Living the Super Model Life

A few months ago I finally got myself and two kids to the hairdresser. The Mr. joined us later but of course the Jelly Bean required milk while I was in the chair. 

I channeled by inner Giselle and this happened: 

Cause we are in Germany this was NO Big Deal and for just a second there I felt glamorous.

XO

One Month Jelly Bean

Today Ms. Jelly Bean is exactly one month old. Holy jeepers; one full month.

This past month has been such a different experience than the first month with PJ. Bluntly stated: I enjoy Jelly Bean in a way that wasn't possible with PJ.

As a second-time mom, I now know that this precious, exhausting newborn phase disappears quickly and when it does, it does forever. When PJ was a newborn every challenge felt like it would never, ever end. We would always be sleep-deprived. He would always demand to be carried everywhere and all the time. He would always eat every hour. With Jelly Bean, I know that none of that is true and, therefore, I can thoroughly enjoy snuggling with her for hours every day. Hours, people, hours, and with absolutely no shame and no guilt. I Love it.

I can even get a little teary-eyed when I realize she's already outgrown a bunch of clothes, a proof that this special time is already rushing by.

Yup, outgrown.

I barely got her into this one before she outgrew it.

I also know now what type of mom I want and - more importantly? - can be. And I know how to ask for help being that mom. I also have mom friends that I can share war stories with and be greeted with understanding, encouragement, and, often, laughter. I'm also much, much better at ignoring unwanted advice, skirting undesired conversations, and doing what is right for my family.

 

I'm a baby-wearing, sushi-eating, natural-term nursing mommy. And so much more.

Another part of my ability to enjoy Jelly Bean is that she is just an easier baby. She cries less (that link goes to my all-time favorite blog entry about PJ as a newborn); she sleeps more; and, since I had gained experience and knowledge, establishing a nursing relationship has been much easier.

Laid-back Lady

And, lastly, and extremely importantly, I'm doing well emotionally. I am not suffering from post-partum depression this time. Even after a rough pregnancy, another induction, a horrid post-partum infection with an extended hospital stay, and the challenges of expanding our family dynamic from three people to four. It is amazing how different the newborn phase is without a dark, heavy cloud wrapped around my soul.

No PPD! Even the coffee tastes better.

Happy one month, little girl. Boy are we happy to have welcomed you into the Steinbach clan.


xo
 

By Request: Update 3"The Ugly: Breast Feeding and Mother Guilt"

I have been contacted again by a few readers for an update about breastfeeding.

Holy freaking cool is that? People are reading this blog! Remembering this blog! Asking for updates! My ego rejoices!!

Yes, two exclamation points.

And ... back to the point of this blog. Back in July 2011, I posted a blog about my struggles with early breastfeeding. Then in August, I posted an update. Followed by another one in December based on request. Then I sorta let it die. I thought I had covered the topic and frankly, I don't really think about nursing that often any more. But it turns out there are people out there that want an update from a "normal" mom, especially after the whole TIME thing (link does not go to the original story, but a commentary on Huffington Post). So, here ya go, dear readers.

I'm still nursing my little boy who is now 11 months old. All those things that I was told back in the day and did not believe - easy, natural - have become totally true. Nursing is super, super easy. It is natural. It is awesome. Yes, I just wrote that, nursing is awesome. I truly enjoy breastfeeding my little boy and I know that he truly enjoys breastfeeding. Two very happy people. Neither of us are planning on stopping any time soon.

We finally meet the expectations set by the medical community and society in general. So, we are all happy, right?

Wrong. Because, strangely, once a baby hits six months old and then as the big, first birthday gets ever closer, the expectations change and the pressure to stop builds and builds and builds. Suddenly all that hard work and all that dedication isn't wanted any more: it is time to wean. Now. There is some sort of invisible (to me) boundary in which nursing is about the best for both mommy and child and into a strange, slightly incestuous world in which a nursing mother is forcing her child to remain reliant upon nursing because (whispered in heavy voice) "it feels good for her."

Yet, this ignores a massive and growing amount of research supported by leading organizations around the world that clearly and repeatedly states that a nursing relationship should continue for at least 12 months (the current majority) or 2 years (the largest growing group right now). And, more importantly, to me, the expectation to wean doesn't come from the fact that the baby needs to stop or the mom needs to stop or because that's how nature needs it to be. But because you, or they, are not comfortable with my baby nursing when he can eat other food, crawl, walk, or (god forbid!) talk.

Notice that the verbs are different: you, or they, want us to stop; nothing needs us to do so. I'm happy. PJ is happy. So, frankly and with love in my words: please respect that I am doing the best for my child. If you don't agree, I grant you full permission to complain about it to someone else that will never tell me about it. And we will all win.

But vent aside, the nature of our nursing relationship is changing. Now that I am working and PJ is snacking more, our nursing sessions are slowly reducing during the day. Thankfully we are able to gently reduce and the Mr. is supportive of helping us through the transition. For example, this past week I was in a full-day workshop from Wednesday to Friday that cut out our late morning session. To help ease the transition, the Mr. brought little man to the workshop at lunch time for the afternoon nursing session. That's support. Additionally, when we are out-and-about PJ is offered a snack before nursing and many times that's enough. But when its not, its not and we nurse.

Although many people with no experience in being a working and nursing mother have told me that continuing our nursing will be "impossible" - I know that it is possible: I have found role models in strong, confident, professional women who even travel and still nurse their children far past the one year mark. To them I look and to them I am thankful.

To those readers that asked for an update: Thank you. I hope I met your expectations. In the end, my key message for you is: if you want to breastfeed your baby, it will most likely start out really tough. Growth spurts will be tough. But stick it out. Ask for help from people who have not only breastfed but support your hopes (whatever they are). It gets better; actually it gets great. Natural. Easy. Real.

For everyone else: thanks for reading.

Happy mommy and happy baby

xo

Oh, and I still fucking hate that damn pump. I doubt that will ever get better.

Distracted Nursing

Remember when I was concerned about how long PJ was nursing and hoping that he would get faster, more efficient? Remember how more experienced nursing mommies told me to enjoy the time before distracted nursing began? Remember how I rolled my eyes?

Yeah, you were right. I should have enjoyed that time. Sigh.

Distracted nursing sucks. The world is just too interesting and PJ could miss something. It doesn’t matter if he has already seen or heard or touched whatever pulls at his attention: he must instantly pop off, twist his little body around, and then randomly pop right back on. This may be adorable the first time, sweet the second time, and cute the third time…but, frankly, its freaking annoying - and sometimes mildly painful - after that.

And we are way beyond the third time.

 

I had heard about nursing necklaces and scoffed (I seriously need to stop doing that). Yesterday while in Heidelberg I saw a chucky, inexpensive necklace with different types of beads out of stone, glass, and plastic; remembered the nursing necklace concept; and popped into the shop to buy it.

I tried it out for the first time today at Oma and Opa’s house. While we nursed, the room was loud and active with seven adults and two bigger boys. Previously PJ would have spent the entire time popping on and off, on and off. Especially since PJ loves playing with older children and these two boys are so gentle and inclusive with him.



But this time he remained relatively focused. Lets hope this is a trend!



Clever mommy.


xo


xo

By Request: Update 2 "The Ugly: Breast Feeding and Mother Guilt"

*Warning: Grown-up language and a nursing picture*

You may or may not remember the struggles with breastfeeding that little man and I had at the start of outside-adventure together. A few of you definitely do because I've been asked recently for another update.

The reader's digest version: I like breastfeeding. PJ likes breastfeeding. The struggle was worth it. I am proud of us. To all new and about-to-be mothers, I recommend giving nursing a damn good shot.

The longer version is somewhat more complicated:

PJ was exclusively breastfed for about 6 weeks before he started stealing food and we introduced solids. He still nurses anywhere from eight to ten times a day and is gleeful (seriously, he giggles and wiggles around with joy) when he starts to nurse. Breastfeeding doesn't hurt anymore - it should NEVER hurt after the initial soreness and once the relationship is established - and I enjoy the spike of relaxing hormones during and after each nursing session. I love the growing weight of my little man in my arms and I love dosing off while he wraps his tiny fingers around my thumb. I love how when he is finished he dramatically smacks off and then cuddles his head against my breast with a satisfied smile. I even like when he wiggles and giggles through an entire meal. I love how convenient and simple nursing has become for us both. I'm looking forward to the day when PJ starts to reliable sleep more than three hours at a time - and Lord knows there are times I wish I could unscrew one of my ladies and hand it to the Mr so that he could take over the 3 or 4am feeding - but I'm extremely thankful that our nursing relationship works.

As the weeks somehow fly by, I become even more grateful for the love from the Mr., the real information and foundational support from the La Leche League, and for the encouragement that I got from a myriad of people, both in real life and over the Internet. I kept going because I am incredibly stubborn and strong willed but your back-up and support as well as your permission to turn to formula made my stubbornness a little less than insane. I don't know how to say thank you enough.

But I am also becoming even more pissed off for the shitty information and treatment I got from the "established" medical community. Some of that treatment included:

• smashing PJ's face so hard into my breast that he got scared of my breast ... as well as holding my breast so tightly while smashing my infant's face against me that I literally had a bruise the shape of said "professional lactation consultant's" hand on my breast for a number of days.
• hurtful statements that broke my confidence like "well, I guess you just aren't cut out for nursing" when sore nipples are pretty normal for a first time mom
  
• alarmist and untrue statements like "he isn't getting enough to eat!" while he was gaining weight just fine
  
• retarded statements like "wait 1.5 hours so that he is really hungry" when he needed to suckle for more milk and comfort and I needed him to demand more milk AND "you need to pump to stimulate more milk" when I didn't need to pump I needed my baby on my breast
  

What I really needed was to hear "this is so normal" and "it takes a little bit of time and skill but you two will do this" and other informed and true statements. Thankfully I did, finally.

In the end it took us about 10 weeks for our relationship to really get established (the pain completely gone, his latch regularly successful, I aware of his early hungry signs, etc). With a good support system and without horrible advice at the beginning, I think it may take less for others. So, yeah, I recommend giving nursing a damn good shot. But even more I recommend doing what is right for you, for your child, and for your family. And only you know what that may be. For us that was breastfeeding with supplementing and then breastfeeding exclusively and now breastfeeding while introducing little man to solid foods.

At 6 weeks, when nursing just started working.

Just yesterday at 23 weeks

xo
Oh, and I still fucking hate that damn pump.

Appreciating the Little Moments

PJ was born in July 2011. It is now September 2011. Between then and now – and unlike the mythology of motherhood – there have been more dark moments than moments of joy. Going into pregnancy I knew that I was at high risk for postpartum depression but what I did not know was that the support I thought I would need was far from what I really needed. I was also ignorant that breastfeeding, something I had planned on doing since I watched my mother breastfeed my sister, was a learned skill for both myself and my son and it is a difficult skill for us both to learn at that. There were other things I had failed to understand: the power and the pain of short bursts of sleep; what colic is; how much a new mother needs her mommy.

To say we struggled would be an understatement not unlike saying the Grand Canyon is „big“ and German „a little tough to learn at first“.

Thankfully, my husband was also able and willing to take the first month of our little boy's life off of work. I'm not sure what would have happened had I been alone. With him in the house, cooking, cleaning, shopping, encouraging, reassuring me and PJ (often literally at the same time), I could yell at him, slam doors at him, cry at him, and – most importantly – blame him for all this insanity instead of our little boy, just days and then weeks old.

Not that our son remained untouched by all of this. Breastfeeding was so difficult and so painful that I exuded fear every time he cried and every time I held him in my arms. Infants, like animals, react to our feelings and PJ's reaction was natural: my arms were not a safe place and he screamed for safety. Based on the bad advice we got during his first few weeks, I'm pretty sure he was also screaming out of hunger but that's another story.

I cried on the phone, I cried on skype, I cried going to the bathroom. Everything was too much and my world was wrapped in dark fog, a fog I hadn't seen in years since my last true depressive episode. I got scared and so did my husband.

"What do you need? How can I help you?" he kept asking over and over again, desperately ready to do anything to help Fix This.

"I don't know," I kept answering in many vague ways. Like so much, I didn't know what I needed or what would help.

Time crept past and after four weeks my husband went back to work. I learned about the La Leche league and got the patience, understanding, support, and expert guidance I needed for breastfeeding to become successful. I went onto Facebook and asked for support between 12 and 5, when my son was the most upset and I was alone. People - some of them surprising - started coming. I got up the courage to go to mommy groups. My mommy came for a visit. I went to my first MOPS meeting. My sister arrived to help.

And things got and are getting better. Breastfeeding is established and going well. My son has almost doubled his weight, grown out of his 0-3 month clothing, and had learned to smile and coo. And I have proven to him that my arms are the safest place to be. We all sleep a little more. The colic is basically gone. My husband is and continues to be an outstanding husband and father. I see and feel now that I am not alone.

Which brings us to a recent morning, 11 weeks into this adventure. After a rocky night, my husband, son, and I all laid down for an early morning nap. I nursed our little man to sleep and then I gently rocked onto my back, placing one hand on my husband's thigh. My right arm was wrapped around my son and my left hand was resting on my husband. Both of my men were peacefully, deeply breathing in their sleep in our dark bedroom and I looked at them both and tears rolled down my cheeks as I thought, "This. I really like this moment."

Here's to appreciating more of these moments. 

 xo

How to Make a Breast Feeding Mommy Proud

Get milk drunk!

PJ is such an active little guy that from the 8-10 times I feed him every day, he only gets "milk drunk" and falls asleep after a feeding maybe twice a day. But it is such a great feeling when he does!



xo

Update "The Ugly: Breast Feeding and Mother Guilt"

*Warning: Grown-up Language*

A number of people asked how we are doing with the feeding challenges that PJ and I have experienced. Thank you for caring so much about us; for sharing your stories and experiences; and for encouraging us to find what is right for us (and not trying to force one decision over another). I’ve learned a lot about myself in this first month of parenthood; one thing is how incredible my global community is. Thank you.

The long version of the story is too long for this blog, so here are the highlights.

Two Tuesdays ago was the artificial deadline I set for us. I had the chance to get some professional help with breast feeding and I told myself if it worked a little bit that I would continue trying to breast feed. If not, we would move to complete formula feeding. I felt good about the decision and moved towards it with some level of confidence.

Long story short: the professional help didn’t help - instead I left feeling more insecure and upset than I was when I arrived - but that person did send me along to another professional who did help. By listening. By being calm. By not touching me but instead by encouraging me to do what felt natural to PJ and I.

And suddenly it worked with tenderness but no pain. It was during that feed that I silently said ‘Fuck Off’ to all the professionals and the non-professionals who I had been trying to listen to instead of listening to myself. Looking down at PJ as he (very excitedly) drank from my breast and slowly slipped into a light sleep, I also said ‘Fuck Off’ to the hours of pumping.

Afterwards as I walked to the car I darn near chanted and then sang ‘Fuck Off’. When I got into the car I got even louder and happier. Not because it suddenly worked with breast feeding but because I felt good about listening to myself. Since then we’ve been slowly building up the breast feeding and slowly toning down the bottles. PJ seems pleased to be back on my breast - getting it from the “tap” as the Mr. says - but still gets quite fussy and gets one bottle in the evening. He is gaining weight and dirtying his diapers like a pro. I am pleased that PJ and I have a feeding solution that we both feel good about and am very interested in how we our relationship will grow and change over the coming days, weeks, and months.

Most importantly, I learned to listen to my heart and my intuition - and to trust PJ and his intuition and reflexes - just a little more. 

Now off to the challenges of sleep! But aint he cute when he does sleep??

The Ugly: Breast Feeding and Mother Guilt

The past three weeks have been the most difficult three weeks of my adult life. I don’t think I’ve ever cried this much about so much in such a short period of time since I was 17 years old. Why was I crying? Well, yes, sleep deprivation was part of it but the real reason was the dangerous mixture of breast feeding and mother guilt.

Breast feeding is not working for PJ and I. We had a rough start: he wasn’t getting enough food and I was in almost constant pain even when the feedings were over. Then things got a little bit better just in time for us to realize that PJ is having a hard time drinking and has started to play with his tongue against my nipple when he is tired from the stress of trying to breast feed. If you cannot imagine how much that hurts, consider any wound you’ve ever had in your mouth, take away all pain relief, and then talk non-stop for four hours. Really painful, right?

The result was PJ shrieking for what seemed to be hours on end, sleeping irregularly, and being generally restless. Even after 90 minutes of breast feeding, PJ would flip out 10 minutes later. We couldn’t believe it was hunger - he has just been ‘eating’ for 90 minutes! But it was because although he had been at my breast for a long time, he has spent more of that time exhausted. All we knew at the time was that something wasn’t right and every single bloody person that walked through the door looked right at me and said, “He’s hungry.”

Which added to my inability to be kind to myself and my high expectations around breast feeding - I never even considered that it might not work, never ever - I began struggling with incredible guilt that I was (and am) unable to feed my child - something that I have been told and something that I have believed to be normal, easy, and, most dangerously of all, natural. As a result, I have spent hours tense with pain while my son desperately tried to get enough milk without exhausting himself - saying things like “drink damnit” and weeping loudly - and then slumped over a breast pump weeping more quietly (it hurts less) and thinking “how can I already be a bad mom?”.

I have been angry at myself for not getting it right, for failing at something that is - like I said above - “natural”. I have been angry at PJ for doing it wrong. I have been angry at the Mr. for failing to understand how exhausting it is to breast feed, successfully or not. And then I feeling guilty for all of the above until my stomach hurts, my head hurts, my breast hurts, and in the end I couldn’t stand to be near my son out of sheer frustration, fear, anger and guilt.

Thank god for the ability to ask for help (which I wrote about in another post a while ago) and to ask for help loudly. This entire time I have been working with a midwife, now I’m also working with a breast feeding consultant and I might just get another involved as well, and of course I have been reaching out to other mother-friends. The problem isn’t solved but at least I don’t feel so alone (although all of the mother-friends that I spoke to were able to breast feed in the end).

Right now I’m still in too much pain to breast feed, so I’m pumping every two hours and then the Mr and I are giving PJ bottles of my breast milk. When that runs out, we are giving him formula. I’m working on taking a big step back from myself, from my expectations, and the expectations of others. Because my son isn’t going to go hungry, he isn’t going to be stressed out and screaming and unable to sleep for my ego or because breast feeding is “natural.” Yes, there are benefits but they sure as hell don’t overweigh the pain of hunger in a three week old child.

Honestly, I carry feelings of failure, feelings that come from external as well as internal pressure and expectations. I still hope that in a few days or a week PJ will be strong enough and I will be healed enough and relaxed enough to try again. I hope that when we try again we are successful. But if we aren’t I’m going to try my hardest not to blame myself and not to wallow in guilt. Instead I hope, regardless of outcome, I will make the decision that is right for my family and then concentrate on getting to know, spoiling with love, and enjoying this little man who has shaken up my life.

Because isn’t that what really matters in the end?

I’m trying to answer that question with a yes.