dozens of women who posted their own treasured images in support and protest of the deletion, she wouldn’t be able to avoid them now if she tried.

I’ve Been Had

Yup, after years of eBay shopping without any incidents, for anything from used clogs to a Coach purse, I finally got screwed. And this one makes me particularly angry. Not because of the value of the item – I’m only out $90 – but because it potentially compromised my daughter’s safety. Some months ago, I was perusing a slew of Petunia Pickle Bottom items for sale – you know, those fancy diaper bags with colorful motifs. I happened upon one of the PPB ERGObaby carriers I’d spotted in the past. The listing showed pictures, stated it was out of box but barely used, and in great condition. I inquired with the seller who had comparatively little eBay feedback – approx. 70 items only, many of which were for her as a buyer. What conditions had she used it in? Why was she selling? She explained she was a stay at home mom and that they were getting rid of a number of baby items because their last child was outgrowing them. The carrier was only used a handful of times because her son did not like the carrier which she claims to have gotten as a baby shower gift, and they never really ended up using it. Very plausible. I figured I couldn’t fault a mom for not having much feedback and since I knew ERGObaby carriers were very well made, I knew a little use wouldn’t compromise the integrity of the product. I knew, because I actually had an ERGObaby carrier already, but it was a drab beige. And, well, this PPB designer one was just SO PRETTY! So I PayPal-ed the seller, thanked her for doing business and waited while the item shipped.

When it arrived, I noticed nothing amiss. I admit that although I don’t consider myself naïve, I wasn’t aware that ERGObaby carriers were actually very often counterfeited and that there were in fact large quantities of fakes on the market. Since I didn’t know this, I assumed everything was legit and once my daughter turned 3 months and started fitting in the ERGO comfortably, I started using it without a moment’s thought. This was my real initiation to babywearing and I started immersing myself in the world of babywearing mommas and products. It’s at this point that I learned that a savvy consumer of SSCs (Soft-structured carriers) actually needed to be very leery of possible fakes, most specifically fake ERGObaby products. It wasn’t long before I started wondering if I’d been had. So I did a bit of research and right away, I knew that I had, in fact, been sold a counterfeit. The safety elastic on the waist band had stretched quite badly, completely compromising the safety of the carrier. It’s now useless. I guess I could replace the elastic, but unless I replace the buckles and all the straps, I’ll never know if I have a truly safe product in which to carry my daughter.

So, here are a few pictures of what, according to my research, are indications that my Petunia Pickle Bottom ERGObaby in Evening in Innsbruck is in fact a fake. In some pictures, I’ve placed the feature side-by-side with my older ERGObaby which is just solid beige, for comparison.

REAL: logo with the ERGObaby nautilus and Petunia Pickle Bottom stitching

FAKE: Logo is actually completely different than the original

FAKE: loose and frayed safety elastic on waist band no longer prevents the buckle from slipping if it becomes undone.

FAKE: close-up of the frayed elastic

FAKE: label is sewn on crooked

REAL (left) and FAKE (right): real buckle has “STEALTH” stamped on it, fake one does not

REAL (top) and FAKE (bottom): real hood strap has larger and sturdier snaps

FAKE: spelling, punctuation and formatting mistakes.

FAKE: seat is at least 2 inches narrower than the real ERGObaby

 

Unfortunately, my window to file a claim with eBay has passed since I’ve had the carrier for more than 3 months now. And my emails to the so-called stay-at-home-mom who sold it to me have gone unanswered. Shocker. So, I figured that I’d at least do what I could to shed a bit of light on this unfortunate incident. Hopefully it will prevent another well-intentioned babywearing mom from shelling out precious maternity-leave dollars or, worse, injury to their innocent child. Carry on, mommas!!! BWFTW

I Need to Do More

I was chatting up an acquaintance recently at a family birthday party and she was gushing over my 4 month-0ld baby girl. “Oh my gosh, she so cute I want to take her home!” I laughed and joked that I wouldn’t mind being able to leave her for an evening or two. “Only problem is, she refuses to take a bottle, even if it’s full of pumped milk”, I explained. “Can’t help you there, I just finished weaning my youngest” she responded. I commented that I was impressed; knowing her youngest was 13 months old, I asked her a bit more about it. She explained that if she’d had her way, they would have kept going, but the circumstances made it too complicated to continue. She was now back at work part-time which required quite a bit of travel, and she was finishing up her doctorate. Her husband also felt that at 13 months, it was time for their son to wean, lest he become a “mama’s boy”. Ultimately, she just didn’t have the resources to keep up her production. Feedings got fewer and farther between, and finally, after 3 days away from home on a business trip, there was no more milk. She acknowledged she was sad to see this precious time come to an end. I was still curious and she was glad to share more about her experience.

“I had an interesting conversation with the nurse at my son’s doctor’s appointment last week. She asked how the breastfeeding was going. I explained that I’d just weaned my son and when I told her why, she gave me a heartfelt apology. I couldn’t understand why she was apologizing, but she explained. She said that as a pediatric nurse and certified lactation consultant, she saw all kinds of situations. Moms who chose not to breastfeed, those who tried but decided to stop, families who supplemented or did half and half. She counseled in accordance to the position adopted by the Canadian Paediatric Society that breastfeeding is the best option, but she supported every mother’s choice. The reason she was apologizing was because she felt that when societal circumstances prevented a mother and child who wanted to breastfeed from continuing to do so, it was truly a shame. She felt it was the duty of medical professionals and breastfeeding advocates to ensure that when a mother and child chose to continue breastfeeding, nothing stood in their way. I guess if my employer was willing to be a bit more accommodating and if my husband didn’t have such antiquated views, I’d still be doing it so maybe the nurse was right.”

Her comments struck a chord with me. I started examining my views about breastfeeding. I know the guidelines set by the international pediatric organizations – from the CPS, to the American Academy of Pediatrics, to the World Health Organization – from having heard them so many times: breastfeeding exclusively until 6 months, and then continuing to breastfeed up to 2 years and beyond. But I made a mental checklist and realized that of the dozens of mothers I was friends or acquaintances with, I knew exactly4 moms who breastfed their child beyond 2 years. Of course, I’m sure there were a number of others who breastfed longer than I expected, but if so, they kept very quiet about it. I guess the reality seems to be that when we go back to work after our year of maternity leave (how lucky are we Canadians!?!), it takes a lot of work and dedication to continue to breastfeed. And lets face it, a mother who chooses to dedicate so much time and energy to breastfeeding a toddler is often seen as suffering from some kind of unnatural attachment bordering on perversion. Crazy, isn’t it?

My daughter is only 4 months old. It feels like we’re eons away from toddlerhood but in the meantime, I’ve decided it’s time that I do more. I usually adopt a “lead by example” mantra when it comes to how I live my life (i.e. do what I think is best but keep fairly quiet about it) but I think it’s time I start advocating in favor of breastfeeding. It’s time to show others how beautiful and satisfying the experience can be. It’s time to voice my opinion openly to my social media networks, and to the people in my community. The first thing I want to do is to book a photo session with a local photographer who specializes in breastfeeding photography. I want to memorialize this experience. My next step will be to call our local La Leche League Chapter and inquire about what I can do and how I can become involved.

And now, right on cue, Baby Girl is waking up from her nap and ready to feed. 🙂

 

Moo, Part 2

I recently discussed being tired of breastfeeding and how I wished I could be done with the whole thing. Given my daughter was only slightly older than 2 months at the time, I knew I had many more months of boob-time ahead of me, and it seemed like a daunting prospect. Well, after spending quite a bit of time reading other moms’ and bloggers’ experience with it, I guess I’m having a bit of a love affair with breastfeeding these days.

I’m lucky this time around, I won’t deny it. I think the only issue I had with breastfeeding my now-4-month-old daughter was a bit of pain when she was born and we were both getting used to the process. It dissipated after about a week and since then, everything is hunky-dory. My milk came in within 48 hours of Baby Girl’s birth, and production was established about 6 weeks after, right on schedule. No blocked ducts, no infections. Not too much milk, nor too little. Baby Girl has a good latch and now that she’s over the mild digestive issues most newborns have, everything is brilliant. Which is a good thing, because as it turns out, Baby Girl wants absolutely nothing to do with a bottle, even if it is squirting out freshly pumped breastmilk. I tried the other night, hopeful that I could start building a stash of milk in order to leave Baby Girl with Daddy or a willing grandma on the odd occasion. No such luck. Not only did she refuse to suck on the bottle, she even made a big show of spitting out the milk I squirted into her mouth. I swear she was laughing at me when she did it. But, ultimately, it’s not the end of the world. She’ll come around, I’m sure. And in the meantime, it looks like the boobs will just keep at it, producing ounce after ounce of juice.

With my son, breastfeeding was a constant worry. He was such a spirited boy, he couldn’t stand it. He hated being cradled to me and would start screaming the moment we “assumed the position”. I worried about his intake 24/7 and it became clear he was so exasperated with the process, he was actually letting himself go hungry. As his weight began to drop, so did my milk production in that vicious circle breastfeeding moms are too familiar with. So when we finally made the switch when he was 6-months old, it was such a relief that I didn’t care what other moms thought. And anyone who thinks you don’t get to bond as much with a bottle-fed baby as with a breastfed one, well, you’re wrong. Some of my most precious moments with my son were when I could hold him in a position that he was comfortable with, while he played with my hand or my hair as I fed him. Not to mention the bonding time he had with his dad, and the overall psychological and emotional peace I finally got to experience from seeing the comfort and ease with which my son was now feeding.

But with Baby Girl, it’s going great (knock on wood). Despite moments of being exasperated with it all, I’m now starting to experience all the little joys. Her little feet kicking at my arm during her most intense sucking. When she looks up and smiles when she makes eye contact with me, milk dribbling out the side of her mouth as she momentarily breaks her latch. The milk-drunk mini-naps after each feeding. The confidence and pride I feel at being able to give my child this gift. One blogger wrote making milk made her feel like she had a superpower. It’s more than that for me. I remember looking at my little girl – all 7lbs of her – being pulled out of my body and placed on my chest when she was born. I remember thinking “I MADE THAT”. I built every cell of her body. Sure, her dad contributed very key ingredients to the mix,  but (no offence, honey) I’m the goddess that took those two initial cells and turned them into this perfect being. And now, I look at her – almost double her birthweight – and I marvel even more. Me. It’s all me. Every additional ounce she has gained is 100% me. My body. My sheer will. I don’t just make milk, I make human. I make perfection. I make fingers and toes, cuter than any you’ve ever seen. I make the red hair that is growing unevenly on top of her head. I make her skin that glows so beautifully, pink and healthy. I make those vocal chords that laugh when we tickle her cheeks. Which I made too, which I keep making every time she latches on.

It’s not bragging. Breastfeeding – whether it’s sustained for only a few days, weeks or months on end – is hard. It’s fucking hard. It’s painful, time-consuming, frustrating. It dictates what you wear, what you do, where and when you do it. It cuts you off from your surroundinsg while you have to sit there – anywhere from 4 to 12 time per day and more – cradling your child to your breast as the world keeps trucking along around, and without, you. So no, reflecting on the little joys of breastfeeding and the pride you feel doing it, is not bragging. It’s simply reminding yourself why you do it. Reminding yourself, in the most difficult moments, that it’s like anything worthwhile in life: something you work hard towards, because the rewards are endless if you know where to look.