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.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
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 . . .
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)