Well, vv is 15 months old now, still nursing like a champ (though probably only 4 times per day now.) And the simple, spontaneous nursing relationship that I was dreaming of in my earlier blog posts materialized after all, thank goodness. This is something that is truly a blessing.
And now, of course, there are other things on my mind . . .
I heard a piece on NPR (like every good liberal!) about the economic concept of "Conspicuous Conservation." This is a pattern of behavior in which, to paraphrase the segment, "driving a Prius is nice; being seen driving a Prius is even nicer." The economists had researched and proven that most folks of a progressive/environmental bent are more likely to engage in green behaviors if they can be seen as behaving greenly by their community/circle (provided the community/circle is also "green.")
This was striking to me because I always feel like I try to keep my green behaviors INconspicuous. Now, as a family, we could certainly go a lot further in our greenness (and I hope to), and I'm not trying to put myself up there as a paragon of planet-saving home life. But, I would go so far to say that among my/our circle of friends, we are among the most committed to being green. And I basically keep my mouth shut about it because I don't want to come off as being preachy or holier-than-thou. It's just something we do because my husband and I believe in it, and I don't want any judginess to enter into my friendships (in either direction).
Which I realize a wimpy attitude. I mean, people do need to be encouraged to make "lifestyle changes." Also, more selfishly, I do wind up spending a lot of my time as a (mostly) full-time SAHM, doing these green things -- they ARE time consuming -- and sometimes, I wish I got a little credit for it. (See, I'm not totally selfless.)
So I thought I'd list the stuff that I do, and we do as a family, that feels like it's a bit out of the mainstream, that reduces our impact on this planet a little. Let's see if, after I look at it, it seems super-awesome (to me) or insignificant.
1)The obvious one: we are CSA members (summer and winter shares). This means we support a local farm, and get organic, local, AWESOME veggies about 9 months of the year (but we do have to show up on Thursday evenings to pick up the veggies and carry them home, chatting with friends and neighbors in the process).
2)We also buy meat, eggs, beans, grains, and flour from a consortium of farms upstate (ditto on the picking up and chatting).
3)We get low-temperature pasteurized milk from the local farmers market. This supports another local farm, plus it comes in glass bottles which we return for a discount on the next week's milk. (This also requires a committed weekly trip to the farmers market -- not the one in our neighborhood -- and washing/keeping the bottles around till the following week. My husband and daughter get some good time in at the Jackson Heights playground while doing this "errand.")
4)I make our own yogurt from this fantastic milk. So it's super-healthy, fresh, free of any additives, and prevents that many more plastic yogurt containers from being made (we eat a lot of plain yogurt). (This is actually pretty effortless, it just takes a little planning.)
5)We compost all of our food waste via the compost pickup at our local farmers market. And, importantly, I do not use our compost as an "out" for CSA veggies that got old because I couldn't get to them in time. I get to them all on time (somehow.) Likewise I use parts of the veggies that many don't (eg. stems of greens and herbs.)
6)We use baking soda to clean our hair, and apple cider vinegar to condition it. We do not use shampoo or conditioner. The results are the same, if not better.
7)I have never used a skincare product on my 15 month-old daughter except for VERY occasional A&D for her diaper rash (very rare since she goes w/o a diaper a lot at home) and very occasional shampoo. Actually, I take it back, I do use a mineral, non-nano sunblock on her now that it's sunny. But soap, lotion: no.
8)I cloth diaper my daughter. This is one where I have slipped down the slope a bit and gotten lazy about using disposables when we are out. I'm trying to get back to max 1 disposable/day. Again, regarding conspicuousness, I think it's good for people to see somebody using cloth diapers. Cloth diapers do have to be washed, and yes, when there is poop I'm kneeling by the toilet, scraping the poo off the diaper with a spatula then dunking the diaper in the water to get the excess off. Then, I prewash the cloth wipes a bit in the sink. But hey, disposables are bad.
9)We do not have an air conditioner. Well, we do have a wall unit in the living room, which we've used once this summer for a visiting friend. Seriously, you do adjust to the heat if you are never in an A/C'ed environment. Though to be honest, it's easier knowing that I COULD turn on the A/C, I'm just choosing not to.
10)I always take canvas bags with me to the store. I know, kind of obvious, but worth mentioning.
11)We do have a car, which in NYC is not strictly necessary. But we don't drive it very much. And it's diesel, which means it gets great gas mileage and when we get our s**t together we can start using biodiesel.
12)I have bought so little new stuff for my daughter, I'm practically an enemy of the state. Okay, I did buy a new stroller, but it was last year's model at 50% off. I think my friends think I'm just super-cheap, the way I troll craigslist waiting for the thing I want to pop up. And it's true that I would rather do other things with my/our money than buy over-priced new stuff. But our cultural obsession with new stuff, from the conspicuous consumption aspect, to the short-lived personal high of bringing home and opening a new package, is (obviously) KILLING our planet. And I really try to evaluate what I buy (new or not). The baby industrial complex unveils product after handy, educational product for life with baby, enough to make a parent go insane. And much of it, you just don't need. For example: there are a MILLION things you can buy for feeding your baby, like a set of spoons that have some with longer handles for when you are feeding the baby, and some with shorter handles for when the baby is feeding herself. But you don't need two different spoons. You can reach the baby with the shorter-handled spoon, I promise. We have also managed to get by without buying the colorful Munchkin brand plastic covered bowls that every parent seems to get. vv just eats out of a regular, not-particularly precious, probably breakable bowl. But we sit with her when she eats, so if it looks like it might wind up on the floor, we take it away. Anyway, some families might really have a need for these products, but not for others that we use. The point is, we approach products with skepticism -- is the product generating its own perceived need? Or can we get along without it, even though we might look a little ghetto to our fellow parents?
13)If vv grows out of clothes that are too trashed to pass along to another family, I cut them up into rags and use as cleaning cloths. Again, pretty obvious and old-school.
14)Along similar lines, we use cloth napkins. And, I don't wash them every time we use them. If clearly dirty, of course I do, but often times they are not that dirty and we just use them again. We also save any unused napkins we might get from takeout and use those if we need something disposable. Speaking of which,
15)We do not eat much takeout. Now, okay, we live in New York City, where everything is available for delivery, and, okay, we probably have takeout for dinner every week-and-a-half or so. So to many people that will seem like a lot. But given our milieu, it's pretty infrequent. And I really make an effort to cook a lot, to always be processing the food that comes into our lives via CSA or farmers market or what have you, into something yummy and nutritious for us and friends to eat. Keeping salad dressing on hand, making the yogurt, learning to make sauerkraut/kimchee (my current project), etc etc etc, in addition to cooking enough at a time that we will have leftovers for lunch, all without a dishwasher. Yeah, mommies (and dads), you know it's work, right! Work with a huge payoff, but work nonetheless.
16)We have chosen to get our electricity from a provider that uses wind energy. This is entirely my husband's project, requiring no thought or time on my part, but I include it to be thorough.
17)We have a clothesline. I do do one load in the dryer (at the laundromat) per week, but all the diapers and some of our clothes get dried on the line or on our indoor fold-up racks.
Some things I'm just getting started on:
18)Gardening: I had to talk my landlord into letting me dig up a tiny plot where I currently have 4 culinary herb plants. They are growing great so far and I hope to be able to garden more in the future. Since for as long as we live in this building, I will never have that much room to garden, I focus on supplementing the CSA. Next year I'm thinking about maybe some plants that can be used for herbal teas, and maybe some garlic? Plus a pot of mint, in addition to my current herbs. I haven't gardened since I was a kid, so I have a lot to learn.
19)Along the lines of increasing our food self-sufficiency, I'm trying to learn more about food preservation. Again, it's baby steps. I'm trying my hand at some lactofermentation (helped along by whey strained off from the home-made yogurt -- cool, huh?), and hope to can a bunch of tomatoes late in the summer (a friend has promised to show me how.) How awesome would it be to not have to buy any canned tomatoes all winter? Pretty awesome. Apparently industrial tomato production is bizarrely complex and unnatural, requiring very high energy inputs.
20)And in a way, the biggest thing I do (and I guess this claim is what I'm trying to examine, more directly in a later post) is to put my energy into the home economy, instead of the formal economy. I work at raising my daughter and feeding my family, instead of having a "job-job." I'm pretty sure we would not be doing all the other things on this list if I (or my husband) did not work at home instead of at a job. Of course I will make the obligatory caveat that of course some families do not have this option, and need 2 incomes, and single parents have a different situation entirely. But we do have the option (partly because we're frugal) so the fact that I do this DOES allow our household to be more green overall.
So there's my list. I'm definitely leaving some stuff out, plus I should mention that my husband is passionate about low-consumption and will spare no effort to fix something instead of buying something new. I'll leave my self-evaluation/analysis for another post.
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Two months of being a parent -- the spiritual aspect
Yesterday, little vv turned 2 months old. She is lovely as ever, and growing by the minute. But here is not the place to gush about my baby. I really couldn't accurately express how I feel about her in a blog entry, so I might as well stay on task. What's on my mind, as far as this outlet is concerned, is something I'm only a little qualified to discuss. But I think it's important -- well, to me, it's of the utmost importance and personal validity. I'm staying home with this baby, and nursing her -- a very different experience than the one my husband is having, and a radically different experience than my previous life. I find a deeply spiritual aspect to this rhythm of life -- a rhythm in which my plans and expectations are fundamentally subservient to those of a greater life force -- in the form of a little baby. Her needs and rhythms, it goes without saying, are unrelated to conscious conditioning, priorities, axes to grind, ego, or any of the things, positive or negative but very "conscious," that drive us as adults. So for me the life, or the season of my life, in which I take care of her, is one of opening to that force.
I mention my husband because his point of view, it turns out, is pretty similar to a dichotomy that I thought existed, between the act of caring for a child (and the person who embraces that act) and the act of following one's own desires for a creative, fun life as an adult without that responsibility (and the person who embraces that). On the one hand, a person who's nurturing, selfless, and maybe, just maybe, a little bland; on the other, one who is dynamic, potent, and in a way, out of touch with something fundamentally earthy. My husband loves our daughter and treats her with kindness and tenderness; he is also profoundly responsible and wouldn't dream of flaking out on a life he was involved in creating. But he mourns what he sees as his loss of freedom and feels he's giving up something that's fundamental to his love of life: his self-directed ability to express himself creatively, and to take advantage of the wide variety of interesting experiences that life (especially in NYC) has to offer, and to share those with old and new friends. Of course, I find this disappointing, but it's also pretty common, and I believe that as time goes on he will find not only that caring for vv and seeing her grow is satisfying in itself, and allows him to express his values in society; but also that it does not actually keep him from having any fun :)
I point out to him that he's had 30-some years to pursue his interests unfettered and to have the admittedly more care-free, wide-ranging fun that comes with not being responsible for another being's every need. And that he will, barring some unforeseen circumstance, be in that position again. Because life does come in seasons.
But he still views it as a loss, and one that if not actually permanent, feels that way.
Back to my own view, I've come to view the parenting years as a season of: 1) the presence of an extremely cute little entity in close quarters; 2) the hardest work you've ever done; and 3) an opportunity for spiritual growth -- to cultivate non-self-centeredness, and to be annealed by a type of love you have never known before. (Note: "annealed" -- I have no idea if this is the right word -- but I mean being subjected to a force that changes every fiber of your being in a quasi-alchemistic way.) And getting into the rhythm of breastfeeding showed me that the opening to this force outside yourself had to be complete. I was surprised at the adjustment this took, and was not prepared for how fully I had to be attuned to my daughter and find a new rhythm of life. It really was/is like dancing with a radically different partner: if I keep trying to do the old dance steps, nothing but awkwardness and discomfort ensues; but if I truly give myself up to the rhythm, a beautiful dance takes shape, and I find grace and strength in entirely new ways.
I guess where the spiritual element of this comes in is in realizing that this "giving up to the dance" does NOT represent a loss to me. Some would say it represents the loss of "perfect freedom" -- but who wants that; to me "perfect freedom" can only mean total isolation from others. The "giving up" doesn't really represent a gain, either, because I think the concepts of personal loss or gain kind of miss the point here. It represents instead a more intense experience of life, MORE experience of life. There are other ways to do that, to be sure: the hangliding/bungee jumping/climbing Everest route; or devoting your life to prayer and service. But caring for your child is one of the ways. I know that domestic life, full of its mundane concerns, has often been contrasted to spiritual life. But to me, it *is* a spiritual life.
When I went traveling overseas recently, a friend gave me a copy of that book, "Eat, Pray, Love." This is not something I would have picked up myself, but I took it with me as a light, quick read on planes and trains, and because she's a good friend of mine. It was alternately entertaining and annoying, but the thing that jumped out at me was this: the author was going in search of emotional healing, and documenting her search in an obsessively self-aware, and self-centered way. The first time she feels some relief is when she is put in charge of greeting and taking care of new visitors at her ashram. That is, it's when she stops focussing on herself constantly, and gets out of her head to be a steward to others, that she begins to find the happiness she seeks: AND SHE DOESN'T EVEN REALIZE IT. At no point in the book does she acknowledge this fact. I found this really stunning.
I'm not saying that a spiritual life, or happiness, requires absolute selflessness. But it does require the ability to put the concerns of others ahead of your own; or, better put, to recognize them as one and the same.
I mention my husband because his point of view, it turns out, is pretty similar to a dichotomy that I thought existed, between the act of caring for a child (and the person who embraces that act) and the act of following one's own desires for a creative, fun life as an adult without that responsibility (and the person who embraces that). On the one hand, a person who's nurturing, selfless, and maybe, just maybe, a little bland; on the other, one who is dynamic, potent, and in a way, out of touch with something fundamentally earthy. My husband loves our daughter and treats her with kindness and tenderness; he is also profoundly responsible and wouldn't dream of flaking out on a life he was involved in creating. But he mourns what he sees as his loss of freedom and feels he's giving up something that's fundamental to his love of life: his self-directed ability to express himself creatively, and to take advantage of the wide variety of interesting experiences that life (especially in NYC) has to offer, and to share those with old and new friends. Of course, I find this disappointing, but it's also pretty common, and I believe that as time goes on he will find not only that caring for vv and seeing her grow is satisfying in itself, and allows him to express his values in society; but also that it does not actually keep him from having any fun :)
I point out to him that he's had 30-some years to pursue his interests unfettered and to have the admittedly more care-free, wide-ranging fun that comes with not being responsible for another being's every need. And that he will, barring some unforeseen circumstance, be in that position again. Because life does come in seasons.
But he still views it as a loss, and one that if not actually permanent, feels that way.
Back to my own view, I've come to view the parenting years as a season of: 1) the presence of an extremely cute little entity in close quarters; 2) the hardest work you've ever done; and 3) an opportunity for spiritual growth -- to cultivate non-self-centeredness, and to be annealed by a type of love you have never known before. (Note: "annealed" -- I have no idea if this is the right word -- but I mean being subjected to a force that changes every fiber of your being in a quasi-alchemistic way.) And getting into the rhythm of breastfeeding showed me that the opening to this force outside yourself had to be complete. I was surprised at the adjustment this took, and was not prepared for how fully I had to be attuned to my daughter and find a new rhythm of life. It really was/is like dancing with a radically different partner: if I keep trying to do the old dance steps, nothing but awkwardness and discomfort ensues; but if I truly give myself up to the rhythm, a beautiful dance takes shape, and I find grace and strength in entirely new ways.
I guess where the spiritual element of this comes in is in realizing that this "giving up to the dance" does NOT represent a loss to me. Some would say it represents the loss of "perfect freedom" -- but who wants that; to me "perfect freedom" can only mean total isolation from others. The "giving up" doesn't really represent a gain, either, because I think the concepts of personal loss or gain kind of miss the point here. It represents instead a more intense experience of life, MORE experience of life. There are other ways to do that, to be sure: the hangliding/bungee jumping/climbing Everest route; or devoting your life to prayer and service. But caring for your child is one of the ways. I know that domestic life, full of its mundane concerns, has often been contrasted to spiritual life. But to me, it *is* a spiritual life.
When I went traveling overseas recently, a friend gave me a copy of that book, "Eat, Pray, Love." This is not something I would have picked up myself, but I took it with me as a light, quick read on planes and trains, and because she's a good friend of mine. It was alternately entertaining and annoying, but the thing that jumped out at me was this: the author was going in search of emotional healing, and documenting her search in an obsessively self-aware, and self-centered way. The first time she feels some relief is when she is put in charge of greeting and taking care of new visitors at her ashram. That is, it's when she stops focussing on herself constantly, and gets out of her head to be a steward to others, that she begins to find the happiness she seeks: AND SHE DOESN'T EVEN REALIZE IT. At no point in the book does she acknowledge this fact. I found this really stunning.
I'm not saying that a spiritual life, or happiness, requires absolute selflessness. But it does require the ability to put the concerns of others ahead of your own; or, better put, to recognize them as one and the same.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
No Magic Bullet
Well, I just got back from another visit with one of NYC's rockstar lactation consultants. She gave me some ideas, helped us refine our latching technique, pointed out some "asymmetries" in the way vv uses her mouth, lent me a video, recommended how to treat the nipple infection I seem to be getting. And -- the pain is still there. We also determined that though the baby is getting plenty to eat overall, her suck is inefficient and she's working really hard to get just an "okay" amount of milk.
I was hoping that this second, post-frenotomy meeting would be when the lactation consultant showed me the magic technique, which vv would now be able to accomplish because her little tongue is free of restriction, which would allow us to nurse pain-free.
But that didn't happen -- that technique doesn't exist for us. All of the pros we've met with have given us all their tricks, and each one helps a little, but nothing "fixes" the problem.
And, there's no particular anatomical thing that is wrong with her or me that explains the pain and problems. Yes, we had her frenulum clipped, but she wasn't extremely tongue-tied, not to the extent that it would have affected anything except her nursing -- and in fact, "fixing" it didn't "fix" the problem. Likewise the osteopathic manipulation addresses physiological things that affect nursing . . . but they are things that as far as I can tell, are generally pretty minor.
There's no real single explanation for what's wrong.
So what I now know is: this is just hard for us. The breastfeeding mantra, "Nursing doesn't hurt; if it does, we can fix the problem" doesn't apply to us. This is the way it is, at least until vv's mouth grows a bit and maybe the latch automatically gets deeper. There is no moment in the near future when things will suddenly be better.
So the way I now have to approach it is a combination of acceptance and persistence. Keep plugging away at small improvements, while recognizing that This Is It. This is us "really doing it." Since she's getting enough to eat and seems to be thriving, I can begin to accept this. We are not just getting by until we figure out the Right Way. This painful, non-spontaneous thing we're doing is our "breastfeeding relationship."
And maybe that's the lesson for me. In many of my endeavors -- especially those most important to me -- I've gotten obsessed with the problems and flaws -- almost all less substantial than the ones we're dealing with now. And I proceeded in those endeavors with the understanding that when those problems got cleared up, then I'd be REALLY doing the thing I was trying to do. Until then it didn't really count, or I was doing it in a provisional, temporary way. I think that made me do lots of things that I really cared about from an arms length -- or, with the assumption that whatever flaws I brought to the endeavor kept me from actually fully doing the thing.
But everything we do is flawed; the seemingly perfect state of doing almost anything is fleeting at best; especially if you're a person like me who is over-sensitive to detail.
So, here I am with my daughter, on the couch again, her working hard, me ignoring the pain and staring at her beautiful face. We continue our nursing relationship.
I was hoping that this second, post-frenotomy meeting would be when the lactation consultant showed me the magic technique, which vv would now be able to accomplish because her little tongue is free of restriction, which would allow us to nurse pain-free.
But that didn't happen -- that technique doesn't exist for us. All of the pros we've met with have given us all their tricks, and each one helps a little, but nothing "fixes" the problem.
And, there's no particular anatomical thing that is wrong with her or me that explains the pain and problems. Yes, we had her frenulum clipped, but she wasn't extremely tongue-tied, not to the extent that it would have affected anything except her nursing -- and in fact, "fixing" it didn't "fix" the problem. Likewise the osteopathic manipulation addresses physiological things that affect nursing . . . but they are things that as far as I can tell, are generally pretty minor.
There's no real single explanation for what's wrong.
So what I now know is: this is just hard for us. The breastfeeding mantra, "Nursing doesn't hurt; if it does, we can fix the problem" doesn't apply to us. This is the way it is, at least until vv's mouth grows a bit and maybe the latch automatically gets deeper. There is no moment in the near future when things will suddenly be better.
So the way I now have to approach it is a combination of acceptance and persistence. Keep plugging away at small improvements, while recognizing that This Is It. This is us "really doing it." Since she's getting enough to eat and seems to be thriving, I can begin to accept this. We are not just getting by until we figure out the Right Way. This painful, non-spontaneous thing we're doing is our "breastfeeding relationship."
And maybe that's the lesson for me. In many of my endeavors -- especially those most important to me -- I've gotten obsessed with the problems and flaws -- almost all less substantial than the ones we're dealing with now. And I proceeded in those endeavors with the understanding that when those problems got cleared up, then I'd be REALLY doing the thing I was trying to do. Until then it didn't really count, or I was doing it in a provisional, temporary way. I think that made me do lots of things that I really cared about from an arms length -- or, with the assumption that whatever flaws I brought to the endeavor kept me from actually fully doing the thing.
But everything we do is flawed; the seemingly perfect state of doing almost anything is fleeting at best; especially if you're a person like me who is over-sensitive to detail.
So, here I am with my daughter, on the couch again, her working hard, me ignoring the pain and staring at her beautiful face. We continue our nursing relationship.
Monday, May 17, 2010
Leaps and Bounds
Okay, before I go back to the difficulties of nursing, I gotta address what's really (thankfully) on my mind: the growth and development I've seen in vv during these weeks of nursing. I sometimes think it's one of the blessings of the persistent work we've had to do with latching -- that I've observed her really, really closely. We've had to work together to learn to latch (and are still working). Maybe it's romanticizing the situation -- certainly I'm not the only mother that has observed these things in her baby. But I love seeing these things, and observation to me is a matter of deep interest and spiritual growth; and it's a way of knowing somebody, which is a crucial ingredient to loving them. And, I need to focus on the good things about this "nursing relationship."
So, in chronological order:
1. When we first started learning to latch, vv would get frustrated, and her hands would start to flail. Clearly, her hands were not involved in her overall goal of getting that breast in her mouth. For example, she'd lunge for the nipple with her mouth, then at the last minute, stuff her fist in her mouth instead. Or, she'd be searching for the nipple with her mouth and simultaneously pushing the breast away with her hands.
Now, she puts her hands on the breast, and draws them toward her as she goes for the latch. Hands, meet mouth! Mouth, meet hands! I knew you guys would get along.
2. The other day, as I was getting her in position to nurse, vv looked up at me, clearly realizing, for the very first time, that there was a face attached to the breasts. It was like she was thinking --"hey, I didn't see you there -- have you been there this whole time??"
3. This is a big one cognitively, I think. Now, the La Leche League tells me that crying is a late sign of hunger in a baby, and you should really get to nursing when you see the baby, say, chewing on its fists, instead of letting it get to the point where the baby is crying. I try to do this, but the reality is, vv is a red-faced scream fest by the time we get down to feeding, more often than I'd like.
Before, it was only when she actually felt my nipple on her mouth that she'd calm down (with that instant change of mood that only babies can do). Even if we didn't get the latch right away, feeling the nipple brush her lips at least told her that comfort was at hand.
Now, she calms down earlier in the process of getting ready to nurse -- when I lay her on her side, even if we're still not totally situated, she calms down. Somehow, she's recognizing the pattern leading up to her getting to suckle, which makes it seem as though she's getting the concept of delayed gratification. And, tending toward being more calm instead of more agitated. Which is a good trend.
Babies are incredibly smart. By observation, I realize how fast they learn, and how many skills and proficiencies go in to being a human.
And, in learning to be a mother, I realize that the capacity to learn is neverending . . .
So, in chronological order:
1. When we first started learning to latch, vv would get frustrated, and her hands would start to flail. Clearly, her hands were not involved in her overall goal of getting that breast in her mouth. For example, she'd lunge for the nipple with her mouth, then at the last minute, stuff her fist in her mouth instead. Or, she'd be searching for the nipple with her mouth and simultaneously pushing the breast away with her hands.
Now, she puts her hands on the breast, and draws them toward her as she goes for the latch. Hands, meet mouth! Mouth, meet hands! I knew you guys would get along.
2. The other day, as I was getting her in position to nurse, vv looked up at me, clearly realizing, for the very first time, that there was a face attached to the breasts. It was like she was thinking --"hey, I didn't see you there -- have you been there this whole time??"
3. This is a big one cognitively, I think. Now, the La Leche League tells me that crying is a late sign of hunger in a baby, and you should really get to nursing when you see the baby, say, chewing on its fists, instead of letting it get to the point where the baby is crying. I try to do this, but the reality is, vv is a red-faced scream fest by the time we get down to feeding, more often than I'd like.
Before, it was only when she actually felt my nipple on her mouth that she'd calm down (with that instant change of mood that only babies can do). Even if we didn't get the latch right away, feeling the nipple brush her lips at least told her that comfort was at hand.
Now, she calms down earlier in the process of getting ready to nurse -- when I lay her on her side, even if we're still not totally situated, she calms down. Somehow, she's recognizing the pattern leading up to her getting to suckle, which makes it seem as though she's getting the concept of delayed gratification. And, tending toward being more calm instead of more agitated. Which is a good trend.
Babies are incredibly smart. By observation, I realize how fast they learn, and how many skills and proficiencies go in to being a human.
And, in learning to be a mother, I realize that the capacity to learn is neverending . . .
A non-blogger starts blogging
Blog blog blog -- how I used to loathe that word. But now, sitting with my nursing baby for hours on end, endless thoughts on motherhood unfolding in my mind as my heart wraps itself around this new person and new way of life, I realize I need to get it all out on virtual paper. I need to sort it all out for myself. Why not just keep a journal, you ask? Well, I need incentive to keep doing it. I'm no lover of attention, and don't have a knack for the public eye. And this is not necessarily a family-and-friends keep-in-touch new-baby blog (though I love sharing pictures of the Baby and I love all my peeps all the more for their loving her). In fact I'm thinking of this as a pretty anonymous blog. But, there may be a few like-minded folks out there who find this blog compelling and that may be incentive enough to keep me posting.
So who are we: me, my husband, and our 6-week-old baby girl (I'll call her vv on the blog) live in Queens, NYC. We had an awesome, non-medicated birth at the Brooklyn Birthing Center. I'm breastfeeding the baby, and am blessed to be able to stay home from work until at least September. We just started cloth-diapering, and have a loose family-bed set-up: usually we put vv to sleep, swaddled, in her co-sleeper bassinet right next to our bed, but after a night-time feeding, she usually winds up in bed with us.
Basically, we try to parent in as loving, conscientious, low-impact way as possible. I won't use the label "attachment parenting" because, well, I find labeling at best a necessary evil; plus, I can't say that we will follow an AP "orthodoxy" throughout vv's baby- and childhood. We just try to do things that are simple, loving, and make sense. We are definitely learning on the job.
So my first post is really about the main thing we've been dealing with:
the Pain.
I have been breastfeeding my daughter almost exclusively since her first week (which was rocky). And 95% of the time she latches on to nurse, my nipples experience pain ranging from moderate to excruciating. I've seen 4 lactation consultants, had 4 appointments (so far) for craniosacral therapy/osteopathic manipulation for the baby; had her tongue- and lip-frenulums clipped; ruled out infection of the nipple (I think); done copious reading and research online; and collected stories from all my friends and friends-of-friends who have nursed. Tried different nursing positions; latched and re-latched trying to get something that works. The pain has changed, varied, gotten better then worse again; sometimes worse at the beginning of the feeding, sometimes crescendoing to the end of the feeding. Sharp and intense versus throbbing and bruise-y. When she's not actually nursing, the nipples sting. The pain comes in all shapes, sizes, and colors -- it's the united nations of pain. I'm getting a PhD in pain.
The fact that it changes always makes me feel like we're making progress. And, MOST IMPORTANTLY, my daughter seems to be getting enough to eat. Times that I really cannot nurse because the pain is too much, I give her a bottle. And if I don't have enough pumped breastmilk, I give her formula. So I'm not CRAZY, sticking with it. It's just that I want this to work.
I want the closeness; I want the simplicity and ease; I want the efficiency, economy, and environmental sustainability of it; I want the health for her and me; and, I hate the idea of being dependent on a multi-national formula company to feed my child.
So not counting the first week where I couldn't get her latched really at all, and I was using a dropper to feed her, it's been 5.5 weeks of pain.
***I should say, since this *is* a blog, I don't want to discourage mothers from nursing. I do think it's almost a "secret" that establishing breastfeeding is very often very, very difficult. But from what I can tell, with persistence and lots of support, there is almost always a positive outcome. I'm just not there yet. ***
But one of the big hurdles we've gotten over is that we've ALMOST achieved truly on-demand nursing. I want to be able to effortlessly offer my baby the breast whenever she is hungry or needs comfort. In the first weeks I just couldn't do it: each time she latched I would be crying in pain, and needed my husband by me, coaching me through. Seriously, it was like labor. The whole thing was a big production, and totally non-spontaneous. Worst of all, I would actually procrastinate and put it off because I couldn't stand the pain again. Seriously: I was like, I've GOTTA check my email right now, even though I know my helpless infant daughter is hungry. Then, when she'd lunge for my nipple, I'd spontaneously jerk it away to avoid the pain. Then I'd just die inside. I felt a lot of guilt, and had as my goal to be able to nurse her whenever she was hungry or fussy, on her terms.
I would say we are 75% toward that goal. I think we'll be able to get all the way there when the pain is less so that: 1) I don't need my whole big set-up with the nursing pillow and the regular pillow and the rolled up receiving blanket under her head, etc., just to get in position to attempt to get a good latch; 2) I can wear her in a sling so that the transition from being up doing things and nursing her is not so great (right now my nipples are sore that I can't wear her on the front of my body; I wind up just sitting on the couch with her for hours, and that can't go on forever) and 3) I can nurse her better when we're out of the house (i.e. without the whole pillow set-up described above; right now I do nurse her when we're out but the latches are always bad and irritate my nipples even more).
But doing on-demand nursing is not just about getting past the pain. It's a fundamentally different way of organizing your life, and I had no idea just how much of a change it would be. I'll try to address that in my next post . . .
So who are we: me, my husband, and our 6-week-old baby girl (I'll call her vv on the blog) live in Queens, NYC. We had an awesome, non-medicated birth at the Brooklyn Birthing Center. I'm breastfeeding the baby, and am blessed to be able to stay home from work until at least September. We just started cloth-diapering, and have a loose family-bed set-up: usually we put vv to sleep, swaddled, in her co-sleeper bassinet right next to our bed, but after a night-time feeding, she usually winds up in bed with us.
Basically, we try to parent in as loving, conscientious, low-impact way as possible. I won't use the label "attachment parenting" because, well, I find labeling at best a necessary evil; plus, I can't say that we will follow an AP "orthodoxy" throughout vv's baby- and childhood. We just try to do things that are simple, loving, and make sense. We are definitely learning on the job.
So my first post is really about the main thing we've been dealing with:
the Pain.
I have been breastfeeding my daughter almost exclusively since her first week (which was rocky). And 95% of the time she latches on to nurse, my nipples experience pain ranging from moderate to excruciating. I've seen 4 lactation consultants, had 4 appointments (so far) for craniosacral therapy/osteopathic manipulation for the baby; had her tongue- and lip-frenulums clipped; ruled out infection of the nipple (I think); done copious reading and research online; and collected stories from all my friends and friends-of-friends who have nursed. Tried different nursing positions; latched and re-latched trying to get something that works. The pain has changed, varied, gotten better then worse again; sometimes worse at the beginning of the feeding, sometimes crescendoing to the end of the feeding. Sharp and intense versus throbbing and bruise-y. When she's not actually nursing, the nipples sting. The pain comes in all shapes, sizes, and colors -- it's the united nations of pain. I'm getting a PhD in pain.
The fact that it changes always makes me feel like we're making progress. And, MOST IMPORTANTLY, my daughter seems to be getting enough to eat. Times that I really cannot nurse because the pain is too much, I give her a bottle. And if I don't have enough pumped breastmilk, I give her formula. So I'm not CRAZY, sticking with it. It's just that I want this to work.
I want the closeness; I want the simplicity and ease; I want the efficiency, economy, and environmental sustainability of it; I want the health for her and me; and, I hate the idea of being dependent on a multi-national formula company to feed my child.
So not counting the first week where I couldn't get her latched really at all, and I was using a dropper to feed her, it's been 5.5 weeks of pain.
***I should say, since this *is* a blog, I don't want to discourage mothers from nursing. I do think it's almost a "secret" that establishing breastfeeding is very often very, very difficult. But from what I can tell, with persistence and lots of support, there is almost always a positive outcome. I'm just not there yet. ***
But one of the big hurdles we've gotten over is that we've ALMOST achieved truly on-demand nursing. I want to be able to effortlessly offer my baby the breast whenever she is hungry or needs comfort. In the first weeks I just couldn't do it: each time she latched I would be crying in pain, and needed my husband by me, coaching me through. Seriously, it was like labor. The whole thing was a big production, and totally non-spontaneous. Worst of all, I would actually procrastinate and put it off because I couldn't stand the pain again. Seriously: I was like, I've GOTTA check my email right now, even though I know my helpless infant daughter is hungry. Then, when she'd lunge for my nipple, I'd spontaneously jerk it away to avoid the pain. Then I'd just die inside. I felt a lot of guilt, and had as my goal to be able to nurse her whenever she was hungry or fussy, on her terms.
I would say we are 75% toward that goal. I think we'll be able to get all the way there when the pain is less so that: 1) I don't need my whole big set-up with the nursing pillow and the regular pillow and the rolled up receiving blanket under her head, etc., just to get in position to attempt to get a good latch; 2) I can wear her in a sling so that the transition from being up doing things and nursing her is not so great (right now my nipples are sore that I can't wear her on the front of my body; I wind up just sitting on the couch with her for hours, and that can't go on forever) and 3) I can nurse her better when we're out of the house (i.e. without the whole pillow set-up described above; right now I do nurse her when we're out but the latches are always bad and irritate my nipples even more).
But doing on-demand nursing is not just about getting past the pain. It's a fundamentally different way of organizing your life, and I had no idea just how much of a change it would be. I'll try to address that in my next post . . .
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