Ups and Downs and the Fine Print

A few weeks ago I went to visit a local midwife at her new office for a homebirth circle.  The topic was "Postpartum" and I wanted to be available to lend a hand to any new moms who might need help with breastfeeding.  I always find it a bit ironic when clients and friends talk to me about their struggles dealing with the aftermath of pregnancy and birth because, truthfully, I'm right there with them.  Vivienne is almost one and it was at this circle that I began to realize that I might be just starting to come out of the "haze."  As it turned out, the meeting consisted of myself, the midwife, and two pregnant first time mamas who had a lot of questions for me (being the only one present who had any other children).  The most intriguing question that I was asked was, "What is the one thing you experienced, or you would share, about the postpartum period?"

I chose to share how long it takes me to come out of the sadness that trickily combines with the joy that I feel after birth. I don't usually realize how sad I am and what a hard time I am having until I start to feel better.  That seems to take at least a year, probably more.  And it's not like I'm walking around moping all the time.  It's really more than just sadness.  It's more a feeling like I've lost myself.  I don't realize that I've lost myself, however, until I start to emerge from that and reconnect with the world in a way that I recognize as being different.  To an extent, I think that this is very normal, but it's not something that a lot of people talk about.  Whenever there is a big build up to something special, there is a certain let down that happens when you no longer have it to look forward to anymore (weddings, graduations, moves, etc.).  Having a baby combines major life change, hormonal upheaval, increased responsibility, changes in family dynamics and exhaustion, so it is no wonder that so many women who I talk to recognize that they, too, have needed time to come back into themselves afterward. 

This past year has been different for me, however, because the usual postpartum struggles have been combined with extreme relationship difficulties which have especially knocked me off my feet.  Just today I looked at pictures from last year, Vivienne's birth and the holidays, and was filled with such longing and sadness to go back and experience it all over--but this time happy.  I have lived in a deep, deep depression over the past year and a half and some days, truthfully, it has been a struggle to keep going.  Around the time of the homebirth circle that I mentioned above, however, I started to feel more hopeful, more competent, more together, and less like I was in danger of not making it through.  As soon as I started feeling better, however, I was dealt another emotional blow that left me reeling again, and here I am, struggling to make sense out of things, and taking one day at a time.  When someone asks me how I am now, I answer, "I'm breathing."  That is something.

The women who I spoke to that day thanked me for my honesty.  It's the fine print that often gets glossed over and what a rude awakening it is when our expectations don't meet our reality.  I hope, hope, hope that neither of those women suffer what I described.  If they do, however, I hope they know that they are not alone.

Security Blanket

I've had this little blanket since the day I was born.  I believe my Mother made it for me and, for whatever reason, it was always my favorite growing up.  Don't laugh, but I still have it.  I've kept it with me through a lot of things.  Now, it is less blanket, more tattered little rag.  There was a period of a few years as a child when this blanket disappeared.  I think my Dad thought I was too old to have a "blanky."  Miraculously, it turned up after a move and I've never let it out of my possession since.  I usually keep it wadded in a small ball tucked out of the way under a pillow.  If I'm feeling really brave, or really competent, I might put it in a drawer.  On nights like this, however, when the clock is ticking away, sleep is nowhere in sight, and I can't put sadness or dread or despair out of my head, this little rag feels like my best friend.  Pathetic, I know.  But this blanket has caught a lot of tears and carries a lot of history.

I always get the shakes for a bit after I give birth.  When that happened after the birth of my second child, my Mom asked me if I wanted my blanket--and I did.  If that gives you any idea how much comfort this ratty old piece of fabric gives to me, then you'll understand why I am clinging to it tightly tonight.  Sometimes you just need a security blanket.

Serenity

Today I Am:
Letting go.
Mourning.
Surrendering.
Acknowledging.
Forgiving.
Asking for Grace.
Living.
Surviving.
Seeking.
Remembering.
Suffering.
Praying.

This Is How We Do It

Yes, two of us have matching slings.  Great minds think alike.

I just love this picture!  We went to the zoo last week with a few friends and had a great time.  As the older children played, a few of us found a spot to sit down, rest and nurse the little ones.  All of us made use of slings or wraps during the trip and strollers were used primarily for diaper changes, storage or for giving a lift to a tired older sibling.  Babies?  They rode in style wrapped tightly to their Mama.  

I am able to do so many things that I wouldn't otherwise be able to do because of babywearing.  I recently began taking harp lessons and the harp teacher (who just happened to be a La Leche Leage Leader when her own children were young) is, lucky for me, very supportive of babies coming along for the ride.  She took some great video of my friend and I at our last lesson with our babies wrapped on.  If you would like to see some short clips check it out here.  Someday I'd like to write a book about this subject, but for fun right now I'd like to brainstorm just some of the places that I've worn and nursed my babies.  The list looks something like this:

On planes, trains and boats (including a catamaran in Mexico).

At athletic events.

Work events.

Religious events.

Community events.

Church.

While bowling.

While cleaning and cooking.

At weddings.

At parties.

At the Dentist.

At Doctor appointments.

In the grocery store.

At the mall.

At the movies.

While playing Rock Band.

While showering, brushing teeth and putting on makeup.

While swimming.

While playing piano.

While teaching piano.

Eating.

Using the bathroom.  (You know you have, too.  You do what you gotta do.)

Leading support group meetings.

Writing.

Reading.

While helping other children with homework.

While volunteering in school.

While moving.

While doing yard work.

During walks to the park.

I've used ring slings, pouch slings, wraps, the Ergo and mei tei's.  I probably get stopped at least once or twice a day with someone asking me about my slings and commenting, "I wish they had those when my children were young."  I always want to respond that they DID exist then--slings have been in use for thousands of years.  I think what most people are referring to is that slings and wraps didn't become mainstream until recent years, sadly.  I consider myself incredibly lucky that I discovered La Leche League and babywearing while I was still pregnant with my first baby (I think I will write about that story another day).  If not for those early experiences, who knows where I would be now?

I'm writing this blog post right now with a tired, fussy, teething baby in the sling.  I really don't know how I would survive without being a babywearer.

Craptastic

This one is for all the mothers out there.

Sometimes things seem really crappy, figuratively and literally.  Financial problems, marriage issues, not having enough hours in the day--all of these things are pretty crappy.  And sometimes when it rains, it pours.  So it should not have surprised me in the least when my baby girl decided to poop all over me and everything else within sight yesterday afternoon.  Oh, yes.  Fresh from my shower and her bath, all squeaky clean and wrapped in our towels, I decided to take my time in getting her dressed and getting a diaper on that tiny heiny.  

BIG MISTAKE.

Now, if we were at home and this happened I wouldn't panic too much.  I'd get her washed off, get some fresh towels and we'd go on our merry way.  It's not so easy, however, when you're staying in someone else's house and don't know where clean towels are and don't want to make a naked run for it through the hallway because, odds are that if you do, your brother in law, nephew, or better yet, the brother of your brother in law who is over for a surprise visit, will turn the corner just as you do.  I'm just speculating, of course.  That didn't really happen entirely.

Fortunately, we survived that and the rest of the day and I was blessed to have friends reach out to me and invite me out for a bite to eat and some company.  I also managed to have some fun with the kids and took them to browse around at Borders and see a movie at the dollar theater.  It was all good (or at the very least, decent), until my four year old looked up at me during the movie and said, "Daddy?"

Craptastic.

That's the ebb and flow, ups and downs and highs and lows, I guess, of being in a sucky situation.  One minute you're in the moment, hanging on for dear life to any sense of normalcy, and the next, you're reminded of what you're trying to escape from.  All I can do during these times is hold the babies tight, cuddle up for the long ride that is the night, breathe deep, and take it in stride.  Tomorrow could be a fantastic day, after all.

Home

"There's no place like home.  There's no place like home.  There's no place like home."

Dorothy had that right.

Home is so much more than the walls that create a house.  The house is nice, but really meaningless.  It's  memories, experiences, and years upon years of hopes and dreams that make a space "comfortable," for better or for worse.

I'm no longer in my home and I miss so much already.  What tangible, physical "things" I have from home fill a small pile on my sister's living room floor.  Slowly, I am forcing myself to accept that this is real and I bring one box, one bag, up to my room at a time.  We have our clothes.  I have my boys' baby albums (and Nathaniel's never even got finished and he's almost 5.  Poor typical middle child.)  I have the framed picture of Tristan as a newborn that has moved from house to house (and no, I don't have one for my other kids because I pretty much never print out pictures anymore).  I have a tutu that I bought for Viv when I was pregnant with her--my first "girl" purchase.  THAT had to come, of course.  I have this laptop, my fax and my client files.  I have a handful of my favorite books, and I could only take the ones I thought I would actually read again and again, so they all have black covers with white lettering and a splash of red somewhere.  For the uninitiated, that means "Twilight."  Yes, I might read them for the twentieth time.  All the others are reference books that have to do with, you guessed it, birth and breastfeeding.  I have birth certificates and my passport.  The ultrasound picture from Viv.  What else?  That's it. 

Home has been left behind.  The place where I dreamed big and created a family is just a jumble of memories that trigger tears.  The garden that we slaved over.  The corner of the room where I gave birth.  The sounds of laughter over dinner with friends in the kitchen that I painted ten times trying to get the color right.  That's where we planted a tree.  That's where we took our family photo.  That's where we splashed the summer away in the pool.  That's when I thought we could be happy.

Playing Hide and Seek.

Taking Vacations.

Creating a garden.

Finally got that color right.

Growing Up.

Realizing Dreams.

Celebrating Holidays.

Learning New Things.

First Days of School.

Creating and welcoming Life.

Yesterday, after a full day of soccer games and sweltering temperatures, we were done.  The kids wanted to go home.  Home, as in, our "new" home because, thankfully, they don't mind living part time here and playing with their cousins every day.  I started driving and suddenly, painfully realized that I was driving "home, home."  Auto pilot had taken over.  That pretty much destroyed me for the rest of the day and here, in the early hours of the next morning, the tears are still flowing, spilling onto the keys of the keyboard, blurring my vision.  There's no place like home. 

I am grateful.  I am grateful.  I am grateful.

These are the words that I continue to play over and over again in my head, willing myself to remember how fortunate I am.  Trying to take comfort in the support of my loved ones and trying to have hope for the future.

On the first night, as I struggled and wanted nothing more than to get in the car and drive home, I instead stood in the shower, letting the tears bathe me, and told myself, "Nothing lasts forever.  Even this."  That is my new mantra.

Doctors Have Found The Cure For Obesity, Eating Disorders, STD's, Cancer and More!

Ok.  I'm excited about this one...

Several of my friends recently dealt with gallbladder issues and a few of them had to have surgery as a result.  I started doing some research (because you know I love to research random stuff) and came across some amazing new studies that I just had to share!

It appears that there is a group of doctors who believe that the gallbladder is actually the cause of a ton of health issues Americans are currently dealing with.  (Who knew?)  Everyone from the First Lady to your friendly neighborhood pediatrician is trying to figure out how to fight obesity, but researchers now say that removing the gallbladder could prove to be an easy method to reducing obesity rates, as well as reduce incidences of other public health hazards such as eating disorders, sexually transmitted diseases, cancer, and even the common cold!

Here's how (I'm just going to summarize it for the sake of time and brevity):  As anyone who lives without a gall bladder can tell you, maintaining a low fat diet and limiting fatty foods such as red meat is very important (I hear there are some unpleasant consequences if this is not managed well).  A group of doctors has determined that a simple outpatient surgery to remove the gallbladder soon after every American child is born would ensure that these children grow up consuming healthier foods and lower fat diets out of physical necessity.  They claim that parents will be properly motivated to monitor fat intake because to not do so will result in very unfavorable diaper changes and bathroom breaks.  The doctors advocate performing the procedure in infancy so that a low fat diet is ingrained as a part of life from the get go and because it is simply easier to perform surgery on babies.  Essentially, these children will grow up being "naturally thin," which doctors claim will reduce many of the body image issues that past generations have dealt with and we will see a dramatic decline in the number of eating disorders amongst both males and females.  They then reason that fewer eating disorders will encourage the development of  higher self-esteem during the childhood and teenage years, thereby leading to lower rates of promiscuity.  This, in turn, will dramatically slash rates of sexually transmitted diseases.  A thinner population consuming less meat will also mean a nation with stronger immune systems (less colds and illnesses) and the reduced fat diet and limited meat consumption will reduce heart disease and a slew of different cancers, particularly stomach cancer.  While they didn't include this finding in their article, I just realized another benefit--less red meat consumption means lower greenhouse gases from fewer cows raised to be steak!

When asked if they were concerned that many parents might react negatively to this new recommendation, the doctors said that they weren't worried at all as many parents already request surgery for their infants in the form of circumcision.  They also noted that societal pressure to conform will drive rates of gallbladder surgery up (parents won't want their little Bobby or Susie Q. to be the only one in their kindergarten class with a gallbladder), which will also create job stability in a time of recession for doctors performing the surgeries, hospitals where the surgeries will be performed, pharmaceutical companies that will manufacture the antibiotics that will be necessary to combat infection after surgery and cosmetic companies who can obtain the gallbladders for a minimal price to use in their newest skin cream formulations.

The doctors did point out that they don't have any solid studies to support their beliefs but directed questioning reporters to a statement recently released by the American Academy of Pediatrics (AAP),  emphasizing that despite there not being any medical evidence to support routine gallbladder removal in infants, the AAP has a personal bias that leads them to encourage it nonetheless.  They also pointed out that with modern laproscopic techniques, the procedure can be performed with minimal scarring and because babies don't feel pain right after they are born like grown-ups and fetuses in utero (who are commonly anesthetized during fetal surgery) the only anesthesia necessary is a bit of numbing ointment on the incision site.

Ummmmm.  No.  This obviously isn't true, but it sounds familiar, doesn't it?

Okay, okay.  I'm going to move on very soon to another controversial and uncomfortable topic of conversation, but I just couldn't resist putting my own spin on this argument and having a bit of fun with it.