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.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Confession
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.
Ripe
American Life in Poetry: Column 227
BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006
Jane Hirshfield, a Californian and one of my favorite poets, writes beautiful image-centered poems of clarity and concision, which sometimes conclude with a sudden and surprising deepening. Here's just one example.
Green-Striped Melons
They lie
under stars in a field.
They lie under rain in a field.
Under sun.
Some people
are like this as well--
like a painting
hidden beneath another painting.
An unexpected weight
the sign of their ripeness.
American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation (www.poetryfoundation.org), publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. Poem copyright (c)2008 by Jane Hirshfield, whose most recent book of poems is "After," Harper Collins, 2006. Poem reprinted from "Alaska Quarterly," Vol. 25, nos. 3 & 4, Fall & Winter, 2008, by permission of Jane Hirshfield and the publisher. Introduction copyright (c)2009 by The Poetry Foundation. The introduction's author, Ted Kooser, served as United States Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress from 2004-2006. We do not accept unsolicited manuscripts.
******************************
American Life in Poetry provides newspapers and online publications with a free weekly column featuring contemporary American poems. The sole mission of this project is to promote poetry: American Life in Poetry seeks to create a vigorous presence for poetry in our culture. There are no costs for reprinting the columns; we do require that you register your publication here and that the text of the column be reproduced without alteration.
BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006
Jane Hirshfield, a Californian and one of my favorite poets, writes beautiful image-centered poems of clarity and concision, which sometimes conclude with a sudden and surprising deepening. Here's just one example.
Green-Striped Melons
They lie
under stars in a field.
They lie under rain in a field.
Under sun.
Some people
are like this as well--
like a painting
hidden beneath another painting.
An unexpected weight
the sign of their ripeness.
American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation (www.poetryfoundation.org), publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. Poem copyright (c)2008 by Jane Hirshfield, whose most recent book of poems is "After," Harper Collins, 2006. Poem reprinted from "Alaska Quarterly," Vol. 25, nos. 3 & 4, Fall & Winter, 2008, by permission of Jane Hirshfield and the publisher. Introduction copyright (c)2009 by The Poetry Foundation. The introduction's author, Ted Kooser, served as United States Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress from 2004-2006. We do not accept unsolicited manuscripts.
******************************
American Life in Poetry provides newspapers and online publications with a free weekly column featuring contemporary American poems. The sole mission of this project is to promote poetry: American Life in Poetry seeks to create a vigorous presence for poetry in our culture. There are no costs for reprinting the columns; we do require that you register your publication here and that the text of the column be reproduced without alteration.
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.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Ten to Zip
American Life in Poetry: Column 222
BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006
Coleman Barks, who lives in Georgia, is not only the English language's foremost translator of the poems of the 13th century poet, Rumi, but he's also a loving grandfather, and for me that's even more important. His poems about his granddaughter, Briny, are brim full of joy. Here's one:
Glad
In the glory of the gloaming-green soccer
field her team, the Gladiators, is losing
ten to zip. She never loses interest in
the roughhouse one-on-one that comes
every half a minute. She sticks her leg
in danger and comes out the other side running.
Later a clump of opponents on the street is chant-
ing, WE WON, WE WON, WE . . . She stands up
on the convertible seat holding to the wind-
shield. WE LOST, WE LOST BIGTIME, TEN TO
NOTHING, WE LOST, WE LOST. Fist pumping
air. The other team quiet, abashed, chastened.
Good losers don't laugh last; they laugh
continuously, all the way home so glad.
American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation (www.poetryfoundation.org), publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. Poem copyright (c)2001 by Coleman Barks, from his most recent book of poems, "Winter Sky: New and Selected Poems, 1968-2008," University of Georgia Press, 2008, and reprinted by permission of Coleman Barks and the publisher. Introduction copyright (c)2009 by The Poetry Foundation. The introduction's author, Ted Kooser, served as United States Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress from 2004-2006. We do not accept unsolicited manuscripts.
BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE, 2004-2006
Coleman Barks, who lives in Georgia, is not only the English language's foremost translator of the poems of the 13th century poet, Rumi, but he's also a loving grandfather, and for me that's even more important. His poems about his granddaughter, Briny, are brim full of joy. Here's one:
Glad
In the glory of the gloaming-green soccer
field her team, the Gladiators, is losing
ten to zip. She never loses interest in
the roughhouse one-on-one that comes
every half a minute. She sticks her leg
in danger and comes out the other side running.
Later a clump of opponents on the street is chant-
ing, WE WON, WE WON, WE . . . She stands up
on the convertible seat holding to the wind-
shield. WE LOST, WE LOST BIGTIME, TEN TO
NOTHING, WE LOST, WE LOST. Fist pumping
air. The other team quiet, abashed, chastened.
Good losers don't laugh last; they laugh
continuously, all the way home so glad.
American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation (www.poetryfoundation.org), publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. Poem copyright (c)2001 by Coleman Barks, from his most recent book of poems, "Winter Sky: New and Selected Poems, 1968-2008," University of Georgia Press, 2008, and reprinted by permission of Coleman Barks and the publisher. Introduction copyright (c)2009 by The Poetry Foundation. The introduction's author, Ted Kooser, served as United States Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress from 2004-2006. We do not accept unsolicited manuscripts.
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, June 10, 2009
So. . .
So, we changed the bedtime routine per my earlier entry. It worked like magic.
Now, it doesn't work like magic.
I think it is a teething issue. But, who knows? Izabella can now cruise quite well. She stands and does a little dance. So walking can't be far behind. Maybe it is the walking, a developmental milestone, that is messing up her sleep. What I do know is that she is not happy about sleepy time.
Tonight: after a relatively calm day with a good nap, we performed the entire night time ritual. On time. She was content and relaxed throughout. The moment I placed her down to sleep, a raging toddler erupted. Not just crying, but screams and thrashing. We nursed back in our room. Then back to her room and a return to the crib. Pandemonium. Inconsolable.
So, I think that letting a toddler---a person---cry it out alone is just plain wrong. If I were raging, I would want someone there even if they couldn't solve my problem or right my wrongs. But there was nothing I could "do" to comfort or console her. So, I sat down on the floor next to her crib and just stroked her back while she raged. Occasionally I said comforting words. Mostly I just tried to be a warm human presence. I tried to be all Zen about it. Strange thing happened: after about twenty minutes of standing at the rail in a full-on rage, she laid herself down, hugged her teddy and bunny, and passed out. From rage to sleep almost instantly. I waited there with my hand on her back for a full fifteen minutes to make sure she was deeply asleep. Then I performed a special yoga move to stand up from the floor--I am nine-months-pregnant after all--and was able to leave the room. We'll see how long she sleeps.
Two nights ago she was up from 12:30 - 3:00 am before my husband and I finally just took her into my bed. Last night we realized that she was inconsolable and I slept with her most of the night. She didn't want to nurse. She just didn't want to be alone. I can dig that. How human. I too hate to sleep alone. Especially when I have toothache AND I am working on a major life skill.
So, there is no "sleep solution." These little people are constantly new little people each week. What works now will probably not work next week and certainly will not work in six months. There can only be a sleep solution if you choose to view it as a sleep problem. It is what it is. Fight it in vain.
Now, it doesn't work like magic.
I think it is a teething issue. But, who knows? Izabella can now cruise quite well. She stands and does a little dance. So walking can't be far behind. Maybe it is the walking, a developmental milestone, that is messing up her sleep. What I do know is that she is not happy about sleepy time.
Tonight: after a relatively calm day with a good nap, we performed the entire night time ritual. On time. She was content and relaxed throughout. The moment I placed her down to sleep, a raging toddler erupted. Not just crying, but screams and thrashing. We nursed back in our room. Then back to her room and a return to the crib. Pandemonium. Inconsolable.
So, I think that letting a toddler---a person---cry it out alone is just plain wrong. If I were raging, I would want someone there even if they couldn't solve my problem or right my wrongs. But there was nothing I could "do" to comfort or console her. So, I sat down on the floor next to her crib and just stroked her back while she raged. Occasionally I said comforting words. Mostly I just tried to be a warm human presence. I tried to be all Zen about it. Strange thing happened: after about twenty minutes of standing at the rail in a full-on rage, she laid herself down, hugged her teddy and bunny, and passed out. From rage to sleep almost instantly. I waited there with my hand on her back for a full fifteen minutes to make sure she was deeply asleep. Then I performed a special yoga move to stand up from the floor--I am nine-months-pregnant after all--and was able to leave the room. We'll see how long she sleeps.
Two nights ago she was up from 12:30 - 3:00 am before my husband and I finally just took her into my bed. Last night we realized that she was inconsolable and I slept with her most of the night. She didn't want to nurse. She just didn't want to be alone. I can dig that. How human. I too hate to sleep alone. Especially when I have toothache AND I am working on a major life skill.
So, there is no "sleep solution." These little people are constantly new little people each week. What works now will probably not work next week and certainly will not work in six months. There can only be a sleep solution if you choose to view it as a sleep problem. It is what it is. Fight it in vain.
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.
Sunday, June 07, 2009
Merge & Yield
I flipped my car end-over-end and landed in a ditch. I was sixteen. I was probably driving too fast for the rutted dirt road. When the car came to a stop, I was hanging from the ceiling by my seat belt. I crawled out the shattered passenger side window. I was unharmed, but not unscathed. To this day I am a nervous driver and and even more nervous passenger.
In the years after the accident, I was a newly-minted driver when it occurred, I slowly gained more driving experience and incremental confidence. My dreaded driving maneuver: the highway merge. Luckily there were not many occasions in my day-to-day driving that required me to enter the fast lane. If I wanted to partake in the excitements of big-city Wichita, however, the merge became a right of passage. It had to be done. The witness to this feat of nerves was typically my friend Jason. Poor Jason. I didn't trust drivers to yield to incoming traffic. The speed of the metal hurtling toward me nearly left me breathless. Not breathless enough. My coping strategy involved screams. Great, huge, unbridled screams of terror as I merged. This could not have reassured Jason. Yet he hung in there. Gritting his teeth no doubt.
And now as I prepare to enter the fast lane with the arrival of baby number two, I am once again faced with the incontrovertible fact that I must merge. It must be done. There will be screaming. I must merge into a life in which I am a mother of two under two. I will have a son. There will be lots of screaming.
The screams will be functional, I'd like to think. And hopefully mostly metaphorical. I will scream and moan his hot, little, active body into this world (hence, functional). And then there will be the screams involved in allowing my vision of how life proceeds (and the illusion of my control over it) to be dimmed, stripped away, and returned to me in ways I can't hope to imagine. (Thus, metaphorical.)
I have realized that it is not so much the act of merging that is required. It is the fine art of the yield. The merge is me acting on the stream of life. Here what is needed is the realization that I must yield to others what I cannot possibly handle alone. I must give way to the forces of childbirth and allow a baby boy to pass through me. I must slow down and allow others to help me care for my almost-toddling baby girl. I must give way to those who will care for me and my family as we reorient ourselves with a new little one. I must yield.
Yield. My new mantra, for childbirth and for life. Give way.
And not just to give way, but also. . .
to give up possession of
to surrender or submit oneself to another
to bear or bring forth as a natural product
to be fruitful or productive : bear, produce
to give up and cease resistance or contention : submit, succumb
to give way under physical force (as bending, stretching, or breaking)
to give place or precedence
Even though many years have passed since I found myself upside down in a ditch, I am still a nervous passenger when riding in a car. Just ask my husband. But it is true that I have learned to merge, both as driver and passenger, without actually screaming. I believe that I can learn how to deftly, perhaps gracefully, yield too. It is time. If you hear some screaming, however, don't worry. It is just a part of the ride.
In the years after the accident, I was a newly-minted driver when it occurred, I slowly gained more driving experience and incremental confidence. My dreaded driving maneuver: the highway merge. Luckily there were not many occasions in my day-to-day driving that required me to enter the fast lane. If I wanted to partake in the excitements of big-city Wichita, however, the merge became a right of passage. It had to be done. The witness to this feat of nerves was typically my friend Jason. Poor Jason. I didn't trust drivers to yield to incoming traffic. The speed of the metal hurtling toward me nearly left me breathless. Not breathless enough. My coping strategy involved screams. Great, huge, unbridled screams of terror as I merged. This could not have reassured Jason. Yet he hung in there. Gritting his teeth no doubt.
And now as I prepare to enter the fast lane with the arrival of baby number two, I am once again faced with the incontrovertible fact that I must merge. It must be done. There will be screaming. I must merge into a life in which I am a mother of two under two. I will have a son. There will be lots of screaming.
The screams will be functional, I'd like to think. And hopefully mostly metaphorical. I will scream and moan his hot, little, active body into this world (hence, functional). And then there will be the screams involved in allowing my vision of how life proceeds (and the illusion of my control over it) to be dimmed, stripped away, and returned to me in ways I can't hope to imagine. (Thus, metaphorical.)
I have realized that it is not so much the act of merging that is required. It is the fine art of the yield. The merge is me acting on the stream of life. Here what is needed is the realization that I must yield to others what I cannot possibly handle alone. I must give way to the forces of childbirth and allow a baby boy to pass through me. I must slow down and allow others to help me care for my almost-toddling baby girl. I must give way to those who will care for me and my family as we reorient ourselves with a new little one. I must yield.
Yield. My new mantra, for childbirth and for life. Give way.
And not just to give way, but also. . .
to give up possession of
to surrender or submit oneself to another
to bear or bring forth as a natural product
to be fruitful or productive : bear, produce
to give up and cease resistance or contention : submit, succumb
to give way under physical force (as bending, stretching, or breaking)
to give place or precedence
Even though many years have passed since I found myself upside down in a ditch, I am still a nervous passenger when riding in a car. Just ask my husband. But it is true that I have learned to merge, both as driver and passenger, without actually screaming. I believe that I can learn how to deftly, perhaps gracefully, yield too. It is time. If you hear some screaming, however, don't worry. It is just a part of the ride.
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.
Thursday, April 09, 2009
Worth It
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.
Friday, April 03, 2009
Obama at Notre Dame
Right-wing Catholics vs. Obama
by Joan Walsh
Wednesday April 1, 2009 17:04 EDT
I've tried to ignore the controversy over the University of Notre Dame's invitation to President Obama to give its commencement speech in May. I don't believe the effort to block his visit can succeed. For more than 30 years it's been a tradition for the renowned Catholic university to invite the new U.S. president to give the address and receive a doctorate from the law school. Nobody protested when George W. Bush visited, despite his ardent support for the death penalty, which the Catholic Church opposes.
But the growing movement to stop Obama's visit isn't your ho-hum sort of Catholic League media dust-up, where Bill Donohue harumphs on television and then goes away. It's part of a well-funded lobbying effort by a group of right-wing Catholics to run liberal Catholics, and dissenting doctrine, out of the church, and to recruit the remainder of the faithful for the GOP. As the L.A. Times' Tim Rutten reports, it's been organized by the Cardinal Newman Society, no relation with the nice liberal Newman Centers that do outreach to Catholic kids on college campuses.
This is a group of rabid right-wingers who came together to make sure Catholic universities enforce Catholic doctrine. They publish the work of ultra-right Opus Dei member Rev. C. John McCloskey, who has argued that "for a university to be truly Catholic," its faculty must be "exclusively" Catholic. Operation Rescue fanatic Randall Terry, who converted to Catholicism recently, is bringing his special kind of crazy to the movement. "The faithful Catholic world is justly enraged at the treachery of Notre Dame's leadership," Terry rants. "Notre Dame will rue the day they invited this agent of death to speak." Once a thug, always a thug.
Today the Washington Post's Michael Gerson weighs in with what purports to be a fair and balanced approach to the controversy. He urges the protesters to back off some -- they should respect the office of the president, if not Obama! -- but he accuses Obama of stiffing Catholic supporters in his first 70 days, due to his moves to lift the antiabortion gag rule on contraception counseling abroad and Bush's ban on federal funds for stem-cell research. Gerson warns darkly that Catholics are turning their backs on Obama, pointing to a Pew poll that found the number of Catholics who disapprove of his job performance has increased 9 percent over the last month (Gerson says 9 points, but it looks like it increased 14 points to me). But 59 percent of Catholics still think Obama's doing a good job, the same percent as Americans do overall.
Even more interesting is this Gallup poll, released Monday, that finds Catholics are actually more liberal than other Americans on the so-called moral issues the Cardinal Newman Society seeks to use as a wedge. Polling more than 3,000 people, Gallup found that Catholics are more likely to think abortion, stem cell research, gay relationships and sex before marriage are "morally acceptable" than non-Catholic Americans. Even devout churchgoing Catholics are more liberal on those issues than devout churchgoing Christians of other denominations.
Although Father Andrew Greeley's research has been documenting Catholic liberalism since the 1970s -- Catholics are more likely than other religious groups to intermarry, religiously and racially, for instance -- my people have long been stereotyped as close-minded. There's still some class disdain that hangs over from 19th century WASP derision of dumb white "ethnics," particularly the Irish.
This also has personal resonance with me because my daughter attends Fordham University, New York's great Jesuit institution in the Bronx, where she's a leader of the College Democrats and is thriving in the free-thinking, compassionate community she's found there. This month her College Republican colleagues are bringing Newt Gingrich, the twice-divorced GOP leader who in fact served his first wife her divorce papers when she was recovering from breast cancer. Not terribly Christian, if you ask me. But no one challenges Gingrich's right to speak at Fordham -- including me.
We don't need a new Inquisition in our Catholic universities, we need them to model reason and compassion, and most do. One factor that helped us choose Fordham was a serendipitous NPR profile of Rabbi David Hartman, who runs the Shalom Hartman Institute for interfaith community in Jerusalem, and who credited his time at Fordham for helping him more deeply understand Judaism. That's the kind of environment a college student deserves; if Fordham ever adopted the Cardinal Newman Society approach, it wouldn't be Fordham anymore.
Luckily, Notre Dame's president, Father John Jenkins, is holding fast to his plan to host Obama, calling the president "an inspiring leader." According to Tim Rutten, 73 percent of Notre Dame students -- and 97 percent of its seniors -- support the Obama invitation. Young Catholics are even more liberal than their parents, so the work of the Cardinal Newman Society will be increasingly futile as the years pass. Futile, but noxious nonetheless.
-- Joan Walsh
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, February 18, 2009
Starr-Crossed Lovers
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 07, 2009
Izabella's First Album
My Izabiza celebrates her first birthday today. We will have a few friends and family over to share her first dobos torte, a Hungarian cake that we ordered from the same bakery in Cleveland who created a trio of dobos for our wedding. Silly hats will be involved. And soup.
I suppose by now I should have gotten my life into some kind of order allowing me time to lovingly document Iza's first year in a photo album and scrapbook. Let's just say that I am not that kind of girl and apparently not that kind of mama either! What follows is my version of a keepsake for her. A picture may be worth a thousand words, so a thousand words should be worth a picture. I goaded myself into this project my aiming for a thousand-word portrait. Much to your boredom, perhaps, there are quite a few more than a thousand words here. Read through them like you are glancing through an album, only lingering on the one or two that draw your eye.
This is the second time I have set out to write a thousand-word portrait. The first I wrote for my stepson on the occasion of his tenth birthday. My thanks to Mary N. for sharing this writing exercise with me. She told me how she created one for her daughter to share with her during her wedding. It is a marvelous way to get your pen to paper and capture in words details that might get lost in a camera's flash.
****************************************************************************************************************
Izabella’s First Album
Hair. You can’t talk about Izabella unless you mention the hair. Born with a fierce black wedge of gravity-defying locks, she now has a style that causes her Tata to call her “Baby Beethoven” or “Baby Einstein.” The color has lightened to a dark brown with lighter strands. Some even swear they see just a little red in it. (We call that, “Janetics.”) By eleven months her bangs need to be secured with a cutesy barrette or they hang past her eyes. Tata recently quipped: “Mama wasn’t born with poor eyesight. Her parents just never cut her hair either!”
Miss Izabella’s first tooth emerged on the bottom and was a loner for quite some time. Soon it was joined by another tooth on the top. At almost one-year-old she had four teeth, the bottom middle two and the upper two just next to the center. This is an unusual eruption pattern. That is Iza.
The first tooth emerged on October 14th when Tata was on a business trip. It was tough going.
She had a fever and woke up crying inconsolably in the middle of the night, something she hadn’t done for months. That cute little toothers cost both baby and Mama both some sleep. After it emerged she would run her tongue over it and a look of wonder appeared on her face.
When Iza boinks over and bumps her head, she is aghast at the injustice. The tears of pure disgust at such an unwarranted injury are desperate. These tears also make an appearance if she has been tipped over by another baby at a play group, or if Mama ever so slightly bumps her head on the refrigerator door. If she wasn’t an infant, you might be tempted to call her dramatic. As it stands, however, her entire life is pure stage, each moment a study in improvisation and discovery and never saying “no.” (They say she will start to say no after age one.)
Iza has her own email account. She can be reached at: izabarabasiatgmaildotcom.
On Iza’s eleven-month birthday, she took her first lurching crawl. Tata placed his Movado wristwatch, a gift from Mama on Christmas, at the end of the bed. She wanted it. She made forward progression--lurches, face plants, never getting belly and head aloft at the same time--from one end of the bed to the other. A few days later and the she repeated the trick with greater speed if not greater dexterity.
The blue eyes were all Mama from the first time she gazed at the world.
When other mamas see Iza twist and curl and do impossible yoga moves, they are impressed by her flexibility. When her mama sees her move in such unorthodox ways, she thinks that she will find her own way to get from A to Z.
Those that know Tata’s mother agree that Miss Iza looks just like her nagymama. She even sometimes has the same demeanor—a true lady, dignified and regal; quick to enjoy a good laugh; easily mortified.
Iza had her first solid food at six months and a few weeks. Mama fed her mashed up banana from her finger. It was in Csikszereda and nagymama was there too. Iza liked it. A few weeks later and she wouldn’t eat bananas. A few weeks later and that is all she would eat.
Some of her favorite first foods: parsnips, butternut squash, avocado, beet, and carrot purees. Occasionally prune puree has been administered to get things moving.
Some purees that produce a yucky face: green beans, peas, broccoli, and cauliflower.
Iza sat up unsupported at 7 months plus one day.
Iza has grown into quite a party girl. Except for a transient fear of Victor and Jorge, she loves people. She may be a grump at home, but take her on the T and she is Miss Social Butterfly--all smiles and waves and coy little glances from the safety of Mama's arms.
Before Iza turns one-year-old, she will have traveled to the following places: Kansas (twice), Indiana (three times), Washington DC, The Dominican Republic (weekend trip for my sister’s wedding), Hungary, Romania, and Japan.
Iza was exclusively breastfed for the first six months plus a few weeks. This is notable because Mama had to pump and feed her from a bottle for the first six weeks before we switched entirely to the breast. Miss Iza had difficulty latching and Mama had to figure out how nursing really works. For a while it appeared that Mama might be forced to choose between pumping continuously, an awful experience, and using formula. (To place this in context, since 1997, The American Academy of Pediatrics has recommended breast milk as the exclusive food for the first six months, and that breast milk remain the main source of nutrition with a mixture of solid foods for the first year of life. Despite this recommendation, The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (C.D.C) reported that only 14% of babies were exclusively breastfed for the first sixth months in the state of Massachusetts. And only 21.7% were still breastfed at one year of age.)
Iza didn’t use a pacifier. Well, she didn’t use a plastic one! Mama is her pacifier. Those four teeth, however, do get a bit ouchy now and again, probably due to her shallow latch.
Iza and Mama slept most or part of the night together until she was ten months. After they returned from Japan, the family was so discombobulated that major changes took place in sleep patterns almost without any control. By eleven months Iza was nursed to sleep in the rocker and then transferred to her crib where she slept until around 7 am. This change seemed to work for everyone. (Mama was sad to see the bed-sharing end. They still occasionally nap together in the daytime. And in the morning she takes Iza into her bed to nurse and nap as they reconnect at the start of the day.)
At ten months Iza started to wave and clap her hands with great enthusiasm. When she sees Tata, he always gets a smile, a wave, and a few claps. At eleven months she would clap if she heard applause on the radio. Also at eleven months she waved when she heard Dani say “szia” to her over the speaker phone.
Her first bath all by herself was at eleven months. Up until then Mama or Tata would join her in the tub. When Mama gave her a bath and Tata was not at home, she would prepare a bath mat and a towel on the floor where she would lay her down while she toweled off. These days Iza is not content to lie there and giggle at her fresh-from-the-tub Mama. She wants to squirm and sit up and get into the trash can. One night Tata was gone and Mama realized that it just wasn’t going to work. So she sat next to Iza while she bathed alone. Iza loved it. It exhausted Mama to keep up with her curious explorations all around the tub. Who knew the ceramic soap dish was so fascinating?
Iza spent her first Christmas in Kansas. Grandma gave her a Cabbage Patch Doll. She wore her black velvet dress with the red plaid trim, white tights, red shoes, and her red flower barrette to Christmas Eve mass. (Mama neglected to take the requisite photo of her in Christmas attire next to the adorned tree.)
Iza has yet to enjoy the process of having her nails done.
Mama fell in love with black pearls the fall before Iza was born. Tata gave her a beautiful ring with a single black pearl for her birthday. She wore it for the rest of her pregnancy and even wore it in labor and while giving birth to baby Iza. When Iza was quite small Mama decided that she would save the ring for Izabella.
Iza has not quite figured out that she will love talking to Grandma via Skype video calls. She will. Mama loves it!
Iza’s first word (at almost eleven months): “ball .” Mama is pretty sure she was using English to indicate her love for her little, round, bouncy ball. As Dani pointed out, however, “bal” means left in Hungarian. So her first word was bilingual!
The first time Mama left Iza in another person’s care was in Japan. Mama left her upstairs in the hotel room with a babysitter hired by our hosts while she and Tata and Dani were downstairs at an award ceremony. She was alone with the babysitter for almost two hours! Mama kept her cell phone clutched in her hand, waiting for it to buzz her back to nurse and cuddle little Iza.
Zsofia was Iza’s first “mommy’s helper.” She came to our apartment a few times a week for a few months to allow Mama to take a shower, step out for lunch, etc.
Mama wishes that we had a grandparent, sibling, an aunt or uncle, or even a cousin within several hours travel! Iza is extremely lucky, however, to have Big Brother near us. He moved with his family to Newton in the fall of 2008, a mere ten minute drive! He is patient and playful with her. He takes great pride in being her big brother and has been an amazing help to me, both taking care of her and helping me too! There was one week when Tata had to travel to Europe and Dani, who was thirteen and getting ready to enter the eighth grade, volunteered to spend the week with us just so that he could help take care of Izabella.
Izabella was born at 1:30 pm on a Friday afternoon.
Mama’s favorite time of the day: after Iza’s bath when she is warm and naked and wiggles across the bed. She usually needs to have some of her giggles extracted so that she won’t explode during her dreams.
Grandma Kelley was Iza’s first expert rocker. She stayed with Iza for nearly four weeks and rocked her for hours on end. By now Mama is an expert rocker too. She often can’t bear to put her in her crib for an afternoon nap and so joins Iza by taking a nap with her as they rock.
Isis Maternity is a retail and educational center for parents. Miss Iza is only two T stops away from Isis and within walking distance (in warm weather) and she has spent a lot of time there. Even before she was born Mama and Tata took childbirth classes and Mama took prenatal yoga there. After Iza was born she attended Great Beginnings, Next Steps, Caterpillars, and Movers and Groovers classes. Each class features play time—singing and toys—and mama topics to discuss and share.
Izabella Kelley Barabasi, at nearly one-year-old, is otherwise known as Iza, IzaBiza, BizzyBee, BellaBaby, BellaMia, Biza, BizaBee, Elizabella, IzalaBizala, IzaB., Bells, Mia, Izuka, as well as, Noodle, Plum, Sweet Pea, Honey Bear, Sugar, Sunshine and Pie.
2008 Names and Izabella’s Future Playmates: Isabella is ranked number four, much to our surprise. Emma is first, followed by Sophia, and fifth is OIivia. For boys Aiden is the most popular, followed by Jayden, Ethan, Jacob, and Caden.
Izabella knows a Sophia. Mama met her mother, Rebeca, in a prenatal yoga class and Miss Iza is two days older than baby Sophia. They have seen each other almost every week since they were about ten weeks old. Izabella’s other little friend is baby Ixa. I met her mother, Akesha, in mommy-and-baby yoga class. They live nearby in Brookline Village. When Iza was 11 months, we started a “Music Together” class with Ixa and Akesha.
Izabella has been a big help to Tata as he writes his new book. When she was younger, she would play on the bed while he typed, giving Mama an extra hour of sleep in the morning. Now she is an expert at scanning in his new chapters.
Mama found out that Iza was going to be a big sister when Iza was about 9 months old. She told Tataon November 4th, the night Barack Obama became the President-Elect. She had tried to give him (Tata, not Obama) hints, but it wasn’t working. So she put a big red bow on her tummy and showed him the positive pregnancy test. Hooray!
Iza at one-years-old enjoys the occasional You Tube moment viewed on Mama’s iPhone. Her favorite so far is a short clip of the Smurfs in Hungarian. Good taste. View it here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Ao99RIKyd8
The best advice Mama received: No matter how wonderful things are going or how terrible things might seem, they will change. She heard this mantra at a La Leche League Meeting (one of two she was able to attend in Izabella’s first year) from another new mom, who had heard it from another new mom, etc. Wise women, indeed.
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.
More About 25 Things
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.
Friday, February 06, 2009
Saturday Morning
Saturday Morning
by Hugo Williams
Everyone who made love the night before
was walking around with flashing red lights
on top of their heads--a white-haired old gentlemen,
a red-faced schoolboy, a pregnant woman
who smiled at me from across the street
and gave a little secret shrug,
as if the flashing red light on her head
was a small price to pay for what she knew.
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)