Sometimes Mommies and Doctors Make Very Bad Mistakes

Oh, where to begin?  Today started out normally enough, with a grocery shop followed by a playground visit.  Boodge got thirsty and I didn't have his juice with me so I parlayed it into a graceful departure from the playground, right on time to get Peanut home, changed, and into her nap at a good hour.  We pulled into the garage and I began the process of getting the kids out, Boodge already jumping up and down for "Juice, juice, juice. C'mon Mama, juice now."

"Hang on!" I said, "I have to get your sister." I pulled the carseat out of Milli-Van and noticed that Peanut was getting so long, her feet were hanging over the edge.  "I have to get a new carseat for you soon," I told her.  It was a tight squeeze beside Milli-Van, because there are three sheets of plywood balanced against the wall of the garage. I rested the carseat on my hip and used my other hand to slide shut the van door.  Something in the closing 'thunk" of the door sounded funny.  I looked down and let out a shriek of fear and horror, at the exact same time as Peanut.  I had slammed her little foot in the door of the van.  There it was, wedged between the two still walls of metal. 

Now time sped up. I opened the door, I carried the carseat to the landing. I looked at her foot. The underside was already turning red and purple from the blood underneath. She was in a silent scream, her mouth open, her body heaving but no sound coming out.  I quickly unlatched the buckles and took her out. Soon she found air and began howling in desperate pain. I held her, "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry little baby. Oh, little baby, Oh, I'm sorry."  We all came inside. I tried to nurse her but she couldn't go there yet. I got Boodge juice and told him I was going downstairs to see his daddy. "Oh, sweetie, oh, sweetie.  I'm so, so, so sorry."

Down in Sean's office, I showed him her foot and told him what happened.  We worried that her foot was broken. I wondered if I should take her into the hospital and Sean thought I should, so we agreed that he would come upstairs to watch Boodge and I would go.  Thank goodness he works at home.  Within 5 minutes or so we were back on the road.  I didn't want to take Peanut out of my arms but I wanted to find out if there was anything we needed to do. She cried all the way to the hospital, and I called out to her, "Oh, baby, we're almost there." I drove quickly but with eagle eyes, avoiding all lights and swiftly maneuvering around any car that was slowing me down. 

The intake process was quick, since she was already on record there after I took her in for a fever a few weeks ago.  Then the triage nurse looked her over. For a while then she stopped sobbing, and watched the nurse attach a heart monitor to her big toe, listened to us talk.  The nurse was kind. She told me the bones in that part of Peanut's foot were not even fused at this age.  I felt myself tear up then but stopped myself.  It was my mistake, I thought, Peanut gets to cry, I need to be strong.  Then the nurse shared a personal story about her own daughter burning herself on a cup of tea she had mistakenly put within reach, and how bad she felt. "I think every mother has one of these stories in her history," she said.  Thank you nurse.

We were sent back into the waiting room. Peanut was sobbing again and I tried to nurse her but again, she wasn't going there.  Boodge was the type of baby who immediately sought comfort at the breast, but Peanut has never been thus.  She wanted me to stand up so I did, I stood and put my forehead to hers and looked into her eyes and told her it was going to be OK, it was going to feel better.  I sang to her. She sucked her thumb and was calmed, though she continued to hiccup and break into sobs.  We waited and I watched as a construction worker with a face injury came in  Another woman came in, I don't know what for, and was kind to me and Peanut, offering support and sympathy while she waited for who knows what.  And then a nurse came to get us.

We were taken to a curtained room with a bed where we would wait for the doctor.  The nurse asked me a few questions and took a few notes.  "She's still nursing?" she asked me, after I told her when and what Peanut had last eaten.
"Yes."
"If you want to try to feed her you can, just pull the curtain," she said. "It sometimes helps."
"I know," I said, "I have tried but she won't take it." 

She put the bed up to a seated position and offered to bring me a pillow. I told her I was fine and thanked her. Pull the curtain, I thought to myself.  Funny.  I just tried to nurse her right in the waiting room.  But after a while I noticed everyone had their curtain pulled.  Between all the curtained rooms there was a long hallway that medical and cleaning staff traversed. I figured I'd give Peanut and myself a little privacy. I think that's what the nurse meant, anyway. 

I climbed onto the bed with Peanut, trying not to rub her foot against anything. I've broken a foot before and I know that even a whisper against it hurts like hell. Peanut began sobbing again.  "Oh, sweetie. Wouldn't you like to have some nice milk. It might make you feel better." I said. I pulled up my shirt and this time she latched on.  She looked into my eyes with her red rimmed, bloodshot eyes as she drank and I told her how sorry I was, how it was going to heal and feel better, how much I love my little pooka-poo.

It doesn't look so bad in this picture.

Poor little tootsies. 

While she nursed I tried to hold an ice-pack gently to her foot.  She was reaching for the pack, and kicking it away at the same time.  "Let me hold it here," I said "Sweetie, keep your foot still." I smiled at her. She smiled back.  She reached for the pack again.  "No," I smiled, "You can't have my pack." She smiled so wide milk dripped down the side of her face.  "You can't have it!" I laughed, grabbing her little reaching hand, shaking it around. She started to laugh, my nipple still in her mouth.  I laughed too, so relieved.  "You're OK!" I said. "Oh, I'm so glad to see you smile."  She had pulled off now and I gave her a little nose kiss. "You're so brave, you're so strong!" I kissed her neck and she chucked deeply.  "Oh Pooka." I sighed. She smiled up at me, her eyes looking into mine, clear blue pools of adoration and happiness.  She absolved me, her guilty, guilty mother.

After that I knew she was fine.  While we waited we played with my cell phone, sunglasses, a bag of jelly beans, my keys.  She moved around on the bed and I saw her putting weight on the foot and not crying.  I knew that it couldn't be broken if she could do that.  I thought about x-rays and how I didn't think I wanted her to get one if things were looking good--why expose her to the radiation?  And then the doctor came in.

He was a small man, perhaps in his mid-forties, slightly thinning hair.  He greeted me without introducing himself and sat down and asked me what happened.  I told him.  "We just wanted to make sure it's not broken. She was really upset and it is so bruised. But I just nursed her and since then she's actually been smiling and playing and I'm feeling like it may be OK."

"So you're still nursing?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Planning to wean soon?"
Huh? What does that have to do with my daughter's foot? "Nope. No plans to wean anytime soon." I said, trying to sound friendly. I smiled tightly and maneuvered Peanut, pulling her right leg out so he could see the injury.
"What are your plans?" he asked.
Did he really ask that? "Um, well, I nursed my son until he was three, so I figure I'll just nurse her until one of us feels done with it."  I held out Peanut's foot.
"The longer you nurse the harder it is to wean." he said.  Oh brother, I thought. This guy is a total ignoramus.
"Well, it wasn't that hard to wean my son when he was three, actually." I countered. You've got nothing on me, punk. I know way more about this than you.  For starters, you've never even nursed a baby. 

My Dad is a doctor, so Doctor's don't intimidate me.  I've seen them drunk in my living room, babysat their kids.  I know they are just people, doing a huge job with a ton of responsibility and don't always know much about some of the things they are confronted with on a daily basis.

But what the hell was he thinking, encouraging a mother to wean a 9-month old? An awkward silence had fallen between us and he looked at Peanut's foot.  I just wanted an opinion on my daughter's injury, but now his opinion meant nothing to me. I had to speak.

"You know," I began, in a tone that meant, you do know, don't you?  "Breastfeeding long-term is really good for them."
"No, that's not true." He said. "That's not what we're taught. There are no scientific studies--I mean, there are only a few scientific studies that say that."
"I've read a lot of scientific studies that say it."
"Well, it's true if, you're right if you're talking about third world countries, where there's not adequate. Not adequate, um, what am I looking for..."
"Clean water?"
"Yeah, clean water.  Then it's recommended long term. But otherwise, breastfeeding, once you do it for a little while all the benefits are on board, there's no need to continue long-term."

He said the last sentence quickly, mumbling, and picked up Peanut's little foot and began moving it around. She looked at him, as unimpressed as her Mama.  He pushed down on two of her toes, and told me that the bones in her foot are not calcified at this age so they would be invisible on x-ray, so there was no point in doing one.  He said even if her foot was broken there wasn't anything they could do for it and it would probably heal in a week because babies heal so quickly.  I asked him if there are risks to x-ray for such a small baby, and he said, "Nah." Then he started to wiggle each of her toes, "Look, we'll play the little piggy game." he said to her, but then he didn't actually play it.  After he finished he said that if it was broken, she would have screamed. I agreed.  I just wanted to be done with this man.

We left. All the way home I thought about the bizarre interaction.  I never got the Doctor's name, but I felt like going back and getting it, so that I could gather some literature and send it to him.  So he could get educated.  So he wouldn't encourage another mother who came in with her nursing baby to stop nursing, sooner rather than later.  But would he read it?  Why did he even bring it up with me?  Does he have some "thing" about extended breastfeeders? And if so, shouldn't he at least know that he should keep his personal issue out of his profession, where his word has power with vulnerable people.

In all my interactions with the medical community so far since the birth of Boodge, I have had nothing but positive responses from nurses when I tell them I am a long-term breastfeeder.  I mean they practically high-five me, they are so happy about it.  The public health unit is plastered with posters advocating nursing.  It was a nurse who taught me how to latch Boodge onto my breast, and I was filled with gratitude for her, so relieved to finally nurse the baby that had been in an incubator for the last 30 hours.  I have heard tons of horror stories coming out of the States about ignorance in the medical community, but I really thought that here in British Columbia everyone was "on board." Not the good doctor.  Apparently, not him.

I'm just relieved that my strong, brave girl is OK.  I'm glad little baby feet have soft bones and heal quickly.  I'm glad that I had that reminder of how quickly a moment of carelessness can change everything and I'm so glad that it didn't.  And I'm glad I was able to nurse her when she was upset and I'm glad that it helped her feel better.  I'm glad that I'm firm in my own mind about my commitment to nursing, and I know about it's benefits, and that I enjoy it and am able to do it with my babies.  I'm glad that at the end of this sad, scary, bizarre, exhausting day, I can go crawl into bed with her and breathe her in. 

But I'm still thinking about the good doctor.  It's too bad he's out there with that misinformation.  What do you all think? Should I send him a package of info with a friendly letter telling him how much I want him to know about the benefits of nursing? Can you all help me out with your favorite links to research?     

Now We Know Better

You did then what you knew how to do, and when you knew better, you did better. 

~Maya Angelou~

I said I wanted to write more about counterwill, and Boodge is giving me lots of reasons these days.  Counterwill is the basic instinct in all of us that makes us feel resistance when we sense someone is telling us what to do.  Boodge's is strong, sometimes. Dare I say, like his Daddy's.  Maybe his Mommy's too.  He's becoming more and more his own person, more complex and self-motivated, less predictable. He wants it his way, and he'll pull out all the stops to get it.

I'm so glad I read about this concept of "counterwill" and can use it as a frame through which to view Boodge's current behavior.  It's handy, because it helps me not see him (only) as an obstinate, cheeky little almost three-year-old, but just as a normal, healthy kid, becoming his own person. And it helps me remember that there are ways I can approach him that may succeed in avoiding a "shield's up, all systems NO" sort of response from him.

Sometimes, I've been able to pull some ju-jitsu on Boodge. Like, he says, "No, I don't want to go! I want to build a tower," and I can stop myself.  Instead of getting into a back and forth, escalating, "Well, we have to go!" "No, I'm NOT!" type of thing, I can say: "Oh, OK. Let's build a tower for a little while and then we'll go."  Amazingly, this can work really well, and usually within 5 minutes, he's ready to go peacefully.  I've done this when he's refused to eat the soft boiled egg I just cooked him at his request, or insisted on playing in the backyard instead of getting in the car.

I'm learning that approaching him with a "You will do it NOW because I say so," attitude is a recipe for disaster.  Knowing that helps me to stop when I see his resistance coming up, and consider another way I can approach it, where I can yield to win.  I am really gratified when I can stay calm and convince Boodge to follow along willingly, rather than have to drag him kicking and screaming, but I don't always succeed. 

The other day, at the playground, was a good example of how it can all go wrong.  Boodge had been playing alone there for a while, and when another family arrived, he was excited to see more kids. So excited, in fact, that when he spotted the little girl in the purple sparkly dance suit, he took off running at full tilt, and screamed "I'm BOODGE!" right in her face.  "NO!" she responded, no doubt alarmed at the speed he was running towards her. I managed to rein him in with my voice, he came back and the girl went to sit down and eat her yogurt.  A few minutes later, I found myself near the girl's mother and tried to initiate a friendly exchange, using little Peanut as bait. She didn't take it. She gave me a tight lipped smile.

And then, the little girl finished her yogurt and started advancing towards the playground.  Boodge took off at full tilt again.  He got behind her, arms outstretched, I could see what was coming.  "NO!" screamed the girl.  "NO, Boodge, NO!" I yelled.  But it was too late.  He tried to grab her, shoved her to the ground instead.  She crashed on the pavement, falling hard on her bare palms.  Started crying.

We moms descended, fully intense.  Other mother did not look happy, and who can blame her. Her little girl was hurt.  I could see that Boodge was already registering the situation, feeling upset that his friendly intention had gone all wrong, sensing that this was a big deal.  I exclaimed, "Oh no, you knocked this girl down. She's hurt, Boodge! You need to say you're sorry."  Boodge was silent.  I turned to the mother and apologized myself, and checked if her girl was OK.  She was.

I tried to soften Boodge a bit, "I know it was an accident. You didn't mean to hurt her.  Can you say 'Sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you?'" (this is a phrase he uses a lot at home).

"Sorry!" bawled the little purple girl.  
"No honey," I said, "You're hurt, you don't need to say sorry."
"This boy is going to say sorry to you," said the other mother firmly.
"Say sorry Boodge."
"No," replied my son. Awkward pause while the other mother's eyebrows shot up, her mouth tightened.
"Boodge, say sorry, or we're going home right now.  You hurt her."
"No.  I'm not going to."
"Please say sorry. It's the right thing to do."
"I want to go home."
Another awkward pause.  "Well, you still need to say sorry, you hurt the girl. It's the right thing."  Oh, I was faltering, alright.
"No. I want to go home."
We waited a while, but it was futile. The other mother said "Well, I guess you're going home then.  Too bad for you. You could have been friends with her, but now you aren't allowed to play with her."
"Just say sorry Boodge!" I tried again. 
"No."

And so we went home.  Awkward?  Yes. Was I embarrassed? Yes, much more than I should have been, because it's totally normal.  I wish I hadn't been thinking so much about how I wanted my son to appear--obedient, polite, caring, and had thought more about what was actually going on for him.  I think Boodge's reasoning went something like this, "Oh, shit. This is bad.  I hope Mommy can sort it out.  Oh no, it looks like Mommy is on their side, too."  His big wall of NO came up, and then, a choice was offered. "You're saying I can go home and get out of this uncomfortable situation? Yes, that's what I want.  Let's go. What are you waiting for?"

All the way home I talked at him, telling him it was rude, it wasn't the way to make friends, he had hurt the girl's feelings by refusing to apologize. when someone says "no" it is important to stop.  I asked him "why" questions which I know he cannot answer.  He sat in his carseat with a sullen look that made me see a glimpse of his future teenage self.  As I talked, I realized that I probably sounded like that old "Far Side" cartoon where the man is talking to his dog, and all the dog hears is one or two words that he actually understands.  I was just talking because I didn't know what else to do. 

But after he was napping, I was nursing and thinking about counterwill, and saw how I could have approached things differently so that Boodge may have come along.  I believe he learned his lesson immediately through the intensity of everyone's reactions, just like when he tried to pick up his sister. At his age, he doesn't get manners and politeness in a genuine way, and neither did purple dress girl who was trying to apologize herself.  They just do those things because we tell them to, and they are willing to follow our lead.

I could probably have had a lot more success in that situation if I hadn't been so worried about what the other mother was thinking, and had focused on connecting with Boodge, who needed me to help him negotiate his mistake.  Doing something like putting my hand on him, or even pulling him to me, and then focusing on whether the girl was OK and apologizing myself first.  Then to Boodge, I could have said, "Oh, how sad, she's hurt her hands. You didn't mean to hurt her, did you?  Are you feeling bad that you hurt her?" Which, I'm pretty sure he would have said yes too.  Then, perhaps if I'd have encouraged him to apologize to make it better, and he would have wanted to.  And if not, then...not make it a big thing, just take him home. The point has been made.

I'm pretty sure that the way I hammered at it will ensure that counterwill is strong about forced apologies for a while to come. So I'm hoping next time, I can remember to take this approach.  One thing Neufeld emphasizes in "Hold on to Your Kids" is the idea of "collecting" your children. It's well explained in the article I linked to last time, "Why Children Say No."  In this case, I forgot to collect Boodge when he was feeling very lost indeed.  Instead, I pushed him away, and that roused his counterwill.

Hey, we all make mistakes! But if we can learn from them and plan to do differently next time, then we're on the right track. Which, really, is all I wanted to teach my son in that situation.  And look at that, he taught it to me--again.  Isn't parenting awesome?

And Another Thing About Tandem Nursing

So, now that I'm "out" (whew, I feel better), I want to talk more about my experience tandem nursing, just to share my experience in the hope someone finds it useful.  For me, tandem nursing and my decisions around it were all mixed up in my desire for my kids to have a good sibling relationship, and to help Boodge adjust to his sibling in a way that encouraged bonding and sharing rather than jealousy and insecurity.  Now I know I can't control the sibling relationship, and how it goes...so much depends on who they are innately and the many experiences they will have together.  But I do have some influence on how they view the relationship and in not creating any dynamics that intensify sibling rivalry in regards to my attention.

I think nursing is just representative of anything a mother can do to ease the transition and make siblinghood feel like a good thing.  It's a form of attention I give my kids, one that is nourishing and loving and very special time for them and for me (though believe me, I frequently forget to appreciate how special it is and just feel annoyed or rushed).  And it's a form of attention they still really want.  Just like Boodge will one day outgrow the desire to have me sit with him while he has a poo, but will want me to watch him play soccer, he will also outgrow this form of attention and want a different one. But for now, it is important to both my kids in different ways, and though tandem nursing helps Boodge feel included and secure, it is still terrain that needs to be negotiated carefully.

This is what I want to say to tandem nursing moms....you should prepare yourself to set some boundaries.  You may not realize what they are until you are in it, but how you set them probably helps, so if you can think about it in advance, you may avoid some bad scenes.  If your toddler is not one of those magical ones that says, "Ok, the baby can now have the boob, I'm done"  (which, apparently, happens!) then you are faced with deciding how your kids can share this precious resource.  There will be lots of milk, but it is not infinite, and you will likely find that you too have a limit on how much you want to nurse, though I can't say what that will be for you.

Boodge was gracious about sharing the first time.  We were in the hospital, and I had to nurse the baby, and he said he wanted to "Boo."  I thought, "Ok, here we go, this is where it starts." I allowed him to latch onto the other side, and I sat there in a room full of people feeling akin to a nursing pig-mama.  (the word sow is too much for me!)  But then I looked down at my babies. Boodge was studying Peanut's face, taking it all in with that serious look he gets around new and intriguing puzzles.  Peanut was nuzzling and grunting, a new, tiny piglet. And then Boodge reached and very gently stroked her head, her face, and reached for her hand to play with her little fingers.  I melted completely, and in that moment felt very committed to tandem nursing.

Then we got home and over the next couple of weeks, I figured out where my limits were.  Boodge wanted to nurse every time Peanut nursed, and then some, where before he had been down to 3-4 times a day.  But when it was time to nurse to sleep, he was distracted, and tenacious too.  He wouldn't let go into sleep, he wouldn't let the "Boo" or his mommy go at night time and naptime. He missed naps, I missed breaks from him. I got tired and then angry, overwhelmed with all the newness and change myself. 

Though I did my best to realize that Boodge was also adjusting and tired, we had some bad moments.  I lashed out at him for not falling asleep fast enough at times, or for refusing to nap.  He acted out, doing things he knew were not allowed, one after the other.  I yelled, I cried in front of him.  And sometimes when he asked for "Boo," I refused him in a very angry way.  Sometimes, I refused him because I didn't feel like being exposed to guests, both breasts out.  And he cried in a way that I knew I had hurt his feelings.  It is hard, and I suppose any way you navigate it, adding a new member to the family will destabilize things and cause some friction. 

Now we are almost a month in and things are stabilizing.  Boodge is not asking to nurse as much, though it is still more often than it used to be.  I found it helped when I prepared Boodge in advance for the change, and explained why it helped his little sister.  For instance, the first time I had to tell him he can't have both sides on his morning session anymore, I didn't prepare him, and I was impatient when I told him.  He freaked out.  But over the course of the day I managed to pull it out by revisiting the scene, validating his feelings and briefly explaining why ("cause your sister is hungry in the morning too, and she can't have pancakes or granola and yogurt").  Then I reminded him of it before bed, and in the morning when he came into our room to nurse.  And he was totally gracious about it then, and from then on has never tried for the other side and often mentioned that it's "Peanut's side".

When I heard about tandem nursing, I couldn't imagine having two babies latched onto me at the same time.  I thought I may choose to only nurse them separately.  But I've learned that if one is nursing at a time, you have to worry about what the other is doing.  If Peanut is crying, I have to interrupt Boodge.  If Boodge needs to pee, I have to interrupt Peanut.  And Boodge invents scenarios that require attention...inflating an injury, smashing his toys into the window...you know how 2-year olds are.  So I've found I really appreciate those times when they are both latched on and my mind can drift while my body rests under the weight of my two sweeties.  And now that Boodge is used to nursing with her, it helps get them both to sleep at the same time, which is totally amazing, because...look at how much time I have to blog!!  We had to change Boodge's routine of nursing to sleep in the living room and being carried to his room asleep.  Now we all lie down in his bed and I nurse both, or cuddle sleeping Peanut in one arm while he nurses to sleep on the other side. 

And how is it all working for my main objective, the sibling relationship?  Mostly, great.  Boodge will sometimes say "I want to nurse with my little sister." He holds her hand and he strokes her head, and he sometimes pulls off to make some observation like "Peanut is soooo teeny weeny."  There have been moments when I see him looking at me while I nurse Peanut, and on his face is pure longing sadness and envy.  When I see that, I will invite him to nurse or cuddle or read a book, and make sure I reinforce to him how much I love being with him, and that it is sometimes hard for him that Mama is not always there in the same way.    I also point out to him the advantages of having Peanut around, "There's all this yummy milk now," and "You get to boo so much more!"  And I really thing Boodge likes Peanut, and though he is still pretty much absorbed in his own thing (you know how 2-year olds are), he likes to pause and see how she is, or give her a "little nose kiss" or a cuddle.  He'll bring her a blanket or play a song for her when she is crying.  And he seems to be feeling pretty secure and comfortable with the new status quo these days.

Peanut, for her part, is gaining weight like crazy and seems pretty chilled out.  Luckily, she is an amazing nurser and can find her latch and stay on through a fair amount of jostling and in a variety of awkward positions.  I look forward to seeing how it evolves as she becomes more alert and interactive.  She still gets a lot of solo "boo" time, and Boodge gets his morning and evening nurses solo.

If you're going to try tandem nursing, or are doing it, or are just introducing a new sibling, I hope this is helpful. Those first few weeks are tough...and I'm sure there will be lots of tough times ahead.  But things do get better, we all grow, and babies grow up so fast.  And let's all remember to go easy on ourselves and our kids.  Parenting is a learned art.  I'd love to hear anyone else's experiences navigating the terrain of having a new baby, and how you share the love around and help your kids bond and connect.

I, Tandem Nurser

It's hard for me to be "out of the closet" as a tandem nurser.  I was pretty comfortable nursing a toddler in front of people, but less comfortable nursing when pregnant, and now, when I have both my baby and toddler latched on in front of anyone but my husband, I feel varying degrees of cringe.   It is admittedly a unique sight, and I get it that people almost can't help but stare with fascination.  And they're usually family or close friends, but still, I feel like a bit of a freakshow tandem nursing in front of them.  Most of the time though, people can't help but display a little melting and utter an "awww" when they see Boodge reach out to hold his sister's hand, or stroke her head, and that makes me feel a little better.

I must admit, most of my extended family and friends have been very accepting of what I know is not a mainstream decision, and though some gently challenged my intention to tandem-nurse while I as pregnant, nobody has done so since Peanut has been born.  Still, I can't help but wonder if privately, people are thinking I'm a freaky, over-indulgent, over-involved, hippy-dippy, extreme natural parenting nutcase mother.  And there are some in my life who I know would think one of those things, with whom haven't confirmed nor denied that Ardan is not weaned.  Not that it would change my choice what anyone thinks or that it is anyone's business but my family's.  Nonetheless, a discomfort is there, and I don't really like letting Boodge latch on in mixed company. 

I just read something in Mothering Magazine that struck a chord.  Peggy O'Mara was writing about the necessity of making informed choices about what we feel is right for our families which are not based on changing trends or customs or media campaigns.  "We are left then with just a few constants; our observations of our child, our trust in ourselves, consultations with experts, the scientific evidence, and our own common sense.  These things are enough.  And it helps if we're already comfortable with being part of a minority."

When I look at these things, I know my choice is right. My knowledge of Boodge told me he wasn't ready to give up nursing, and I felt that if I weaned him during my pregnancy, he would not forget the "boo" and it would be hard for him to see a new baby nursing.  Breastfeeding, as I've mentioned before, is about so much more than nourishment--and for Boodge and I it really has been a strong source of connection, nurturing, and love.  I thought that weaning for the new baby would be difficult for his relationship with me, and could create jealousy with his new sibling.  Nursing them both would send the message to Boodge that though he had to share my love, there was plenty of it to go around.

The benefits of extended breastfeeding are well recognized, so there was no question of whether it went against science or expert opinion. And my common sense tells me that if some people find it weird, that is their discomfort to deal with, not mine.  But unfortunately, I am not generally "comfortable being part of a minority". I'd like to be, because a lot of my views and lifestyle choices go against the mainstream, and I admire the men and women who are comfortable loudly challenging the status quo.  And I ally with those men and women who have always had no choice but to be part of a visible minority, and who have faced the discrimination and judgement.

But though I will speak up when I perceive an injustice or oppression, I don't enjoy debate about my opinions, and especially not my personal choices.  How I choose to live is based on what I feel right in my soul, and is usually deeply thought out and deeply personal.  When people challenge that, I  usually get too defensive.  But I believe in "live and let live", and I really try to accept and love people as they are.  I like to get that treatment in return. 

One thing parenting has pushed me to do is be more open about the ways in which I am not with the mainstream.  I can't allow other people's judgments and opinions to stop me from parenting according to my heart and my values, and I also need to demonstrate to my children that it is OK to be who you are, and the people who truly love you will accept that.  And it's been wonderful to discover that being who I am, openly, creates much more honest relationships and opens the door to new connections and interesting conversations, when others are open too.  Which it turns out, people often are.  And if they're not, well, I've learned something valuable about how deep I want to go with that connection.

I'm grateful to the parents who have shared their experiences and the judgments they faced for their parenting choices, and helped open my mind to the vast terrain that parenting is.  I'm sure this has happened to almost every loving, devoted parent, no matter what their choices.  And it helps to find others who are going through something similar.  Which is why I wanted to "out" myself as a tandem nurser.  Yes, I nurse 2 babies who are 2.5 years apart. And it's sweet and lovely and empowering and also challenging and annoying. This post really was meant to be a preamble to talk about what I've learned about tandem nursing, and how to make it work, in an effort to reach out to other mothers who are thinking about it or doing it.  But that is a post for another day, in another blessed moment like this one when both babies have nursed to sleep at the same time, one in each of my arms, and both are now sleeping while Mama gets time to reflect.

The Tao of Potty Training

A couple of months before Boodge turned 2, I started thinking about potty training. How does one begin? What does one do? Some of the parents from our prenatal class group were reporting that their little ones were starting to have potty success. Should I be pushing it along more, I wondered? Put the potty in the living room? Sit him on it in the morning? My mommy-mentor happened to come for a visit, so I asked her, "What's the best way to start?"

"The best thing for you to do right now," she replied, "would be to just not think about potty training. Because if you start thinking about it now, you'll be doing it for the next year and a half. And you don't want to do that. If you wait a little while till he's more ready, you'll be doing it for less time."

This was good advice, I felt, that appealed to both my general parenting philosophy and my lazy side. On one hand, I truly do believe that children will naturally move towards the next step of independence when they are ready, if they are provided with a secure environment to try things and some gentle, non-pressuring encouragement and information. And on the other, complementary hand, I'm not inclined to struggle towards change with Boodge much. I've never sleep-trained and I haven't weaned (except for nights). Those things felt right for me but also, whenever I thought I may want to do those things, the thought of the month or two of pain that it would take was enough of a deterrent. I'd rather wait things out if I'm pretty sure they will happen on their own. And I'm pretty sure Boodge will be sleeping through the night and not nursing by the time he goes to university. Maybe even before.

I'm coming to think of this as the wu-wei of parenting. "Wu-wei" is one of the central principles in Taoism, and means "without action", "natural action" or "effortless doing". It sounds better than laziness. It's a practice of understanding when to act, and when not to, so that we can better move with the natural flow of things. A couple of times now, we've been caught by surprise when we've been thinking about "doing" something with Boodge but haven't actually taken any action yet. I'm beginning to think maybe the best thing to do, often, is nothing.

The first time was when we moved and could finally give him his own bedroom. He'd been sharing our bed until then, and I wasn't sure how to approach the transition. We'd set up his bedroom, and told him it would be his one day, but we had a steady stream of guests so I hadn't had a chance to put him in there. Eventually, the guests dwindled, and we started doing his naps in there--he has always done those alone anyway. But how to break it to him that bed sharing with us was over? Turned out, it wasn't necessary. One day, he just said he wanted to sleep in his bedroom, and he really hasn't turned back since then. Wu HOO!.

Potty training is turning out to be much the same. After my friend's advice, I sort of let it go. I had already ordered him a book called "Diapers Are Not Forever" which a friend had found helpful. So we read that a few times. I told him often about the potty, and how he would use it one day when he was ready, and pointed it out to him. I let him watch me go--I mean, what choice did I have anyway? And one day, he just said he wanted to pee in the potty.

Since then, he's been steadily progressing, with some regressing. Over the last 2-3 months, he's gotten to the point where he doesn't pee in his diaper during the day at all, unless he's super-excited and distracted by activity--and even then, he usually makes it to the potty with a few drips on the way. Oh, and there was the other day, when we were running inside to the potty and he got sidetracked by the garden shears. (Don't freak out Mom!) I let him use them under close supervision, and he started cutting flowers off the hydrangea. He was so focused on what he was doing and so not wanting to give up the once-in-his-lifetime that I didn't take those shears away, that he looked at me and said, "I'm gonna pee in my diaper" and then spread 'em and went for it.

For a long time, he didn't poo in the potty though. Then, when my mom was visiting, he did it for the first time. It was aperitif time and Mom was pretty exuberant, and so was I, and eventually Sean and Papa Toad (my step-father, Claude, to us, but to Boodge...) also filed into the bathroom, and we all made such a huge deal about it that he didn't try that again for almost a month.

But during that time, he went a whole week without peeing at night! I thought (naively) we were truly on our way to fully pee-trained. Now this last 2 weeks, he's pooed in the potty for every single poo...but he's peeing at night again, and sometimes in his diaper during nap time. He's also pulling his 2 year old contrarian act sometimes, saying "I need to pee in the potty," and then refusing to let me take off his pants. Yesterday, he did that while wearing underwear, and then peed his pants. I admit, I got in a snit and snapped at him, even though I've heard that shaming or chastising your kids for making a potty mistake is the worst thing you can do. It felt natural--wu wei. Ha ha. But I did regain control and realize that he may have just wanted to see what happens if he pees in his underwear. He didn't seem to like it much. So...wu wei.

I'm just riding it out. Before this week, he often asked me to put his diaper on if he was naked and needed to poo. Instead of trying to convince him to go on the potty, I just did what he asked. Wu-wei. I only put him on the potty when he says he needs to go, or if he's agreeable to going before we go out (which he often isn't, so...wu wei). If he says he needs to poo, but then gets tired of waiting, I let him get down from the potty. Sometimes he runs back in there 5 times until the right moment. That's about knowing when to act and when not to. Besides, the lazy side of me doesn't really want to sit in the bathroom waiting when I could be doing something else.

Now, I'm not suggesting that I'm some sort of Taoist parenting guru. There's lots of examples of times when I try to micro-manage my family and force things into a certain shape. I didn't earn the nickname "micro" from my husband for nothing. But sometimes, the wu-wei matches up to my lazy nature and my preference for doing what feels natural, and it's a win-win. And it's teaching me that maybe I should just let go that way in the rest of my life sometimes, and trust that nature will take the right course with a few strategic actions on my part that go with the flow.

I realize we're lucky with Boodge, he seems to be motivated to make steps forward. Maybe Peanut will be different, or will not be ready until s/he is much older. But we're so happy that what we had heard was a difficult and messy struggle has been, for us, really, really easy. (So far. Knock on wood. Universe, please don't smite me.) So next time you feel yourself forcing something to happen, try the wu-wei. Parenting is just a little bit easier when you can learn to swim with the current.