Sunday, November 28, 2010
Birth Story Bash
If you like reading birth stories, there's a whole lot of them over at Mommypotamous. I just submitted Peanut's too. Just wanted to let you all know. Now I'm off to diddle away some time while everyone naps. Gotta love those synchronous naps.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
This too shall pass....
I did it, didn't I? I made that smug little comment about "how much time I have to blog" in my last post. Which was a couple of weeks ago now, right? Rule number one about having a baby, "don't slap asses". As soon as I made that comment, time to blog disappeared. Naptimes that were coordinated became uncoordinated. Naps were missed. Visitors were had. Colds were caught. Business travel was called for. And another unexpected life change that I won't go into added an overlayer of anxiety and intense discussions whenever Sean and I had a few moments to speak.
We are full on into life, plus an infant. Things seem to move at rocket speed, and I'm barely keeping up. Some days. or hours, I am OK with that because I know this is the way things are with an infant, and with life, and and this too will pass. And on those days I can make the best of the moment and believe I can take it all as it comes with grace. Other days, or hours, like the hours between 4-6 when everyone is tired and cranky and I'm trying to make dinner, I am gritting my teeth and trying not to lose it on someone. I feel cooped up in the house with the winter cold, but when I venture out with the two kids it is so harried and intense that I just want to get home.
The great thing about children is they keep you in the moment. The difficult thing about children is that they keep you in the moment. I am trying hard to stay in the greatness of each moment, but sometimes I admit the combination of a screaming baby, a freezing cold winter day, and an obstinate two year old can make a moment feel completely insane. The hard thing to do is reset once that moment has passed. Babies are so amazing because they can do that--in an instant a desperate scream is replaced by a purely happy smile. Looking at Boodge, I can see that even at two, moments start to be something we hang onto, that affect the moment after, and the moment after.
Parenting, and life in general, requires a lot of letting go. Letting go of bad moods, expectations, oversights the way your child was last week or an hour ago. Letting go of fear and what other people think and the desire for control. Letting go into love and trust, into your own instincts. All of this is best done if I can be in the now, instead of in all the thoughts and assumptions and anxieties in my head. But that way of being, like a baby, fully present in each passing sensation, grows out of us. We learn how to escape difficult moments, how to make boring moments more entertaining, fearful moments more safe--all using our minds. And after a time, we have to relearn how to just be where we are, even if it is stressful.
That is where I am, I suppose, dancing between the moment and the way I cope with it in my head. When I can reset my mind, let go, and meet the moment just where it is, I feel much better. I can appreciate right now, when the baby is napping in my arms, her head bopping to the keys, and Boodge is napping in his bed, and snow falls silently outside the windows. Or I can even appreciate the humour in two screaming kids in the back of the car, driving in a sudden downpour. And I can change what could be a crappy day into a good one.
.
But I'm not there all the time, people, I'm just not. I dance sloppy when I'm too tired. So how do you all rise above those moments when you want to lose it, or just can't get out of a negative mindset? What helps you trust that things are going to be OK, and accept that you can't have things the way you want them all the time? (the Boodge teaches me very little about the latter). I'm curious to know what helps you all dance to this hectic, unpredictable, beautiful beat of family life.
We are full on into life, plus an infant. Things seem to move at rocket speed, and I'm barely keeping up. Some days. or hours, I am OK with that because I know this is the way things are with an infant, and with life, and and this too will pass. And on those days I can make the best of the moment and believe I can take it all as it comes with grace. Other days, or hours, like the hours between 4-6 when everyone is tired and cranky and I'm trying to make dinner, I am gritting my teeth and trying not to lose it on someone. I feel cooped up in the house with the winter cold, but when I venture out with the two kids it is so harried and intense that I just want to get home.
The great thing about children is they keep you in the moment. The difficult thing about children is that they keep you in the moment. I am trying hard to stay in the greatness of each moment, but sometimes I admit the combination of a screaming baby, a freezing cold winter day, and an obstinate two year old can make a moment feel completely insane. The hard thing to do is reset once that moment has passed. Babies are so amazing because they can do that--in an instant a desperate scream is replaced by a purely happy smile. Looking at Boodge, I can see that even at two, moments start to be something we hang onto, that affect the moment after, and the moment after.
Parenting, and life in general, requires a lot of letting go. Letting go of bad moods, expectations, oversights the way your child was last week or an hour ago. Letting go of fear and what other people think and the desire for control. Letting go into love and trust, into your own instincts. All of this is best done if I can be in the now, instead of in all the thoughts and assumptions and anxieties in my head. But that way of being, like a baby, fully present in each passing sensation, grows out of us. We learn how to escape difficult moments, how to make boring moments more entertaining, fearful moments more safe--all using our minds. And after a time, we have to relearn how to just be where we are, even if it is stressful.
That is where I am, I suppose, dancing between the moment and the way I cope with it in my head. When I can reset my mind, let go, and meet the moment just where it is, I feel much better. I can appreciate right now, when the baby is napping in my arms, her head bopping to the keys, and Boodge is napping in his bed, and snow falls silently outside the windows. Or I can even appreciate the humour in two screaming kids in the back of the car, driving in a sudden downpour. And I can change what could be a crappy day into a good one.
.
But I'm not there all the time, people, I'm just not. I dance sloppy when I'm too tired. So how do you all rise above those moments when you want to lose it, or just can't get out of a negative mindset? What helps you trust that things are going to be OK, and accept that you can't have things the way you want them all the time? (the Boodge teaches me very little about the latter). I'm curious to know what helps you all dance to this hectic, unpredictable, beautiful beat of family life.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
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 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.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
A Little Haiku For Peanut
Slurp, grunt, burp, baby,
Sleep sweetly, dripping fat milk
Mama love, smiling lips
Sleep sweetly, dripping fat milk
Mama love, smiling lips
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
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.
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.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Peanut's Grand and Graceful Entrance
I'm pretty sure you all have guessed where I've been lately. Our little Peanut has been with us for over 2 weeks now and time to write here has become very, very scarce. She came "into the light" at 2:04 on October 16th, 7lb 10oz and 19 inches of pure sweetness. I am one incredibly blessed woman, to be given the gift of two beautiful children to raise. And what's more, Peanut came into the world so gracefully, her birth so surreally smooth that it barely disrupted anyone's day.
For a few days before it started, I was getting annoyed. Lots of contractions, and not painless ones, either. I felt like one perpetual menstrual cramp. At night, I was woken by contractions, and on the Thursday night before she was born I was kept awake until about 4am by so many of them I wondered if I was in labour. It turned out to be what they call prodromal labour, sometimes called "false labour" but since it feels very real, let's honor it with a proper name. Some poor women online reported having this for weeks or even months before they went into labour, and learning that discouraged me quite a bit.
So when I was woken the next morning at 5am with contractions (after already having a couple that woke me previously) I was skeptical. I lay in bed checking the clock and noted that they were pretty regular, every 8 minutes or so. When Sean woke up at 6:30 they were still coming at 8 minutes, and we lay in bed cuddling and talking, cozy, while we timed a few more. Boodge woke up and came in for his pee and morning "boo", and then we all got up and had coffee. Sean made me eggs and toast, my mom and my cousin (who had come for the weekend in the hopes she could witness the birth) got up. By then contractions were every 6 minutes or so, but I was still skeptical that it was the real thing. I guess I didn't want to be disappointed again.
But also, I was aware of not wanting to make a big deal of labour. My last birth, everything was so focused on the labour, I ended up a watched pot that stopped boiling. This time, I didn't want to feel like the center of attention, I just wanted everyone to go about their business. I was inspired by birth stories I had read in which women were finishing painting the rocking chair or working in their garden right through early labour. That is the type of birthing woman I wanted to be this time. So I told everyone that I didn't want to be watched, and we should just go about the day doing what we needed to get done.
So Sean started puttering around, replacing light bulbs, fixing squeaks and leaks, charging phones and cameras. My cousin Natasha made some playdough and my mom, she and I play-doughed with Boodge for a while. When a contraction happened I told Natasha and she noted the start and end.
When they had been coming every 6 minutes for a while I called my doula. She said things sounded promising and asked me what I wanted. I didn't want her to come over yet, I felt like that would put too much emphasis on the labour. So I told her I'd call her back when I felt I needed help. About half an hour later I called the midwife while pushing Boodge on the swing outside. She said I sounded too perky and to call her back in half an hour or so to see where we were. By now, I was pretty convinced it was the real thing, so I decided to go inside and make Peanut a birthday cake. Boodge and I got busy mixing the ingredients, and my contractions moved from 5 to 4 minutes apart while we cooked.
As I turned on the timer without putting the cake in the oven, I realized I needed to start focusing on the labour. It was Boodge's nap=time. I spoke to my midwife, and when I told her I was about to nurse Boodge to sleep she was confident that it would kick things into gear. Nursing releases oxytocin, which stimulates labour. And so it was, when Boodge was asleep, I put in my contact lenses so I could clearly see my babe when she arrived, and announced that I needed to go to the hospital. "I don't want to be here when Boodge wakes up. Let's just go and get this done," I said. I called my midwife again, and as soon as I said hello she said, "Ok, your voice sounds ready." In no time we were in the truck and on our little joyride to the hospital.
We arrived at about 12:30. My doula met us at the door. I had a contraction before I got out of the truck, right after I entered the hospital, two on the way to the elevator, on on the way up, and one as soon as we exited. I checked in, had a contraction, my midwife met us, I had a contraction, we got to the triage, I had a contraction. In between contractions she checked me and the baby and then checked my dilation. I was six centimeters.
Here we had our only little hiccup. When she checked me, the sack of waters was so hard she wondered for a minute if it was the baby's bum, coming breach. All of a sudden a doctor was paged just in case, and an ultrasound machine was brought in. But with the ultrasound and another check, the midwife was able to determine that Peanut was indeed head down, ready to go/ I was checked into a room with a big soaker tub, which my cousin set to filling right away.
By this time, I was hurting. The tub was a great relief, taking some of the gravity and pressure off my abdomen, but still, the contractions were intense and I was using some choice words to get through them. "This f@$%ing sucks. I don't want to do this anymore," I told Sean once or twice. But I knew that feeling that way meant I was probably pretty close, and sure enough I soon felt the "pressure" my midwife and doula had been asking me about. I called out to tell them, and my midwife told me that I would have to get out of the tub--hospital policy is that we can't birth in there.
After the next contraction ended I eyed the distance from tub to bed, and mentally prepared to make the move. Another contraction, and then I rose up and out, pushing aside the towel Sean tried to cover me with "I don't care about decency or anything like that. Just make sure I don't slip. I have to get to the bed fast." I believe that was what I said. "Wow, you really are a 'get her done' kind of birthing woman," my doula commented. Everyone laughed that she was repeating the phrase I had used when I announced we had to go to the hospital.
Turns out Peanut is a get 'er done kind of woman too, so we worked well together. At first, I wasn't sure if we were in the pushing phase. With Boodge, I had a long "calm" period before pushing, and then the contractions changed very distinctly. This time, my midwife didn't check my dilation after the first check at 6 centimeters, so I wasn't sure we were "there"yet. But then she commented that "my body was very telling" and my doula explained that she didn't need to check because my body was clearly ready. I gave a push and the midwife commented that it had been my first really good push. Never one to back away from a challenge, I thought, "Oh, so we ARE pushing? I'll show you good pushes then." The next push broke my water. Two minutes later I pushed out the head. And two minutes after that, Peanut came shooting out into the world. I pushed for about 8 minutes.
I mentioned in my Hidden Tigers post that my fondest wish for this birth was to be able to cuddle and nurse with my baby with no worries after the birth. To bask in the afterglow and the love. And I got that wish, and it was every bit as elated as I hoped it would be. I felt like a superstar, and I fell in love with my baby the moment I saw her. She latched on like a pro minutes after she was born, and nursed for almost an hour. We knew each other already, that much was clear. After all my anxiety during pregnancy, and my guilt over thinking only of how Boodge would adjust and paying little attention to the baby inside me, I felt so as if Peanut was letting me know it was OK. And besides that, she was going to be gracious and accommodating enough to come into the world in a way that never disrupted her big brother's schedule.
An hour after the birth, my mom and Boodge showed up and he met his little sister. He was hyper and happy and his normal, rambunctious self, more interested in the buttons that moved the hospital bed up and down than in his little sister. The midwife and nurses came in and out delivering papers and taking vital signs and making me pee, and decided I was OK to check out that same evening at 7pm. So my mom and cousin went to find us some take-out food (after the hospital delivered what looked like dog food for my dinner. It boggles the mind that there is a dietitian overlooking the menu at the hospital, and the food is going to ill people....and it's SO crappy!). We ate, and by then it was pretty much time to go, so we bundled up Peanut and got the hell out of there.
Once home, my mom mixed the icing for the cake while we cracked the champagne. Boodge and I iced the cake, and we all enjoyed some of Peanut's very first birthday cake. It was Boodge's bedtime then, so while Peanut slept in my cousin's arms I nursed him to sleep, right on time like I do every night, and he was none the wiser that his life had just changed dramatically that day. Then Peanut and I crawled into bed and snuggled close, my body still craving her just as I'm sure hers still craved mine. And we drifted off into a long, beautiful sleep.
For a few days before it started, I was getting annoyed. Lots of contractions, and not painless ones, either. I felt like one perpetual menstrual cramp. At night, I was woken by contractions, and on the Thursday night before she was born I was kept awake until about 4am by so many of them I wondered if I was in labour. It turned out to be what they call prodromal labour, sometimes called "false labour" but since it feels very real, let's honor it with a proper name. Some poor women online reported having this for weeks or even months before they went into labour, and learning that discouraged me quite a bit.
So when I was woken the next morning at 5am with contractions (after already having a couple that woke me previously) I was skeptical. I lay in bed checking the clock and noted that they were pretty regular, every 8 minutes or so. When Sean woke up at 6:30 they were still coming at 8 minutes, and we lay in bed cuddling and talking, cozy, while we timed a few more. Boodge woke up and came in for his pee and morning "boo", and then we all got up and had coffee. Sean made me eggs and toast, my mom and my cousin (who had come for the weekend in the hopes she could witness the birth) got up. By then contractions were every 6 minutes or so, but I was still skeptical that it was the real thing. I guess I didn't want to be disappointed again.
But also, I was aware of not wanting to make a big deal of labour. My last birth, everything was so focused on the labour, I ended up a watched pot that stopped boiling. This time, I didn't want to feel like the center of attention, I just wanted everyone to go about their business. I was inspired by birth stories I had read in which women were finishing painting the rocking chair or working in their garden right through early labour. That is the type of birthing woman I wanted to be this time. So I told everyone that I didn't want to be watched, and we should just go about the day doing what we needed to get done.
So Sean started puttering around, replacing light bulbs, fixing squeaks and leaks, charging phones and cameras. My cousin Natasha made some playdough and my mom, she and I play-doughed with Boodge for a while. When a contraction happened I told Natasha and she noted the start and end.
When they had been coming every 6 minutes for a while I called my doula. She said things sounded promising and asked me what I wanted. I didn't want her to come over yet, I felt like that would put too much emphasis on the labour. So I told her I'd call her back when I felt I needed help. About half an hour later I called the midwife while pushing Boodge on the swing outside. She said I sounded too perky and to call her back in half an hour or so to see where we were. By now, I was pretty convinced it was the real thing, so I decided to go inside and make Peanut a birthday cake. Boodge and I got busy mixing the ingredients, and my contractions moved from 5 to 4 minutes apart while we cooked.
Yep, I'm having a contraction here.
As I turned on the timer without putting the cake in the oven, I realized I needed to start focusing on the labour. It was Boodge's nap=time. I spoke to my midwife, and when I told her I was about to nurse Boodge to sleep she was confident that it would kick things into gear. Nursing releases oxytocin, which stimulates labour. And so it was, when Boodge was asleep, I put in my contact lenses so I could clearly see my babe when she arrived, and announced that I needed to go to the hospital. "I don't want to be here when Boodge wakes up. Let's just go and get this done," I said. I called my midwife again, and as soon as I said hello she said, "Ok, your voice sounds ready." In no time we were in the truck and on our little joyride to the hospital.
We arrived at about 12:30. My doula met us at the door. I had a contraction before I got out of the truck, right after I entered the hospital, two on the way to the elevator, on on the way up, and one as soon as we exited. I checked in, had a contraction, my midwife met us, I had a contraction, we got to the triage, I had a contraction. In between contractions she checked me and the baby and then checked my dilation. I was six centimeters.
Here we had our only little hiccup. When she checked me, the sack of waters was so hard she wondered for a minute if it was the baby's bum, coming breach. All of a sudden a doctor was paged just in case, and an ultrasound machine was brought in. But with the ultrasound and another check, the midwife was able to determine that Peanut was indeed head down, ready to go/ I was checked into a room with a big soaker tub, which my cousin set to filling right away.
By this time, I was hurting. The tub was a great relief, taking some of the gravity and pressure off my abdomen, but still, the contractions were intense and I was using some choice words to get through them. "This f@$%ing sucks. I don't want to do this anymore," I told Sean once or twice. But I knew that feeling that way meant I was probably pretty close, and sure enough I soon felt the "pressure" my midwife and doula had been asking me about. I called out to tell them, and my midwife told me that I would have to get out of the tub--hospital policy is that we can't birth in there.
After the next contraction ended I eyed the distance from tub to bed, and mentally prepared to make the move. Another contraction, and then I rose up and out, pushing aside the towel Sean tried to cover me with "I don't care about decency or anything like that. Just make sure I don't slip. I have to get to the bed fast." I believe that was what I said. "Wow, you really are a 'get her done' kind of birthing woman," my doula commented. Everyone laughed that she was repeating the phrase I had used when I announced we had to go to the hospital.
Turns out Peanut is a get 'er done kind of woman too, so we worked well together. At first, I wasn't sure if we were in the pushing phase. With Boodge, I had a long "calm" period before pushing, and then the contractions changed very distinctly. This time, my midwife didn't check my dilation after the first check at 6 centimeters, so I wasn't sure we were "there"yet. But then she commented that "my body was very telling" and my doula explained that she didn't need to check because my body was clearly ready. I gave a push and the midwife commented that it had been my first really good push. Never one to back away from a challenge, I thought, "Oh, so we ARE pushing? I'll show you good pushes then." The next push broke my water. Two minutes later I pushed out the head. And two minutes after that, Peanut came shooting out into the world. I pushed for about 8 minutes.
I mentioned in my Hidden Tigers post that my fondest wish for this birth was to be able to cuddle and nurse with my baby with no worries after the birth. To bask in the afterglow and the love. And I got that wish, and it was every bit as elated as I hoped it would be. I felt like a superstar, and I fell in love with my baby the moment I saw her. She latched on like a pro minutes after she was born, and nursed for almost an hour. We knew each other already, that much was clear. After all my anxiety during pregnancy, and my guilt over thinking only of how Boodge would adjust and paying little attention to the baby inside me, I felt so as if Peanut was letting me know it was OK. And besides that, she was going to be gracious and accommodating enough to come into the world in a way that never disrupted her big brother's schedule.
An hour after the birth, my mom and Boodge showed up and he met his little sister. He was hyper and happy and his normal, rambunctious self, more interested in the buttons that moved the hospital bed up and down than in his little sister. The midwife and nurses came in and out delivering papers and taking vital signs and making me pee, and decided I was OK to check out that same evening at 7pm. So my mom and cousin went to find us some take-out food (after the hospital delivered what looked like dog food for my dinner. It boggles the mind that there is a dietitian overlooking the menu at the hospital, and the food is going to ill people....and it's SO crappy!). We ate, and by then it was pretty much time to go, so we bundled up Peanut and got the hell out of there.
Once home, my mom mixed the icing for the cake while we cracked the champagne. Boodge and I iced the cake, and we all enjoyed some of Peanut's very first birthday cake. It was Boodge's bedtime then, so while Peanut slept in my cousin's arms I nursed him to sleep, right on time like I do every night, and he was none the wiser that his life had just changed dramatically that day. Then Peanut and I crawled into bed and snuggled close, my body still craving her just as I'm sure hers still craved mine. And we drifted off into a long, beautiful sleep.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Who is Peanut?
Well, here I sit 5 days from my official "due date". My cervix is dilating, my mucous plug is coming out (too much info?), my baby sits just an inch and a half from the spot where s/he will soon make the Great Escape. My mom has arrived to help and my hospital bag is packed and waiting. I'm in that funny zone where every plan I speak of ends with the words "...unless I'm in labour." I'm ready. I've switched from willing my body to hold onto the baby until my mom arrives, to willing my body to let go. I visualize flowers opening and I welcome contractions.
The only thing we haven't prepared is a name. I never realized that naming a baby was such a pain. I was never one of those people who had their baby names picked out from high school, though I sometimes wish I was. When I was pregnant with Boodge, I assumed that somehow the perfect name would just come to me, maybe in a dream where my baby appeared and introduced him or herself. But that didn't happen. Instead we pored over lists of names on the internet, with one of us usually vetoing each name, and the odd name going on a list of possibilities. Very quickly each of those sessions degenerated into ridiculousness, wherein Sean would become fixated on a particular name as great for a future dog, or insist that "Maglocunus" was the name, we need look no further.
So, when Boodge was born we also had no name. We spent a few days in the hospital with "Baby Boy" and I wanted to make sure we had a name before we left. My mom brought our book of Celtic baby names to our room and we looked through it. Halfway through the A's, Sean read out a name that none of us had ever heard or considered and all of us (the two grandmothers and us) said, "Oh, that's nice." The meaning listed was "young warrior", and we felt that Boodge was one since he had just come through a difficult start to life. And that was it. Boodge was named, and the name now fits him perfectly. It also means "eager" or "ardent", which we didn't know at the time but which Boodge certainly is.
With Peanut, we haven't really put much effort into searching. I find baby-name lists overwhelming, and eventually they all just blur into one. And Sean has found enough names for all our future pets. Instead we've just observed names as they come up, on TV credits, road signs, in conversations. We've hit on a couple of boy and girl names that we like, so we're not totally lost, but we also don't have anything definitive.
Our experience in name-searching has given me a lot of appreciation for other cultures who have traditions of "naming ceremonies" which occur well after the baby is born. For me, it just feels necessary to meet the baby before I can be sure of a name. The transition from womb to Earth is so significant, and babies seem a bit out of it at first, still floating between the two worlds. Giving them a name seems to be a nice way to ground them in their new life, after they have had a few days to adjust to that reality.
The only inconvenience is in making the birth announcement, since people generally like to know the name along with the other vital statistics. On this blog, Peanut will always be Peanut anyway, so that won't matter much. But in the age of facebook and twitter, the stats can be sent out right from the hospital room, mere hours after the birth. I'm pretty sure Peanut will still be Peanut then, and I'm OK with that. I trust that the right name will arrive to light itself on Peanut's little life when that life has settled here on earth. I look forward to learning what my new baby will be called.
The only thing we haven't prepared is a name. I never realized that naming a baby was such a pain. I was never one of those people who had their baby names picked out from high school, though I sometimes wish I was. When I was pregnant with Boodge, I assumed that somehow the perfect name would just come to me, maybe in a dream where my baby appeared and introduced him or herself. But that didn't happen. Instead we pored over lists of names on the internet, with one of us usually vetoing each name, and the odd name going on a list of possibilities. Very quickly each of those sessions degenerated into ridiculousness, wherein Sean would become fixated on a particular name as great for a future dog, or insist that "Maglocunus" was the name, we need look no further.
So, when Boodge was born we also had no name. We spent a few days in the hospital with "Baby Boy" and I wanted to make sure we had a name before we left. My mom brought our book of Celtic baby names to our room and we looked through it. Halfway through the A's, Sean read out a name that none of us had ever heard or considered and all of us (the two grandmothers and us) said, "Oh, that's nice." The meaning listed was "young warrior", and we felt that Boodge was one since he had just come through a difficult start to life. And that was it. Boodge was named, and the name now fits him perfectly. It also means "eager" or "ardent", which we didn't know at the time but which Boodge certainly is.
With Peanut, we haven't really put much effort into searching. I find baby-name lists overwhelming, and eventually they all just blur into one. And Sean has found enough names for all our future pets. Instead we've just observed names as they come up, on TV credits, road signs, in conversations. We've hit on a couple of boy and girl names that we like, so we're not totally lost, but we also don't have anything definitive.
Our experience in name-searching has given me a lot of appreciation for other cultures who have traditions of "naming ceremonies" which occur well after the baby is born. For me, it just feels necessary to meet the baby before I can be sure of a name. The transition from womb to Earth is so significant, and babies seem a bit out of it at first, still floating between the two worlds. Giving them a name seems to be a nice way to ground them in their new life, after they have had a few days to adjust to that reality.
The only inconvenience is in making the birth announcement, since people generally like to know the name along with the other vital statistics. On this blog, Peanut will always be Peanut anyway, so that won't matter much. But in the age of facebook and twitter, the stats can be sent out right from the hospital room, mere hours after the birth. I'm pretty sure Peanut will still be Peanut then, and I'm OK with that. I trust that the right name will arrive to light itself on Peanut's little life when that life has settled here on earth. I look forward to learning what my new baby will be called.
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