From the start I wish I could say that my pregnancy was a blissful walk in the park, But it definitely was not! From the first month I had all the common symptoms a woman experiences in her first trimester. (To the women who have the privilege of not experiencing these wonderful treats that go along with pregnancy, I truly envy you). Losing 10 pounds in the first three months was not as wonderful as it sounds. Okay yes, I was skinner and I didn’t look like I was pregnant, but expelling all your meals and not being able to smell anything without having to make a run to the nearest restroom is not something to brag about. I was sick! So sick that prior to finding out I had a baby in me I convinced myself that I must have contracted some sort of parasite. I was on the verge of giving my body a natural cleanse thinking that I needed to rid myself of whatever parasite or bacteria that had invaded my body.

My friends who were mothers themselves had advised me that my symptoms seemed mighty familiar, that maybe I should consider taking a pregnancy test. I said they were all silly, There was no way I was pregnant, and besides I was a step ahead of them. I had already taken the test and it said negative. Ha! In your face, I’m not pregnant. One friend in particular advised me that maybe I should go home and get that test from the trash and double-check it just to be sure, she had a feeling I may have misread the results. I said “fine, but I know what I seen and I’m not pregnant silly”. As I retrieved the stick from the trash my eyes grew big. Was that really what I think it is, a second line, how could I have missed that. It looked rather faint in color, but I could not deny what was right in front of me the test read positive!

The strange thing was that the positive line was the line that I had seen earlier, and the negative line was faint in color. I googled, and googled, and googled that day looking for information that would put me at ease. Maybe the test was flawed, maybe it had been to long and the results were wrong, maybe I could find some information online that would tell me why that second line which was the negative line was so faint. According to my findings the reason for the negative line being faint and the positive line being so prominent was the fact that my HCG levels in my body were so strong that it may have stripped some of the color from the negative line. When my husband got home from work that day I told him the news. I said “Babe, not only am I pregnant but according to this test I’m SUPER PREGNANT”.

I can’t believe I have 1 more run and I am done.  Just like that.  And to be honest?  As much as I want to believe in myself, and as far as I’ve come, I wasn’t always at this place.  Before I started, I doubted.  I really wondered if I would make it this far.  Of course I WANTED to but if I could and would was another story.  I’ve joined many gyms, different programs, classes, and what have you.  I typically get bored by things after a couple months, but not this.  I feel like I am just getting started, and that?  That feels amazing.

The runner’s high is like no other and it is starting to control my life.  Everything I do reflects back to running (well, and of course being a mama!) and I am pumped.  I had this revelation tonight when I was running, and it was that now that I have started running, there is no looking back.  That is not an option, because if that happens, and I come to a standstill, I’m going to have to start at square one again.  And while there might not be anything wrong with that for you, there is a LOT wrong with that for me.  I feel like this has just been weaseled into my routine, I’ve adapted it and we’re friends now, like, besties.  I can’t let go of this, because if I do, I’m letting go of a very important goal, a dream, and letting go of dreams just seems so… emo?  And lame.  And discouraging.  So we won’t go there.

I say we make August the month of really tackling those pesky fears, of really letting go, grabbing a hold of them, and wrestling them to the ground.  I started this program and June, and this is where we’re at now, almost done.  June was the beginning of my tackle all the fears in the world way of living, and so far so good.  It was not only a huge success, but it has continued to be, and it has only grown.

I know I’ve compared running to breastfeeding, and I think I’ve compared it to birthing as well, but can we go there again please?  Birth can be such a huge mind thing.  With mental blocks and the works.  It’s like running.  They’re both physiological to an extent yes, but I think a huge part of it is that we have to go DEEP within ourselves and git’er done.  We need to conquer it in whatever way is going to make us feel most comfortable.  For some people birthing, that is in a hospital and for some it is in a home.  For some runners, that is running on a busy street and for some it is running on the back streets, along the river at dusk.  There’s a lot of preparation that needs to go on.  Education.  Research.  Building up your knowledge base.  Healing your heart and going forward.  When I was about to give birth to Cade, when I was labouring, I kept checking in with myself, making sure I felt like I was in a good head space, making sure I felt positive and empowered.  I do the same when I’m running.  I remind myself that I am capable of this because I am this.   It’s like one of my favourite birthing mantras – you can overcome and work through the contractions, they are not stronger than you, you are the contractions.  Sounds fluffy and crunchy, but I think it ought to work.  I never really realized that or internalized that until after I birthed my precious boy, but I think that statement is incredibly powerful and important.  I know birthing and running are not the same, trust me, I realize that.  What I am doing is comparing my mind sets in both of them, and pointing out how similar they can be for me, and why they have both transformed my mindset and the way I live my life in such huge, powerful ways.

So day 3, let’s do this.  It’s going to be a good one, a big one, and I’m not going to wrestle you to the ground, because that wouldn’t be very indicative of where we started and how far we’ve come.  I’m going to grab you, love you all up, get all huggy and romanticize the shit out of you.  You’re a run, I’m a runner.  Let’s do this.

I’ve been saying and thinking “I’m doing this! I’m doing this!” all along, and pretty soon I can say “I DID IT!” and do you know how friggin’ good that feels?  Conquering a fear, something I told myself I couldn’t do, and instead, went on to prove myself, and I’m sure many other naysayers wrong?  Shit yeah!  I belong in some kind of new club or something now.  I feel like when I see people running, and I’m just out for a leisurely walk, I want to yell out, “I can do that too!  I’m just not doing it right now.”  

I did my first run of the last week on a treadmill, because by the time I got my butt in gear to go, it was way too flippin’ hot and I didn’t want to battle heat exhaustion like last time I decided it was an amazing idea to git’er done in the sun.  I don’t know my exact distance, because the treadmill kept turning off whenever I’d switch the fan on, but I THINK it was almost 3 miles, which is aaaaaaaawesome for me, best yet.  There was a time where I had the speed set to 5.5 mph!  But my average was about 5.0 mph, which is still a huge step.  The only other time I ran on a treadmill, I was running at about 4.3 mph, and that was week 6 day 3 I think?  We’re making headway, oh yes we are.

My weight loss is at about 10 lbs, I think I’ve posted that before, but even more awesome is my energy level has increased and I am very aware of that.  My clothes are fitting looser, and I feel like I “take up less space” than I did before.  I am learning to love my body again, but we’ve still got some work to do.  I went through a nasty phase when I was a few months post-partum.  It was hard and difficult and… interesting, because I had worked so long to come to a sort of peace with my body and its “imperfections.”  So when my mind came crashing down and tried to tell me to hate on myself, I sort of listened to it at times, and we were not in a happy place as much as we should’ve been.  But we’re getting there!  We’re working on it, and there are so many contributing factors, including… my happy pills (Vitamin D and Omega 3′s), sunshine, exercise, well-balanced diet and treating myself one day a week, and most of all, my fricken’ awesome little family and life I’ve got going on here.  I’ve got to do a lot of reminders, daily almost, because I see things I don’t have but desperately want, and then I start to feel like a little kid and am sad that I can’t have such and such.  That’s when I have to take a tiny little step out of my mind, look at what I’ve got, as cliche as maybe it sounds, and re-evaluate.  We do that a lot lately.

I’m trying to think of a way to treat myself after I finish this program.  One thing I am doing is going out with a couple of my besties on Thursday.  I don’t do it very often so that will be a huge treat, however, I’d like to personally reward myself with something.  It’s hard when money is tight, so it can’t be anything too extravagant, and I don’t necessarily want it to be something food-related either.   Anyone have any ideas?   I’d love to buy myself a brand spankin’ new pair of awesome, pro-fitted runners, because I know that I need them to avoid potential injury, but I’d be looking at about a hundred dollar bill there.  We’ll see.  I haven’t bought myself new running shoes for about… 3 years, so, yeah, it’s probably really bad that I’m running in these ones, but they are in decent shape.  Still though, I need to get in on the shoe market SOON before I smash my feet all up.  So throw your ideas at me and we’ll see what we can do.

Oh and totally not C25K related, but I’m taking on a little project and I’m having a lot of fun with it.   I’m now an Admin on the Facebook page for The Birthing Site.  It’s awesome, informative, and fun.  I love to support amazing people as they go through an amazing stage in their life, and I am learning a lot.  You should come check it out.  You don’t have to agree with all of the articles posted, or links, or what have you.  We are welcoming of ALL birthing experiences, not just “natural”.  The main thing is we encourage woman to be educated about what ALL of their options may be, so they can make the right choice for THEM, which may not be the right choice for anyone else, but that’s not the important thing.  Come and say hello!

*EDIT: I forgot to add this within the story, and I just want to make a note that I did have blood work done in November when I was first struggling with low supply.  Nothing of concern was noted.  I also had more blood work (hormonal levels and thyroid) checked in March at my annual physical, and again, no concern.  I do realize this does not MEAN there are no physiological reasons, but these were explored and so that is why I am at such a loss!  Thank you for reading – I am overwhelmed with the response to this post, and I feel SO honoured to hear so many stories from amazing mamas.  <3 

When I was pregnant, one of the biggest themes present in my crazy, extremely vivid pregnancy-style dreams was that of breastfeeding.  My baby, in my dreams, was faceless, but beautiful.  I didn’t know if my baby was a boy or girl, because we had decided not to find out, let nature run it’s course, and find out when I gave birth to our child.  In my dreams, it was the same, I didn’t know if it was a boy or if it was a girl, and sometimes, it was a boy, and sometimes, it was a girl.  But for the most part, when I would dream about my baby, my baby was simply that – a baby.  But MY baby, a beautiful tiny little being, full of life, love, and full of dreams.

Just like I was.  I frequently had dreams about my unborn baby, and I would always wake up and tell Kyle what happened that previous night in dreamland.  Most of the time, it was nothing new.  Most of the time, it was simply that I was holding my baby, rocking my baby to sleep, and breastfeeding my baby in my arms.  Simple, right?

Throughout my pregnancy, and for any of you that have been pregnant I’m sure you can relate, one of the hot topics is how you are going to feed your baby, except it is not asked in such a way, it is asked of you if you are going to breastfeed.  It’s just one of those natural things, right?  Right.  I had done a lot of reading about pregnancy, birthing, and breastfeeding (however, not NEAR as much as I do now, the birth junkie that I am) and so I felt like I had a good handle on it.  I was not fearful of the labour or birthing process, in fact, I was looking forward to it.  I was amazed that my body was going to take over, with the aid of my brain and my baby, and we were going to do something miraculous, yet totally normal and happens all the time.

For the 9ish months that I was pregnant, I was waiting for my breasts to change.  I was waiting for them to get ginormous, to say the least, and it never happened.  I knew that this didn’t always happen, but I never really experienced much in the way of breast changes.  The only time I remember any pregnancy symptom that was breast-related, was in the summertime, being in the hot sun and going for dunks in the lake, and having the sorest most tender nipples EVER.  It was uncomfortable but secretly I was cheering inside because I had always wondered up to that point what was up with the lack of boobie changes?  On more than one occasion, did I wonder out loud if I would have issues with not being able to produce milk for my child because my breasts were not showing any evidence of this whole pregnant deal.

Cade was born on November 3 at 8:08pm and as most of you know, it was the most beautiful and transformative experience of my life.  Cade was born and I was born as a mother.  Just like that.  It still blows my mind, really.  He was immediately placed on my chest for me to introduce myself (though he had known me all along) and love all up.  I was in a state of complete bliss, and perhaps a slight amount of shock, but most of all, I was ecstatic and beside myself.  I couldn’t believe it.  ”Oh my god, Oh my god!  I can’t believe this!  I can’t believe you are mine!  You are so cute!  Oh my god!  You are so beautiful!  I love you so much!”  I wish, to this day, that the moment that Cade was born was video’d, because it was incredible.  And not only that, but my declaration of love was, am I allowed to do this, flippin’ AWESOME.  I was over the moon for this little being!

And while I was beside myself, blissed right out, it did not cross my mind at that moment to breastfeed my son.  I don’t know if it crossed anyone’s mind, because it didn’t happen right then and there.  I wonder to this day if it would have made a difference, and I don’t THINK it would have, but I’m a sucker for not knowing.  I held my son for quite awhile, and Kyle and I gushed over him like mad.  I don’t remember timelines exactly, I don’t remember when he was taken to the warmer, Kyle right beside him for the whole time, and I don’t remember when they wrapped him all up, but I know that we had skin-to-skin for awhile.  I have tried not to have any regrets about this moment, because I know in my right, rational mind, there is nothing I can do differently about it, and having regrets is unhealthy.  So I don’t regret it, but I use it as a learning tool.  I would loved to have delayed everything, the “cleaning” of my son (rub that goodness right in!), the weighing, you name it, and I would’ve wanted us to attempt the breast crawl right off the bat, to initiate eye contact and bonding in such a way.

It wasn’t until we were up on post-partum, after I had showered and cleaned up, and after Cade had been wrapped in blankets, warmed right up, and had a bath, did we attempt breastfeeding.  He knew exactly what to do.  I remember the nurse that was helping me, bless her heart, said “look, wow, he knows exactly how to do this, he is a pro.”  I believed her and we went on with our night, as rough as it was.  Cade cried most of the night, despite frequent attempted feedings, cuddles, and skin-to-skin.   Kyle and I were both exhausted, and I broke down at one point because I “didn’t know what to do and I was so tired” and the nurse swaddled Cade up tightly, rocked him a bit, and handed him back to me.  It was not until 6am that he finally got some sleep, and so did I.

I always say that the beginning of motherhood is so insane.  You start off after going hours, days without sleep, and then you are thrown into a whole new wild world of breastfeeding, caring for a baby, and trying to heal, physically and emotionally from everything that just took place.  That’s exactly where I was at.  I could barely lie in bed without my perineum aching, and not only that, but I couldn’t pee due to the epidural/IV combo I had been infused with.  Toss in sore and cracked nipples into the mix and I’m spent.

The next day I remember being a bit calmer.  I would frequently breastfeed Cade, and I felt that things were going well.  I was in a sleep-deprivation induced haze, but was over the moon and in love with everything.  The tears poured out of my eyes over any and everything.  I was tired, so I cried.  I was in love with Kyle as a father, and so I cried again.   I remember the nurses in the hospital telling me to rest up that day, as baby’s second night of life was usually chaotic and they wanted to be up eating all the time.  I felt somewhat prepared, but that didn’t really happen.  That night, actually went off without much of a hitch.  Cade would wake up every 1.5-2 hours to feed, and would then go back to sleep.  Kyle and I woke up feeling somewhat refreshed, but still extremely exhausted.  Mostly, we were excited to be taking our little boy home, as that was the plan.  They tested his bili levels and they were fine, he was not jaundiced, and so we were able to go home.  That morning, I remember asking a nurse for the help of a lactation consultant, to ensure that everything really WAS going well and that we were latching.  The nurse basically denied me this request, saying that the LC’s were usually reserved for individuals who were struggling and having breastfeeding issues.  At the time, I accepted this, especially because she told me she had a passion for breastfeeding and offered to help me out.  I thought this was fine and dandy, and she really WAS of great assistance and showed me different positions to ease my achy nipples, however, looking back, I do think this was wrong.  I should have not have been denied the support of a LC by any means, and while I don’t think this affected our journey at all, I just think it’s unfortunate.

So homeward bound we were, and we couldn’t be happier.  I was on a strict regiment of having 2 baths a day, and to feed my son on demand, which I would do anyway.  The thought of using formula never crossed my mind.  I thought things were going quite delightful actually, until that night.  The sun went down and the evening reared its ugly head.  Cade turned into a nightmare, and in turn, so did his mama.  I must say, thank goodness for the best father ever, because he really was our rock at this time.  I’m sure there were times where he wondered who he should comfort first, though obviously that answer is pretty clear-cut.  Cade screamed.  All.  Bloody.  Night.  Despite constantly nursing him.  Despite endless cuddles and swaddling.  We swaddled him with an additional blanket.  It was shortly after that that he stopped crying and slept.  That was around 7am.  And I must say, we were pretty proud of ourselves.  Oh, so THAT was it. He was just cold, well DUH!

But it wasn’t just temperature regulation that was the issue, oh no, because he lost his mind the next night too.  And I felt oh so bad for this poor little boy.  What an entrance to this thing called life.  He screamed.  He screamed some more.  He cried.  He yelled.  He wailed.  I cried.  Kyle rocked and swaddled and patted and rocked and cuddled.  I think it was about 8am that Cade finally crashed for a couple hours.  Kyle and I were absolutely zonked.  I knew in my heart that something wasn’t right, and Cade looked a little on the yellow jaundicey side of things, and so I called the Healthy & Home nurses and demanded that they come for a home visit that day.

It pains me so hard, it breaks me into pieces, and it hurts my heart to think what COULD have happened if the nurses didn’t come that day, if something wouldn’t have told Kyle and I that we NEEDED to seek out support immediately.  I was starving my boy and I didn’t even know it.  Except, I did.  I knew something was wrong, and it was only after 2 nights of solid screaming did I wonder if perhaps he wasn’t getting enough to eat?

I was in tears on the phone with the nurse.  They sensed my urgency and they came over within an hour and a half.  They weighed my poor, sad, hungry little boy, and he had lost a pound of his body weight, which totalled 13 % which is a major red flag.  He hadn’t pooped in a couple days, and I really don’t remember his wet diaper count, but it wasn’t good.  I know that some major lactivists might say I was booby trapped after I say this next point – and maybe I was and maybe I wasn’t – what I DO know is my boy HAD to eat and he was a completely different baby after we fed him formula.  The nurses with Healthy & Home are lactation consultants as well, and Cindy, oh dear Cindy, was a kind, compassionate soul.  She understood my deep desire, my need, to breastfeed my son, and she understood my need to nurture him, with love and with nutrition, and she understood that he HAD TO EAT.  This was not an option, and I was not producing enough for my poor, sweet boy.  When we came to this conclusion, I was heartbroken.  I burst into tears, I had a million questions, and Cindy was amazing.  I swear, I should’ve sent her flowers.  I don’t know if it’s because she was the first nurse we encountered after going home or what, but she is the only LC’s name that I remember, and there were I think 5 different LC’s that visited us at home within a few days, to check on Cade’s bili levels and to provide breastfeeding support.  (Actually, this is an aside, but I think I am going to contact Cindy and let her know how much I appreciated her. )

Cindy basically demanded that we had to get some calories into this boy asap.  She asked if we had some on hand, and sure enough, WE DID (go on lactivists, attack me for not tossing out the free formula samples).  I saved everything we got in the mail, why?  I don’t know.  I remember thinking when I got the formula samples “oh, well, I’ll never need these, in the closet they go.”  I showed her the only bottle we had on hand (also a free sample), and she encouraged us to try the Supplemental Nursing System if we wanted to continue breastfeeding as well as getting formulas into our boy at the same time.  I remember the method seeming petty and confusing, and WORK.  But we agreed to try it out, and she showed Kyle and I how to team up and make it work.  It was complicating and stressful and just thinking about it gives me a lump in my throat.  Basically, we would fill a syringe with formula, attach a tiny sterile tube to the syringe, and then place the tube alongside my nipple as Cade latched on.  We were still trying to perfect the latch, so adding an extra step in caused much grief, but we did it.  For nearly 4 weeks, every feed, we would use this tiny little tube and place it as Cade latched, so that he would still nurse and hopefully stimulate my breasts to provide milk and increase my supply, but that he would still get substantial calories as well.  I remember feeling increasing anxiety as it came time for Kyle to go back to work, because how the hell was I supposed to do this on my own?  It took my tears, many tries, until we figured out a system that (sort of) worked.  When the tears got to be too much, I would just use my finger and feed the tube along my finger to feed Cade, after breastfeeding him.  I was scared of the bottle and we avoided it for as long as I could stand to.

After going in to the Breastfeeding clinic to meet with an LC there, Cade’s suck was evaluated and determined to be great.  The LC checked out his slight tongue tie, and also determined it to be very slight.  Our doctor has said the same.  This is still something to this day I wonder about.  Everyone has said it would not affect breastfeeding because it’s so slight and far back, but I am skeptical, if only because I am searching desperately for answers.  At one point when we met with the LC, I was breastfeeding Cade, and the LC was doing hardcore breast compressions to attempt to get the milk flowing.  And it still didn’t flow.  It just would NOT flow, stubborn supply.  The plan was to rent an electric hospital grade pump and attempt to pump after every feed for approximately 10 minutes per side (or all at once if using a double pump).  Needless to say, this was exhausting, but we did it.  The pump became my worst enemy.  I felt overwhelmed and intimidated by the pump.  We were not friends and I don’t believe this helped to increase my milk supply either.  I began to despise the pump, everything about it.  I hated washing out the pump parts a million times a day, I hated sitting there with the flanges on my breasts, making the “werr, werrrrrr” noise with every suction.  I hated anxiously watching the bottles that would catch the pumped milk, waiting to see a bottle at least half full.  I hated seeing next to no milk come out of my pumped breasts, my breasts that were so desperate to be full.  I’m sure one day I will regret it, but I wanted to experience hard, aching, full of milk boobies.  I felt envy and jealousy when my friends would have to slip in a breast pad because they were leaking.  I wanted to leak.  Shit, let me leak all over my shirt, let’s soak it up.  It never happened.

I attempted to take Fenugreek and Blessed Thistle, two supposed galactagogues, but the only thing they did was give my body a sweet and spicy odour.  I took these in combination with Domperidone, a prescribed medication used to treat stomach issues with the sometimes fortunate side effect of inducing lactation.  Again, I’m not sure it did much, though I did take it for about 6 months.  After 4 weeks of feeling in my heart that I tried everything I could to increase my supply, but to see really no improvements, I retired the SNS and revamped our routine to 1) Breastfeed Cade for as long as he would latch and suckle 2) Give him a bottle with formula to top him off.  This worked and I felt like a huge amount of pressure was eased off of me.  The SNS created stress and I began to cry at almost every feed.  Was it worth it?  Was Cade benefiting from a depressed and completely worn-down mother?  Eventually, I returned the pump.  I held onto it for a very long time, because I couldn’t bring myself to take it back for fear that it was signalling I had given up.  I hadn’t used it in days, and it was sitting there, taking up space, it was almost daunting in a way.  I returned it, and I felt a twinge of sadness, until I realized why I was returning it.

It took me a long time to realize what our feeding routine was doing to my son, and to myself.   I was completely worn out, I was stressed, and I was depressed.  I had begun to question if I really did everything I could, surely I missed something, right?  But when I realized that I did everything I could, and when I realized that it was worth it for our feeding routine to change, was when I felt a complete let-go of the stress that had been bogging me down.  I felt this within myself, and I noticed a change in my son at feeding.  He took to the bottle like a champ, and he took to the breast like a champ.  There were no issues with him going from breast to bottle and back.  Was it so important to me to not use a bottle because it might mean failure, even when it might have meant not so pleasant things for my son?  He truly thrived when I was happy, and I didn’t realize that in the moment until we had decided to change our routine, for everyone’s sake, but mostly Cade’s and my own.   Cade needed me, he needed his mother, to be happy, and to be content, and to feel GOOD about the time spent feeding him.  I was not feeling good about this, and what was this doing to him?  Did I want to transfer so much negative energy to a sweet little baby?  Of course I didn’t, so why I was doing that for so long, I don’t know.   I have determination and I have perseverance, and because I knew in my heart that that was one of the best things I could do for my son, was breastfeed him.

This was what factored into my decision to keep at it for so long.  I understand that everyone has a choice to make, and that choice is truly their own.  I respect each woman’s choice, and I do believe that decisions are made for a reason, based on past experiences, life issues, and the like.  The choice that I made, that we made, as a family, was for me to continue to breastfeed Cade for as long as we could sustain it.  Even if it was a teaspoon of milk he was getting from me.  Even if it was a drop.  We had become pros at breastfeeding, and it was part of our routine, so we kept on keeping on.  Gradually, he started to get more formula and less breastmilk, though there were times where he would breastfeed and did not want to take a bottle after that.  Those times?  I felt happy.  I felt good.  I felt like that was a huge success for us, and it was sort of a gift, a karmic gift, after the breastfeeding struggles we had endured.

We kept on with this routine until Cade was about 8 months old.  Eventually, it had turned to where he would only breastfeed in the morning when he first woke up, before having a bottle, or in the middle of the night when he would wake up to eat, while waiting for the bottle to warm up.  He got to an age where he got so distracted, and nursing was not on the top of his priority list, and so we went with it, and we excelled at that for awhile too.  Around 8 months old, he lost his interest in nursing, and it sort of happened gradually, which I am thankful for.  I remember thinking that I had to prepare myself for the end of this rocky journey that we had had, but because it just dwindled off, I am just now mourning the conclusion of it, pouring it all out there.
Truthfully?  I feel okay with how things went.  I had to come to terms with it, and I still have many what if’s that cross my mind, sometimes on a daily basis, but not as much anymore.  Do I wish that things would have went differently?  I do.  But I have learned so much based how things did go, and they went according to the agenda in which they needed to go.  Not only have I learned an insane amount about breastfeeding, pregnancy, birthing, and how the birthing process can affect breastfeeding, I have learned even more about my son and myself.  My son is patient and determined.  He possesses these traits like no other, and while some might argue that I can’t determine that since he’s so young, I CAN and I know that he will fight for what he wants, and if he wants it, he will get it.  I feel like at such a young age, only 8 months, he already knows exactly what he wants and how to go for it.  When my son is old enough to understand, I want to talk to him about our journey, and I want to thank him for being patient with me as I learned, and for helping me to learn.  He taught me the gift of patience and perseverance.  He taught me to believe in myself, and to be strong when times were tough.  And really, by simply being born, he has encouraged me to conquer my fears, to take on anything.

Still to this day, I don’t know why we were not able to exclusively breastfeed.  I don’t want to say that we weren’t successful at breastfeeding, because the way success is measured can be so trivial.  We were successful in ways that we had to be.  Was it the tongue tie?  Is it because I was induced and my body just wasn’t ready?  Was it the epidural and intense infusion of IV fluids?  Did the pitocin have something to do with it?  Should we have done skin-to-skin sooner and commenced the breastfeeding journey right then and there?  Do I have insufficient glandular tissue, a physiological condition that can prevent a sufficient supply of milk?  There were times where I wanted to be more successful, and around 6 months old I seriously considered attempting the process of ‘relactating’, but aptly decided that I would be doing more damage than good by taking on that.  That’s just a whole other ball game.

Just like any other mama who breastfed once but is no longer, I miss the feeling of my beautiful little angel’s tiny hands on my chest, resting on my breast, as he nursed and looked at me, or nursed and got so comfy he dozed off.  I miss being skin-to-skin and having his warm and so very soft tummy pressing against my own.  I miss his little “hmm” noises he would make when he was latched on.  I miss the feeling of nutritionally nurturing him, knowing I am providing him with the antibodies that he needs and his body desires.

I had many moments where I felt extreme amounts of guilt.  I didn’t want to feed him in public, because pulling out that bottle meant that I had failed breastfeeding, and so obviously I had failed as a mother, right?  WRONG.  I learned that breastfeeding did not equal perfection, nor did it equal motherhood.  Was it a huge component of motherhood?  Yes it was, but it was not the be all and it was not the end all.  In the end, I was doing for my son what I needed to do for him.  We learned along the way.  I’m hoping with future babies (probably only just 1 ;) that breastfeeding will work out, and that I will be able to use the tools that Cade taught me, in order to be “successful.”  But that’s for another time, and for now, this is where we’re at.

But most importantly, I am proud of where we were and where we have come.  I feel blessed that we were given an obstacle, a hurdle, and we flew right over it, with a little bit of turbulence along the way.  I know that my experiences might seem trivial compared to other’s, but the fact is, this is our story, and it does matter.  Our story might help others, but most of all, it has helped us.  It will make us better people, more empathetic, stronger individuals.  I feel like I have a surge of compassion that has been injected in me because of it.  I feel better able to understand other’s experiences with breastfeeding.  I never realized the emotional intensity of a breastfeeding journey and all that goes along with it.  I now do, and I think that that is beautiful and such an important part of the life that I want to lead.   My boy is thriving and I am happy and as healthy as I’ve ever been.  We work as a team, and this was only the very start of it.  We are in for a very wonderful, a very fulfilling, and a very triumphant ride.

This post was written as part of The Breastfeeding Cafe’s Carnival. For more info on the Breastfeeding Cafe, go to www.breastfeedingcafe.wordpress.com. For more info on the Carnival or if you want to participate, contact Claire at clindstrom2 {at} gmail {dot} com. Today’s post is about how birth experiences influence breastfeeding. Please read the other blogs in today’s carnival listed below and check back for more posts July 18th through the 31st!

As I prepare for my upcoming birth, I am continually amazed at how different this preparation is from preparing for a hospital birth. With Peanut’s birth, I felt that I had to fight against everything. I had to force the nurses not to ask me about pain medication. Had to force the doctors to not give me unnecessary interventions. Had to force the nurses afterwards not to give my daughter bottles or binkies or take her from my room. I was so afraid of this that I was willing to travel 40 miles to a hospital that is Baby-friendly Certified to help prevent a rough start to breastfeeding. Everything was a fight and I don’t know why I thought that was normal or okay.

When we went in for our initial meeting with our home birth midwife, she basically told me that everything in my last birth plan was moot. I don’t need to tell her not to give me unnecessary pitocin, I don’t need to tell her that I don’t want an epidural, and I most certainly don’t need to stress my desire to breastfeed to her or any of her assistants. It’s just all a given in this territory.

So all the little things last time that could have harmed my breastfeeding relationship won’t be there this time. There won’t be all the bad (and different from each other) advice from the nurses. There won’t be a lactation consultant with very minimal hours that just walks in and pops the baby on without actually explaining anything. There won’t be a doctor worried about my daughter’s “thick blood” (after giving her a vitamin K shot that I didn’t want, which in my opinion caused this) and pushing me to give her Pedialyte.

This time there will be only people around me that support my natural childbirth and breastfeeding. There will be people that can help me rather than confused me. I am choosing to surround myself with only people there to fight for me rather than against me. I will certainly be interested to see how the early month’s of Twig’s breastfeeding relationship contrast the early months of Peanut’s.
 

• Sylko @ Chaotic Mama-Breastfeeding Cafe Carnival Day 6
• Shelly @ Lousy Mom-Prep for birth. Prep for breastfeeding.
• Ashley @ Adventures with my Monkeys-Breastfeeding Cafe Carnival Day 6: Birth Experience
• Timbra @ Bosoms and Babes-Birth of Me: Halfway Around the World
• Claire @ The Adventures of Lactating Girl-Setting Myself Up For Success
• Natasha @ Natural Urban Mama-Birth Experience. Maybe. Cheering Squad. Definitely!
• And of course the guest poster on the Breastfeeding Cafe’s blog today is Marilee Poulson-Prepare for Natural Birth, Prepare to Breastfeed

This post was written as part of The Breastfeeding Cafe’s Carnival. For more info on the Breastfeeding Cafe, go to www.breastfeedingcafe.wordpress.com. For more info on the Carnival or if you want to participate, contact Claire at clindstrom2 {at} gmail {dot} com. Today’s post is about how birth experiences influence breastfeeding. Please read the other blogs in today’s carnival listed below and check back for more posts July 18th through the 31st!
 

Both of these stories are wonderfully inspiring examples that it is possible to have a fulfilling breastfeeding relationship, even if your birth experience was less than perfect; that it’s possible to make up for a rough start to breastfeeding if things don’t go so well at first; and that just because you didn’t have great success breastfeeding one or more babies doesn’t mean it can’t ever work out. You just need to have the right tools. There is nothing like a La Leche League meeting – even before you give birth – to help you fill your tool kit.

But today I choose to write about my latest birth experience. My fourth baby – a boy – was born almost one year ago. It was a peaceful, fulfilling, natural birth experience that I wouldn’t give away for the world. Having been through it twice before, I felt sure of what I wanted and what I was capable of. With my son’s birth, I felt fulfillment and closure with the birth process.

Why “Go Natural”?

Why do mothers-to-be in today’s developed world choose a natural, unmedicated birth, in an age of advanced medical knowledge and widespread access to obstetric intervention? I certainly wouldn’t volunteer to have a tooth pulled with out anesthesia. But I chose to have a baby that way. Why the difference?

For me, the only reason was to improve chances of getting breastfeeding off to the best start possible. My style of parenting a newborn is all about breastfeeding. There’s the breast, change a diaper, more breast, a quick snooze, breast again, maybe another diaper change, and breast again. This is a vital part of my relationship with my newborn babies and I would be devastated if that interaction were postponed, shortened, or diminished in any other way.

But, plenty of mothers give birth with anesthesia and their babies breastfeed “just fine”. Moreover, I myself had given birth to three other children “unnaturally” who went on to breastfeed. So what was the big deal with having an unmedicated birth?

It turns out that epidurals and other birthing interventions can lead to less-effective first nursing sessions – the baby may be sleepy and have trouble with the coordination of sucking, swallowing, and breathing. (1) A mother might not even know that the first few days of nursing are not going like they should. Additionally, “if feedings were restricted or limited (for whatever reason) in the early weeks, milk supply may begin to drop at four months or so.” (2) Have you met a mother whose baby was said to have weaned himself before a year old? (3) Possibly this early weaning was a result of a cascade of events starting with the epidural!

I’m probably not the only woman, recently post-partum, who has had a recovery nurse shove her boob into her baby’s face to help get the breastfeeding business started. Maybe this nurse’s help is deemed necessary because introducing medical procedures or medications “… tends to disrupt a mother’s sense of motherhood and impede a baby’s ability to breastfeed easily .…” (4) It might be a comfort to know that a natural birth can improve the chances that the only people necessary to initiate breastfeeding are Baby and Momma. “[M]others who kept control of their births find their babies can usually take care of the breastfeeding.” (5)

Finally, while medicated births seem to be mother-friendly, “…women who received epidurals were also more likely to suffer from pruritus, headache, nausea, vomiting, urine retention, and maternal fever that resulted in unnecessary, expensive neonatal sepsis evaluations and antibiotic treatment.” (6) Medicated births are also baby-unfriendly. (7) “Pain-relieving drugs reduce your own endorphins, which may increase your baby’s discomfort, both before the birth and after the birth, when more endorphins are passed on through your milk.” (8)

Prepare for Normal

The best way to prepare to breastfeed is to have a normal, unmedicated birth. Here are some things that I did before my son’s birth to ensure a normal, unmedicated delivery:

• I made sure that my obstetrician was supportive of an unmedicated birth, despite the risks of VBAC. I made it clear that I was not interested in interventions to induce labor early. On a side note, my obstetrician seemed a little disappointed every week near the end when I came for my visits with no evidence of early labor.
• I mentally prepared myself for my baby to stay in utero until he was ready to come out. For example, I tried to have a positive attitude about those last few weeks of pregnancy. When people asked if I was “done”, I replied with positive responses that I was glad he was in until he was ready to come out. I also pointed out that after week 37, I was more pregnant than I had ever been – that was a good thing!
• I educated myself on the normal course of birth and prepared myself for that. The Womanly Art of Breastfeeding has a birth section that is calming and reassuring. (9)
• However, I also prepared myself for the event that the birth or breastfeeding didn’t go like I had planned. For example, I programmed the phone number of a La Leche League Leader into my cell phone! (10)

Breastfeeding After a Natural Birth

Here are some of the ways that my birth experience affected our breastfeeding experience:

• My baby was on my chest immediately after birth. He had some mild respiratory distress that required suctioning a few minutes after birth. He was able to breastfeed before and after that suctioning.
• Because I wasn’t recovering from abdominal surgery, I was able to keep my baby with me all the time. I think he was six weeks old before he left my arms for any long period of time! Without the complication of a c-section incision, I was able to comfortably adjust in the hospital bed and at home to sleep next to my baby.
• Due to the uncomplicated delivery, I was able to leave the hospital almost exactly 24 hours after my baby was born. This made getting to know him and establishing our breastfeeding patterns much more comfortable in my own home. I was in the hospital for four excruciating days after my first delivery (c-section).
• Since I was not taking any opioid medications, nipple sensation wasn’t diminished. This made it easy for me to sense when my baby’s latch wasn’t quite right, correct it immediately, and prevent sore nipples. (I had horribly sore nipples with all my previous newborns.) I was taking low doses of ibuprofen at first for some perineal pain. But I stopped taking it when I started to notice that I couldn’t sense my baby’s latch as well.
• My baby was incredibly alert and nursed efficiently. This was probably a combination of his being a full-term baby and an unmedicated birth.

Each of my babies’ births was an absolute miracle. Those excruciating, joyful, and primal moments combine in my memory to form knowledge through first-hand experience, then mix with a mother’s instinct and time to one day become wisdom. My birth stories will always be part of who I am, part of who my children are, and part of the mother-child relationships we are developing. I feel blessed to have these mothering experiences.

1. Roth, Michelle. 2006. Epidurals and Breastfeeding. Leaven 42(4):74-77. 13 Jul 2011
2. Wiessinger, Diane et al. 2010. The Womanly Art of Breastfeeding. 8th ed. New York: Ballantine Books. 176.
3. Bonyata, Kelly. 15 Jan 1999. “Do babies under 12 months self-wean?” KellyMom.com. 13 Jul 2011
4. Wiessinger, Diane et al. 2010. The Womanly Art of Breastfeeding. 8th ed. New York: Ballantine Books. 40.
5. Wiessinger, Diane. 2007. “It’s the Birth, Silly!” Normalfed.com. Common Sense Breastfeeding. 13 Jul 2011
6. Riordan, Jan. 1999. Epidurals and Breastfeeding. Breastfeeding Abstracts 19(2):11-12. 13 Jul 2011
7. Wiessinger, Diane. 2007. “Why Your Baby’s Birth Matters”, Normalfed.com. Common Sense Breastfeeding. 13 Jul 2011
8. Wiessinger, Diane et al. 2010. The Womanly Art of Breastfeeding. 8th ed. New York: Ballantine Books. 46.
9. Wiessinger, Diane et al. 2010. “Birth!” The Womanly Art of Breastfeeding. 8th ed. New York: Ballantine Books. 39-61.
10. To contact a La Leche League Leader in Utah, call 801-264-LOVE. La Leche League is an international organization. Find Leaders and Groups throughout the world here:

Today’s guest post is from Marilee Poulson. Marilee lives in Salt Lake City and is the mother of three girls and a boy. Since last Monday, she has applied 25 Band-Aids, washed 47 loads of laundry, changed 72 diapers, cleaned up 145 glasses of spilled milk, watched 246 episodes of “Cat in the Hat”, nursed her baby 326 times, and cooked 502 homemade meals.
 

• Sylko @ Chaotic Mama-Breastfeeding Cafe Carnival Day 6
• Shelly @ Lousy Mom-Prep for birth. Prep for breastfeeding.
• Ashley @ Adventures with my Monkeys-Breastfeeding Cafe Carnival Day 6: Birth Experience
• Timbra @ Bosoms and Babes-Birth of Me: Halfway Around the World
• Claire @ The Adventures of Lactating Girl-Setting Myself Up For Success
• Natasha @ Natural Urban Mama-Birth Experience. Maybe. Cheering Squad. Definitely!
• And of course the guest poster on the Breastfeeding Cafe’s blog today is Marilee Poulson-Prepare for Natural Birth, Prepare to Breastfeed

I guess I should clarify, when I say run, what I really mean is jog very super slowly.  I wonder to myself, I could probably walk faster than I’m jogging, so why don’t I just walk fast?  But nope, I won’t do that.  I am stubborn kinda.  If I can jog, I’m going to jog.  I am pushing myself, but not over and above my limits, and not to the point where I will be discouraged.  That’s also one of the beauties – I know my limits, I set them, and I won’t push them more than I am capable of.

So yes, it was hard.  I had to definitely tap into my brain and re-wire my thinking to more positive, encouraging thoughts, because when I started the 5 minute warm-up, and was aware that a 3 minute run was in my very near future, I was feeling disheartened.  I told myself, if I can do this, then I can run a marathon.  I re-wired that thought once again, I can do this and I will run a marathon.  Also, when I was running, and felt the excruciating pain, and my breathing was struggling, I spoke out loud to myself, I said “go go go, keep moving forward, kick some ass” (yes, I said “kick some ass” – slightly embarassed by that, but when adrenaline takes over, it takes over.)

Again, I felt the emotional surge of “holy shit, I’m doing this.”  It’s kind of a neat feeling actually.  It gives me a sense of power, a sense of fear conquering, which I love.  I think back to the day when Cade was born, and what my body was able to accomplish.  If I can do that, I can do anything.  I refuse to let fear guide me, and I refuse to let it get in my way.  I want to take it on, I want to challenge the fear that lies within me, because I can still feel it in there sometimes.  I want to get rid of it, and this is one of the first steps of doing so.  When I was pregnant, I was not fearful of my body labouring and birthing a child.  I really do believe that helped me to have the type of birthing experience I had, and I want to feel the same about jogging, and believing in my body and all that it is capable of.  Fear is a nasty and unfair emotion, but I do understand the beauty of it.  Fear allows us to overcome things, and in turn, allows us to feel good and proud of our accomplishments.  That is exactly what I am doing and I do feel like this is just the beginning.

My biggest motivator in wanting to be healthy, overall (in mind, body, spirit) is my dear angel, Cade.  I want him to see his parents living an active and healthy lifestyle, and with us being his biggest role models (at least ’til the whole peer thing kicks into gear), I want him to adopt some of our healthy habits and ways of living.  I want him to feel good about the things that his body CAN do, not should do.  I want him to feel confident, and have a super healthy level of self-esteem, which he can use as a nice and secure grounding for everything he does in his life.

Honestly, I see my little boy moving about so insanely, so manically, and I want to do the same.  I’m going to have to do the same, because once he really gets crawling and walking, there is no stopping him, and I may have to be on the chase.  I’d really love to be able to be on that chase without a cherry-red tomato face and a lack of breath, and the only way I am going to be able to do that is to train my body and train my mind to believe in my body.

While the thought of him becoming active and never stopping is a little bit daunting, especially as I sit here at 11:00 o’clock at night, telling myself that my legs don’t hurt (they are aching so bad) and that I won’t be tired in the morning when I get up at 7am to do my run (I likely will be, but once I get going I’m sure I’ll be fine.. no, I will be fine), I would much rather have a child who is active (can’t say it enough, in body and mind) than one who sits in front of the silly television and watches super lame shows and plays crappy video games all day long.  It’s common knowledge that children are spending less and less time outdoors and engaging in human-to-human interactions, and I don’t want Cade to be one of those statistics.

I want to be a healthy mom, but more than that, I want to be a healthy woman.  I want to feel good about the activities I engage in, the food I put into my body, and the words and pep talks that I give myself on a daily basis.  What I put into my body almost directly and immediately affects how I feel about myself.  I want to allow myself some freedom though, too.  A girl’s gotta treat herself sometimes!  I want to feel what my body can do.  I carried my son for nearly 9 months, I nurtured both of our bodies while doing so, and I birthed him into this wonderful world.  I can surely do anything.  Birth is so incredibly empowering and has opened my eyes to the beauty of being so self-aware, and believing in the power of my own mind, my own spirit, and in turn my own body.  But that is for another post.

For now, what my body needs is rest and sleep.  It has been a busy day, socially, mentally, and physically.  We have visited with dear friends, walked around the neighbourhood and played on the ground, and I have studied for an upcoming interview, and to say the least, it’s draining and exhausting the crap out of me.  I don’t want to fall short on my run tomorrow, and since it’ll be an early one, I ought to call it a night.  Goodnighty night my friends, and if you’re doing the C25K, or another running/exercise program, let me know, comment, talk about your struggles, whatever it is.  I know there’s a few of you who have started the program and that makes me ecstatic beyond all belief.  We’re creating a revolution, y’all!

I’m sure she will share with you all the ups and downs of the experience here, but first a word from her birth coach:

I am truly grateful for the experience, so from the bottom of my heart, Thank You Prinji, for letting me be a part of it. I have such a better understanding of how it all works, or, maybe more accurate to say, what things don’t work. I have a whole new understanding of the cocktail of Pitocin and Epidurals, not necessarily in that order. I appreciate that you had a midwife there so I could get an idea of how that is different from using an OB (not really).

But more importantly, I am just happy that I could be there to help support you, encourage you, and hold your hand through the hard(er) parts.

Being a part of Broccoli’s birth experience has not made me more afraid of my own impending labor & delivery, but instead has reassured me. There is no right way, and the best I can do is be flexible for everything that comes my way.

Oh, and there is no such thing as modesty in a delivery room. I just hope that my delivery room doesn’t have a mirror right across from the bed.

After witnessing the brilliance that is the gift my good friend received, a colouring book entitled “Sometimes the Spoon Runs Away With Another Spoon“, I knew that this was a purchase that had to be made for the boy.

With such gems as, “Prince Charming searched high and low for the owner of the glass slipper… to find out where to get a pair in his size” and “Enough war!  Tonight I’m going dancing!” there is no question that this was a smart purchase, one that needs no defending or justifying.  I have always been excited for the day that Cade and I can sit down and colour glorious, elaborate scenes with fancy shades of purple and green, but now I am absolutely ecstatic and have these beautiful visions of us sitting down with our art supples splayed out on the table, going over each picture in a kid-friendly sociological analysis of each page, giggling and laughing at all the haters who would think this book is garbage.  My child will be and IS educated, smart, aware, and free.  Of judgement, of respect, of life.

And sorta somewhat related but not really (because I know wearing pink doesn’t necessarily mean anything at all in terms of identity, beliefs, what have you) in the most recent cloth diaper purchase (which I can fearfully see becoming an addiction of sorts) there was a bright, hot pink diaper, that I cannot wait to adorn my boy’s bottom with.  Precious is as precious does, ain’t that right.

In an effort to replicate one of my favourite restaurant salads (Citrus Feta from Prairie Ink), we purchased all the goods on the weekend and whipped up a couple batches this week.  The verdict?  Pure delightful tasty amazement.

Last Sunday, we had a late lunch/early supper at Prairie Ink, because I was achin’ so bad for this salad, and plus, I couldn’t quite remember what was in it, and I wanted to be able to make it at home.  So naturally, we had to go there and I had to eat it.

Since I’m not the greatest recipe-sharer, here’s how you make yourself a glorious salad that will make your tastebuds dance in delight:

Ingredients

Black sliced olives

Oranges

Slivered almonds

Feta

Red onions

Grilled chicken

Fresh greens

Buttermilk ranch dressing (homemade I’m sure would be best/healthiest, but we opted for Renee’s brand)

Basically, place a sufficient amount of greens on your plate (this is a Field Greens mixture), and then top with the above.  Crumble feta over top, drizzle with the buttermilk ranch, and mix all that tasty goodness together.  Engorge in the food and then have a nap.  Easy peasy.

I’ve recently seen some ‘long-lost’ photos of minutes after Cade was born and they make me very, very happy, and yet it is hard to believe that day was 6 months ago.  The craziest, most beautiful and exciting day of my life was that long ago already.  Just blows my mind really.

It is crazy that this:

Became this:

In what feels like a matter of days.

I love looking at those pictures of when Cadester was first born.  They make me happy, and they make me emotional.  They help me to reflect on that day, the days leading up, and even the months leading up.  Looking back at them inspires me to write more in-depth about the birth experience.  I of course did a post on the birth story, but I just have so much more to say, after reflecting even more, and after reading more about birth and women as strong and in control of the birthing process right from the getgo.  I can say that I had an amazing birth experience, aside from having to be induced (which in terms of how inductions CAN go, went fairly well I think) and tearing pretty badly.  There are definitely things I would change next time around (did I just say that?) but I have no regrets about how my birth went, because it produced the most beautiful little boy ever, and it was also the birth of us becoming parents.  I am a bit of a birth/breast feeding research junkie, and I have learned so very much in the past few months about birthing, labour & delivery, breastfeeding, etc.  In some ways I feel shameful that I was not this actively seeking out informatio when I was pregnant.   Maybe not shameful, but sometimes I feel I should have done more.  But then again, I’m going to stop right there because I cannot beat myself up about it, and I cannot change the past and how things panned out, I can only change how things are from here on in.

Something that I wouldn’t say I have regrets about, but that I think about on a day to day basis (not even lying, wish I was) is breastfeeding and how my journey has been.  I realize we all have struggles in our lives, and perhaps some of you may think that I should just get over it, move on, not get so wound up in “what could have been” but the fact remains, that breastfeeding is a highly personal and emotional experience and journey.  I never fully understood that until I became a breastfeeding mama.   Lately, Cade has been on somewhat of a ‘nursing strike.’  He does not want to latch on and will get fussy if we try.  The only time he seems to want to nurse is when he gets up in the middle of the night to eat (which, for the past 2 nights, he hasn’t done, but subsequently, will then nurse when he gets up in the morning).  As of Wednesday, I have stopped taking Domperidone altogether.  I was gradually reducing the dose, but I have weighed the pros and cons of taking it versus the amount that I am actually breastfeeding, and I have just decided that the benefits of taking a prescription medication for one nursing session a day are not really there anymore.  This whole process has been emotional.  I have felt upset, sad, and highly anxious over the fact that he has basically chosen to start, what it seems like, weaning.  As I said, breastfeeding and our whole journey around it consumes my life, I think about it daily, I wonder what could’ve been, every single day.  I know this is probably not healthy, and I know I need to come to terms with it.  I think a part of it is also part of the whole mother identity as well, and coming to terms with who I am now.  However, the other day, for some (what I know now) absolutely crazy reason, I thought I would pull out our nursing aid (tube that goes into the bottle and then I place beside my nipple as he latches) and see if he would latch on and then nurse and receive the formula through the tube.  It was a gong show!  Cade would not latch, and when he did, as soon as I placed the tube in, he knew and would unlatch.  I beat myself up for it, after all, why would I subject us to that again?  It brought back not-so-fun memories of the first 4 weeks, trying and trying and trying to nurse.

The other evening, I was talking to an acquaintance, a woman with a very kind and gentle soul, (also, whom I had just learned that night was a Certified Lactation Educator) about my experiences.  She passed on some very genuine words to me, words that made me feel strong and empowered as a mother and as a female.  They resonated with me in such a way that I would like to share them here (copied and pasted, left some parts out):

That’s okay, even that one night nurse (if you want to keep doing it) packs a very high amount of fat, vitamins, minerals, and immune factors. Human milk is richest in these things between the hours of 12 AM and 7 AM, believe it or not. Also, around 6 months many babies suddenly stop needing to nurse for 20 minutes or more to get satisfaction. 6 months is a great accomplishment, even that much will have given him a great start. You should be really proud of yourself, especially as you’ve been fighting the whole way. If you decide to keep that night nursing, even if it’s a few swallows, know that you’re passing on some immunities that will help keep him healthy and shorten the duration of illnesses. Think of it as vitamins! Your body will keep producing enough milk for that night nursing as long as he keeps taking milk. If it comes to an end, don’t let yourself be buried in guilt or regret, be really proud of yourself. You’ve done amazing! really believe that if you do all you can for your child, it comes down to quality, not quantity. Even a teaspoon a day, if that’s all you can do, is enough for your little man. Besides, breastfeeding is about so much more than the milk. The milk is small compared to the benefits of just suckling. The skin-to-skin and suckling develops neural pathways in the baby’s brain, helps to shape his orthodontic palate, stimulates brain growth and left-right co-ordination, and has huge emotional benefits besides, and that’s without any milk. I always ask moms, if you could only ever feed your baby breast milk from a bottle, or formula from your breast, which would you choose? The milk, and amount of milk, is the least of breastfeeding.

]]> http://tristadawn.wordpress.com/2011/05/03/22-the-2nd-3/ Wed, 04 May 2011 04:42:52 +0000 tristadawn http://tristadawn.wordpress.com/2011/05/03/22-the-2nd-3/



I feel like I am going to put a big jinx on everything that we have accomplished up to this point by saying what I am going to say next, but because I am brave and courageous I am going to say it anyway: months 4, 5 and 6 were easy-peasy in comparison to the first 3.  Oh isn’t that lovely, just after I typed that, I heard a mysterious screaming noise coming from the boy’s room.  Lovely is right.  I have come to dread the evenings again, and we were doing so, so, so well.  Sigh.  And so we march on, and another hurdle we will conquer with our fists held high.

4 months old

I guess I shouldn’t say easy-peasy, as month 4 was still winding down from the chaos of the previous months.  Month 4 saw several 2am car rides as well, which were enjoyed by all, even Lily.  I have never seen someone get as pumped for a late night car ride as her.  Oh my babies.  Basically we spent the month of March attempting to level out the wild crying activeness of the boy, and eventually, they settled down.  Cade had his first ride on a Greyhound bus, which went off pretty smoothly, thankfully.  It was actually quite peaceful, just being able to chill out with him in a vehicle, pick him up if he needed soothing, and feed him as need be.

Month 5 saw big changes in regards to Cade’s motor abilities.   Our little baby who just looked around and took in all the new sights now started to physically take in all the new sights, wanting to grab at them and shove them in his mouth.  This happened more so towards the end of the month, and the middle of month 5 saw a huge milestone in the life of Cadester – he started sleeping in his crib at night and during the day for his naps.  One Saturday eve, when Kyle was at soccer, I was lying in bed with my boy attempting to watch some NetFlix and hopefully have him fall asleep next to me.  After 2 hours of him lying there, calm though, he still had not fallen asleep.  That should have been my cue to try the crib, but intead, we persevered and we both eventually dozed off.  The next night, I suggested to Kyle that we should give the crib a try.  We had tried dozens and dozens of times, but Cade was never ready and would scream bloody murder as soon as his head hit the crib, even if he was fast asleep when we put him down.  So, the night of March 20, we went about our evening routine, nurse, bottle, bath, book and bed.  We aimed for a bedtime of 8PM, hoping earlier would mean better chance of crib sleeping success.  Turns out, it may have.  We laid our little guy down, patted his bum, popped the soother in his mouth, and he drifted off.  An hour passed, and Kyle and I were amazed.  Another hour, and same thing.  Granted, we had to get up several times that night to pop the soother back in, he slept in his crib from 8pm – 8:30am, minus getting up to eat two times.   I was curious what the next day’s napping schedule would bring, but it went off without a hitch.  Our boy was READY!  And mama was sad, because it meant no more naptime cuddles or no more bedtime cuddles.  Well, at least not for a little while until he got used to the crib being his bed.  If he wouldn’t have been ready, we wouldn’t have pushed it, but I truly believe it was just ‘his time’ to sleep on his own.

5 months old

I must say that month 5 was full of big things for this little guy.  First off, he decided that everything he saw, he had to touch, attempt to grab, and then shove in his mouth.  This started earlier than month 5, but was really exacerbated in month 5 and taken to a whole new level, and this has just gotten progressively crazier.  I can barely drink a glass of water without him grabbing it out of my mouth and putting it up to his mouth.  Reason #5328573289572389 why I love my boy, because he is hilarious and persistent.  He fights for what he wants.  Atta boy.

Cade had his first taste of ‘solid’ (read: pureed) food on March 29, which was homemade pureed chicken.  Pretty sure more ended up on the bib, on his face, on his hands, and up his nose, than in his mouth, but it was fun and it went well.  He figured out pretty quickly how to open his mouth for the spoon, and in fact, wanted to do it himself, which I partially obliged to until he nearly shoved the spoon down his throat.  After the introduction of chicken went off without a hitch, we proceeded to make some more food and introduce slowly, allowing for a few days in between so as to notice any adverse reactions.  To date, Cade has tasted avocado (loves), sweet potato (loves), beef (meh), carrots (loves), rice cereal (likes quite a bit), banana (loves), as well as small tastes of apples and peaches from using his ‘safe mesh feeder’ where he just sucks on the fruits through a mesh cover, so he can taste the juices.

Delish

Cade had his first HUGE shopping trip over the Easter weekend in Edmonton.  I did not expect him to be the trooper that he was (I shouldn’t say that, he is an amazing little boy and I thought things would be ok, but I knew we would be going shopping crazy and I can’t even handle that let alone a 6 month old boy who needs naps and down time more than I do!) but he showed us all up and braved the 9 hour shopping day with all of us, Lily included, since she was puking the night before and the morning of, we didn’t want to leave her alone because we were worried.  So in her travel bag she went, and both the sibs got to hang out with us for the day, checkin’ out West Ed Mall, South Commons and Ikea.  Nine pure hours of shopping and Cadester barely fussed once.  I was seriously amazed but moreso I was proud of my little guy for being such a trooper.  He is a shopper at heart, oh yes he is. Kyle, look out, ’cause now you’ve got two of them.

Cade had his first swimming adventure at the beginning of April, when we went to the Shaw Centre with our little munchkin.  It was super fun, and so nice to be in water with my boys.  Water is so relaxing and so natural, and Cade seemed so comfortable being in it.  He loves his baths, so it only made sense.  He wasn’t a huge fan of the kiddie pool, I think because it was a bit chilly, but he absolutely loved the family hot tub, which was set to bath water temperature, and had jets.   What can I say, I loved it too.

Waterbaby

The relationship between Cade and Lily has just continued to grow and grow.  He watches her everywhere she goes, every move she makes, and she is pretty actively into what he’s doing too, but mostly I think because she knows that his spit up makes for good treats for her.  Yup, I know, its not the most pleasant thing ever, but it’s pretty funny.  Lily has come to recognize when we start burping him, that his burps often mean spit up will come, and she is on her toes.  He gives her treats and and he doesn’t even know it.  However, while she loves his spit up, she is not the biggest fan of his grab & ingest behaviours.  She has figured out how to dodge his flailing arms and legs so she doesn’t get booted or grabbed.  The other day, Cade actually got a good grab of Lily’s fur, and while she frantically tried to get away, he pulled tighter, and the menace-like grin and laugh on his face got brighter.  It was quite hilarious, though I felt bad for the little gal.  Once Cade is an appropraite age, I’m excited to teach him how to treat animals and what the correct way to engage with them is.

Besties

In April, we made the decision to switch to cloth diapers, based on environmental impact, chemicals in the diapers, as well as finances.  We’re still using disposables as we’re building up our stash of pocket diapers (we’re at 16 now, woo, with 2 diapers from eBay enroute).  Soon, we’ll be able to mostly use cloth, with a few disposables here and there, and do laundry every 2 or 3 days.  We purchased a couple different brands to try, and have purchased a few of one particular brand that we like.  They are so darn cute, and we really feel a lot better about having our babe’s bum draped in chemical-less cloth diapers, and in turn, not throwing out a bajillion diapers that will sit in the landfills.  We’re leaving a legacy behind for our little boy and his grandchildren and so on, I guess you could say.

Clothbum

6 months old

Month 6 has seen Cade develop a growing disinterest in nursing, except for his middle of the night feeds where when Kyle is prepping a bottle, I breast feed my boy.  I am not sure what it is, actually scratch that, I am the mama, I am pretty sure I know what it is, but can’t quite pinpoint exactly what it is.  I think it’s more of a combo deal, he knows he gets the bulk of his nourishment via the bottle, which comes out faster, he gets distracted when nursing, and since it’s not constant, fast flow of milk, he is more likely to turn into wandering eyes. 

So 6 months, eh?  Where did the time go, I have no idea.  I couldn’t tell you.  I guess we were busy, though some days I feel like we just did the same thing as the previous thousand days.  It’s all good though, because if I had to choose between doing the same thing over and over by myself or with my babies, I would obviously choose with my babies.  I cannot even verbalize how much I love my boy and how much he has changed my life for the better.  The photo above is one of my favourites, taken today.  It speaks so clearly about our family.  There you have Kyle and I smiling at our boy, who is grabbing for my glasses and Lily, simultaneously, while Lily is barely hanging on, trying to escape from the Wrath of Cade.  I love us and I love what tomorrow will bring.  Happy 6 months, my boy, you are beautiful.  xoxo.

These are a few of Cade’s favourite things…

Month 4

• Sucking thumb and fingers
• Rolling over from tummy to back
• Chillin’ out in my Ergo baby carrier

16 lbs 8 ounces

Month 5

• Chewing his feet, fingers, toes, and virtually anything he can get his hands on
• Sofie the Giraffe and Lily are probably his besties
• Loves his Lamby lovey and Sleep Sheep, they are his sleep companions that replaced mama and dad
• Solid foods!  Chicken, avocado, rice cereal, sweet potato…

18ish lbs

Month 6

• Solid foods, more n more… beef, carrots, banana
• Being busy and never ever sitting still, that is my boy’s main motive right  now
• Jumping jumping and jumping in his ‘jumperoo’, related to the need to mov
• Non-stop til-you-drop shopping (okay, maybe not his favourite thing, but he was a trooper, so it kinda counts)

19 lbs 8 ounces and 26 inches

The first three months of Cade’s life were probably the hardest, most emotionally and physically draining months of my life.  I can’t imagine they were a walk in the park for Cade, either.  I think he struggled immensely with the 4th trimester, and I don’t think my little monkey really loved being apart from this mama.  I don’t blame him, would you?  Cozy, warm, serene, aquatic, and constant nourishment vs. cold, noisy, bright, and a fight to feed.  Take your pick.

Not even 24 hours old

Month 1 was full of excitement and disappointment.  As I’ve been very open about my breastfeeding struggles, that’s where the disappointment enters the picture.  We struggled and struggled, and we tried and tried.  We also persevered, despite an extreme amount of tears, anxiety, and at times, stress.  We battled with silly nursing aids, tubes, syringes, herbs, and medication.  We fought sleep so we could feed constantly.  We had wars with the breast pump that was just oh so mechanical.  In the end, it was far too much, and we switched to a new routine of a nursing session and then a bottle session.  It worked and it’s still working, though my sadness is again coming back for a visit as I sense my boy self-weaning.  That’s another story for another day, though.  Don’t want to get too sad all up in here.

The first 4 days were rough.  My boy was being starved and we didn’t even know it.  Well we did, we knew something was up, and eventually pinpointed it after my boy had lost a ton of weight, did not produce the appropriate wet and dirty diapers, and came down with a nasty case of jaundice.  At that point we had to introduce formula, which was my worst enemy turned… simply just enemy.  We have a love/hate relationship.  My boy was losing weight and was extremely hungry despite constant feeding, so formula was the better option out of starve or formula.  Once he began an appropriate intake of calories, he was happier and did not scream for all hours of the night, every night.  Thank goodness.  I really should have kept track of how much sleep we actually got in those first few days (or weeks, months, even), because I know it was minimal.  There were days where I wondered how we’d survive, and looking back, I’m so proud of all of us for making it through, but mostly Cade.  My little boy persevered, grew, and has kept on growing into such a very content and happy, though sometimes very serious, little man.

Cade loved being swaddled in the first couple of months.  It came down to being the only way he’d sleep, and eventually, one of the only ways he’d sleep.  The other way?  In The Arms.  He was an arms sleeper for probably close to 3 months.  An arms napper and an arms night sleeper.  This made for a very tied down mama and a very tied down daddy.  But even better, it made for a very happy and very secure and loving little boy.  And that’s what really matters when it all comes down to it.  We co-slept from the time Cade was about 6 weeks old up until March 30, so just over 4 months old.  It worked for us – it wasn’t our first plan, but now, I am so glad we did it, and I miss the days of snuggling with my boy.  (Since he’s come down with another cold, the first of which he caught when he was a tiny 5 weeks old, we’ve been doing a lot more snuggling in this household, of which none of us mind one bit.)

1 month old

Cade’s first smile came on December 2, the day before he was 1 month old.  It was not even 7am, and Cade was lying happily in his crib after a feed and a change.  My mom and I were talking to him and he flashed us the most precious little smile ever, he just beamed, which of course made us extremely giddy with delight.  I quickly ran and woke Kyle up, but of course, as Murphy’s Law always wins, when he came to wait for another smile from our little monkey, Cade decided smile time was over.  Sigh.

Cade’s first ‘roll-over’ from tummy to back was on December 27.  Kyle and I witnessed it and of course cheered like it was the greatest thing that we had just witnessed (which at the time, it certainly was.)  After that, he didn’t roll over for a really long time, probably until about 4 months old when he started rolling over lots.  Another milestone for the boy was when he started to ‘talk’ a lot, which was at about 3 months old.  He coo’ed and “yelled”, particularly when he was hungry or tired, he was sure to let us know.  He also would smile tons at his polka dot decals that were above his change table.  He LOVED them and was always looking at them, smiling at them, and occasionally he would “give them a talking to.”

2 months old

Cade and I spent most of our days chilling out at home, since it was often too cold to go for walks.  You know, Saskatchewan winters and all.  We did a lot of playing, a lot of cuddling, and a lot of talking.  We also listened to music every single day, because who wants to watch crappy daytime TV when you can listen to shitty hip hop?  Does it get any better than that?  Oh, I also should mention we did a lot of socializing, and still do.  Being that I’ve got… 2 hands full of mama friends on maternity leave with me, we’re kept busy.  We’ve done lunch dates, coffee dates, “play” (read: mamas talk and babies chill out, mostly sleep) dates, and we also took a ‘Stroller Fitness’ class at the Field House in January, which was super fun, despite Cade’s consistent screaming fits, which resulted in me using our trusty and awesome wrap to participate that way.  We were both much, much happier.  And I was able to keep my sanity!

Starting in January, shortly after Cade was 2 months old, we started a ritual of super late night car rides.  Like, I’m talking at times, 2am car rides.  It was sometimes our only break from screaming, our only chance to talk to one another without Cade crying in between us.  We’d grab a tea and a hot chocolate from TH’s and cruise the quiet city.  It was relaxing, though I have no idea how Kyle managed to do that and get up at 7am for work (luckily since Cade was up all hours, he’d sleep in, and so I did too).  We tried everything to try and combat cryfest 2011.  We switched to lactose free formula and a lactose-free diet for yours truly, we used probiotic drops (BioGaia, I think it actually may have helped), and we also did a nice swaddle-soother-side position-shh’ing white noise-swinging/rocking combination for sleep, which also helped our little one not get so riled up.

January was a tough one, as it often is in terms of anxiety and depression due to horrid temperatures, however, that was coupled with a colicy babe, and a perineum that didn’t want to heal.  It made for a sad and emotionally fragile mama, though with a lot of talking, reading, and writing, those days are mostly behind us.  I cannot believe my little boy is so happy and content.  There were days where I thought, alright, I’ve got a miserable little guy forever, let’s do this.  Fortunately and thankfully I was so wrong and I’m so glad for that.  I have got nothing but a happy little guy.  Heck, he smiles and jumps even when he’s sick.  I can’t top that.  The 5th trimester (‘cept, not really, because it was much smoother) was just that – progressively got easier, less cry-y, and happier overall.  We even got a chance to breathe a couple times!

3 months old

Cade and I are super thankful to our friends and family because they are amazing and helped us to trudge through some of the roughness of the first three months.  We probably only would have scraped by if not for them, but instead, we passed with flying colours.  A support system is a must, people.  I really am clueless how single folks do it, or folks who’ve got simply, no one.  I mean, they do it, and I really ought to give credit where credit is due – PARENTS ARE AWESOME PEOPLE!  They (we) are amazing and we can learn so much and thrive in times of madness, who would’ve thought?

These are a few of Cade’s favourite things…

Month 1:

• Swaddling, warmth and cuddles
• Sleeping and eating
• Music, car rides, and movement
• Following objects with his eyes

8 lbs 3 ounces

Month 2

• Sleeping with mommy and daddy
• The froggy position against mommy or daddy’s chest
• Car rides, rocking, movement and cuddles
• The decals on his walls, Lily, and his play mat

12 lbs 13 ounces and 23 inches long

Month 3

• Strong neck and head support
• Looking around and checking everything out
• Eating, eating and more eating
• 2am car rides to combat non-stop cry fest 2011
• Sleep Sheep white noise ‘machine’
• 70′s music station on Galaxie
• Sleeping only with mama or dad, and napping only with mama or dad

14 lbs

Besties from day 1 (this picture was taken at about 5am)

I am planning a big whoppin’ six month summary post of my boy’s first half of a year journey into Tangible Life.  I’m thinking it may be an emotional one for me to write and reflect on, because I simply cannot believe this little monkey is growing into a boy who responds to goofiness, totally knows who mama and daddy are and again, responds accordingly, and also, who has such clearly defined likes and dislikes.  He is being shaped, he is constantly developing as an individual, and while he is still a baby, he is not a teeny, fragile newborn who needs his head supported.  You try supportin’ my boy’s head and he contorts and twists and squirms because he just wants to GO.

Almost every day I remind myself that I am a mom.  It’s not that I forget, but it’s that I have to remind myself because, at least to some extent, I am still in shock that we created a beautiful life, a life who has thrived from day one, a life who has made me proud, who has played a part in shaping me into the woman I am today.  No one could have prepared me for what pregnancy, birthing, and subsequently becoming a parent have been about, and I appreciate that.

I appreciate that it has been at times a rough journey, at times a journey that I never thought I would make it through.

I appreciate that this has helped me to become a survivor of my own story and experiences no matter what they are.

I appreciate that I have shed an amazing amount of tears, an amount that I didn’t think my body could create.

I appreciate that my muscles have grown as my boy grows and never thought lifting 20 lbs could be so easy.

I appreciate that I have never felt closer to my family or my friends and truly feel an indescribable connection to them.

I appreciate that while I may not have been able to fully breastfeed the boy, I have been able to provide him with as much of my breast milk that has been physiologically possible, and that we have created a routine, a breastfeeding relationship, based on what my body can and has given him up until this point, and also, that as a result of establishing and coming to terms with a routine that works for us, my boy no longer has to deal with a crying and emotionally drained mama at each feed.

I appreciate that I am now a pregnancy and birth junkie and am slightly addicted to reading birth and mama blogs and envisioning how my next birth experience will go.

I appreciate how while there are certain aspects of my birth story that, looking back on, I would know to do differently next time, I would not change a thing, because everything that happened resulted in the birth of my amazing and beautiful boy, and the flowering and growing of my relationship with my husband.

I appreciate that on top of all the rough moments, the non-stop 4am crying sessions, the nursing troubles, my boy is healthy as can be, and at nearly 6 months old and nearly 20 lbs, that speaks for itself.

I appreciate that I was able to feel comfortable with my body to do what it needed to do, and, albeit needing a little bit of, er, medical assistance what with the induction and all, I trusted myself and I felt comfortable in my body to labour and experience intense rushes and waves which resulted in the amazing birth of the boy.

I appreciate that I have never felt as assertive as I do now, but not so much so that I have crossed the line of being able to be respectful, because I think respect is one of the most important lessons I can teach my son.

I appreciate that Kyle and I are individuals and have our own beliefs and personalities and as a result, will be genuine role models to Cade, in hopes that he too will express himself in such a way.

To sum up the past 6 months before I properly reflect, it has been the most trying, sleepless, tearful, emotional, happy and beautiful months of my life.  I have never experienced such highs or lows, and I have never been so happy to say the same.

For all the times I have complained about Kyle, or bickered with him about his sometimes annoying, sometimes endearing habits, and for all the times I may have so selfishly wished he possessed a certain characteristic, he is my solid ground, my very sturdy foundation, and my go-to.  And while there are times that I thought this could not have become any more pronounced, this has not been as clear to me as it has since he became a father to our son, and yet another tick on the support checklist for me.

I may have wished he was more social, more into going out, having drinks, and participating in various dance parties, but for everytime I wished that, I was grateful that he was not an alcoholic, nor a drug addict, and that he was most comfortable relaxing, chilling in whatever way seemed most fitting.  Oh, and also that on the nights where it was only me choreographing ridiculous moves with my besties, I at least knew I had a safe ride home.  A ride that would make a pit stop at McDonald’s. Beats a taxi, that’s for sure.

But you know what, I digress.  I was going to make this a contrasty post, of the things that I may have wished were different, and then the things that I am so glad are in place, but instead, I’m only going to focus on the good, because that and only that is what this is about.

We’re only nearly six months (!!!) in to this whole parenthood deal, so I maybe cannot say what I’m going to say with absolute certainty, but I’m going to anyway.  People often say that relationships change drastically when little ones enter the picture, and it is often implied that this is a bad thing, and relationships get harder and more complicated.  Maybe they do, but I can say for sure that mine hasn’t.  I believe that it has gotten stronger, that solid foundation that I mentioned earlier?  It’s gotten even stronger, more solid.  I can lean on it more and more if need be, and in turn, we can lean on each other.  Though I will shyly and perhaps shamefully say that I tend to do a lot more of the leaning.  Sleep deprivation is awful and does nasty things to good people, and we have had our share of middle of the night arguments about ridiculous, absolutely irrational moments, but in the thick of it, when all is said and done, it is he who I turn to, and it is I who he turns to, for support, for some back-up, and for a hug or a quick cuddle before we crash for a few hours, til’ the next feeding.

Seeing the man who I have fallen in love with engage in his fatherly roles is beautiful and amazing.  Soulful, even.  I cannot imagine a better father to Cade than Kyle, I cannot imagine a stronger, more powerful heart to give all that ooey-gooey love to my beautiful little boy.  To shower him with kisses, to rub his forehead and his cheeks lightly after he’s gotten himself worked up when he can sense a nap coming, to cuddle him and keep him warm – I cannot imagine anyone else being able to do that with such calmness, such perfection, and such innate nurturing and parental abilities.

He is so good to Cade and he is so good to Lily and he is so good to me.  Heck, every night we have established a routine for Cade’s wake-ups, and, I feel like I should bold this, he gets up with me.  Granted, it’s a quick wake up, feed, change the dipe, and back to bed, but he gets up with me, and he always has, from day 1.  The first hard months, he would often be the one walking the hallways with Cade, while I sat crying on my bed because I felt so helpless and I wanted to be able to soothe and comfort my little boy and he just wasn’t having it.  I get up, nurse the boy while Kyle makes a bottle, and then I give Cade the bottle, and then Kyle changes his diaper and lays him back down to sleep while I grab a quick bathroom break, and sometimes let Lily out.  It is a quick fool-proof system that helps to make the middle of the night awake times smooth and quick, but the fact that he gets up and pitches in, even while having to get up and work in the morning, speaks volumes to me.  Usually we share a laugh during these wakeups too, either at Cade’s extreme drowsiness and ability to eat while sleeping, or the fact that when Lily hears a burp come out of Cade’s mouth, she scrambles out from under the covers to establish whether or not there is spit-up for her to ingest.

I really wonder sometimes how Kyle puts up with me, though he doesn’t like when I use the term ‘put up’ with, because as he says, there’s nothing to put up with.  I am me, and he is with me for that reason, he doesn’t see it as putting up with, which is lovely in and of itself.  He is the most patient man I know, the most loving and nurturing man I know, though you might not think so upon first meeting.  A man of few words, he sometimes is, but those few words often blow my mind, the knowledge he possesses, while knowledgeable and interesting, is sometimes… silly?  I shouldn’t say that, but I just really wonder where he learns half the stuff he tells me.  Apparently it’s from being a part-time recluse when he was younger and engaging in too much TV.  Or so he says.

Kyle is brilliant.  He knows about world politics and he knows about sports and most things in between.  And when he doesn’t know, he is so very eager to learn.  I cannot wait for Cade to grow up and have parents that are excited to learn.  To grow up and have a father that he can debate with about social issues, a father he can go shopping with, and a father he can play catch with.  While not a jack of ALL trades, he is a jack of several trades, and it is those several trades that I am most proud of him for, that I am most excited to be able to share with him, and eventually, with the boy.

I truly feel blessed to have a wonderful, insightful, supportive, beautiful, nurturing, loving, kind, patient, intelligent, and eager man to share my life with, and to have created a family with.  I am so proud of my family, I am so proud of my boys, and I really should just stop here before I create a sap out of myself and in turn, all of you.  Thank you for reading and helping me to honour the man that is my world, the man that is my life.  xoxo.

This week, we are thrilled to feature the voices of two leading birth advocates, Ricki Lake and Abby Epstein. The below interview features Ricki and Abby as they speak to overcoming traumatic past birth experiences.

It is so important that women are able to have safe, empowering births in whatever manner they feel best suits their needs and the needs of their babies.  Having a traumatic or less than ideal birth experience can affect a new mother in a variety of ways, such as impeding her ability to bond and breastfeed, contributing to post-partum depression or lowering her confidence.

So many women have come to us to share their birth stories.  Many have shared some rather distressing first births where they were given a cascade of interventions that ended in unnecessary Cesareans.  It’s getting more and more common for women to go into a hospital setting, be given some sort of interventions, such as Pitocin or Cervadil, to speed up the process of labor.  The problem is that if a woman is given one intervention, the chances of them needing another intervention for some reason or another will vastly increase.

We hope to empower women who have had traumatic or less than ideal previous birth experiences to overcome them by digging down deep and doing the research necessary to prepare for a more positive, gratifying and gentle subsequent birth.

Ricki: Although I wouldn’t classify my first birth as traumatic, because a lot of things went right, I was able to give birth vaginally and I had a lot of skin-to-skin contact with my baby right away.  I had a beautiful healthy baby when all was said and done, but there were definite reasons why I chose to do my second birth completely differently.  In retrospect, I had a lot of interventions that I really hadn’t needed the first time around, like Pitocin and regular cervical checks.  I got to thinking about whether or not these types of routine interventions were really necessary.  When I became pregnant with my second baby, I had done a ton of research and decided to have a water birth at home with a midwife.  I trusted my body.  My second birth was so gentle.  Completely different from the first.

Abby: Although my first birth (an emergency C-section) was traumatic, I never felt that my baby and I were in any danger or that my birth team couldn’t handle the situation. I surrendered to the birth my baby needed, and I never felt disappointed. When I became pregnant again, I chose to stick with the same practitioner whom I trusted and I was able to have a vaginal birth after cesarean (VBAC). I can’t say that my VBAC itself was a transformative or healing experience for me – it was a difficult birth for me and my son. But immediately after the birth — I was empowered to realize that I was made of stronger and tougher stuff than I knew.  And I have really felt the benefits from the VBAC over the first year of my son’s life as we have been able to bond and breastfeed in a more gratifying way that I was able to do after my first birth.

We truly hope that our stories encourage mothers to listen to their hearts and trust their bodies, so that they can heal from traumatic past experiences and have the birth that is best for them and their babies.  Our biggest suggestion for overcoming previously traumatic birth experiences and preparing for your next birth is to do the research and decide what kind of birth is best for you and your baby.  Be at peace with your decision and surrender to the birth, even if things don’t go as planned.  Trust your body and your baby.

And… please stay tuned for our soon-to-be released “More Business of Being Born,” a four part DVD series that will feature midwife Ina May Gaskin, Vaginal Birth After Cesarean, and tons of amazing celebrity interviews, including Gisele Bundchen, actress Molly Ringwald, actress Alyson Hannigan and musician Alanis Morrisette!  Please join us on MyBestBirth.com to stay up to date.

Have you had a traumatic birth experience that was difficult to overcome?  How did you come to celebrate the miracle of birth?

There is about a 7 year age difference between us – she is younger than me.  We get on like a house on fire, and she makes me laugh so much that it makes my soul smile.  She is one of the most beautiful and vibrant people I know.

She got married about four years ago and had a baby recently.

I recall chatting to her when she was pregnant.  There were several moments where I really wanted to “bring her down” and discuss the “someone should tell you the reality of pregnancy, birth and the thereafter…” but I felt she was so happy and optimistic, and maybe it would be different for her …. maybe. 

I decided to leave it, and only tell her something if she asked specifically.

She knew I chatted on forums and she knew I wrote a blog because I found all things motherhood a challenge. For me it was lonely and I did not really have someone who was telling me the “real stuff” or again maybe I was not listening.

At the time my biggest lament was “why did no one tell me that it was going to be like this….”

But that being said,  I was not going to be a downer on someone else’s rather happy parade. 

If they are all excited and optimistic about it, and prefer not to hear, then I am quite happy to smile pleasantly and let them remain happy.

She kept saying “I know it will be hard but thousands of women do it and I will be fine…”

And though I really felt I wanted to put my hand up and go “I really need to tell you what you are letting yourself in for ..” I resisted and instead opted  to take the high road and say little or nothing. 

<I really had to chew the inside of my cheek, as saying nothing is not part of my natural makeup.>

Fekn hell.

She had a natural birth that included screaming, tearing, baby getting stuck at the shoulder, baby being suctioned, OBGYN screaming (screaming) I NEED HELP HERE, OGBYN doing purl-plain-purl-plain to put her back together again, and and and …. (listen, I think she is a super hero for making it through, really, I might have stood up and said “Okay that is about as far as I am going here – someone give me gas or general anasthetic, and someone get this frikkn baby out …. because I am done!!”)

When I visited her later on “birth day” she had that far-away look like when someone sees something horrific.  It was as if she had survived something huge, but had seen the dark side and was now had a haunted look about her.

But we laughed and I patted her hand, and listened to her talk about her going home and how that was going to be …and I patted her hand a bit more, because she did not appear to be worried.

Again I felt an overriding urge to go “er…….” but I didn’t.  She seemed happy, she seemed confident, and that was enough to keep me quiet, and for hells sake she had just been through Hades.

She got home and unfortunately that is really where the fun started.

Baby is struggling to latch, she is stressed and upset and clearly not sleeping, and is making nearly daily trips to the clinic – I really really feel sorry for her.  When I speak to her I can feel her pain, and I want to cry with her.

Why can I feel her pain?  Because I was there.

And so were most (if not all) first time mothers. 

We have lived that hell of arriving home with your new born.   You are about 5km from that Linus blanket that is the nurses red button, and suddenly that sleepy little fresh smelling baby is screaming and you do not have a clue how to cope.  You are hormonally overloaded, your body is exhausted and nothing is working like it says it will in the books.

Nothing.

She is trying to breastfeed and its fkn difficult and it is not working.  But she has all this pressure that she must and she is weeping and wondering if it makes her a bad mother if she does not breastfeed!

Oh my heavens, my heart bleeds for her. I wish I could tell her that it will be better tomorrow, but we all know that first 6 – 8 weeks is like a slow ride to Danté’s hell without coins to pay the ferryman to get out of it.

And then she says: “Why did no one tell me that it was going to be like this…?” with a sort of hysterical note in her voice.

I love this girl – I really do!!

The short answer is, no one tells you because no one listens.

Everyone thinks that they are going to have this miracle pregnancy and this “soft light and roses” birth, followed by  the new little family skipping off into the sunset.  It is all going to be heaven and soft milky baby burps from here on in.

As sorry as I do feel for her – and I do – part of me smiles – not because I am a mean person – and quite possibly because I am - but because sh&t we all go through this, and I remember it, not fondly, I just remember it.

<but I do hope for her that this 6 weeks passes quickly, she regains her sanity and that this is a small bump on her road with her new baby …. I really do>

Gawd help you if you try to tell a pregnant first time mom about the “big bad world” because she will raise her perfectly plucked eyebrow and place her left hand – so you can see the glint of her wedding ring –  gently onto her perfect bump, and tell you in no uncertain terms that you are sorely mistaken, she has this under control.

And that is why when I see a really happy pregnant first time mom, I smile, take a really large sip of my Chenin Blanc, lean over and go: “So how’s it all going?” with a slightly evil glint in my eye.

1. Prunes, Fruits, Vegetables & Whole Grains: Basically any high-fibre, go-poop foods, really, to help combat the terrifying and almost trauma-inducing first post-partum poo.  It is not fun and you feel like you are going to tear to shreds.  Again.  Also, it makes it even more difficult to go than it already is, when you’ve got a crying baby in the background.  Just picture it, you’re sitting there on the dreaded porcelain thing, trying to relax your sphincter muscles so you can try to poo with as little tragedy as possible, and then all of a sudden you hear your baby starting to wail and wail.  Then my mind starts wandering and I think, why am I trying to relax?   OH YEAH, because I had a baby, and that baby came out of my vagina, and now I’m sore and my perineum is insanely painful and that’s why I’m trying to relax.  But in order to not be one of those people who tries to scare every pregnant woman, it’s not that bad once you actually go.  And once you go once, typically it just gets better and better.   However, do make sure you have prunes, fruits and veggies on hand to help with the post-partum constipation, which I did not know would occur for a couple months post-partum.  Which brings me to…

2. Stool Softener: I used Colace.  When I was in the hospital, they gave me a stool softener with my meals, but it didn’t do shit (oops, not even trying to make a stupid joke there) because do you really think I was going to feel relaxed enough in the hospital for the softener to take full effect?  Nope.  Not even for days after being at home did I feel okay enough to attempt It.  Prior to leaving the hospital I asked if I should continue with a stool softener at home, and the nurse said I didn’t need to.  And I listened to them, until two days later then I thought, uhmm, screw this.  Colace and I became really great friends for a few days, probably almost a couple weeks, just to ease my nerves.

3. Peri-Bottle + A Comfy Bath: I can only speak from the perspective of a vaginal delivery, but I made the Peri-Bottle and the bathtub two of my greatest, most trusted friends for a couple weeks.  Actually, because of my granulation tissue, I ended up using the peri-bottle for several weeks, until I realized something wasn’t right and the peri-bottle was not helping.  PEE BURNS, people!  And you do not want your urine irritating your already irritated perineum and bottom.  Use the peri-bottle and use it to its full advantage, whatever that may be.  Just douse your perineum with warm water as you pee, it will help things and at least relieve some of the discomfort.   And take advantage of those baths, too.  I was ordered to have 2 a day, and I did and it was great.  It is so important to rest in order to promote healing, and sometimes it is hard to do so when you’re in the midst of learning how to care for a baby, try to catch up on sleep, and deal with those crazy post-partum hormones.  At least in the bath you are by yourself and can use this time to re-energize and work on healing.  Plus, it feels really, really good.

4. Glamourmom Nursing Tanks: I splurged on two of these tanks (brown and black) at Cravings Maternity & Baby Boutique and I am in love.  Still.  They’re practical, super easy to “use” with one hand, and they claim to have a ‘belly-flattening’ effect for those darn post-partum bellies.  I do think they do have a bit of a flattening/slimming effect though, and I’m not complaining.  These tanks run at about $60 but are so comfy.  You can get ones with a built-in full bra, or ones with just a built-in elastic “shelf bra”.  The bra part just flips down and flips back up easily.  They’re great for layering and will be awesome in the summer, methinks.

5. Pre-Made Frozen Meals: The weekend before I was induced, I went into major nesting cooking housewife mode.  I whipped up a couple spinach and feta quiches to freeze, and several batches of frozen meat sauce, stew, chili, and soup.  They all came in super handy, especially when it came time to Kyle being back at work.  It was so nice to just reach in the freezer, grab a meal, thaw it, and eat.  Minimal preparation or cooking utensils to wash, either.  When you’re majorly sleep deprived, learning to breastfeed and care for an infant, and trying to take care of yourself and heal, composing a meal and cooking is the last thing you want to be doing.

6. Ibuprofen: I’ll admit, when I was in the hospital I popped Advil like no one’s business.  If it was an hour past the time when I was ‘due’ for my next dose, I was the annoying one buzzing the nurses to drug me up with another dose.  Ibuprofen was another one of my good, trustworthy friends during the post-partum period.  The liqui-gels seem to be more quickly effective too, so I’d suggest picking up that type.  I’m sure acetaminophen would work well also, I’m just a fan of ibuprofen in general.

7. Lansinoh Lanolin Cream: When rubbing a little bit of expressed breast milk or colostrum on your nipples to combat nipple soreness just won’t cut it, use a cream of some sorts.  The stuff I chose, based on recommendations, was the Lansinoh brand, but I do believe they are all similarly composed.  I used this stuff religiously after every feed.  It helped with the nipple soreness during the beginning weeks of breastfeeding.  The bonus is that it is safe for mama and baby and does not need to be washed off prior to breastfeeding.  I say bonus because I mean it, when your nipples are hella sore, the thought of washing off this life-saving cream is dreadful and awful.  The one weird thing is it is very sticky, and so you only have to use a little bit.  It’s kind of a pain trying to get this off your fingers too.

8. A Support System: SO IMPORTANT!  Be it your partner, your friends, your pet, your children, the lactation consultants, your doctor, your midwife, your doula.  Make sure you’ve got people in place who’ve got your back.   This is especially helpful if you are having some struggles.  I am pretty certain I cried to every single Healthy & Home nurse that came to our house.  And they were all so kind and caring, just the type of people you want around you in those early post-partum days.  I don’t know if I would have been so persistent with continuing to breastfeed had it not been for them helping me remain calm, supported, and educated.  Of course, all of the other awesomeness in my life helped as well.  There were days I thought I would not survive.  I thought I would go crazy.  I thought I didn’t know what I was doing.  But every important person in my life reassured me that a) I would survive b) I would not go crazy and if I did it was okay, just get help and c) I was doing what I knew and it was working and my baby was thriving.  The baby blues can be nasty, and the mild to very serious post-partum depression that may follow, can also be raunchy, and you want to be as prepared as possible, in the event that you need to seek out extra support, or just somebody to tell you that you are doing a good job.

9. Some type of pads that don’t feel like ginormous diapers: When I was pregnant, so many people told me I might as well just go buy the Poise ‘disposable underwear’ type pads because the lochia was going to be that intense.   I’m not a big fan of pads, so I was kind of dreading having to wear the semi-truck of pads, that is, Poise.  I decided to just purchase some ‘Overnight’ style Always pads, the ‘Infinity‘ version (gotta love pad branding) and I didn’t look back.  In the hospital, they give you gigantic diaper-like pads and some sexy mesh underwear.  It totally works and does the trick, but unfortunately they don’t let you take the mesh undies home, though you can take some of their pads, if you choose to.  I took a couple, but once I got home I realized that if I was going to be bleeding and in a fair amount of discomfort, I at least wanted to sort of feel at least kind of comfortable, read: not wearing a bigger pad than necessary.  I suppose some women may require the Poise-style, but if you don’t need to, I highly recommend the Infinity – they’re apparently more absorbent than even the normal Always style overnight, but thinner, which is a plus in my books.

10. A Comfortable Wardrobe: Especially pants!  You’ll want something stretchy so you can maximize comfort in any area possible.  You’ll also want something probably not too super expensive, in case the aforementioned lochia decides to visit your pantaloons.  Whenever I’m at home, I typically live in my lounge-wear, so this was an absolute must for me anyway.  And while it may not fit into this category, maybe have something on hand you can make into a make-shift donut, in case it’s not comfortable to sit.  Since you’ll likely be doing a lot of sitting, this is critical.  I took some towels, rolled them up, and made myself a donut on the glider chair where I pretty much glued my ass to for a couple weeks.  It worked fairly well, and it also worked well for claiming the chair as my own!

I’m likely forgetting something important, but those are the major things.  I also had on hand: easy snacks to grab, magazines and light reading (for in the tub), TV series to watch while rocking baby to sleep or breastfeeding (though of course there is nothing quite like looking into your little one’s eyes as he or she munches away!), slippers, kleenex for my ridiculous amount of tears, a cordless phone, and the Internet, just to satisfy my harmful Google addiction.  I’d love to get my shit together and make up post-partum gift packages for all the new parents in my life.  To me, that would be a super fun business venture.  Going to happen?  Likely not.

One of the most important non-material post-partum things that I need to have, looking back, is some form of coping skills and self-care.  That can be super hard to attain when you’re a new parent, but it is critical.  Calmness is key, and while it is normal to get frustrated, upset, sad, angry, you’ve got to figure out a way to deal with this in a healthy manner.  Your baby needs you, and your baby feels your energy, so you want to ensure to reflect a good balance.  I know there were times where I was crazy, and thankfully, Cade has an amazing dad, who not only ‘stepped in,’ he took hold of the reigns and ran with them, he ran really fast, and there were days I would have crashed hard had it not been for him supporting me, loving me, and ensuring I had at least a little chunk of me-time to recuperate, heal, and get back on the track to being the best parent I could be for mister Cadester.

What were your post-partum essentials?

Because not every post can be an in-depth analysis or reflection on my life as a woman or my life as a momma, I am going to post about 10 things I’m currently obsessin’ on.   THINGS.  Not people, not places, things, food, drink, interests.  Purely materialistic.  Purely probably consumerism.    So in order to balance out this corporate-ish inspired list, I’m asking you, my dear readers (and I know there are several of you) to post a comment, letting me know who you are, where you’re at, and one thing that would be on your list.  And ’cause I’ve said it so any times, if you blog, TELL ME, so I can come e-visit you. 

1. LONDON FOGS aka EARL GREY LATTES: I’m on a mission to dramatically reduce/cut out dairy (mostly dairy containing lactose) and so these suckas have got to be made with soy milk for me to fully enjoy them.  And fully enjoy them I do.  Kyle has learned how to re-create the Starbucks version so that we can try to adhere to a budget, prepare them at our own convenience, support our own kitchen more than Starbucks’, and control the nutritional value of them.  Kyle’s version has 1 Earl Grey tea bag, 1/2 the mug with soy milk, 1/2 the mug with water, 1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract, and then a varied amount of sugar in the raw – I usually aim for less.

  2. PRAIRIE INK RESTAURANT’S CITRUS & FETA SALAD: I never thought I was a lover of salad that contains fruit (except for pure fruit salad, which I craved big time when I was with child).  However, this all changed when I tried the salad at McNally’s in-house restaurant.  It’s got greens, olives, mandarin oranges, feta cheese, red onions, grilled chicken breast, and topped with a… ranch (I think?) dressing.  Delish and I want it now now now.

3. ERGO CARRIER: Kyle’s parents recently purchased an Ergo baby carrier for us and we love it, but more importantly, Cade loves it.  It’s super comfy to wear, supportive for my little guy, and portable and convenient.  We pop Cade in it when we’re grocery shopping, browsing at the mall, or like today, checking out a ‘baby show extravaganza.’  It’s so nice to have him close by, and most of the time, he’ll fall asleep in it.  I cannot wait until this horrid weather pisses off and we can use it to go for our daily dog park visits. 

4. FACEBOOK: Not gonna lie, I’m a fan.  I probably spend more time on it than I should, though that amount has dramatically decreased since the little stinker man arrived.  I used to make it a priority to play Wheel of Fortune, so I could get my free spin.  Super pathetic?  A little bit.  Now I just creep, and network, and post photos and stories of my own life.  Some may say I am exploiting my child, my dog, and my family.  I don’t see it as that.  I am sharing my joy with other people in my life that I care about.  I love being able to stay in touch with people. Yes, this is possible without Facebook, and yes Facebook just makes certain things more convenient, but I’m okay with convenience. 

5. The BUMBO CHAIR: Cade loves it.  LOVES IT.  If he didn’t like it, we obviously would not sit him in it.  He looks so sweet, his little thighs in between the chair legs, and it’s safe and practical.  We took it out to the restaurant tonight and he sat in it while we ate.  It’s the perfect place to seat my little guy if he is getting bored of hanging out in my arms, or any other position he likes to chill out in.  We can have great little chats, and he flashes me his perfect little smile.  Life is good.

6. PREGNANCY, BIRTHING, POSTPARTUM: Ever since going through this most amazing, beautiful (yes, nausea, swollen feet, intense contractions, bowel movements, struggles, crying and all) it is all I want to talk about.  I love being able to relate to all of these amazing women who have given birth and been through these experiences.  I love having friends who are going through these stages of life at the same time as me (and those that aren’t, I love you because you’ve been incredibly supportive).  I love reflecting on my own experiences, though sometimes it is emotional and a struggle, for varying reasons.  I love learning about birthing wisdom, women’s bodies, and how we are meant to give birth and how this experience can be influenced.

7. BLOGS: I don’t watch TV; I read blogs.  I don’t write in a journal; I blog.   I am a lover of all things blog!  I wish more people in my life blogged.  I wish I didn’t have writer’s block so often so I could dream up amazing topics and present you with wonderful, humorous posts.  I try though.  Some days I think I’m doing an okay job, and some days I look back and scoff.  Mostly it’s a chance for me to purge my feelings, however strong and emotional, or mild and seemingly unimportant, they may be.  I love commenting and making new friends via the blog world.  One of my favourite new blogs/websites which I have to give a shout out to, is The Birthing Site.  There’s a forum and the women who have created the site are support supportive and are constantly putting up new articles and videos on pregnancy, birthing, and postpartum information.

8. FERTILITY AWARENESS: I’ve talked about it lots, but I’m really into Toni Weschler’s book.  It should be incorporated into school curriculums as mandatory learning.  Toni’s book fits in there with the likes of Our Bodies, Ourselves by the Boston Women’s Health Collective, Women’s Bodies, Women’s Wisdom by Christianne Northrup, and from what I’ve been told, Ina May Gaskin’s work as well (whom I’ve yet to read but she’s next on the list).  I’m excited to begin the progress of learning even more about my body.  I thought I knew lots, but I’m not even a quarter of the way into the book and Toni has already taught me lots.  You’re likely to read about some of my experiences into this new world, and I’d love to hear from more people who have learned more about their bodies through this method (or other natural methods) as well.

9. PODCASTS: For the bus ride to my mom’s (where we’re at now), I downloaded a wack of podcasts to listen to on my iPod.  Most were from the Pregtastic and New Moms, New Babies podcasts.  From what I could tell, the Pregtastic podcasts all start out with a round table discussion of pregnant women talking about the ups and downs of their pregnant experience thus far.  Obviously, if you read back to number 6, you will know that of course I appreciate and love this.  On both podcasts, they also have guest speakers, and each show has varying topics.  Because the iTunes store is wonderful, you can basically find any podcast you want, and lots of them are free too.  CBC has tons of great talk and indie music podcasts that I’ve got as well, including some of my favourite work out podcasts, Sweatin’ to the Indies.

10. EXERCISE: I know this one seems lame, and it kind of is.  But I’ve been hitting the gym as part of my get-fit-and-healthy routine, and I love it.  Not every day do I want to go to the gym, but once I am there and sweating, I feel so fabulous.  It is true what they say about exercise being a great way to reduce the negativity in one’s body.  I feel great after I’m done too.  Not only that, but it’s a wonderful way for me to have some ‘me’ time out of the house, and for Kyle to have some father and son time, inside of the house.  I think if I hadn’t started to exercise more, these silly post-partum hormones would be sinking deeper and deeper, rather than getting better, which is what I THINK they’re doing.  At least most of the time. 

That was actually a lot harder than I expected it to be.  I guess I don’t have as many obsessions as I thought I did?  Not any obvious ones anyway.  I’m a fan of lists though, and they’re easier to trudge through than a hearty post, particularly when I’m not feeling introspective enough to put together anything too big.  Now that you’ve hopefully and not too painfully made it through that list, re-read the first paragraph of this post and make my heart happy.  Much love to you, my lovely audience.  xoxo.

1. Always wondering if certain feelings were normal and healthy for my baby and I.
2. I was always so warm!
3. The tiredness – though I really shouldn’t complain, because over all, I had a very amazing pregnancy.
4. Your body is now everyone’s business and people are free to make any sort of comments they want.  I realize most people do not do it out of maliciousness, but sometimes things come across like, whoa?  Really?
5. Having anxieties about how I would be as a parent, and freaked out that I knew nothing.  Turns out I knew more than I thought I did.

1. I was so scared of tearing and while I wasn’t generally nervous to go through labour or delivery, I had a hard time believing I could push a baby out of my vagina!
2. I didn’t have a ‘birth plan’ necessarily, but just really wanted to have a positive, good experience that would result in a healthy, thriving baby.
3. I was a bit nervous to be in the hospital, since I had never really had a hospital stay.  Though I must say, it went over well, and the nurses and doctors were all pretty wonderful.
4. I was nervous that I would have to get a C-Section.
5. Since my blood pressure had been creeping up towards the end of my pregnancy, I was scared once the word ‘induction’ was tossed into the picture that I would have to be induced early and not go into labour naturally.   I was induced after all, but turned out to be alright, for the most part.

1. How the heck do I take care of a baby?  I know nothing, NO-THING!  I am going to suck at this mom thing.
2. How will I deal with crying?  I have a hard time listening to crying, what if my baby is colicky (he kinda was, but we trudged on through!)
3. Nervous about the ‘right’ way to raise a child to be healthy and secure.
4. So excited that our child would grow up with a lovely little doggy, and our doggy would grow up with a lovely little child, and we would get to parent both of them.
5. Absolutely ecstatic to see how Kyle and I’s relationship would handle this new, intense, beautiful curve ball.  (4 months in and our relationship and bond with each other is stronger than other, we have come together quite nicely to form a little parenting team!)

1. Having Cade placed on my chest the second he was born.  It was the most amazing feeling ever and I was absolutely beside myself.  I could not believe that this little boy was mine to love and nurture, and I could not believe how darn CUTE and healthy he was!  I made sure to have those around me aware of this as well, I don’t think I shut up about how amazing, how beautiful, how cute, how much I loved him!
2. That I was able to be in good spirits and joke around and be happy throughout my labour.
3. I was so glad to have my mom and Kyle in the delivery room with me, as well as a really great nurse (nurses – but the one who was there for the delivery was fabulous) and my own doctor.  Such a great support team.
4. Having John Mayer playing throughout my labour.  We picked John Mayer because I listened to a lot of his stuff when I was pregnant, and so it just seemed appropriate.  It totally was.
5. Doing what I felt I had to do at each moment and at the time feeling like it was the right decision for us.

1. I wish I never had to be induced.  Induction with Cervidil led to Pitocin.  When the word Pitocin came up, I decided to get the epidural as I had read too much and heard too much about the extremely excruciating and intense contractions that were brought on by Pitocin.  There is a part of me that wonders how much my low milk supply has been affected by the oxytocin/epidural/ton of IV fluids given to me.
2. I wish I would have demanded to start breastfeeding Cade immediately after he was born.
3. I wish I could have stayed home longer, labouring there where I was most comfortable, before going to the hospital.
4. I wish that I would not have torn so bad.  I had third degree tearing, and then granulation tissue after that, so it was nearly 3 and a half months before my perineum was feeling half decent again.
5. I wish I would have educated myself more on a natural birth and how best to achieve this.  I realize it is not a competition and that there are no medals or trophies given out for women who do it naturally, but that’s not what natural (or should I say unmedicated) childbirth is about, oh no no no.

1. Watching Cade grow.  While sometimes I think he is growing too fast, sometimes I cannot wait to get to the next milestone.  It is amazing watching him develop and all the new little things he does every day.  His latest is wanting to shove my hands (and his hands, or anything he is holding, or anything I am holding…) into his cute little mouth.
2. The relationship between Kyle and his son is amazing and I love to watch Kyle be a dad.  He is fabulous, is such a good father, and while I had no doubts he would be, I absolutely love it.   This might be dorky, but I love watching Cade and Lily’s relationship grow too.  Cade is starting to be more interested and watching her more, and Lily is just so good with him.  She is gentle, always has to be near him, or always has to be on his blankets, toys or chair.
3. The surges of love I get for my little guy.  So incredible.  I love his reactions to me, seeing him smile at things I say, and he gets sort of ‘coy’ or flirty, which is so priceless and adorable.
4. Snuggles and kisses with Cade.  There is nothing like it at all!
5. Feeling such a huge attachment and bond that is just growing by the day.  The amount of love I feel for my son is amazing amazing amazing.

1. I Google too much!  I read about this theory, this parenting method, this approach, and am always second guessing my instincts.
2. Having to let things go (such as the dirty dishes, or the filthy bathroom).  They can’t always get done in a day’s work, and I have to become more accepting of that.
3. Always wondering if I am doing a good job, if I am raising Cade to be healthy, secure, assertive, and confident.  I want the absolute best for my son and sometimes on those really dark days, I question if I am giving him the very best.
4. Finding ‘couple time’ for Kyle and I.  While I find that our relationship is stronger and more solid than ever, it is different, and sometimes I feel like we have not talked about anything other than Cade for weeks.
5. Dealing with the pesky, pesky hormones.  They creep up and they can be mean sometimes.  They have resulted in many a crying fests, sleep deprivation (moreso than the norm, I’d say – some nights I just cannot fall asleep, no matter how tired I am), and some mild depressed feelings.  Overall I am doing okay, but they were and can be tricky to deal with, especially on top of sleep deprivation ANYWAY, and healing from physical changes post-partum.  Sometimes makes even just changing a diaper extremely hard.

So, if y’all have blogs, please do this. It’s fun and helps you reflect.  If you don’t blog, do it on your Facebook or something.  or better yet, get a blog, git ‘er done.

goodnight and sweet dreams. signing off, yours truly. xo!

1. I used to be a boy.  Except – not biologically.  I was a total tomboy throughout most of my elementary school years and most of my high school years.  I wore boy’s clothes and had short boyish hair.  I realize I am total sex-stereotyping the male species and I’m not trying to do that I am merely using ‘the boy’ (a common, ‘average’ iconic image of a boy) as a point of reference for my former identity.  A lot of this can be chalked up to the fact that I was extremely self-conscious, not at all comfortable in my own body, and so I hid behind baggy, boyish clothes so as to not draw attention to the fact that I was a female who sucked at loving herself.

2. Eating noises make me turn into the crazy person that resides deep within the darkness of my soul.  I feel terrible for Kyle, because he is the only one that makes me comfortable enough to spaz out on in regards to eating noises.  By eating noises I mean the awful smacking when chewing bites of cereal, the excessive clinking of the utensil against the serving dish, the horrible breathing noises (even worse when the particular individual is congested), and the all-encompassing Mouth Open Whilst Chewing phenomenon that isn’t so much of a phenomenon for some people as it is a potential death sentence.

3. I have really great friends and family members. I may not have busloads of friends lining up to see me every day, but the few friends that I have are really really really amazing and genuine.  Not about to name any names (what are we, 10?) but if you are reading this thinking you are one of the above-mentioned, then y’all probably are.  Pat yourselves on the back because you deserve it and much much more.

4. I got pregnant while using the Flexi-T copper IUD as a form of (apparently not) contraception. I’m pretty good friends with my body (now, though not so much when I was a boy) and I knew when something was wonky about it.  Turns out things were wonky because point A led to point B which ultimately led to point C.  Point A being that my IUD fell out of my uterus which caused point B, a pregnancy, resulting in the amazing point C for my beautiful little Cade.  Would I still recommend the IUD?  Yes.  Am I still considering getting another one?  I am.

5. My family consists of Kyle, myself, our son Cade, and our Maltese Yorkshire Terrier Lily. I would not ask for anything more, ‘cept for a few more dollar bills.  We live in a rental home in the Buena Vista neighbourhood in Saskatoon.  A perfect neighbourhood for leisurely walks, parks, families, and pooches.  We’ve lived in our current home since July of 2008, and from July 2008 – July 2010, one of my besties Jenna also lived with us.

6. I have had post-partum struggles.  I know I’ve blogged what seems like incessantly about this topic but that is because it is a topic that is/was at the forefront of some of my days.  I don’t know if it is to the extent of PPD, maybe it is, maybe it isn’t.  I don’t know that a label is important at this stage in the game – I am taking care of myself and my family and I am overall feeling okay.  I have days where I feel like crap about any and everything and I am sure to talk to Kyle on those days about what I am feeling.  I feel like I talk the subject to death but yet often have trouble talking about it because I feel like it is minimal and I need to step up to the plate and get over things.  I am considering seeking out a therapist (I really should stop talking about this and just do it already) to work through some things and just to get me on the right healthy healing track.  All post-partum talk aside, please don’t worry about me just because I said I’ve had struggles.  I’ve got a great support system which, if I didn’t have, I really wonder how these struggles would have played out.  But ’cause the support is there and because I know what I need, I’m not worried.

7. I love my dog more than I ever thought I could love an animal.  I never understood the love for a pet until Lily graced our lives.  She does that every single day, except for those moments of the day when she pees on the carpet, or wrestles with her doggy-friend on our bed when I am trying to sleep.  She is the funniest animal I know, so caring and lovable, and so so so funny.  Thinking about the day when she will no longer be with us makes me want to puke.  Which is why I don’t think about it often.

8. Giving birth was probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but the most rewarding. Think of the hardest workout you have ever had to do and multiply it by a trillion.  I imagine that is what giving birth is like.  It’s hard work, it’s exhausting, and it doesn’t always feel super great physically, but emotionally and spiritually I was above the moon for probably the whole time I was in labour and when my little guy plopped out of me.  I say plopped because that is literally what happened – none of this head first, then shoulders, then body.  After an hour of pushing and bringing Cade down the birth canal, Cade was born in one gigantic push.  Yowsas.

9. I am slightly OCD.  I like to have things just so and organized.  If there are things on the coffee table, that sort of annoys me, but if that is how it is going to be, I at least have to straighten them up so they aren’t angled weirdly or crooked.  This includes but is not limited to: books, game controller, remote, Kyle’s glasses.  They have to be just so, and cannot be scattered about the table, but rather stacked neatly on the corner of the table.  Since having Cade, I have not been able to be as much of a neat freak and have had to let things (read: messes) go for a lot longer than I would like.  It is hard but I think I am getting a bit better at this.  Still doesn’t mean I like it, it’s more so out of necessity. I am also OCD about my hair straightener and have been for years and years.  I am always paranoid I will leave it on and burn the house down.  One Christmas a few years ago, my brother and I were taking the bus to Yorkton, and while at the bus depot late at night, I had a panic attack that my straightener was on and the apartment was going to burn down.  I remembered one of the names on the apartment buzzer list, and so looked in the phone book for their phone number and called them to get the landlord’s phone number so she could go to our apartment and check.  So crazy.  And do you think the straightener was actually left on?

10. I have been blogging for many years.  It all started probably in 2003, with a Blurty account, which then transferred over to a LiveJournal account, and then an account over at Blogger.  I believe those accounts were all private because I was too chicken to share some things with the world.  I’ve always loved to write and have had paper journals prior to online journals.  I wish I could blog/journal more, and it’s not that I can’t, it’s just that I don’t.  I get writer’s block far too often and sometimes feel that what I have to say does not need to be written out for the world to see, mostly because it’s too boring.  Turns out when I go back and read it years later, I am thoroughly entertained.

I couldn’t complete this post until I came up with 10 things.  They’re not as interesting as I had planned when I first started this post, but so be it.  Sometimes I really like to talk about things in my life so changes are good that you will see another post like this in the near future.  Today I challenged myself to blog every day in March, but then later dismissed that because I thought it impossible.  Should I attempt it?  We shall see.  I put too much pressure on myself to blog about heavy issues, when really, when I go back and read my little musings, they are often the best and most entertaining posts I’ve written.  Where shall this challenge take me I do not know.  Could take me to a daily March blogging adventure, or it could not.  Goodevening & goodnight! <3

Oh, and I was already 5 cms dilated and not in labor. Go figure.

As one of my cousins said, “I can’t even believe a woman can be 5 cms dilated and NOT be in labor.” Hey, you and me both.

Especially because at my 39-week appointment with Monkey I was all Fort Knox up there. Not dilated or effaced AT ALL. Not even a little bit. Not even enough to let my doctor strip my membranes. I burst into tears at that appointment.

So it was pretty surprising to be 5 cms dilated and not in labor with Bean.

We scheduled the induction for Friday, February 5, 2010 — one day before my due date — and hoped that she would come on her own.

It was an EXTREMELY weird feeling to have an end date. With Monkey, every day during the last two weeks was spent wondering, “Is today THE day?” To actually know the day was a little unnerving.

I spent the next three days exercising my Type A personality — aka “I know when I’m going to have a baby and I’m going to clean the entire house and do everything I possibly can before she comes.”

If given the opportunity to control a situation, I take it.

I even put over 700 photos in albums. In one night. Yeah, I kind of let that get out of hand. I hadn’t printed photos since Monkey was four months old. WHOOPS!

On February 4, I planned a special day of errands, shopping, and lunch with my good friend A. It was the last day I knew I would have any time at all for myself, much less time out of the house, so I made sure to wear a cute outfit and do my hair and makeup. My friend A remarked, “I can’t believe you’re all dressed up! You look so calm! You’re having a baby tomorrow!”

It was kind of fun to be running very last-minute errands at Babies R Us and Old Navy, having the clerks ask me when I was due and replying, “I’m having the baby tomorrow.” I even played the “I’m having a baby tomorrow” sympathy card and convinced the clerk to honor a coupon that wasn’t valid until the next day. I’m pretty good at convincing people of things. It’s a Type A thing.

Of course I also had to finish folding laundry, fill the car up with gas, shave my legs, put my bag in the car, pack Monkey’s bag, and glance at the labor and delivery info again. I was ready.

That morning we woke up early to find that Monkey had fingerpainted with poop in her bed. Nothin’ like some added stress as you’re rushing around thinking, “OMG I’m going to have a BABY. TODAY!” Ultimately we got off to the hospital on time and made the short drive in mostly nervous anticipation.

My birth experience with Bean was completely different from my experience with Monkey.

With Monkey I went into labor on my own around 2 a.m. and labored at home until 2 p.m. before leaving for the hospital. My contractions slowly gained in intensity and duration over 12 hours. When I was admitted to the hospital I was only 3-4 cms dilated. Monkey was born at 12:30 a.m. the next morning after 1.5 hours of pushing. She was a very average 7 pounds.

Checking into the hospital with Bean, on the other hand, was completely surreal compared to what it was like with Monkey. For one, I wasn’t in labor. I didn’t tell the nurse examining me, “I love you,” after she concluded that I could be admitted.

It was all very polite and punctual, with our suitcase and camera. Like we were tourists checking into a hotel. We strolled up to the labor and delivery floor. No rush, no urgency.

My doctor came in to break my water and then have me walk the halls for three hours. What a waste of time that was. I was sending emails and updating my Facebook status from my Blackberry, telling everyone how surreal it was to be induced.

By the time my three hours was up, I was experiencing infrequent and inconsistent “stop in your tracks and breathe” contractions. I was 6 cms dilated. The nurse hypothesized that she must be in there spread-eagle style. No freaking kidding.

At 12:30 p.m., the nurse administered pitocin. At 12:40 p.m., I was in full-on, angry raging labor and 7 cms dilated. Wowie.

The nurse called for the anesthesiologist right away.

Now here’s the part where I wish I would have done things differently. At the hospital where I delivered Bean, I had the option of receiving a “walking” epidural. I don’t remember the specifics, but apparently the anesthesiologist would administer a first drug that takes some of the edge off but still allows you full use of your legs because they want to encourage you to stay up and moving so that your labor continues to move along.

Well, clearly that was not going to be a problem for me. So the anesthesiologist just administered the full epidural right away. I wish she hadn’t. I wish I would have known how fast it all was going to go. But I didn’t know, and it turned out completely unlike my slow and steady labor with Monkey.

With Monkey, by the time I was ready to push, my epidural was wearing off and I could feel my body telling me exactly what to do. I still had pain relief, but I felt more in control of my body.

With Bean it was not like that at all. Within two hours of receiving the epidural it was time to push. And I couldn’t feel a thing. I wasn’t experiencing what my body wanted me to do. Don’t get me wrong, I had a vague sense to push, but I was pushing all wrong. And I knew it. The whole experience just felt completely out of control. Especially at the point when Bean’s head was out and the doctor was trying to maneuver a shoulder and a nurse jumped up on a stool and starting frantically pushing on my belly to get her out. It was a panic moment for me to be perfectly honest. Thank God they were able to free her shoulder in what probably was seconds, but felt like an eternity. (I’m really sorry if I’m scaring you, my pregnant friends.)

Thank God I only had to push for 15 minutes. I honestly couldn’t have sustained the type of “wrong” pushing I was doing for much longer.

In the end, it turned out there was a good reason Bean got a little stuck. She was 9 lbs 6 ounces. Upon the doctor laying her on my chest, I immediately exclaimed, “Oh my God, SHE’S HUGE.” And that was before I even knew her official weight. I could tell just by looking at her that she was SO BIG. Especially compared to the first time I laid eyes on Monkey — who honestly was a peanut with super skinny legs and arms. But Bean — she was gigantic. She already had big baby rolls on her arms and legs. She looked like a one-month-old.

It was funny, I remember when I held Monkey for the first time I just kept looking at her, thinking that she would look familiar to me. I expected to look at her and think, “I know that face.” But I didn’t feel that at all.

The second time around I thought, “Now this time the baby will look familiar to me because she’ll look like her sister.” But at that moment when I held her for the first time, Bean looked NOTHING like what Monkey looked like as a brand new baby. Again, such a weird feeling to expect to look at this baby and see something familiar, but not. Within just 24 hours though, the girls’ resemblance started to show.

I was much more emotional after Bean’s birth. I wept when the doctor laid her on my chest. My mom was in the room this time. Watching her cry as she watched her brand-new granddaughter look at me for the first time truly was special.

With Monkey, I was elated, but I really didn’t cry. The second time around I think I understood better the significance of the event. I could appreciate the BIRTH of OUR BABY and understand completely the joyous occasion that it was. I knew exactly how our lives were changing for the better.

With Monkey, I had no idea how truly awesome motherhood would be until I was actually experiencing it. It’s one of those things that you can’t fully appreciate, no matter what everyone tells you it will be like, until you’re actually doing it.

My two very best friends were pregnant with me while I was pregnant with Bean — one of them with her first. I teasingly told her that I thought I was more excited than she was. But only in the sense that I already knew the joy that was awaiting her, and I couldn’t wait for her to experience it. It’s just indescribable. There are no words.

If we have another child, I don’t know if I would elect to be induced again. I definitely don’t think I would take the “full” epidural again, given how fast everything went. That aspect of Bean’s birth was honestly quite traumatic for my Husband and me. So much so that shortly after she was born we both looked at each other and said, “I don’t think we’re going to have any more kids.”

Thankfully, I no longer feel that way. But if we have another baby, I know I’ll want to do some things differently.

In the end, it’s all worth it.

364 days ago, it was one day before the birth of my second child. My beloved Bean.