It's Not About Me

A friend sent me that quote from Pink this week, and it caused me to literally exclaim, "YES!!" out loud when I read it.  This is exactly how I feel about being Juliet's mom.  Her fierceness and independence (that she is already showing at 10 months) is a beautiful, amazing thing.  But here's the thing: sometimes, it's hard.  It is hard when her fierceness means refusing to eat.  It is hard when her fierceness means she knows exactly what she wants and gets angry when I won't let her do it.  It is hard when her independence means that she will feed herself even though that means she might not get as much in her mouth as I'd like.  (I'm not talking about the mess - I'm talking about knowing that she has had enough to eat.)

As her mother, I believe I know what is best for her.  I know when she should be hungry.  I know what is dangerous for her to do and what will hurt her.  I know how much she should eat.  I am her mother.  But the bottom line is that sometimes, she's not hungry.  And sometimes, I need to let her figure out that playing with the cabinet doors might mean smashed fingers.  Other times, she gets full before she's finished her banana.  Juliet is her own person (already), and I need to remember and respect that.

This weekend, Juliet has started teething again.  She is not her normal self right now.  She needs to have me within arm's reach at all times, but she doesn't want to snuggle.  She throws herself on me, climbs on me, walks around the table while making sure I'm watching, and generally functions as Dictator Baby.  She doesn't eat at her normal times, eat her normal amounts, sleep her at her normal times, or sleep for her normal amounts.  I am constantly working to discern her needs at that moment. When I can't figure it out, it makes me feel like a failure.  Earlier today, she was fussing and nothing I was doing helped.  I said to her, "Baby girl, I'm trying so hard right now, but I feel like a failure of a mom."  And it hit me.  I was doing exactly what Pink's mom did and what I said I didn't  want to do.  I was taking Juliet's fussing personally, as some sort of indictment of my inability to mother her. 

Juliet is 10 months old and teething.  She's going to fuss.  She's going to be demanding.  She's going to exert her independence and eat (or not) as she pleases while her latest tooth tries to work its way down.  And none of that has anything to do with me.  It's not about me. 

So, I'm sure that Pink wasn't talking about a teething, fussy baby.  It's far more likely that she was talking about a toddler exerting her independence.  But the message is still the same: it's not about me.  It's about her.  Her needs, her growth, her her her.  If I can get this through my head now, when she's not even walking, then maybe - just maybe - there is hope that I'll do okay.  I've said time and again that my goal with Juliet, the stick with which I will measure my success as a mom, is her independence.  I want her to be independent and self-sustaining (physically, financially, emotionally, all of it).  But if I really want to achieve that, it will mean coming to terms early on (like now) with the fact that my daughter will likely be fierce and stubborn at times.  It means I should celebrate these aspects of her personality and appreciate them.  I should see them as signs of her growing into all that I hope for her.  I should not take them as acts of rebellion or as indictments of my failures.  The sooner I can correct the self-talk going on in my head, the better.  I want to set an example for Juliet (with positive self-talk), and I want her to always feel that I support and accept her.

Thank you, Pink, for putting this quote out there.  And thank you, Adrianne, for sharing it.

On Breastfeeding

I've been wanting to write a post on breastfeeding for a while, but one thing or another has always stopped me.  Since it's World Breastfeeding Week, I figured now's probably a good time to actually write it.

The decision to breastfeed or not is entirely a personal decision.  I'm not going to fill this post with statistics discussing how breastfeeding can reduce heathcare costs for our nation, the association between breastfeeding and higher IQ, or the increase in numbers of breastfeeding moms. All of that information is out there and readily available via Google search. While I believe firmly that breastfeeding is the right choice, I also recognize that it's not the only choice.  And it's not my place to determine what is right for other women.

Instead, I want to talk about what breastfeeding has been like for me.  I was fortunate enough to have some very honest women in my life share their experiences with me before Juliet was born.  I listened to all of their stories and felt like the variety of experiences left me prepared for almost any eventuality.  If this entry helps just one other mom, then it's worth my time to write.

Before I talked to my friends who had breastfed (or tried to breastfeed), I thought it was just this easy, natural thing.  After all, women have been breastfeeding for thousands of years.  It's natural.  How hard can it really be?

The answer is really effing hard. 

For starters, I had no idea what I was doing, and as Juliet was brand new, she certainly didn't know what she was doing.  And although my experience at Tallahassee Memorial was excellent, I didn't have a lactation consultant in the delivery room.  (Honestly, besides limiting the number of times a nurse can come in the room in the middle of the night to check your vitals, that is the only thing I'd change about my entire experience there.)  So because neither of us knew what we were doing, Juliet wasn't latched properly.  I got what the nurses called a "misfire" which is a nice way to put "terrible, bloody blister that will bleed and takes a week to heal." This misfire made nursing excruciatingly painful for me.  I tried to use a nipple shield to try to make things a little more comfortable until I healed.  I also pumped a good bit and gave Juliet a bottle of breast milk.

Then, I had a hard time figuring out the hold that worked best.  We had to do football hold for the first several weeks and then were finally able to transition to cross cradle and then - finally - cradle.  The Boppy was really helpful, though, with all holds.

Every single thing I'd read and been told before Juliet was born and immediately after said that she should nurse for 20 - 40 minutes.  So the first week - 10 days of Juliet's life, Ray or I would start a stopwatch when Juliet latched.  And we'd stop the clock when she stopped nursing.  And start it again when we could get her to relatch.  And stop when she stopped.  And on and on and on.  We were both already sleep-deprived.  But this method meant that a 20-minute feeding actually took an hour and a half.  When you're supposed to be waking your baby every three hours to feed her, and feedings take an hour and half, you're never getting more than an hour of half of sleep at time.  I don't deal well with stress when I'm tired.  I learned quickly that there is a massive difference between being tired and being sleep-deprived.  I remember looking at Ray in the middle of the night after a feeding and just crying out of sheer exhaustion and desperation.  He said, "Now you understand why sleep-deprivation is used an interrogation technique, don't you?" Um, yeah. I think I'd have told anyone anything at that point if it meant I could sleep.  After days of this, I finally decided to Google how long it should take a baby to eat.  Hey, guess what?  It turns out there isn't a right answer.  Some babies take 40 minutes.  Other babies, like Juliet, are power-eaters and are done in 7 minutes.  Once I figured this out, my life changed.  I trusted that Juliet would eat until she was full.  And she did, and we all lived.

I struggled with oversupply and overactive letdown. A result of this was a very gassy (and therefore very scream-y at times) baby.  There's not really a whole lot you can do for either of these problems.  I learned to sit Juliet up as much as possible while feeding her and to lean back while feeding her.  I also would let down into a towel (or a bottle so that I wasn't wasting milk) before getting Juliet to latch on. Given the choice between oversupply and undersupply, I'd obviously rather have the former.  But it definitely had its own set of challenges.  A week or so ago, my friend Kellie (who is an Attachment Parent) posted a link on my Facebook wall that she knew would make me laugh.  It was on an AP discussion board, and it was about "the crunchiest thing you do" as a parent.  I'm not very crunchy, and Kellie knows this, which is why she knew I'd laugh.  But it got me thinking.  What is the crunchiest thing I do?  The answer is pretty simple.  I donate my breastmilk.

That may sound crazy.  It certainly felt crazy at first.  But here's the deal.  Because I had such an oversupply, I had a considerable stash of frozen breastmilk - more than Juliet would need barring my untimely demise.  And so my (also crunchy, AP) friend Adrianne added me to a Facebook group for Tallahassee Milk Share.  I had a lot of questions, including, "Is this even legal?!?"  (I had visions of this mom trying to buy raw milk.)  One of the group leaders was very helpful and answered all of my questions, and I found out that it's totally legal.  I still felt sort of unsure, so I prayed about it.  I'd read stories from women in the group who were asking for donor milk, and they were heart-wrenching.  I wanted to help these women, but I also was worried that if I gave away my stash that my child might suddenly need it.  (In retrospect, that seems an awful lot like something a hoarder would say.)  But the more I prayed about it, the more I felt called to give.  So I chose a mom with a baby a couple of weeks older than Juliet and reached out to her.  As of this weekend, I have given her hundreds of ounces of breastmilk.  It doesn't feel strange anymore.  It feels good.  It's definitely pretty crunchy, but it just makes sense.  I have more than we need.

Breastfeeding while Juliet was teething was pretty rough.  She wanted to nurse a lot - comfort nursing.  And while I'm not usually one for comfort nursing (again, I'm not an AP parent), I would do anything I could to help ease Juliet's pain.  At times, it felt like she was chewing on me.  It was pretty awful.  But the alternative - weaning and switching Juliet to formula - just felt like the wrong choice.  And, thankfully, Juliet got through the teething phase and doesn't chew on me.

I have no doubt that all mothers think at some point or another, "Motherhood is hard."  Put simply, it is.  But breastfeeding, to me, adds another level of difficulty to being a mom.  Your child is literally dependent on you for food.  There are times when I think, "My body is not my own.  My body is Juliet's."  I cannot do anything, go anywhere without stopping to think, "Do I need to bring the pump?"  I've had to step out of client meetings to pump, had to pump in public restrooms, and even had to pump in an airplane bathroom.  I try to schedule all meetings, appointments, and social engagements around pumping/feeding.  Most days, it's no big deal - just part of being a mom.  But some days, it's very hard.  Some days, it's overwhelming.  Some days, I wish my body was my own again.

And pumping.  Dear Lord.  I have a love/hate relationship with my Medela Pump in Style Advanced. I am so very, very grateful for it.  Without it, I would not have been able to continue breastfeeding Juliet after I went back to work.  Since my goal with breastfeeding is to make it to one year and my maternity leave was only three months long, the PISA allows me to keep my supply up and to pump enough to leave with Juliet's caretaker during the day.  But I am so tired of hooking up to that thing. I feel like a cow at a dairy farm.  And I got this lovely accessory so that I could pump hands-free.  Seriously, at times, I just think, "This is just not sexy."  But as must as I look forward to the day when I can stop pumping, I am very grateful for the freedom the PISA affords me. If it weren't for that pump, I'd never be able to leave Juliet.

So why breastfeed?  If it's not easy and not comfortable and not convenient, why do I bother?  The answer there is pretty simple.  I believe with every bit of my being that it's what's best for my child.  I believe that it's better than formula and healthier, too.  So I choose to breastfeed Juliet because it's not about me.  It's about her.  And that makes every bit of trouble, discomfort, and inconvenience totally worth it.

I know this post has been really, really long.  But I have one more thing I need to say about my breastfeeding experience.  I would be remiss if I didn't credit Ray in this process.  He has been unfailingly supportive through all of it, even before Juliet was born.  He educated himself about breastfeeding while I was pregnant and became a staunch advocate of breastfeeding.  While Juliet and I were still trying to figure things out, he constantly encouraged me.  He functioned as my own personal cheerleader, reinforcing that I was doing a good job and being a good mom.  Ray's support and encouragement, even though he is a man and could never share with me or teach me the way another breastfeeding mom could, is truly what got me through the hardest times. 

Ten Months

Sorry the picture's blurry.  It's hard to snag a picture of her standing while trying to keep her attention focused on something other than the sticker she so desperately wanted to pull off her dress to eat.

 Today, Juliet is ten months old.  Fun facts about this month's developments:

• She is 28 inches tall.  I forgot to weigh her this morning, but I can tell you this: she is getting heavy. However, at her check up on Tuesday, she was measuring between 30th and 40th percentile, she isn't  a big baby by any means.
• She has stopped sleeping through the night.  I thought it was connected to teething, but she's not teething currently.  I asked her doctor about it, and he thinks it's more likely tied to a growth spurt and her body's ability to more quickly process breast milk.  She's averaging waking up starving twice a night now.  This is not fun, but it's still better than the eight to ten times a night she was up screaming while teething.
• Yesterday, standing just seemed to click for Juliet. She's been trying to stand and standing for a few seconds a time for at least a month now.  But yesterday, she began standing for long periods of time - minutes at a time.  It's so cool to watch her balance!
• Juliet has four teeth - her two front bottom teeth and two top teeth, the ones on either side of where her front teeth are. She is the most adorable snagglepuss ever.
• She has mastered solids and is now really working on feeding herself.  She loves chicken.  
• Juliet "paces" in her crib and in the empty bathtub.  It's hilarious to watch her crawl back and forth as fast as she can and just yammer away.
• She likes to dance and sing.  On our recent road trip to Savannah, she sang along with Dave Matthews, Jack Johnson, Willie Nelson, Flatt and Scruggs, Allison Krauss, Nelly, and Taylor Swift. (Clearly, I believe in exposing her to a diverse array of artists.)
• Her curiosity will get the best of her.  I've said in previous posts that she lives dangerously, and this is only getting more true as the days go on.  She will give me a heart attack by the time I'm 40 at this rate.
• Juliet has learned to throw her toys out of the tub and then crawl out of the tub to get them.

Here are some pictures of Juliet doing her thing this month.

I love to pull all the books off of my shelf and chew on one or two while Mama reads me some of the others.

If you look past all the blueberry, you can see three of my four teeth.

I really like to be outside, despite the look on my face in this picture.

Feeding myself food with a spoon is a lot harder than feeding myself finger foods.

I still really love bath time.

I thought I wanted to shower with Mama, so I cried and crawled in the shower with her.  But then I realized I don't like showers because the water sprays in my face.  This is a lot different than when I splash water in my own face.  So I cried until Mama took me out of the shower and wrapped me in her robe.  I was so exhausted from my trying adventure (and all that crying) that I just had to lay down.  Being a baby is very hard some days.

I stand in the tub all the time.  It makes Mama very nervous.  But I love it, so she lets me do it whenever I want.  She is hoping that I don't fall but that if I do, I don't hurt myself and just learn a good lesson about what the limits of my balance are.

I apologize for the quality of this video. But this is our life these days.  I let Juliet play in the bathtub until she's prune-y, and then I let her pull the plug.  After she pulls the plug, she tries to grab all the water as is goes down the drain.  Once the tub is empty, she runs laps and hollers.

Here's a video of Juliet showing off her table skills. We've got to work on chewing with her mouth closed, but I think she's doing a great job feeding herself.