Leo is almost eleven months old. Currently he has one little toofer, the bottom front right tooth. But just because he is Leo, he is also working on at least three more teeth at the same time. And boy, oh boy, is he cranky. Poor little spud.
He now rides contentedly in the car seat. Thankfully our screaming infant days are mostly over. Car seats. My babies did not like them. At all. I didn't use pacifiers with my babies, but the car seat is one place that I wish I could have used it. There is just no way to comfort them in that plastic missile hurtling through space and time with mama just out of reach. Torture.
Just last week we had a first: Grandma was taking us to Allandale Farm to purchase our first garden supplies. Iza fussed a bit for snacks or water or something. Soon, however, I realized that the noise coming from the back seat was...giggles from both babies. They were making each other laugh. (I know that the giggling will soon drive me mad, they say.) But it was cool to know that they were communicating without words. And having a ball. I admit, I wanted to know what the hilarity was all about. But, mama, it is none of your business!
Leo is already hiking up his little foot and trying to climb onto the couch, the chair, anything. A climber indeed. (I have scheduled the babyproofing company. Yes, you can hire someone to do that. Yes, it is worth it.)
Leo is not an eater. Just not that into it. Especially not into sitting still in the high chair. He has figured out finger foods, which means he has lost interest in purees. One night, when Grandma and Grandpa were visiting, he sat peacefully and ate and ate and ate. I was amazed! Then he vomited three times. Projectile. Impressive.
Disclosure: I am also just not that into feeding Leo. There is no time to prepare the purees. He eats or not. He eats when we eat or not. He is still breastfeeding. He is fed. He is growing great guns. He will eat when he is hungry.
Leo wants to be exactly where Izabella is. Right on top of her. Preferably holding onto her hair and playing with the exactly the same toy. And when you try to distract him, he doesn't buy it for a second. He gets mad. If you take him across the house and show him a super cool ball, for example, he will calmly march straight back across the house to the super cool spoon, or whatever, that Izabella is using as a guitar. Yowsers. Yes, I have checked out "Siblings Without Rivalry." Would someone like to read it, prepare bullet points, and get back to me?
Showing posts with label Lenard. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lenard. Show all posts
Friday, May 28, 2010
More Lenard More
Welcome! I am an American writer and high school teacher. Please comment and share, as you wish. Taint: A Novel available at your local bookstore and on Amazon.
Wednesday, May 05, 2010
Leo Potato
Miss Izabella is a girl of a thousand names and a thousand more lullabies. Mr. Lenard, on the other hand, is Leo. And the one lullaby that emerged from my imagination stuck. Leo, Leo, You're my Little Potato / Leo, Leo, Sweet as a Summer Tomato. (Repeat.)
Even Izabella has started to call him "Leo Potato."
And when we tripled his birth weight well before the charts predicted, he was a little lump of spud--hard and hefty despite his diminutive size.
Even Izabella has started to call him "Leo Potato."
And when we tripled his birth weight well before the charts predicted, he was a little lump of spud--hard and hefty despite his diminutive size.
Welcome! I am an American writer and high school teacher. Please comment and share, as you wish. Taint: A Novel available at your local bookstore and on Amazon.
Tuesday, May 04, 2010
Some Numbers
Leo at 10-months-old:
Height: 29.8 inches (80%)
Weight: 19.34 pounds (18%)
That is right. Supermodel.
Height: 29.8 inches (80%)
Weight: 19.34 pounds (18%)
That is right. Supermodel.
Welcome! I am an American writer and high school teacher. Please comment and share, as you wish. Taint: A Novel available at your local bookstore and on Amazon.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
A New Club
Miss Iza had her second birthday on February 8th. And as of that date, I can no longer claim membership to the 2-under-2 club. I suppose now I am in the 2-2-and-under club, but that doesn't quite garner the same insanity. With an over-2-year-old to my name I should have it all together by now. Parenting should be old hat, down pat, downright easy. Cutting baby nails? Been there. Teething? Been there. Making baby food. Done that.
Raising babies is "easier" with number 2. All that I learned raising Izabella has given me a frame of reference for the second baby. With Iza's every baby first, I would ask my mom, "Is this normal?" The weird newborn eyerolls. The frequency or lack thereof of poops. The list is endless. Now I have a sense of what is "normal," and even more importantly I understand that normal is way overrated.
A big bummer of parenting two little ones: illness. Wow. Does it suck to have a sick baby. Two sick babies are even worse. Worser still, sick babies + a sick mama. Poor me. We are not talking cancer. We are merely in the grip of lingering virus that causes mild fever followed by sinus woes. Leo is taking it the worse-est.
We are heading into night 13 of Baby Leo's fight against the family virus. By day he is cranky, but not too terrible. By night he drowns in his own snot. It is so sad to hear him try to breath. There is coughing, enough to make him gag and vomit. (I know. Sorry. But. Parenting babies is all about bodily fluids.) I have elevated our bed to create an incline. Vaporizer on full. Warm bath to loosen up the goo. I am doing all that I can and still we are up often in the night. I am okay with frequent waking when all that is needed is for me to nurse him back to sleep. But getting up to rock or bounce and walk or sing or all of the above is murder on this mama.
I admit it has led me to mutter quite loudly really bad words. I feel like a sh*t when I do it. But it usually releases some of my negative energy and allows me to refocus on the moment and endure. After so many nights, folks, I am not at my mothering best. It aint pretty.
The good news is that while I am not a patient woman, I do have endurance. And I do have a penchant for suffering bred into me by years of observing Lent and general Catholic culture. I may not be a saint, but I do understand the value of martyrdom.
I do not want my parenting to be defined by martyrdom, however. That seems all askew. I do not want to lose my life. I want to find it, create it in relationship with these little people.
Perhaps the nights of sitting with a suffering child who cries and thrashes and scratches (who seems entirely unappreciative of your love's labor) is a healthy dose of self-sacrifice. A way to die to self. It is certainly a way to wrinkle your skin and grey your hair.
And poor Leo. I can't wait to have my healthy, happy baby boy back.
Raising babies is "easier" with number 2. All that I learned raising Izabella has given me a frame of reference for the second baby. With Iza's every baby first, I would ask my mom, "Is this normal?" The weird newborn eyerolls. The frequency or lack thereof of poops. The list is endless. Now I have a sense of what is "normal," and even more importantly I understand that normal is way overrated.
A big bummer of parenting two little ones: illness. Wow. Does it suck to have a sick baby. Two sick babies are even worse. Worser still, sick babies + a sick mama. Poor me. We are not talking cancer. We are merely in the grip of lingering virus that causes mild fever followed by sinus woes. Leo is taking it the worse-est.
We are heading into night 13 of Baby Leo's fight against the family virus. By day he is cranky, but not too terrible. By night he drowns in his own snot. It is so sad to hear him try to breath. There is coughing, enough to make him gag and vomit. (I know. Sorry. But. Parenting babies is all about bodily fluids.) I have elevated our bed to create an incline. Vaporizer on full. Warm bath to loosen up the goo. I am doing all that I can and still we are up often in the night. I am okay with frequent waking when all that is needed is for me to nurse him back to sleep. But getting up to rock or bounce and walk or sing or all of the above is murder on this mama.
I admit it has led me to mutter quite loudly really bad words. I feel like a sh*t when I do it. But it usually releases some of my negative energy and allows me to refocus on the moment and endure. After so many nights, folks, I am not at my mothering best. It aint pretty.
The good news is that while I am not a patient woman, I do have endurance. And I do have a penchant for suffering bred into me by years of observing Lent and general Catholic culture. I may not be a saint, but I do understand the value of martyrdom.
I do not want my parenting to be defined by martyrdom, however. That seems all askew. I do not want to lose my life. I want to find it, create it in relationship with these little people.
Perhaps the nights of sitting with a suffering child who cries and thrashes and scratches (who seems entirely unappreciative of your love's labor) is a healthy dose of self-sacrifice. A way to die to self. It is certainly a way to wrinkle your skin and grey your hair.
And poor Leo. I can't wait to have my healthy, happy baby boy back.
Welcome! I am an American writer and high school teacher. Please comment and share, as you wish. Taint: A Novel available at your local bookstore and on Amazon.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Mise-en-scène
All the experts recommend that a nightly ritual will ease your little ones off to sleep. The elements may include a bath, a story, getting dressed for bed, dimmed lights, music, a cuddle, or nursing in permutations too numerous to describe.
Our evening ritual starts with dinner at six. After dinner we start the journey toward sleep by collecting our evening supplies: pajamas, the "bye-toe" (a wearable blanket), and socks. We then move through house and start the ascent toward the bedrooms with a litany of goodbyes to various toys and household landmarks. It is often at this point that Izabella remembers that we also need to bring along the monkey, dolly, owl, or the hairbrush.
Tata escorts Izabella and I bring up the rear with Leo. Once upstairs I leave Leo in the master bedroom to squirm on the floor. Tata is busy with Iza, who needs to be undressed (checked for poops) and then led into the tub. I charge around to dim lights, fill the vaporizers, adjust pillows and blankets, and check to be sure my iPhone is handy in Leo's room (in case I need to stay with him for an extended nursing session). Then I return to the master bedroom, undress Leo, and plunk him in the tub with Iza for his chance to splash madly. I exit the bathroom and Tata takes over. I wait outside the door with Leo's towel while Tata deftly removes him and distracts Iza with more water. (She recently started to get upset when we left.)
I then whisk Leo away to his room. I dress him: diaper, pajamas, bye-toe. I am usually singing his lullaby as he vigorously complains. We nurse in bed. If that doesn't work, we bounce on the ball and nurse. Eventually (hopefully) sleep overcomes him. If I can exit his room in time, I can then nurse Iza and put her to sleep. Lately her father has been able to put her to sleep without me, which is a huge relief as Leo has become more difficult to tip over into his dreams.
While I am tending to Leo, there is a drama playing out in the master bedroom. Iza sings her "clean-up" song and gathers her bath toys. She likes to have her stories read while she is in the buff. She leans against the pillows and snuggles under the covers. After the stories (Tata reads one Hungarian story, maybe two), she is dressed for bed: diaper, pajamas, socks, bye-toe. She is then carried across to her room where either mama waits to nurse her or tata puts her down with a final caress. (This room has been prepared with dim lights, music, and vaporizer.)
Repeat.
I know this is not fascinating stuff.
But what fascinates me is the drama of it all. The stagecraft. The nightly ritual is a habit that normally plays out without too much thought. Some nights I cling to it as if it were a magic formula that will culminate in every tired parent's favorite trick: sleeping babies (at least for a few hours) and a chance to breathe without little ones needing you.
My inner thespian geek gets a rush in the offing of it. As if the role I play is more than just stagecraft. It is art. It is transformational. This is the only audience that you want to fall asleep. And making it happen creates the actor's rush of transcendence, when it works. When it doesn't work, despair. The fourth wall crumbles when you are too tired to maintain the scene. Your makeup runs. Your costume constricts. You see your pitiful self attempting to play the role of Mother and coming up short.
I have to laugh at myself when I see my evening ritual as theater. Surely babies all over the world go to sleep with nary an ounce of such emotional/physical fanfare. Why the emphasis on ritual in our neighborhood?
I suspect that it sells products: THE perfect cuddly toy, THE music soundtrack, THE white noise machine, THE ETC. THAT YOU MUST HAVE IF YOU WANT YOUR BABY TO SLEEP (AND BE SUCCESSFUL IN LIFE).
I guess it is also a byproduct of a society that must guard its sleeping hours carefully in order to maintain its rigorous work schedules.
And tired parents everywhere will indulge a bit of drama if it buys more sleep for the entire family.
Not to mention the human craving for ritual for ritual's sake.
Of course you can train your babies to fall asleep with fewer elements to their evening ritual. But not many fewer, frankly. Maybe the babies would sleep without any of it. Maybe the ritual is partly (mostly?) for me too. It gives me a (false?) sense of control over the events of the evening. It allows me to feel like I am parenting.
In time my babies won't need me to direct their evening dramas. They will have their own private rituals, such as reading under the covers or texting best friends. For now I am the show's producer, director, and supporting actor. The kiddoes have center stage. All I can do is hope I've set the scene.
Our evening ritual starts with dinner at six. After dinner we start the journey toward sleep by collecting our evening supplies: pajamas, the "bye-toe" (a wearable blanket), and socks. We then move through house and start the ascent toward the bedrooms with a litany of goodbyes to various toys and household landmarks. It is often at this point that Izabella remembers that we also need to bring along the monkey, dolly, owl, or the hairbrush.
Tata escorts Izabella and I bring up the rear with Leo. Once upstairs I leave Leo in the master bedroom to squirm on the floor. Tata is busy with Iza, who needs to be undressed (checked for poops) and then led into the tub. I charge around to dim lights, fill the vaporizers, adjust pillows and blankets, and check to be sure my iPhone is handy in Leo's room (in case I need to stay with him for an extended nursing session). Then I return to the master bedroom, undress Leo, and plunk him in the tub with Iza for his chance to splash madly. I exit the bathroom and Tata takes over. I wait outside the door with Leo's towel while Tata deftly removes him and distracts Iza with more water. (She recently started to get upset when we left.)
I then whisk Leo away to his room. I dress him: diaper, pajamas, bye-toe. I am usually singing his lullaby as he vigorously complains. We nurse in bed. If that doesn't work, we bounce on the ball and nurse. Eventually (hopefully) sleep overcomes him. If I can exit his room in time, I can then nurse Iza and put her to sleep. Lately her father has been able to put her to sleep without me, which is a huge relief as Leo has become more difficult to tip over into his dreams.
While I am tending to Leo, there is a drama playing out in the master bedroom. Iza sings her "clean-up" song and gathers her bath toys. She likes to have her stories read while she is in the buff. She leans against the pillows and snuggles under the covers. After the stories (Tata reads one Hungarian story, maybe two), she is dressed for bed: diaper, pajamas, socks, bye-toe. She is then carried across to her room where either mama waits to nurse her or tata puts her down with a final caress. (This room has been prepared with dim lights, music, and vaporizer.)
Repeat.
I know this is not fascinating stuff.
But what fascinates me is the drama of it all. The stagecraft. The nightly ritual is a habit that normally plays out without too much thought. Some nights I cling to it as if it were a magic formula that will culminate in every tired parent's favorite trick: sleeping babies (at least for a few hours) and a chance to breathe without little ones needing you.
My inner thespian geek gets a rush in the offing of it. As if the role I play is more than just stagecraft. It is art. It is transformational. This is the only audience that you want to fall asleep. And making it happen creates the actor's rush of transcendence, when it works. When it doesn't work, despair. The fourth wall crumbles when you are too tired to maintain the scene. Your makeup runs. Your costume constricts. You see your pitiful self attempting to play the role of Mother and coming up short.
I have to laugh at myself when I see my evening ritual as theater. Surely babies all over the world go to sleep with nary an ounce of such emotional/physical fanfare. Why the emphasis on ritual in our neighborhood?
I suspect that it sells products: THE perfect cuddly toy, THE music soundtrack, THE white noise machine, THE ETC. THAT YOU MUST HAVE IF YOU WANT YOUR BABY TO SLEEP (AND BE SUCCESSFUL IN LIFE).
I guess it is also a byproduct of a society that must guard its sleeping hours carefully in order to maintain its rigorous work schedules.
And tired parents everywhere will indulge a bit of drama if it buys more sleep for the entire family.
Not to mention the human craving for ritual for ritual's sake.
Of course you can train your babies to fall asleep with fewer elements to their evening ritual. But not many fewer, frankly. Maybe the babies would sleep without any of it. Maybe the ritual is partly (mostly?) for me too. It gives me a (false?) sense of control over the events of the evening. It allows me to feel like I am parenting.
In time my babies won't need me to direct their evening dramas. They will have their own private rituals, such as reading under the covers or texting best friends. For now I am the show's producer, director, and supporting actor. The kiddoes have center stage. All I can do is hope I've set the scene.
Welcome! I am an American writer and high school teacher. Please comment and share, as you wish. Taint: A Novel available at your local bookstore and on Amazon.
Saturday, December 05, 2009
And so.
Both babies are sleeping. Laundry mostly done. Dishes can wait. Showered last night. Bills paid yesterday. Christmas shopping on order (online). And so. I have time to blog.
Entire essay-length entries have been composed in my head while nursing, bathing, changing little diapers. And so the pressure is on, well, to say something. You know, all profound and such. Reflections on mothering in the modern world. And all that.
Mostly I am grateful that we are healthy. And happy, often. And when the babies cry, I now know to take the long view. When Iza was little her cries flipped deep genetic/hormonal switches in me and I would heat up and melt down and become convinced that I, her mother, had ruined her chances at a happy life. Now when one of them, or both of them, cry I try to breathe and go Zen. And if that fails, I mutter a few really bad words.
A bouquet of thoughts here:
Having one child, my love for her was a romance. Drama. Intimacy. Longing. Elation. Devestation. Wonder. Fear. Repeat. Having two, my love is now parental. Wonder. Respect. Awe. Frustration. Joy. Humility. Repeat. Much less fear, much more willingness to wait and observe as the person emerges.
The best things I never did this time around: write down every feeding, poop, pee, and sleep. Reread parenting books. pump.
Revelation: Every home should have a good rocking chair. This is an entire philosophy ready to be expanded and expounded. More to come.
Another Revelation and nascent philosophy: Every home should have a bottle of sparkly stuff (champagne for me) chilled and ready to celebrate.
Mothering is beautiful. Yes. But it sure ain't pretty much of the time.
Hooray for online shopping and groceries delivered to the house. Hip Hip Hooray for my nanny, who sadly is leaving us in January.
Hooray for carrying two babies: Leo in the Bjorn on the front and Iza in the Ergo on my back. This way we could go for a long walk on the nature path, where strollers couldn't go. Although with Leo growing so quickly, I think those days are over.
And then there was the day when I realized that my two-baby-wearing adventures caused a bit of discomfort for some New England types. A neighbor happened to cross our path as we all headed to the Starbucks. She casually commented that, well, you could use a stroller....And I heard it in her voice. She was embarrassed for me. And I was amused.
Feeding a toddler is slowly forcing me to learn how to cook. As in put three meals + snacks on the table a day. I used to cook for dinner parties. This is totally different. I can make a decent pork roast. Chicken in various permutations. Cous cous is my new favorite side dish. Izabella loves blue cheese, hates mashed potatoes. Leo still only nurses. I am a casserole queen. I may never be a great cook, but I am working my way toward being a good mom cook.
Lots of thoughts about tandem nursing. That I need to write about.
Things that get me through the day: jasmine green tea. Napping/nursing with Leo while Izabella sleeps. Facebook.
And Leo wakes....
Entire essay-length entries have been composed in my head while nursing, bathing, changing little diapers. And so the pressure is on, well, to say something. You know, all profound and such. Reflections on mothering in the modern world. And all that.
Mostly I am grateful that we are healthy. And happy, often. And when the babies cry, I now know to take the long view. When Iza was little her cries flipped deep genetic/hormonal switches in me and I would heat up and melt down and become convinced that I, her mother, had ruined her chances at a happy life. Now when one of them, or both of them, cry I try to breathe and go Zen. And if that fails, I mutter a few really bad words.
A bouquet of thoughts here:
Having one child, my love for her was a romance. Drama. Intimacy. Longing. Elation. Devestation. Wonder. Fear. Repeat. Having two, my love is now parental. Wonder. Respect. Awe. Frustration. Joy. Humility. Repeat. Much less fear, much more willingness to wait and observe as the person emerges.
The best things I never did this time around: write down every feeding, poop, pee, and sleep. Reread parenting books. pump.
Revelation: Every home should have a good rocking chair. This is an entire philosophy ready to be expanded and expounded. More to come.
Another Revelation and nascent philosophy: Every home should have a bottle of sparkly stuff (champagne for me) chilled and ready to celebrate.
Mothering is beautiful. Yes. But it sure ain't pretty much of the time.
Hooray for online shopping and groceries delivered to the house. Hip Hip Hooray for my nanny, who sadly is leaving us in January.
Hooray for carrying two babies: Leo in the Bjorn on the front and Iza in the Ergo on my back. This way we could go for a long walk on the nature path, where strollers couldn't go. Although with Leo growing so quickly, I think those days are over.
And then there was the day when I realized that my two-baby-wearing adventures caused a bit of discomfort for some New England types. A neighbor happened to cross our path as we all headed to the Starbucks. She casually commented that, well, you could use a stroller....And I heard it in her voice. She was embarrassed for me. And I was amused.
Feeding a toddler is slowly forcing me to learn how to cook. As in put three meals + snacks on the table a day. I used to cook for dinner parties. This is totally different. I can make a decent pork roast. Chicken in various permutations. Cous cous is my new favorite side dish. Izabella loves blue cheese, hates mashed potatoes. Leo still only nurses. I am a casserole queen. I may never be a great cook, but I am working my way toward being a good mom cook.
Lots of thoughts about tandem nursing. That I need to write about.
Things that get me through the day: jasmine green tea. Napping/nursing with Leo while Izabella sleeps. Facebook.
And Leo wakes....
Welcome! I am an American writer and high school teacher. Please comment and share, as you wish. Taint: A Novel available at your local bookstore and on Amazon.
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Size Matters
Izabella was born 6 pounds 12 ounces.
At 6 months, she reached 15 pounds.
Lenard was born 6 pounds 5 ounces.
At 3 1/2 months, he reached 14 pounds 11 ounces.
ps Still tandem nursing.
At 6 months, she reached 15 pounds.
Lenard was born 6 pounds 5 ounces.
At 3 1/2 months, he reached 14 pounds 11 ounces.
ps Still tandem nursing.
Welcome! I am an American writer and high school teacher. Please comment and share, as you wish. Taint: A Novel available at your local bookstore and on Amazon.
Lullaby
Leo, Leo
You're my little potato
Leo, Leo
Sweet as a summer tomato
You're my little potato
Leo, Leo
Sweet as a summer tomato
Welcome! I am an American writer and high school teacher. Please comment and share, as you wish. Taint: A Novel available at your local bookstore and on Amazon.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Confession
I have a birth narrative in progress for baby Leo. It is difficult to find time to sit down at a keyboard. Izabella takes two-hour naps in the afternoon and generally goes to sleep for the night by 7:30. As soon as she is down, however, I can't wait to fill my arms with new baby Leo. Facebook and email I can do from my iPhone. Blogging requires the rare moment when both babies are sleeping and I am not. Here is one of those moments....
First, let me clarify my entry regarding how rested I feel despite two babies to care for. As soon as I posted it and logged off, I knew it required emendation. Supermom, I am not. It does help that Leo and I share a bed. Though he wakes every two or three hours to nurse, he is a highly efficient nurser and usually finishes in about ten minutes. So I barely have to wake up to offer him my breast. Sometimes I fall back asleep while he nurses. I can't say enough about how great it is to co-sleep. Not only does mama get more sleep, I get to sleep with the sweetest gurgles and grunts as a soundtrack. More important to my sense of well-being, however, is my caregiver. Let me just admit it: We have a live-in nanny. I never thought that I would have a nanny, but I do. And it is wonderful. She is wonderful.
With two-under-two, not a relative nearby, and a partner who works many and long hours, I knew that I needed someone to help me. It has taken almost six months and the birth of my second child for me to really yield to the virtues of having another caregiver. As one of six children in my family, I never had a babysitter. Never. So I didn't grow up with the idea of having help with raising children. I was resistant to the idea. Especially as a stay-at-home mom (for now), it seemed ridiculous.
My attitude toward the issue is that my nanny is here to help me parent, not parent. Thus she cleans the kitchen, does laundry, tidies the toys, takes out the trash, etc. She sometimes cooks. These tasks are essential for a family. When I come downstairs from putting big sister to sleep and am ready to sit and nurse (or swaddle and bounce) little Leo for hours, the dishes have been down and the kitchen cleaned. The playroom is tidied. This makes a tremendous difference is my ability to parent two babies. Our caregiver is also wonderful with big sister, taking her to the park, reading to her, and happily pretending to be scared at least fifty times a day when Izabella squeals, "boo."
I wish grandma and grandpa lived down the street. I wish my college girl friends lived across town. I wish my women friends could drop by for coffee and cuddle time with the babies. The truth is that we are relatively new to the area, our families are nowhere close, and all my new women friends also have babies to tend.
I know families (and women) who manage on their own. I am not one of them. I have a nanny. And I am extremely grateful to have her by my side. (And a bit worried about what will become of us this fall when she will work for us on a part time basis.)
I'll keep plugging away at Leo's birth narrative.
(It feels good to write.)
Now I just need a haircut.
First, let me clarify my entry regarding how rested I feel despite two babies to care for. As soon as I posted it and logged off, I knew it required emendation. Supermom, I am not. It does help that Leo and I share a bed. Though he wakes every two or three hours to nurse, he is a highly efficient nurser and usually finishes in about ten minutes. So I barely have to wake up to offer him my breast. Sometimes I fall back asleep while he nurses. I can't say enough about how great it is to co-sleep. Not only does mama get more sleep, I get to sleep with the sweetest gurgles and grunts as a soundtrack. More important to my sense of well-being, however, is my caregiver. Let me just admit it: We have a live-in nanny. I never thought that I would have a nanny, but I do. And it is wonderful. She is wonderful.
With two-under-two, not a relative nearby, and a partner who works many and long hours, I knew that I needed someone to help me. It has taken almost six months and the birth of my second child for me to really yield to the virtues of having another caregiver. As one of six children in my family, I never had a babysitter. Never. So I didn't grow up with the idea of having help with raising children. I was resistant to the idea. Especially as a stay-at-home mom (for now), it seemed ridiculous.
My attitude toward the issue is that my nanny is here to help me parent, not parent. Thus she cleans the kitchen, does laundry, tidies the toys, takes out the trash, etc. She sometimes cooks. These tasks are essential for a family. When I come downstairs from putting big sister to sleep and am ready to sit and nurse (or swaddle and bounce) little Leo for hours, the dishes have been down and the kitchen cleaned. The playroom is tidied. This makes a tremendous difference is my ability to parent two babies. Our caregiver is also wonderful with big sister, taking her to the park, reading to her, and happily pretending to be scared at least fifty times a day when Izabella squeals, "boo."
I wish grandma and grandpa lived down the street. I wish my college girl friends lived across town. I wish my women friends could drop by for coffee and cuddle time with the babies. The truth is that we are relatively new to the area, our families are nowhere close, and all my new women friends also have babies to tend.
I know families (and women) who manage on their own. I am not one of them. I have a nanny. And I am extremely grateful to have her by my side. (And a bit worried about what will become of us this fall when she will work for us on a part time basis.)
I'll keep plugging away at Leo's birth narrative.
(It feels good to write.)
Now I just need a haircut.
Welcome! I am an American writer and high school teacher. Please comment and share, as you wish. Taint: A Novel available at your local bookstore and on Amazon.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Notes After Leo's Birth
Baby Lenard, whose birth certificate was left unsigned for one week while we deliberated about his name, was born at 2:01 am on June 30th, 2009. As I begin to compose the story of his birth, he is soundly asleep on our couch. He is four weeks old today. He is a beautiful baby. But I am getting ahead of myself.
Leo's birth story starts with his sister. I was nursing his sister, Izabella, to sleep when my water broke at about 8:30 pm on a Monday evening. It was a small leak at first and frankly I wasn't entirely sure that it was my waters. I continued to nurse Izabella until she was drowsy and almost fully asleep. I became entirely calm. Just as my doula had told me, my body needed to know that my seventeen-month-old baby was deeply asleep before I began to labor.
I put Izabella down to sleep knowing that the next I held her she would be a big sister. I crept out of her room and went downstairs to speak with my husband and babysitter. I had requested that our babysitter, Nikki, who had moved in with us a few weeks earlier, and my husband wait for me so that I could explain to them my wishes regarding Izabella's care in the event I went into labor. I proceeded to explain to them my directions. Only after I had made myself clear about my wishes did I mention that my waters, I suspected, had broken.
At about seven that evening I had noticed some bloody show, blood streaked mucous, indicating that labor might be near. It was beginning to look a lot like labor. I was thirty-eight weeks plus several days into the pregnancy.
Soon after telling my husband that labor might have begun, the waters began to gush. I text-messaged my doula. I called the midwife on duty at the hospital to give her a warning that I would be making my way there sometime in the near future. At first my husband and babysitter stayed near me. Contractions had not yet started. So we turned on the TV and watched "Ice Age." At least it played while we all sat there "relaxing." Finally at about ten pm I sent them upstairs to bed. I needed to be alone. Still no contractions.
A few weeks earlier I had learned that I was Group B Strep (GBS) positive. (This means that I tested positive for a normal bacteria which is nevertheless potentially harmful if passed on to the baby during delivery.) If you are positive, you should receive two doses (four hours apart) of antibiotics by IV before delivery. My midwife informed me of this disappointing news as my husband stood there with two broken arms. Yes, that day he had a bicycle accident which would result in two plaster casts. Needless to say I was a bit confounded. My husband couldn't lift my toddler. Not to mention change a diaper. And the GBS meant an IV in my arm during labor and a need to "rush" to the hospital to start the medication before I delivered.
As it turned out, however, I would not be rushed by anyone else in labor.
When I spoke to the midwife on call that night she made a comment that drastically changed my birth plan. I had planned to rush in and start the antibiotics. If I failed to get the proper dosage, then the protocol meant that my son would have to have blood extracted within the first hour of birth and stay for observation for twenty four hours. I did not want him to be subjected to an avoidable blood test so soon after birth and I hoped to get home sooner than that. When I mentioned my GBS status to the midwife, she said something like, "They like to induce mothers who are GBB positive." What? Did she mean, "they" as in other people and not me? Or did she mean that she was obligated to be part of the "they" since we were at the hospital? All I know is that I weighed the risk of passing GBS on to my baby and the reality of being induced. And I stayed home. (I never did get a chance to ask her for clarification. Later my midwife who gives me regular care told me that I would have had the right to refuse an induction. But I didn't know that at the time. And it is so very difficult to refuse medical care especially while in labor.)
I am not sure when the contractions really started. I do recall that at 11:30 pm I thought that I should start recording the time for each one. By midnight I thought it was time to go to the hospital. The contractions were strong and coming at three minutes, then five minutes, then ten minutes apart. I just knew it was time. My husband drove me to the hospital. It should be noted that he drove me with two broken hands. We drove slowly, ever so slowly, because each bend in the road was painful for him. Picture that.
It was after regular hospital hours and so we had to enter through the emergency room. They moved me directly to the delivery room. I asked them to fire up the bathtub. Quickly they began to insert the IV to administer the antibiotic. I was in active labor and the contractions were strong. I would have felt sorry for the poor nurse who had to insert the needle if I wasn't upset and resistant that it had to be done. Somewhere in there the midwife did a vaginal exam to determine dilation. It must have been done before the IV, but I would have to check my doula's notes. I do remember that I tried to refuse it and that it hurt like hell. The midwife told me that I was dilated at about four to five centimeters. That shocked and panicked me a bit. It was a long way to ten, so I thought. I know the IV went in at 1 am, because I remember thinking that I had until 1:20, a twenty minute wait, until the antibiotics were in and I could be disconnected from the apparatus. I was violently shaking.
As soon as the antibiotics were in and my IV taped down, I got in the warm bath. The contractions were coming fast with little to no time in between to get all "I am Woman / Hear me Roar." Frankly I remember thinking that there had to be a better way to give birth, one that involved less intensity. My midwife was alone with me and began to help me relax by stroking my arms, saying soothing words, and offering aromatherapy. Then my doula arrived. I needed her there. I was glad to realize that the IV, which I was worried would bother me because it was still taped to my arm, provided no major distraction.
Together with the soothing water and my doula's arrival I was finally able to "let go" and relax. Labor is all about letting go. Turning off the mind. Giving in to the muscles and liquids that make up your corporeal self. You must yield. Your instinct is to tighten, to flex for the fight. To control. To hold on to your dignity. The key is to relax, release, to submit, to discover the dignity of the flesh.
I remember one moment: darkened bath room, on my knees, fully bare, hands on the tub's edge, warm water streaming down my shoulders and back as I stretched up and moaned through a powerful contraction. That felt right. It felt powerful. It felt true.
I also remember feeling like I needed to vomit.
I remember looking down and seeing a dark spot ooze from my vagina and shouting out to my doula and midwife in concern. It turned out to be blood (and normal), but in the darkened room it was hard to identity.
Then I needed to push. How did I know? Your body knows. The nurses hustled me out of the tub. (Water births are not allowed at this hospital.)
I moved to the bed and climbed up on all fours. I pushed with my contractions probably about three times. And then he was almost there. The midwife instructed me to lie on my side, which felt awkward to me. I agreed to try it for one push. But one push was all it took. It was a mighty one. My midwife told me not to scream, and my doula instructed me to take that screaming energy and push it down inside, making more of a grunt. It worked. He passed through me and into the world. He was quickly covered in a blanket and set on my chest. They didn't even check the sex, just placed him on my chest while the placenta was delivered. So fast. So very fast. Yet no tears, no stitches needed. He latched on perfectly and didn't let go for two hours.
As I "finish" this entry, Leo is sleeping in the swing. He is three-and-a-half months old. His sister is out with their father shopping for a new car. I am sipping my jasmine green tea and waiting for him to wake up so that I can take him in my arms and breathe deeply again.
Truly I can hardly believe that this little guy, who is growing at a tremendous rate, is here. He arrived so very fast. And he is growing so very fast. And I can't believe I named him Lenard. I am sure that he will carry it well.
(finally posted on October 13th, 2009)
Leo's birth story starts with his sister. I was nursing his sister, Izabella, to sleep when my water broke at about 8:30 pm on a Monday evening. It was a small leak at first and frankly I wasn't entirely sure that it was my waters. I continued to nurse Izabella until she was drowsy and almost fully asleep. I became entirely calm. Just as my doula had told me, my body needed to know that my seventeen-month-old baby was deeply asleep before I began to labor.
I put Izabella down to sleep knowing that the next I held her she would be a big sister. I crept out of her room and went downstairs to speak with my husband and babysitter. I had requested that our babysitter, Nikki, who had moved in with us a few weeks earlier, and my husband wait for me so that I could explain to them my wishes regarding Izabella's care in the event I went into labor. I proceeded to explain to them my directions. Only after I had made myself clear about my wishes did I mention that my waters, I suspected, had broken.
At about seven that evening I had noticed some bloody show, blood streaked mucous, indicating that labor might be near. It was beginning to look a lot like labor. I was thirty-eight weeks plus several days into the pregnancy.
Soon after telling my husband that labor might have begun, the waters began to gush. I text-messaged my doula. I called the midwife on duty at the hospital to give her a warning that I would be making my way there sometime in the near future. At first my husband and babysitter stayed near me. Contractions had not yet started. So we turned on the TV and watched "Ice Age." At least it played while we all sat there "relaxing." Finally at about ten pm I sent them upstairs to bed. I needed to be alone. Still no contractions.
A few weeks earlier I had learned that I was Group B Strep (GBS) positive. (This means that I tested positive for a normal bacteria which is nevertheless potentially harmful if passed on to the baby during delivery.) If you are positive, you should receive two doses (four hours apart) of antibiotics by IV before delivery. My midwife informed me of this disappointing news as my husband stood there with two broken arms. Yes, that day he had a bicycle accident which would result in two plaster casts. Needless to say I was a bit confounded. My husband couldn't lift my toddler. Not to mention change a diaper. And the GBS meant an IV in my arm during labor and a need to "rush" to the hospital to start the medication before I delivered.
As it turned out, however, I would not be rushed by anyone else in labor.
When I spoke to the midwife on call that night she made a comment that drastically changed my birth plan. I had planned to rush in and start the antibiotics. If I failed to get the proper dosage, then the protocol meant that my son would have to have blood extracted within the first hour of birth and stay for observation for twenty four hours. I did not want him to be subjected to an avoidable blood test so soon after birth and I hoped to get home sooner than that. When I mentioned my GBS status to the midwife, she said something like, "They like to induce mothers who are GBB positive." What? Did she mean, "they" as in other people and not me? Or did she mean that she was obligated to be part of the "they" since we were at the hospital? All I know is that I weighed the risk of passing GBS on to my baby and the reality of being induced. And I stayed home. (I never did get a chance to ask her for clarification. Later my midwife who gives me regular care told me that I would have had the right to refuse an induction. But I didn't know that at the time. And it is so very difficult to refuse medical care especially while in labor.)
I am not sure when the contractions really started. I do recall that at 11:30 pm I thought that I should start recording the time for each one. By midnight I thought it was time to go to the hospital. The contractions were strong and coming at three minutes, then five minutes, then ten minutes apart. I just knew it was time. My husband drove me to the hospital. It should be noted that he drove me with two broken hands. We drove slowly, ever so slowly, because each bend in the road was painful for him. Picture that.
It was after regular hospital hours and so we had to enter through the emergency room. They moved me directly to the delivery room. I asked them to fire up the bathtub. Quickly they began to insert the IV to administer the antibiotic. I was in active labor and the contractions were strong. I would have felt sorry for the poor nurse who had to insert the needle if I wasn't upset and resistant that it had to be done. Somewhere in there the midwife did a vaginal exam to determine dilation. It must have been done before the IV, but I would have to check my doula's notes. I do remember that I tried to refuse it and that it hurt like hell. The midwife told me that I was dilated at about four to five centimeters. That shocked and panicked me a bit. It was a long way to ten, so I thought. I know the IV went in at 1 am, because I remember thinking that I had until 1:20, a twenty minute wait, until the antibiotics were in and I could be disconnected from the apparatus. I was violently shaking.
As soon as the antibiotics were in and my IV taped down, I got in the warm bath. The contractions were coming fast with little to no time in between to get all "I am Woman / Hear me Roar." Frankly I remember thinking that there had to be a better way to give birth, one that involved less intensity. My midwife was alone with me and began to help me relax by stroking my arms, saying soothing words, and offering aromatherapy. Then my doula arrived. I needed her there. I was glad to realize that the IV, which I was worried would bother me because it was still taped to my arm, provided no major distraction.
Together with the soothing water and my doula's arrival I was finally able to "let go" and relax. Labor is all about letting go. Turning off the mind. Giving in to the muscles and liquids that make up your corporeal self. You must yield. Your instinct is to tighten, to flex for the fight. To control. To hold on to your dignity. The key is to relax, release, to submit, to discover the dignity of the flesh.
I remember one moment: darkened bath room, on my knees, fully bare, hands on the tub's edge, warm water streaming down my shoulders and back as I stretched up and moaned through a powerful contraction. That felt right. It felt powerful. It felt true.
I also remember feeling like I needed to vomit.
I remember looking down and seeing a dark spot ooze from my vagina and shouting out to my doula and midwife in concern. It turned out to be blood (and normal), but in the darkened room it was hard to identity.
Then I needed to push. How did I know? Your body knows. The nurses hustled me out of the tub. (Water births are not allowed at this hospital.)
I moved to the bed and climbed up on all fours. I pushed with my contractions probably about three times. And then he was almost there. The midwife instructed me to lie on my side, which felt awkward to me. I agreed to try it for one push. But one push was all it took. It was a mighty one. My midwife told me not to scream, and my doula instructed me to take that screaming energy and push it down inside, making more of a grunt. It worked. He passed through me and into the world. He was quickly covered in a blanket and set on my chest. They didn't even check the sex, just placed him on my chest while the placenta was delivered. So fast. So very fast. Yet no tears, no stitches needed. He latched on perfectly and didn't let go for two hours.
As I "finish" this entry, Leo is sleeping in the swing. He is three-and-a-half months old. His sister is out with their father shopping for a new car. I am sipping my jasmine green tea and waiting for him to wake up so that I can take him in my arms and breathe deeply again.
Truly I can hardly believe that this little guy, who is growing at a tremendous rate, is here. He arrived so very fast. And he is growing so very fast. And I can't believe I named him Lenard. I am sure that he will carry it well.
(finally posted on October 13th, 2009)
Welcome! I am an American writer and high school teacher. Please comment and share, as you wish. Taint: A Novel available at your local bookstore and on Amazon.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Catching My Breath
Baby Leo is three weeks old plus one day. This is the first occasion I've had to sit down at a laptop and try to compose both my thoughts and a few words. This is not because I have been the frazzled, sleep-deprived mom of lore. In fact, I feel well-rested! Baby # 2 has made his arrival and has found a niche here in our family. As my midwife had told me, he is the easiest part of having a new addition. Being a new mom for the second time has been "easier" or at least incredibly less fraught. Poor Izabella was my first pancake. I have so many mama skills now that I can use and this baby is a.....
oops...be back soon.
oops...be back soon.
Welcome! I am an American writer and high school teacher. Please comment and share, as you wish. Taint: A Novel available at your local bookstore and on Amazon.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Tandem Nursing: 7:36 pm
I am tandem nursing. True, my son has yet to be born. Right now my fifteen-month-old daugther has exclusive nursing rights. Yet I have recently realized that tandem nursing begins the moment a nursing mother becomes pregnant with a second baby. Suddenly you are eating for three. Even if my toddler takes one sip of mama's newborn milk and decides that it is not for her, toddler and newborn will have been nourished together for the entire duration of the pregnancy.
Tandem nursing, nursing more than one baby at at time, happens most often when a mother has twins. This seems natural. Both babies need to be nursed by mom and so she nurses them either one at a time or at the same time as needed. Perhaps less well known is the practice of tandem nursing a toddler and a newborn. Most babies in the States are weaned from the breast at or before one year of age. Rarely then does a mother need to consider tandem nursing. For moms who practice nursing past the first year, however, tandem nursing becomes a possibility.
I had planned to nurse my daughter for at least one year. It was a struggle. Getting started was rough. Then my second pregnancy when she was eight months old decreased my milk supply just as she neared the one year mark. She was having trouble gaining weight and my pediatrician recommended weaning. She showed no signs of wanting to wean and I decided to encourage her on all nutritional fronts after she turned one: eating as many solids as possible, drinking whole milk, and allowing her to nurse as she wished. She is still "small" but vibrant and eating/nursing like a champion.
Some babies wean when a mom is pregnant again due to decreased milk supply (usually in the fifth month) or a change in the taste of the milk as the colostrum develops (the high density "pre-milk" produced by mom for newborns in the first few days). Other babies are quite happy to nurse even though they don't get any milk at all. They are comforted by the physical relationship, the cuddling and the sucking. It is a ritual they enjoy. At first I was waiting for my daughter to wean herself, but at 32 weeks into my pregnancy (about 8 months), she shows no sign of losing interest.
This is fine with me. More than fine. It was rough going for a few months when it was only mama who could comfort her or put her to sleep. But now I see that she is still a baby who needs me. Especially with baby # 2 coming so soon, nursing is an important tool I have to communicate with her about our physical bond. I can't rationalize with her. I can offer her my breast. There are other ways to comfort her as well. But if she is willing to nurse, I see no reason to stop offering her such comfort.
The conundrum, however, is how to offer my breast to two babies with very different needs. Baby # 2 will need to nurse on demand. My daughter will sometimes have to wait. Tell that to a seventeen-month-old. The tricky part is sleeping.
For the first ten months my daughter and I slept together. Now she is nursed to a drowsy state and then placed in her crib where she sleeps at night. She wakens, but most often can fall back asleep quickly. Many, many of my friends have babies that waken and nurse frequently through the night. Miss Iza prefers to nurse during the day. Actually she prefers to nurse and nap. By this I mean that for her nap or naps she prefers to nap while I rock her in our chair and she nurses. She stays attached throughout the entire nap. This was fine in the early months of my pregnancy as I would simply nap right along with her. And now in the later months it gives me time to nap myself and/or read a novel on my iPhone. Here is the snag: I can't possibly give her an hour or two hour nap on my breast when baby # 2 arrives. (Can I?)
Thus I have been trying to break the association between nursing and napping. She can nurse all she wants, but she needs to learn how to sleep without nursing. Try explaining that. You don't explain, of course. You do.
You develop an alternate ritual for the baby. I did this with the help of the book THE NO-CRY SLEEP SOLUTION FOR TODDLERS AND PRESCHOOLERS by Elizabeth Pantley. I was resistant to this book for quite some time (there is one for newborns too). For some reason I thought it was a sleep-training book, one of those that suggests that babies should just cry it out alone and learn to be independent. I was wrong.
Pantley gives useful advice that takes into account various parenting styles and is considerate of those who co-sleep. Basically her idea is that babies, like big people, thrive on ritual. They need a dependable pattern to anticipate. Izabella's ritual had been pure breast--it worked all the time, even if sometimes it took longer. Yes, I darkened the room, played soothing music, and told her "sleepy time" and "sh, sh, sh" each night. But each evening and every nap culminated in nursing her off to sleep.
Pantley suggests that babies can learn to fall asleep in other ways, but that it is important to be consistent so that they begin to form a habit that can be predicted and repeated by others if need be. This is key for me: the need for others to step in when needed. If baby # 2 was not on the way, I would probably be happy to nurse her to sleep for naps and in the evening. But now that I will have two nurslings, I think that it will be best for my daughter and my family if we have another way of putting her to sleep.
During the first week of trying to break the association between nursing and napping, I practiced what Pantley calls "gentle removal." I allowed Iza to nurse and as she got drowsy I would count backwards from ten to one (a suggestion from another mom) and then break her latch. The idea is to not allow her to fall asleep while nursing. She would cry and protest. I would allow her to comfort herself on the breast and repeat the removal. Tears, struggles. Repeat. When she finally began to sleep off the breast I would say "bye bye nursy" (to signal a complete end) and then place her in the crib. This worked about once. Mostly we ended up with her falling asleep in my arms, but not on the breast. This was an accomplishment. However it still meant that I had to sit with her for the entire nap time. As soon as I would try to transfer her to the crib, she would awaken and the nap would be over. A cranky afternoon was sure to follow.
This week I decided that perhaps we should work on the evening ritual. She sleeps great at night and I hate to mess with her sleeping pattern. Yet perhaps if I can remove the nursing to almost-sleep association at night, she might fall into a better napping habit. Our old habit looked something like this: dinner, bath, playtime on the bed with Tata, pajamas, then off to nurse in her room with pulled shades and soothing music.
Pantley suggests parents actually write down the new plan, giving great thought to the goals and how the new pattern will achieve those goals. As my husband is often away, I needed a plan that I could follow alone. (I probably would have tried to nurse her and then hand her off to Tata for the final cuddle off to sleep. He has on occasion put her to sleep on his own.) My new plan is this:
1. Dinner at 6 pm
2. Bath at 6:30
(eliminate play time on bed)
3. Pajamas/wearable blanket
4. Nurse in our bed practicing gentle removal
(no more nursing in her room)
5. Go to her room and together set the stage for night by a) closing shades, b) turning on music, c) saying goodnight to her bunny and her teddy, who sleep in the crib with her (these are transitional objects, i.e. comfort objects, whose use Pantley suggests)
6. Sit in our chair and read stories, drink milk from sippy cup if she wants
7. Say "sleepy time," "good night," "sh, sh, sh"
8. Place in crib, patting her and saying, "sh, sh, sh"
9. Turn off lights and leave room at 7:30
If she cries, go to her and pat her and say "sh, sh, sh."
If she continues to cry, take her to nurse on our bed and then return her to crib and pat her.
I actually had to consult my written plan before the pajamas stage to remind myself of the steps. I stuck to the plan. She did cry. I did take her into my room again to nurse. And, imagine this, she was asleep by 7:36 pm. And she slept this morning until 7:14 am. (I heard her wake and fall back asleep only once.)
I can now report that the first two days we ended up nursing back in our bedroom before she could be transitioned back to her crib. By the third night, she feel asleep around 7:30 after I place her in her crib with no need for me to return to comfort or nurse her. The fourth night we took a risk. We visited friends who live on the seaside about an hour away. We took her travel crib, bunny and teddy, pajamas/wearabable blanket, and story books. Amazingly, she went to sleep with no crying right after story time. We were then able to transfer her to car seat and later into the crib with no crying. Last night she did cry after story time and I sent in Tata to comfort her one time. Currently she sleeps from 7:30 pm to at least 7:00 am. That means this pregnant mom can get her much needed sleep before the new baby arrives!
My plan is to mimic her evening ritual in a shortened version for the naps. Perhaps she will be able to transfer her story-time-to-sleep ritual from the evening to her daytime naps.
I am doing my best with this attempt to break the association between nursing and napping because I think it may be helpful for us as a family when the new baby arrives. I don't want my daughter to wean unless she is ready. If my almost-toddler (still no walking yet!) decides to continue to nurse, then I am open to that as well. I never imagined such a thing. Yet now it seems the natural thing to do.
When I first mentioned tandem nursing to my mother, she reminded me that I had seen her tandem nurse. I had no memory of this. It turns out that she nursed my little sister and a foster child at the same time. I was four or five years old at the time, which is old enough to remember. I suppose that it was so natural at the time that my brain did not store is away as a profoundly unique snapshot. Instead it programmed my brain to see tandem nursing as something that mothers can do.
To learn more about tandem nursing--positions? timing? sleeping for mama? nutrition for mama and babies?--I have read ADVENTURES IN TANDEM NURSING: BREASTFEEDING DURING PREGNANCY AND BEYOND by Hilary Flower. It is published by La Leche League International. My local La Leche League group has been supportive as well. These woman don't bat an eye when you mention tandem nursing. For them it is not "news" like it was to me!
Note: For all you mothers who have tandem nursed, I would love to hear about your experiences! and publish your stories here if you wish.
Tandem nursing, nursing more than one baby at at time, happens most often when a mother has twins. This seems natural. Both babies need to be nursed by mom and so she nurses them either one at a time or at the same time as needed. Perhaps less well known is the practice of tandem nursing a toddler and a newborn. Most babies in the States are weaned from the breast at or before one year of age. Rarely then does a mother need to consider tandem nursing. For moms who practice nursing past the first year, however, tandem nursing becomes a possibility.
I had planned to nurse my daughter for at least one year. It was a struggle. Getting started was rough. Then my second pregnancy when she was eight months old decreased my milk supply just as she neared the one year mark. She was having trouble gaining weight and my pediatrician recommended weaning. She showed no signs of wanting to wean and I decided to encourage her on all nutritional fronts after she turned one: eating as many solids as possible, drinking whole milk, and allowing her to nurse as she wished. She is still "small" but vibrant and eating/nursing like a champion.
Some babies wean when a mom is pregnant again due to decreased milk supply (usually in the fifth month) or a change in the taste of the milk as the colostrum develops (the high density "pre-milk" produced by mom for newborns in the first few days). Other babies are quite happy to nurse even though they don't get any milk at all. They are comforted by the physical relationship, the cuddling and the sucking. It is a ritual they enjoy. At first I was waiting for my daughter to wean herself, but at 32 weeks into my pregnancy (about 8 months), she shows no sign of losing interest.
This is fine with me. More than fine. It was rough going for a few months when it was only mama who could comfort her or put her to sleep. But now I see that she is still a baby who needs me. Especially with baby # 2 coming so soon, nursing is an important tool I have to communicate with her about our physical bond. I can't rationalize with her. I can offer her my breast. There are other ways to comfort her as well. But if she is willing to nurse, I see no reason to stop offering her such comfort.
The conundrum, however, is how to offer my breast to two babies with very different needs. Baby # 2 will need to nurse on demand. My daughter will sometimes have to wait. Tell that to a seventeen-month-old. The tricky part is sleeping.
For the first ten months my daughter and I slept together. Now she is nursed to a drowsy state and then placed in her crib where she sleeps at night. She wakens, but most often can fall back asleep quickly. Many, many of my friends have babies that waken and nurse frequently through the night. Miss Iza prefers to nurse during the day. Actually she prefers to nurse and nap. By this I mean that for her nap or naps she prefers to nap while I rock her in our chair and she nurses. She stays attached throughout the entire nap. This was fine in the early months of my pregnancy as I would simply nap right along with her. And now in the later months it gives me time to nap myself and/or read a novel on my iPhone. Here is the snag: I can't possibly give her an hour or two hour nap on my breast when baby # 2 arrives. (Can I?)
Thus I have been trying to break the association between nursing and napping. She can nurse all she wants, but she needs to learn how to sleep without nursing. Try explaining that. You don't explain, of course. You do.
You develop an alternate ritual for the baby. I did this with the help of the book THE NO-CRY SLEEP SOLUTION FOR TODDLERS AND PRESCHOOLERS by Elizabeth Pantley. I was resistant to this book for quite some time (there is one for newborns too). For some reason I thought it was a sleep-training book, one of those that suggests that babies should just cry it out alone and learn to be independent. I was wrong.
Pantley gives useful advice that takes into account various parenting styles and is considerate of those who co-sleep. Basically her idea is that babies, like big people, thrive on ritual. They need a dependable pattern to anticipate. Izabella's ritual had been pure breast--it worked all the time, even if sometimes it took longer. Yes, I darkened the room, played soothing music, and told her "sleepy time" and "sh, sh, sh" each night. But each evening and every nap culminated in nursing her off to sleep.
Pantley suggests that babies can learn to fall asleep in other ways, but that it is important to be consistent so that they begin to form a habit that can be predicted and repeated by others if need be. This is key for me: the need for others to step in when needed. If baby # 2 was not on the way, I would probably be happy to nurse her to sleep for naps and in the evening. But now that I will have two nurslings, I think that it will be best for my daughter and my family if we have another way of putting her to sleep.
During the first week of trying to break the association between nursing and napping, I practiced what Pantley calls "gentle removal." I allowed Iza to nurse and as she got drowsy I would count backwards from ten to one (a suggestion from another mom) and then break her latch. The idea is to not allow her to fall asleep while nursing. She would cry and protest. I would allow her to comfort herself on the breast and repeat the removal. Tears, struggles. Repeat. When she finally began to sleep off the breast I would say "bye bye nursy" (to signal a complete end) and then place her in the crib. This worked about once. Mostly we ended up with her falling asleep in my arms, but not on the breast. This was an accomplishment. However it still meant that I had to sit with her for the entire nap time. As soon as I would try to transfer her to the crib, she would awaken and the nap would be over. A cranky afternoon was sure to follow.
This week I decided that perhaps we should work on the evening ritual. She sleeps great at night and I hate to mess with her sleeping pattern. Yet perhaps if I can remove the nursing to almost-sleep association at night, she might fall into a better napping habit. Our old habit looked something like this: dinner, bath, playtime on the bed with Tata, pajamas, then off to nurse in her room with pulled shades and soothing music.
Pantley suggests parents actually write down the new plan, giving great thought to the goals and how the new pattern will achieve those goals. As my husband is often away, I needed a plan that I could follow alone. (I probably would have tried to nurse her and then hand her off to Tata for the final cuddle off to sleep. He has on occasion put her to sleep on his own.) My new plan is this:
1. Dinner at 6 pm
2. Bath at 6:30
(eliminate play time on bed)
3. Pajamas/wearable blanket
4. Nurse in our bed practicing gentle removal
(no more nursing in her room)
5. Go to her room and together set the stage for night by a) closing shades, b) turning on music, c) saying goodnight to her bunny and her teddy, who sleep in the crib with her (these are transitional objects, i.e. comfort objects, whose use Pantley suggests)
6. Sit in our chair and read stories, drink milk from sippy cup if she wants
7. Say "sleepy time," "good night," "sh, sh, sh"
8. Place in crib, patting her and saying, "sh, sh, sh"
9. Turn off lights and leave room at 7:30
If she cries, go to her and pat her and say "sh, sh, sh."
If she continues to cry, take her to nurse on our bed and then return her to crib and pat her.
I actually had to consult my written plan before the pajamas stage to remind myself of the steps. I stuck to the plan. She did cry. I did take her into my room again to nurse. And, imagine this, she was asleep by 7:36 pm. And she slept this morning until 7:14 am. (I heard her wake and fall back asleep only once.)
I can now report that the first two days we ended up nursing back in our bedroom before she could be transitioned back to her crib. By the third night, she feel asleep around 7:30 after I place her in her crib with no need for me to return to comfort or nurse her. The fourth night we took a risk. We visited friends who live on the seaside about an hour away. We took her travel crib, bunny and teddy, pajamas/wearabable blanket, and story books. Amazingly, she went to sleep with no crying right after story time. We were then able to transfer her to car seat and later into the crib with no crying. Last night she did cry after story time and I sent in Tata to comfort her one time. Currently she sleeps from 7:30 pm to at least 7:00 am. That means this pregnant mom can get her much needed sleep before the new baby arrives!
My plan is to mimic her evening ritual in a shortened version for the naps. Perhaps she will be able to transfer her story-time-to-sleep ritual from the evening to her daytime naps.
I am doing my best with this attempt to break the association between nursing and napping because I think it may be helpful for us as a family when the new baby arrives. I don't want my daughter to wean unless she is ready. If my almost-toddler (still no walking yet!) decides to continue to nurse, then I am open to that as well. I never imagined such a thing. Yet now it seems the natural thing to do.
When I first mentioned tandem nursing to my mother, she reminded me that I had seen her tandem nurse. I had no memory of this. It turns out that she nursed my little sister and a foster child at the same time. I was four or five years old at the time, which is old enough to remember. I suppose that it was so natural at the time that my brain did not store is away as a profoundly unique snapshot. Instead it programmed my brain to see tandem nursing as something that mothers can do.
To learn more about tandem nursing--positions? timing? sleeping for mama? nutrition for mama and babies?--I have read ADVENTURES IN TANDEM NURSING: BREASTFEEDING DURING PREGNANCY AND BEYOND by Hilary Flower. It is published by La Leche League International. My local La Leche League group has been supportive as well. These woman don't bat an eye when you mention tandem nursing. For them it is not "news" like it was to me!
Note: For all you mothers who have tandem nursed, I would love to hear about your experiences! and publish your stories here if you wish.
Welcome! I am an American writer and high school teacher. Please comment and share, as you wish. Taint: A Novel available at your local bookstore and on Amazon.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Moving Out
I was fully aware that I could get pregnant at the time. Getting pregnant when my daughter was only eight months old, however, means that soon I will have baby brother to care for in addition to my then seventeen-month-old baby girl. Two bottoms to change. Two little people who hardly know that they exist distinct from my body. I have heard that having two is not twice the work, but ten times the work. (Funny how they never mention that is ten times the joy.) Having three, on the other hand, is a piece of cake. So they say. I say we wait a while to test out the theory about three.
Since learning about baby # 2 things have changed. Our beloved apartment (despite our absentee landlords and leaking kitchen ceiling) has been vacated. We now officially live in the suburbs. Still on the T (metro) line. Still within walking distance of all things necessary (grocery, post, park, flower store, dry cleaners, karate studio). Yet this is the burbs. And we have a home that screams "responsibility" every time our automated sprinklers kick in at 3 am. I have already met three families at the park with 2 under 2. I guess we are not alone in our path toward sleep deprivation, tiny stuffed noses, and worrisome rashes.
The move involved drama. As I have been pregnant the last two times we moved, I was happily exempted from hard labor. Movers came and packed up our stuff in one day. We were reduced to hastily packed suitcases for our last evening in the apartment. Our walk to a local greasy hamburger joint ended with mama at the Emergency Room. I had been coughing violently for almost two weeks. So violently that I caused a back spasm. It was my first. It was excruciating. Within twenty-five minutes I could no longer stand or walk. We took a cab home. Then we rushed to the hospital. I'll spare you the details. Let us just say that I believe that vocalization is good for pain relief. There were tears, moans, and expletives. They checked the baby, who was fine. After several hours I was home with painkillers and a prescription for an antibiotic for my bronchitis.
My husband took my daughter home around nine pm and put her to sleep. This was the first night that she was not nursed to sleep. He left her with our babysitter and returned to the hospital. This was the first night in her life that she was left with a sitter. It was our first night out. How sexy. I was advised to go home and drink some wine to relax. So our first date night ended with champagne (wine opener was packed) enjoyed straight from a sippy cup (all glasses were packed).
They next morning at 8 am the movers returned and started to haul our things down the three flights and into the moving truck. By Sunday night we were suburbanites.
I started this post with the intention of writing about another topic related to the changes caused by our second pregnancy. Tandem Nursing. Yes, I know, if you are like me before all this baby blitz, you are thinking, "what is that?" I can tell you that I have been thinking about the subject for months now. My little one is a dedicated nurser despite the fact that I have very little milk supply due to the pregnancy. (Yes, I am still nursing throughout pregnancy. No worries unless you have a high risk pregnancy.) The very same baby who could not latch on and nurse now does not seem interested in ever breaking the latch. Which means that this mama may have two bottoms to change AND two babies to nurse. And that is tandem nursing. And that is my next entry. Sooner I hope rather than later.
And one more note: Miss Izabella has started to use her signs. She can now sign "nurse," "eat," and tonight she started to use the sign for "more." It is really cool. Of course tonight I also started to try and break her association between nursing and sleeping. (More on that in my next entry.) And perhaps that is what prompted her to sign "more" followed by "nurse." You have to see it. Such tiny perfect hands communicating so clearly. We are working on signs for "sleep," "please," and "thank you." She also practices "glad" and "play."
Since learning about baby # 2 things have changed. Our beloved apartment (despite our absentee landlords and leaking kitchen ceiling) has been vacated. We now officially live in the suburbs. Still on the T (metro) line. Still within walking distance of all things necessary (grocery, post, park, flower store, dry cleaners, karate studio). Yet this is the burbs. And we have a home that screams "responsibility" every time our automated sprinklers kick in at 3 am. I have already met three families at the park with 2 under 2. I guess we are not alone in our path toward sleep deprivation, tiny stuffed noses, and worrisome rashes.
The move involved drama. As I have been pregnant the last two times we moved, I was happily exempted from hard labor. Movers came and packed up our stuff in one day. We were reduced to hastily packed suitcases for our last evening in the apartment. Our walk to a local greasy hamburger joint ended with mama at the Emergency Room. I had been coughing violently for almost two weeks. So violently that I caused a back spasm. It was my first. It was excruciating. Within twenty-five minutes I could no longer stand or walk. We took a cab home. Then we rushed to the hospital. I'll spare you the details. Let us just say that I believe that vocalization is good for pain relief. There were tears, moans, and expletives. They checked the baby, who was fine. After several hours I was home with painkillers and a prescription for an antibiotic for my bronchitis.
My husband took my daughter home around nine pm and put her to sleep. This was the first night that she was not nursed to sleep. He left her with our babysitter and returned to the hospital. This was the first night in her life that she was left with a sitter. It was our first night out. How sexy. I was advised to go home and drink some wine to relax. So our first date night ended with champagne (wine opener was packed) enjoyed straight from a sippy cup (all glasses were packed).
They next morning at 8 am the movers returned and started to haul our things down the three flights and into the moving truck. By Sunday night we were suburbanites.
I started this post with the intention of writing about another topic related to the changes caused by our second pregnancy. Tandem Nursing. Yes, I know, if you are like me before all this baby blitz, you are thinking, "what is that?" I can tell you that I have been thinking about the subject for months now. My little one is a dedicated nurser despite the fact that I have very little milk supply due to the pregnancy. (Yes, I am still nursing throughout pregnancy. No worries unless you have a high risk pregnancy.) The very same baby who could not latch on and nurse now does not seem interested in ever breaking the latch. Which means that this mama may have two bottoms to change AND two babies to nurse. And that is tandem nursing. And that is my next entry. Sooner I hope rather than later.
And one more note: Miss Izabella has started to use her signs. She can now sign "nurse," "eat," and tonight she started to use the sign for "more." It is really cool. Of course tonight I also started to try and break her association between nursing and sleeping. (More on that in my next entry.) And perhaps that is what prompted her to sign "more" followed by "nurse." You have to see it. Such tiny perfect hands communicating so clearly. We are working on signs for "sleep," "please," and "thank you." She also practices "glad" and "play."
Welcome! I am an American writer and high school teacher. Please comment and share, as you wish. Taint: A Novel available at your local bookstore and on Amazon.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)