I pump; therefore I am.

Thanksgiving Confessions

2011-11-24T21:32:00.007-06:00

So...I've been out of touch for a while. Depression reared its ugly head once again, and I lost sight of some of the things I really enjoy doing, like writing. In general, I'm doing better, though I have to say that what compels me to write as a happy day of Thanksgiving celebration comes to an end is not happy at all.

Yesterday my Facebook wall was littered with posts about the mother in Melbourne who lost both of her twins after a "clinical accident". I was shocked and horrified and speechless and angry and all of the things that most of those posting were. (I'd still like to know if the "sick child" actually had a congenital heart defect.) But I was also very sad, and for a very different reason.

Most of you probably already know that we've lost two babies. Ruby and Margaret are both surviving twins. (Evidence suggests that Madylin and Noah may be also, but we can't confirm.) We lost Sofia and James early on, in the first few weeks. Of course, for those who don't believe that life begins at conception, you're probably thinking, so what? But for me, they were and are just as real as our living children. I don't know why they didn't make it. But even if they had had congenital heart defects or any one of the laundry list of diagnoses that prompt some parents to terminate their children's lives, I would have welcomed the chance to touch them and care for them, to spend hours on the road and in doctors' offices, to wait through surgeries, to hold them as they breathe their last, to bury them, to have a place to visit and to grieve. Clearly, I don't know this woman's situation. I don't know what prompted her decision. I can't say that she made the wrong one. But I can say that, right or wrong, to know that she chose to terminate the life of a child that could have survived outside of the womb...it hurts my soul.

And since I'm on the topic and in the mood to unburden myself, I'm going to share something that I've only shared with one other person. After Margaret was born and I was attempting to come to grips with exclusively pumping, I got a call from a dear friend, telling me that she was pregnant with twins, and I was devastated. For a while I was in shock, I think about as much as she was. It's one thing to hear about strangers having twins or see them at random times when out, but this wasn't a stranger. This was pictures and updates in my newsfeed every day and seeing her and talking with her and feeling like a failure every time because she was doing what I couldn't. For a while I even convinced myself that God had taken my babies and given them to her because she was a better mother. The day they were born was such a heartache for me. Part of me wanted so badly to be there with her and to live vicariously and part of me didn't want to have anything to do with her and part of me really wished that I could just be a friend and love and support her without bringing any baggage.

I'm (mostly) ok with it all (most of the time) now. She and I are still dear friends, and I hope, if she reads this, that she can forgive me for not telling her all this in person. Being ok with something doesn't necessarily make it easy to talk about. I'm slowly developing a thick skin where twins are concerned. It's becoming a necessity, as I seem to be surrounded by mothers of multiples. In fact, another friend just announced that she'll be joining the group soon. It's still hard to be happy for her, but a little less so.

So what does any of this have to do with that Aussie mom? Not much, except that maybe it makes me wish that she had been grateful for the challenge presented to her. Maybe that's what I'm most thankful for today: accepting the challenges, not backing down or taking the easy way out. So much can be learned from dealing with a less than ideal circumstance. There's so much potential to become a better person, to learn and grow, to help those who walk the same path after you. I should know.

I've been published!

2011-10-05T11:54:00.002-05:00

Well, sort of...Check out my milksharing story on MamaBear Lactating's blog! A reminder from someone who gets more hits than I do that milksharing continues beyond World Milksharing Week.

The Definition of Evil

2011-09-14T09:35:00.005-05:00

Many of you are probably already familiar with the hubbub surrounding Emma Kwasnica and the withdrawal of her momination to Babble.com's "Moms who are changing your world" contest. (If not, check out these posts: on the momination, MamaBear's take on the retraction, PhD in Parenting's thoughts, the response by the mominator, and this lovely post by babble.com's Catherine Connors)

MamaBear's most recent post on the subject, in which she affirms Connors' rather caustic statement that formula advertising is evil, has inspired me to look at the definition of evil and how it applies to formula and formula advertising.

evil adj - 1 a: morally reprehensible [deserving of condemnation, censure, or reprimand]

Formula - No. It's a product, which is necessary to some, albeit few, babies.

Formula advertising - Yes. See MamaBear's links re: the harm caused by the advertising of breastmilk substitutes, and come tell me if you don't think formula advertising deserves condemnation for its shameful deception and outright lies.

evil adj - 1 b: arising from actual or imputed bad character or conduct

Formula - No. While I have not done extensive research on the subject, it appears that the first commercial breastmilk substitute manufacturers did indeed have good intentions. Medical problems and infant mortality had begun to increase as the practice of wetnursing decreased in favor of dry nursing, or the feeding of prepared breastmilk substitutes. As a more sanitary product, commercial substitutes helped reduce the introduction of bacteria and the risk of infection.

Formula advertising - Now, definitely; originally, probably not. But the line was certainly crossed when, almost immediately, manufacturers and doctors began claiming milk substitutes to be perfect, "better for babies than milk" or that they contained "exactly the ingredients necessary to insure the life and health...and secure robust health in childhood, manhood and womanhood." Interestingly, at that time, late 1800s, early 1900, the US government was actually discouraging the use of commercial milk substitutes, even saying that mothers shouldn't trust "the extravagant claims made for some brands of infant foods.", and advised mothers to opt for homemade formulas made under a competent physician's direction.

evil adj - 2 a (archaic): inferior

Formula - Yes. No two ways about it; it's just not as good.

Formula advertising - No. Unfortunately, to my knowledge, it's far superior to any campaign ever launched in support or encouragement of breastfeeding. But then, why *should* we need to convince mothers to do the natural, normal thing?

evil adj - 2 b: causing discomfort or repulsion; offensive

Formula - Technically, no, at least not in the intended sense, though formula can, and often does, cause physical discomfort for baby. Repulsion or offense...I certainly haven't heard any rave reviews on the smell of formula, especially the more processed ones, but again, not in the intended sense. For thos die-hard, ubermilitant lactivists who are genuinely repulsed and offended by formula itself, I repeat that formula is a necessity for some babies, and I would point out that it's most likely the use of the product that offends, not the product itself.

Formula advertising - Absolutely. At the very least, it offends *me*, and I know it offends a lot of other moms out there. How can you not be offended by something that, by its very nature, seeks to deceive you? Or by a company that uses illegal means to promote its products, as with those which, against federal regulations, use the WIC acronym in their promotional materials.

evil adj - 2 c: disagreeable [primary definition: causing discomfort; unpleasant; offensive]

Formula - Most of what I said above applies here as well, though this definition is particularly applicable specifically to the smell of formula.

Formula advertising - Again, it all applies here, too.

evil adj - 3 a: causing harm; pernicious [highly injurious or destructive; deadly]

Formula - I'm not comfortable with a categorical yes here, since, as mentioned above, there are cases where babies would die without formula. I also wouldn't say that, in most cases, formula is *highly* injurious. However, there are clearly cases, and more than most of us would really like to think about, where babies have suffered greatly due to the ingestion of formula and studies upon studies detailing the physical, physiological, and mental differences caused by the consumption of formula.

Formula advertising - Yes. Reduced breastfeeding rates and their attendant problems and infant death, for starters. Again, see MamaBear's links for more info.

evil adj - 3 b: marked by misfortune; unlucky

Not something that particularly applies to either, unless you count the fact that they are at the heart of so many disagreements among mothers.

evil n - 2: something that brings sorrow, distress, or calamity [a state of deep distress or misery caused by major misfortune or loss]

I'm skipping the primary definition because it doesn't apply to either formula or formula advertising. But the secondary definition most certainly applies to both. Think of the stress, upset, and worry suffered by mothers during the weeks or months spent trying to find the right formula, to say nothing of the physical distress suffered by their babies. Can you imagine what it must be like to eat something you're allergic to day after day, to not even have a chance to get it out of your system before you're putting more in? What about common constant constipation or the daily introduction of chemicals or unhealthy foods to combat it? And what about the babies who die due to consumption of formula? Is formula advertising directly to blame? Not in every case, but in many cases, I think so. In most cases? I wouldn't be surprised.

So what's my conclusion? Do I think formula is evil? Mostly no, but there are instances when, by definition I would be obliged to say yes. I think in some ways it's a necessary evil. Do I think formula advertising is evil? A resounding yes. No question in my mind.

Finally, I do want to say that my intention here is not to shame, guilt, or question the decisions of any mother who uses formula. It's your decision. I wasn't there when you made it, and I don't know your story, so who am I to judge? I'm simply exploring some thoughts inspired by recent events.

I'll close with a few statements from the 1997 Pontifical Council for Social Communications. Just a little food for thought...

There is nothing intrinsically good or intrinsically evil about advertising. It is a tool, an instrument: it can be used well, and it can be used badly. If it can have, and sometimes does have, beneficial results..., it also can, and often does, have a negative, harmful impact on individuals and society.

Communio et Progressio contains this summary statement of the problem: "If harmful or utterly useless goods are touted to the public, if false assertions are made about goods for sale, if less than admirable human tendencies are exploited, those responsible for such advertising harm society and forfeit their good name and credibility.

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Sometimes advertisers speak of it as part of their task to "create" needs for products and services - that is, to cause people to feel and act upon cravings for items and services they do not need. "If... a direct appeal is made to his instincts - while ignoring in various ways the reality of the person as intelligent and free - then consumer attitudes and life-styles can be created which are objectively improper and often damaging to his physical and spiritual health."

This is a serious abuse, an affront to human dignity and the common good when it occurs in affluent societies. But the abuse is still more grave when consumerist attitudes and values are transmitted by communications media and advertising to developing countries, where they exacerbate socio-economic problems and harm the poor. "It is true that a judicious use of advertising can stimulate developing countries to improve their standard of living. But serious harm can be done them if advertising and commercial pressure become so irresponsible that communities seeking to rise from poverty to a reasonable standard of living are persuaded to seek this progress by satisfying wants that have been artificially created. The result of this is that they waste their resources and neglect their real needs, and genuine development falls behind."
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Even today, some advertising is simply and deliberately untrue. Generally speaking, though, the problem of truth in advertising is somewhat more subtle: it is not that advertising says what is overtly false, but that it can distort the truth by implying things that are not so or withholding relevant facts.
It is a fundamental principle that advertising may not deliberately seek to deceive, whether it does that by what it says, by what it implies, or by what it fails to say. "The proper exercise of the right to information demands that the content of what is communicated be true and, within the limits set by justice and charity, complete. ... Included here is the obligation to avoid any manipulation of truth for any reason."
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There is an "imperative requirement" that advertising "respect the human person, his right duty to make a responsible choice, his interior freedom; all these goods would be violated if man's lower inclinations were to be exploited, or his capacity to reflect and decide compromised."

These abuses are not merely hypothetical possibilities but realities in much advertising today. Advertising can violate the dignity of the human person both through its content - what is advertised, the manner in which it is advertised - and through the impact it seeks to make upon its audience.

Are you freaked out by baby weight, too?

2011-09-10T17:04:00.002-05:00

No, I'm not talking about those extra pounds that *you* may or may not be hanging on to. I'm talking about your baby's weight. I can name five moms right now, me included, who have dealt with weight issues with their babies, and it's got me wondering (surprise, surprise) what the deal is.

Seriously, within the small group of 10 mommy friends that I can name off the top of my head, with 25 kids among us, half of us have had weight issues with at least one child, a total of 6 children that I'm aware of, or almost one quarter of the group's children. Now I know that this is a pretty small sample size, and that it's not particularly varied (I am not a research scientist, after all), but come on! This can't be right! If one quarter of a group of children with competent, confident, well-educated, knowledgeable, and supported mothers aren't gaining weight appropriately, maybe we need to be examining what it means for babies to gain weight appropriately.

It's got to be something related to breastfeeding, as much as I hate to say it. I have yet to hear of a healthy, full-term, formula-fed baby who's not gaining weight appropriately, unless he's gaining too much and/or too quickly, but even then doctors seem to be much less likely to even comment on that type of weight issue, much less recommend action, despite the fact that childhood obesity has been linked to a number of health problems reaching far past childhood. (Interestingly, I also have yet to hear of a disease or other health issue linked to being underweight or slow gaining as a child.)

So what's going on? Is it the doctors? Are they just not up on current research? Do they even care to be? Or do they think that breastfeeding is a dying art, so why bother? Maybe they think that, since human female breasts haven't changed significantly since they were in medical school, the way a breast-fed baby is evaluated shouldn't change either.

Maybe it's the moms. Maybe breasts *have* changed. After all, how many of us have breasts that don't produce enough milk or milk with not enough fat or calories or no milk at all? Or maybe nipples that are too large for baby's mouth or not long enough or too long or too small or too anything? It must be something genetic, right? I mean, if it were just something that we needed help *doing*, then surely a doctor or a lactation consultant or anyone else trained to help breastfeeding mothers, would be able to tell us how to fix it, right? But sadly, in my experience, both personal and anecdotal, that happens rarely.

So we're left with a bunch of moms who spend an awful lot of time worrying and researching and being obsessed with the scale and going to this clinic or that LC or the doctor that a friend of a friend of a friend went to, trying to find out if maybe taping tubes to our nipples or covering them with silicon or jumping over a broomstick or standing on our heads to nurse will magically make our babies fit on the growth chart that the ped keeps in the Medical Records (capitalized because of it's apparent sacred status), because, if none of those things work, then it's our fault, right? Why didn't we just use formula, like everybody else?

365 days and counting...

2011-09-09T21:27:00.004-05:00

Today is my pumping anniversary, and I spent it...well, pumping, of course. But I have also spent a good bit of time thinking about how the idea of pumping has changed for me. It certainly doesn't have the awe and excitement that it did in the beginning. The "Wow, look how much I just pumped! (I can't believe all that was just inside my boobs!)" factor is pretty much gone, unless you count the "Wow, look how much I just pumped! (Now I don't have to try to distract her with people food.)" thing.

- Before anyone comments that breastmilk *is* people food, let me snip that in the bud and say that that's how we often jokingly refer to solids.

Anyway...So I definitely don't get excited about pumping anymore. But I'm not particularly angry or upset or sad about it either, and while the excitement was definitely in the forefront in the beginning, those other emotions were there as well. I guess I don't really have any strong feelings either way, which is odd because I was so emotionally distraught just a few weeks ago when I started this blog. It's just something I do. It's not a burden, and it's not a pleasure; it's just a thing, one more in the long list of things that I do every day, and one of the many that I do multiple times a day, right up there with making peanut butter sandwiches and pouring glasses of water and turning off lights when no one is in the room.

Of course, since I can't ever just let things be simple, I'm wondering if I'm continuing now out of habit, though I honestly can't imagine sitting down at the computer without the pump being within arm's reach. Margaret's still not really digging solids and isn't too keen on other beverages. But then, as my mother mentioned once a little while back, is that because she has breastmilk available to her? If I stop giving her breastmilk, of course she would start eating more solids and drinking other liquids...eventually. She seems to be pretty strong-willed on that subject though, so I can't imagine that it would be a very happy time for any of us. Is that really the route I want to take? No, it's not. I've fought so hard to make sure she's continued to get my milk despite our circumstances. Why would I just take it away cold turkey?

Which leads me to another subject...weaning. How in the world am I supposed to know when she's ready to not have breastmilk anymore? That, I think, is a topic for another day, as I'm certain that I will think *way* too much about it.

I do want to end on a happy note. I never, ever thought that I would make it this far, and I am incredibly, intensely grateful for all the love, support, and encouragement I have gotten along the way, most especially from Joanna, April, Tori, Summer, Sue, and Auburn. Without you ladies, I would have given up a long time ago, and I'd be spending today hating myself, instead of celebrating successfully pushing my boundaries and becoming a better person for it. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

How (Not) to Pull Out of a Stall

2011-09-07T00:09:00.005-05:00

So I've been sitting here trying to convince myself to write the next section of my Pumping Pages, and it's really not going very well. The next section is the introduction, in which Stephanie explains why she chose to exclusively pump and how she came to gather so much information on pumping, both exclusively and in general. The thing is, I really want to get into the rest of the book. There's some great stuff in there, even in the very next section. But I don't want to skip around. And as much as I believe that I've come to terms with exclusively pumping and I'm ok with the way things worked out, I'm a little scared to rehash it all and find out that I'm wrong. Even just today, I was talking with a dear friend about the beginning of the end of my breastfeeding relationship with Margaret, and I have to admit that I was a little sad when I got off of the phone.

I guess I'm just not sure if it's ok to be ok, but still sad or angry or not wanting to talk about it. Is it even possible to be any of those things and to really be ok?

So, instead of writing my intro, I'm now sitting here pondering what it means to be ok with something, which is certainly not productive, as far as my original intentions go, though I suppose it's productive in its own right. (Google had nothing to offer, by the way.) Does it mean to be resigned? Or do you have to be happy about whatever it is? Accepting? Can you be ok with (accepting of) an outcome, but not ok with the thing(s) that brought it about? Which also makes me wonder if the ends really do justify the means, more often than not.

There are, of course, some pretty clear cases. I had to cut off my own arm, but I was able to crawl out of the wreck, and I'm still alive. Definitely yes. I had to cut of my own arm, but I was able to get my quarter out from under the soda machine. No. (Undersea pineapple nerds like me can imagine that 'no' like Spongebob said it when going over his list of things that make people laugh in the Ripped Pants episode.) But what about everything else?

I'm reminded of something I read in a book on the Catholic faith several years ago about Kohlberg's stages of moral development. I won't get into a big discussion on that right now (maybe tomorrow, when I'm still trying to put off writing my intro), but the gist of it is that there are six stages of moral development, each more able to respond to moral dilemmas than the stage before. One of the tools he used in his studies was called the Heinz dilemma:

Heinz' wife is in the last stages of cancer. She could be cured by a drug, which has been grossly overpriced and which Heinz is unable to afford. In order to save his wife, he steals the drug. Was he justified in doing so? (The actual story is a bit more detailed.)

The interesting thing to me is that it's not whether you believe he was right or wrong, whether or not the ends justify the means. Kohlberg looked at how each respondent justified *his answer*, not *Heinz' actions*. For Kohlberg, moral reasoning is all about justice and to whom it is applied. Persons in the first two, or pre-conventional, stages are solely concerned with the outcome of an action being justifiable in relation to themselves. Conventional moral reasoning places importance on justice for the good of society, while post-conventional thinking deals with universality and justice for the good of mankind as a whole.

I was also fascinated by the fact the someone at a given stage of moral development cannot understand the intentions of someone two stages or more above him. For example, a child in the first stage (I do the right thing because that's how I avoid punishment.) does not and cannot understand an older child who chooses a particular action because it conforms with societal norms. Likewise, the older child will not understand actions based on social contracts or compromise, nor will he understand concepts like democratic government (but then, right now, who *does*?)

On that note, I'm going to move my stalling efforts to the laundry room, where I have a mountain of hubby's uniforms to wash. Perhaps tomorrow I will have run out of excuses...

The Infant Feeding Project - Step 1: Types of Food

2011-09-02T20:14:00.005-05:00

Today I started really looking at, not the ways to feed babies, but *what* we can feed them, and let me tell you, there are a *lot* of options out there. I am incredibly grateful to have not needed to use milk substitutes, as I probably would have driven myself crazy trying to figure out what was best. Of course, that just goes to show how needed something like my flow chart is. I know there are parents out there who just buy whatever's cheapest or whatever their friends use or their mothers told them to get, and I'm not saying that's wrong or judging that in any way. But there are also parents who, like me, are prone to obsessing about their baby care choices, and it would take so much of the stress out of the decision-making process if everything, or at least as much as practical, were in one place.

So, here's what I've got so far, and bear in mind that this list may change. Feel free to suggest things. If there's something you've heard about, let me know and I'll look it up. I should also mention that, at this stage, I'm only looking at primary foods, things that would make up the majority of, if not the sole item on, baby's daily menu. Fortifiers, cereals, solids, snacks, etc., are for another stage. Thanks again for your help!

The two main categories of infant food are breastmilk and milk substitutes. As far as I know, the only places to get breastmilk are a baby's own mother and another lactating woman, unless, of course, you count these creepy Chinese cows, which really don't produce true breastmilk, in spite of what the media says. And breastmilk either comes directly from the breast or in expressed form. (We'll talk about ways to get expressed milk and ways to get it to baby later.)

The options for milk substitutes are far greater. We still start with two basic categories though: commercially prepared and privately prepared. Options for commercially prepared milks are cow's milk, soy, protein hydrolysate, and amino acid-based. There are also numerous "extras", like organic, added iron and low iron (no iron doesn't appear to be an option), reduced lactose and lactose-free (What, no added lactose?), low sodium, added rice, enhanced (added fatty acids, pre- and/or probiotics), and preemie (pre-discharge and high cal/discharge). Commercially prepared formulas come in powdered, concentrated, and ready-to-use forms.

There is much debate about the safety of privately prepared, or homemade, milk substitutes. I'm not here to debate their use. The fact is that mothers *do* use them, and right now I'm in the business of providing as many of the available options as I can. Deciding what's safe for a given baby is up to that baby's parents.

That said, there are a number of options on the home front as well, although all privately prepared milks, to my knowledge, require that they be mixed on demand. I've included only main ingredients from usable recipes that I have personally seen. The most popular by far seems to be goat's milk-based, with raw cow's milk and liver-based and home-fortified commercial milks completing the majority. Plant milks, specifically oat, rice, almond, and soy, round out the list.

So that's what you can feed your baby. At least, that's everything I've found so far. Of course, I've also found that I really had no idea what I was getting into when I started this thing, but that's a whole different story. ;)

A New Milestone

2011-09-01T22:06:00.002-05:00

So I'm coming up on a year of exclusive pumping, and it occurred to me today that, at this point, I've actually pumped longer for Margaret than Madylin breastfed. Definitely a new one for me, and certainly a milestone I never in a million years thought I'd even have the potential to reach.

I also realized the other day that Margaret is getting more breastmilk right now than any of the other three got at this age. They were still breastfeeding, but it was generally only once or twice a day by this time; breastmilk was no longer their main source of nutrition. Not so with Margaret. She doesn't really drink anything else, and she's not super into solids, though it's not for lack of effort. I offer her whatever the rest of us eat (within reason - I'm not too keen on sharing my Red Hots ;) ). She's just not really digging it. She'll usually eat at least some of whatever we're having, but it just kinda seems like she thinks food is a novel toy or a treat or something like that. She'll fuss for something she thinks she wants to eat, but let her see a bottle, whether it's got milk in it or not, and it's a whole different story.

It's really got me wondering what's behind her reaction to the bottle. Not that I think she has some sort of ulterior motive, mind you. I just wonder what's the deal. Is this just one of those "every child is different" things? Or is it something about the bottle and what that means beyond milk? If she were still nursing at the breast, I would assume that it had something to do with bonding or attention or physical closeness or a break from the world. But honestly, I'm not always the one to give her the bottle, and she doesn't always get extra attention when she has it. And there are times when she gets it, flops back, gives it about three sucks, and then flips over and bear crawls away, leaving it behind and forgotten. What kind of a break is that?

I'm also realizing just how much the meaning of a bottle has changed for *me*. I'll admit it: I was one of those breastfeeding moms who thought formula feeders probably didn't care quite as much about their children. I remember, in the early days of pumping, being horribly embarrassed to leave the house with Margaret because I might have to give her a bottle in public, and what would everyone think? Breastfeeding moms must surely assume that I'm giving her formula and will be looking down their noses at me. Or worse yet, I'll have a run-in with one of those militant lactivists, who'll publicly berate me for not loving my child enough to feed her at the breast and for poisoning her with chemical milk substitutes, and then she'll storm off without giving me a chance to explain, leaving me feeling even worse about my ability to properly care for my daughter than I already do.

And now...I've come to terms with exclusively pumping. I still wish that things had worked out differently, but I'm armed with a heck of a lot more knowledge now, and I think, should we ever have another, I'd be able to at least greatly reduce the chances of going through all of this again. I am much more conscious of the different situations we mothers are faced with when it comes to feeding our babies. Bottle doesn't equal bad any more than cribs or disposable diapers or store-bought baby foods do. There's a lot behind those choices.

Not every mother is like me, and not every baby is like mine. But every mother *does* have the capacity to love her children every bit as much as I do mine and to worry over her choices just as much as I did. Who am I to say she's doing it wrong?

All hail Vandy!

2011-09-01T14:35:00.002-05:00

Well, *I* will be certainly singing it's praises at the very least. I'm finally sitting down to recount the happenings of our visit with Margaret, and I'm pleased to say, for once, it's a happy tale.

Oddly enough, we spent the majority of our time with Dr. Hamid talking, not about Margaret's feet, but about her weight. As many of you know, Margaret's weight has been a difficult issue for me and one that has caused me no small amount of distress and which led me to the world of exclusively pumping. In a nutshell, there's nothing wrong with her weight. In the back of my mind, I've always known that, but I let the numbers convince me otherwise, encouraged, of course, by a certain former ped. When I think now about how many hours I wasted obsessively weighing her and crying when the numbers weren't what I was told they should be, it would be so easy to get angry. Maybe I will one day, but I hope not. For now, I'm doing my best to focus on the positive and learn from the past, hopefully to the benefit of other mothers out there who may find themselves in similar situations.

For those who are interested, here's the longer explanation of the weight issue. Basically, Margaret is just small. She's around the 3rd percentile in weight-for-age, but that's about where she's always been. Someone has to be at the low end of the chart, and she didn't appear there overnight. She's growing consistently, and that's as it should be. Dr. Hamid said you can't always trust the numbers. They're a guide, or they should be, not a hard and fast rule, as many doctors seem to believe. Here's the example he gave us:

Say you're looking at a 200-lb (97+%), 11-yr-old boy. What do you see? You're probably thinking that he's obese. If he's 4 ft tall (<3%), than you're probably right. If he's 5 ft tall (80%), then you're opinion of his weight changes, right? If he's 6 ft tall (97+%), then you're probably thinking that he should start training for basketball immediately. But what if the 6-ft-tall, 200-lb, 11-yr-old is lethargic or was slow in reaching milestones as an infant? Now he doesn't look so healthy. And what if the 4-ft-tall child is alert, active, was an early walker and talker, and happens to be a great basketball player? Maybe he's not as bad off as you thought.

Now I know that a number of people, my husband included, told me similar things throughout the most difficult and stressful weeks and months, and I'm sorry to say that it took a specialist to convince me that they (and my instincts) were right. I wish the medical profession didn't hold such god-like status, particularly in the South. I wish that we could go back to the days of trust in the parents and the experience-based knowledge of a loving, supportive community. It really would have made things so much easier for me then. But that's for another post.

As for Margaret's feet, we did some x rays, mainly to document where she is now, but also to make certain that there isn't any underlying issue that we should be concerned about. We haven't heard anything on that yet, so I assume that they were as expected. (I hope to get a copy of them, if not soon, then at our next visit, and will post them when and if I'm able.) We go back in April to see how she's doing. Assuming she's still growing and developing as expected then, Dr. Hamid said that it looks like Margaret is the one in I don't know how many that happens to have a modest collection of minor anomalies for no apparent reason, meaning that there's no underlying, explanatory diagnosis.

For me, I think the best thing about the trip was not so much hearing from an expert that Margaret's most likely totally fine and just a bit of an anomaly. It was having the doctors and nurses actually listen to, respond to, and validate what we had to say. It's a pity that all care providers aren't this way. (The respect and compassion for your patients class must be an elective or something.)

Interestingly, we did actually discover a diagnosis that we were completely unaware of. Technically, Margaret has macrocephaly, or a larger-than-average cranial capacity, distinguished from hydrocephaly in that growth is symmetrical and there is no increased intracranial pressure. Get this: While Marget is ~3% for weight and 30% for height, she's 97+% for head circumference! When the nurse gave me the numbers, I was almost speechless. That makes her sound like some sort of giant-headed freak. But, I'm reminded of the doctor's words on weight. She doesn't *look* out of proportion, no matter what the numbers say (hence the technical diagnosis), and so I can gladly say that I am not worried in the least. In fact, it makes me smile. I choose to believe that she has a big head to accommodate her Einstein brain, and with parents like hers, how could it not be true? LOL

Things I'd like to say to you, but won't

2011-08-27T03:51:00.003-05:00

I'm sulking today because you left without saying goodbye. I would have driven out to see you, you know.

I know I have no right to be upset really. I love you like a brother, but you're not a brother, not technically anyway. It's just that I don't get upset when family leaves, but I cried when you told me you were leaving, and it hurts to think that might not have meant anything to you.

It's hard not to blame her for taking you away, because everything changed after she came back. But what business is it of mine anyway? I was only there how many times?, giving you a shoulder to cry on, figuratively, of course, because you would never ever cry.

I'm horrible at long distance anything, so I think this probably means the end of a friendship I value more than most. You were always honest with me, whether I wanted you to be or not, and I will miss that very much. I could accept it from you when I couldn't from anyone else, and I feel a bit at a loss now because I don't know who to turn to when I need to hear a harsh truth.

I wish you well. That sounds stupid, I know, but I don't know what else to say.

So that's what the ceiling looks like!

2011-08-21T13:24:00.005-05:00

It's funny how something that's supposed to give you peace of mind can make you so nervous before it happens.

Tomorrow we take Margaret up to Vanderbilt for genetic testing, and today I kinda feel like I've just had the rug jerked out from under me. Matt just told me that he thinks we shouldn't be doing the testing. He says that he's told me this before, but I honestly don't remember if he did. (I think I would, since it would have prompted a *big* discussion.) So now, instead of getting a jump on trip prep and making sure the other three kids have everything they need for their day with Nana and Grandpop, I'm lying here on the floor, staring at the ceiling (sitting here at the computer staring at the screen) trying to justify the trip.

Here's the thing...Yes, I know there's nothing immediately obvious. You don't look at Margaret and think, Wow, I'm glad that's not *my* child. What in the world is wrong with her? It's a lot of little things. Some of the things are common, but some aren't. Some can be easily explained, some can't. But, with one exception, none of our other (living) children have had any of these things. (The vanished twins may or may not have had any of these issues, but we'll never know.) I also know that, just because our other kids are "normal", for lack of a better word, doesn't mean that there's anything wrong with Margaret just because she's not like them. Every child is different, I get that.

But it's also not like Margaret's an only child or only has one sibling. We don't have the largest family I know, or even the largest family that I've heard of, but we do have more kids than most. Plus, Matt and I are both from large families, as are three of our four parents. That's a lot more common genetics than most people have to compare to. This is out of the ordinary, even in our huge family tree.

Our priest said that, if it were his decision, he would skip the testing and just be surprised if something comes up when Margaret gets older. Well, I don't really want to deal with a surprise in the midst of caring for three (or more) other kids, at least, not if I can help it. Stuff happens. We can't always be prepared for everything. But if Margaret *does* have a diagnosis, and doing this testing will allow us to be prepared for any issues she may have as she gets older, what's wrong with that? It doesn't mean my faith is any less. Whatever happens, I know that God will be with us. Did you ever think, though, that perhaps God made this testing available to us because he means us to take advantage of it?

And so, as I get ready to force myself away from the computer and start preparing for a very long day tomorrow, I still have to wonder what's happened to community and common courtesy these days. You don't have to like my decisions, but I would hope that you could trust that I've done my research and that I feel this is the best thing for our situation, and I'd like to think that you could support me in that. And if not...well, then keep it to yourself. I've got enough to worry about.

Who says you have a right to never be offended?

2011-08-17T23:20:00.003-05:00

I have to get out my soapbox for a moment here.

Sometimes, hopefully most of the time, life is awesome, and everything is happy skippy, and everybody you come into contact with is right on the same page as you are about everything. And sometimes life sucks, and you have to put up with a bunch of stuff that you don't like, and people do things that offend you. You know what? That's life. Get over it. As far as I know we Americans do not have the right, constitutional or otherwise, to never be offended. Neither does anyone else. We do, however, have the right to the pursuit of happiness, but do you know what that actually means?

To pursue happiness does not mean that you get to sit around and wait for happiness to come to you. It does not mean that you get to sit around and demand changes to your environment until you are happy with it. It means to seek or to go in search of happiness. Guess what *that* means? If you're not happy with what's going on around you, then go pursue happiness elsewhere.

And while I'm thinking about it, let me say that, yes, we do have the right to free speech, but having the right to free speech does not mean that you must exercise that right whenever, however, and to whomever you want. If someone hasn't asked for your opinion, then for goodness sake, keep it to yourself. But if you feel that you absolutely *have* to say something, please use a little common courtesy. We wonder what's become of the world, what's become of the kids today. Is it really that surprising, given that most of us are surrounded by rudeness and disrespect on a daily basis?

Be nice. Whatever happened to the Golden Rule? Actually, I prefer the Silver Rule: Do not do unto others what you would not have them do unto you. (Just because you like something doesn't mean everyone else will, too.) And then, of course, there's Thumper's maxim...

Now, as I begin to climb down from my soapbox, let me say that I do believe there are situations where it is entirely appropriate to give an unsolicited opinion. In some cases it should even be encouraged. But in general, on a daily basis, and especially when dealing with strangers, just keep your mouth shut. Do you really think that Madison Young is going to read your crude comment and think, "OMG, she's right! What am I doing to my baby? Curse my unsanitary breasts. I'm never going to feed my baby in a restaurant again!" You wanna believe that breast milk is a toxic waste dump of bacteria and disease? Or compare breastfeeding in public to peeing or pooing in public? Go right ahead. Just do it silently...to yourself...over there...

A moment of sadness...

2011-08-15T15:32:00.005-05:00

There are so many times that family is a mystery to me: the way we interact with each other, or don't, as the case may be; the way we talk about each other to other family members, to friends, and to strangers; the way we can love or hate unconditionally; the way we can love, but not like. Some days I wonder how I came to survive my family for this long. Today is one of those days.

As many of you know, we're going to be doing some genetic testing with Margaret next week. (It was supposed to be in two weeks, on Madylin's birthday, but something came up with the doc, so they rescheduled. I should be happy, I guess, that we'll be getting the results that much sooner, but part of me is nervous because they moved it up.) As part of the previsit paperwork, we have to gather a comprehensive family medical history. After looking at the history that I've gathered so far, it's really a wonder that we're allowed to procreate at all.

There's quite a list of conditions, etc. that they ask about. Somethings I know without having to ask, but there's always the chance that someone has or had something that's not obvious or common knowledge. So I've been making the rounds through phone and email, trying to find out what's wrong with everybody. It's been quite sobering, and not just from the medical standpoint.

There is one relative who has refused to respond. I have made numerous attempts to contact this person and have explained why I'm asking for the information, though we really didn't want it to get passed along the family grapevine, but all my efforts have been to no avail. I just don't understand it.

I am not a perfect person. I don't like everybody, and I certainly don't like all of my relatives. We've had our issues over the years. Some I know I've offended, and I'm sure there are many more that I don't know about. But no matter how much I disliked, were offended by, held a grudge against, or were angry with any one of them, I'd like to think that, were I in their position, I would not refuse to help in whatever way I was asked. As a matter of fact, there was an occasion several years ago, where a relative with whom I was on less than good terms was diagnosed with fairly advanced leukemia, and I offered to be tested for compatibility in the event that a bone marrow transplant became necessary. (It wasn't, and said relative has been in remission for some time now.)

I think (hope, pray) that all of this will be a moot point in a few weeks. Even in the event that Margaret does have a diagnosis, I'm sure the docs will be able to figure it out without the input of this relative. But really, that's not the point. It's about family, and how, in the end, you should be able to put aside your differences and your hurts (with some exceptions, of course) and do the right thing.

And so, dear relative, for whatever I have done or said or not done or said, I sincerely apologize, from the bottom of my heart. Please let me know what I can do to make it right. It's not about the medical stuff anymore. I've already given up on that. And if there's nothing to be done, if you choose to hold on to your anger, know that, if our roles are ever reversed, I will answer the call if you need me.

The Infant Feeding Project

2011-08-11T22:35:00.002-05:00

So I had this idea not too long ago to make a flow chart of all the ways you can feed an infant. There are so many options, and, when I was faced with needing some major help with Margaret, there are a lot that I wish had known about. Even the things I did know about, like cup feeding or supplemental nursing systems, were so unfamiliar to me, and I didn't know if they would even be worth the effort. What if they weren't meant for situations like mine?

The more I thought about my experience with Margaret, the more I wished that there had been one place that I could go, that had as much practical information about the ways I could have fed her as possible. Something that I could have browsed through quickly and said, OK, I'm breastfeeding, but Margaret's not transferring milk efficiently, so we need to supplement for a little while, but I don't want to use formula. What's the best option? Thus the idea for the infant feeding flow chart was born.

I've asked my friend Sue to collaborate on this with me, but I thought that it would also be good just to ask other mothers, care providers, birth professionals...basically, anyone who has anything to do with feeding a baby...how did you do it? How have you seen it done? What have you heard about?

We hope that this will be an invaluable resource to anyone and everyone who has children, works with children, takes care of children, or interacts with children in any way. Thank you for your input and for your help in making the world a more informed place to be.

A Message from Margaret on Her Birthday

2011-08-10T17:28:00.003-05:00

Today I'm one year old. I'm happy and healthy. I love playing with my brother and sisters. I have an amazing laugh. I'm getting close to thinking about walking. If I'm hungry for some breast milk when you pick me up, I do this little arm tuck thing to let you know. But I almost wasn't able to do or be any of those things.

I'm alive today because a wonderful person helped me to start breathing. I am so grateful, and I wish I could shout my thanks from the rooftop (or maybe just from the crib upstairs), but I can't because a bunch of men that my mommy and daddy have never met and who don't even know who we are said that I should have been born in a hospital where Mommy and Daddy would have had to follow a bunch of rules and the doctors and nurses would have taken me away and done a lot of tests on me. Or they could driven a long way to something called a birth center. But I came so fast that we wouldn't have made it. Can you imagine what would have happened if I had been born in the car? And if they didn't like either of those options, then those men said that we should have just been at home alone.

Mommy and Daddy didn't like any of those options. They looked at *all* the options out there, not just the ones that those men said were ok, and they choose the one they thought was best for us. I'm sure glad my mommy and daddy are so smart. Maybe some day someone will convince those men that everybody else's mommies and daddies are pretty smart, too.

Here's to the silver lining...

2011-08-08T23:54:00.003-05:00

In the spirit of continuing to free myself from my past, I'm going to share something intensely personal, knowing that it will be available to anyone, anywhere, and that they can do with it what they please. In some ways, I'm nervous for lots of people to read this; in other ways, I hope they do. But I probably should just get on with it, and then you'll see what I mean.

When I was young (I honestly don't remember how old, but I know that I was less than 6), I was molested by a male babysitter. His name was Patrick. He went to our church, he came from (we thought) a good family, yada yada. My parents found out because I said something to them about it. They were horrified and went straight to his parents, who called me a liar and insisted that their son would never do such a thing. I don't remember what happened after that. Actually, I don't remember the confrontation part either. I just know it happened from talking with my parents.

None of this is particularly out of the ordinary, as far as tales like this go. I'm not here to tell you that you should talk to your kids about good touching vs. bad touching, although you should. I'm not here to tell you to do your research, get references, maybe even do background checks on your perspective caregivers, although you should do that, too. I'm here to tell you how my story is different. Patrick didn't touch me, at least not that I remember and not that I told my parents. He had me touch him. It was almost 30 years ago, and there's a particular instance that I still remember like it was yesterday. I don't think it ever occurred to my parents that anyone would think about molesting a child in that way. And I know I'm not the first or the only child for that to happen to, but even right now as I'm sitting here writing, I can't think of a single story similar to mine that I've heard anywhere.

So, know that, if you suspect something might be going on between your child and a caregiver, there are lots of possibilities. With Noah, if you're looking for a particular response from him, you have to phrase it just so, or he doesn't get it. If your child is that way, too, asking if so-and-so touched him/her isn't necessarily going to prompt him/her to tell you what's going on. Get help from a counselor, teacher, pastor...an adult that your child trusts. Better to apologize for worrying someone over nothing than to allow something to continue because you didn't ask the right questions. My parents didn't know, but I do, and so does my husband, and now, so do you.

Dear blog, I have not forgotten you.

2011-08-07T01:19:00.002-05:00

I've just been busy this past week catching up on laughter and smiles and warm fuzzies. Matt says I'm making up for all the happiness I've missed over the past eight years.

I don't know what's changed. The only thing that I've really done differently is start taking moringa several times a day to help with my milk supply. It's packed with all sorts of nutritional goodies, at least according to the sites I've read, and I do wonder if maybe I've had some sort of vitamin deficiency or something along those lines and the moringa has filled the gaps. Matt doesn't think so, but what does he know.

(Maybe) coincidentally, things seemed to change after I talked with my dear friend last week, a wonderfully enlightening, encouraging, and freeing conversation. Perhaps, in throwing the immense weight of pumping guilt off my shoulders, some of my other burdens got knocked off as well.

Whatever the reason for my about-face, I am intensely grateful. I have laughed out loud more in the last seven days than I have ever laughed quite possibly in my entire life. I've gotten more accomplished, mentally and physically, and none of it has seemed like a chore. I just feel normal, and not depression normal, like "This is just the best that I'm ever going to be able to do.". I mean *normal* normal. I'm just going about my life the way I should be, not dragging myself along, berating myself for not doing more. In all honesty, I sort of wonder how I even managed to survive this long...

On that note, I will take my leave of you for tonight, my dear blog. Rest assured that I have not forgotten you. We'll meet again tomorrow to continue our discussion of all things pumping. Until then, take a moment just to sit and smile. I know I am.

On Guilt and Pumping

2011-08-01T21:26:00.003-05:00

I spoke with a dear friend yesterday about guilt. Well, we talked about other things, too, but guilt was definitely a main topic. Guilt has affected so many decisions I've made as a mother. Guilt, fear, anger, sadness, worry...And while I am responsible for the decisions I make and the way I chose to react to a given situation, I can't help but wish that those who may not hold the responsibility, but who certainly have an effect on the situation, understood just how much damage their words can do.

Those who know my story with Margaret will have heard these words many times, I'm sure. How I wish that people, doctors in particular, understood what it does to a mother when they question her ability to properly care for her child. When Margaret was a few weeks old, her ped threatened me if I didn't agree to supplement. I won't get into the details of why that happened; you can read about that whenever I get up the nerve to post the introduction section of my Pumping Pages. For the purposes of this post, the important thing is that hearing those words, "If she hasn't gained weight by Monday, I'm going to have to step in and do something.", triggered all those negative emotions and started a big spiral that led me to the world of EP. I might have still ended up here if I had kept my wits about me, but I think I would have felt better about it, differently at least.

In an effort to absolve myself of the negative emotions I feel about pumping for Margaret, I thought I'd examine each one and how to applies to my situation, how it may or may not be appropriate, and how I might have avoided it. First on the list is guilt.

Guilt: feelings of culpability especially for imagined offenses or from a sense of inadequacy.

Well, that definitely applies. I feel immense guilt and have almost from the moment Margaret was born. Again, no details on all that here yet, but as far as feeding-related guilt...I should have done more. I should have asked one more person, made one more phone call, sent one more email, driven further, been more patient, taken more time, looked at one more website, read one more book. I should have done something sooner. I should have waited. I shouldn't have been so selfish, stubborn, clueless. I shouldn't have let him intimidate me. I should have said no.

But, as my dear friend pointed out, I made the best decision in the moment with the information I had. The guilt doesn't change what happened. It might help me to make better decisions the next time. Hopefully, it will. But right now, which, as my father said in a comment on my very first post, is all we really have, my guilt only serves to rob Margaret of me.

Borrowing from my father's comment again, and paraphrasing a bit, Past-Me, the me that sat in the doctor's office, listening to those awful words; the me that chose to pump instead of give artificial milk; the me that stopped finger feeding because I realized that I wasn't responding as quickly to my child anymore; the me that finally decided that I'd tried enough...that me is a child of the time into which she was born. Now-Me is a different person. Now-Me might makes the same decisions, perhaps for different reasons. She might make different decisions. I'll never know, of course. But there is one very important decision that she can make in *this* moment: Let go.

Finally, as my wonderfully wise friend said, I may not have made all the right decisions, but Margaret is going to be ok because she is loved. And I'm going to be ok, too, because I'm loved. I can't give her a perfect mother, but I can give her myself, and I'm learning to be at peace with that.

Pumping on the Brain

2011-07-29T21:05:00.004-05:00

Taking a break from my Pumping Pages today. The next section gets into the reason I'm EPing, and I'm not quite yet up to talking about it here on the blog, the most permanent of all methods of writing, available in the blink of an eye to anyone and everyone the world over. Not ready to be an international failure, I suppose. (Kidding...mostly...) Definitely not in the mood for any flaming or any of those list makers. (See the post Decisions, decisions... for an explanation of why I don't care to deal with the list makers.)

But of course, I still have pumping on the brain. I was talking with my mother the other day about whether or not to keep pumping, and she asked something that I really wasn't sure how to answer. She got to it in a roundabout way and didn't ask this specifically, but she basically said, What's the point of continuing to do something that's both emotionally and physically stressful for me, when Margaret can get as much or more nutrition from other sources at this age?

Now, I know that there's no point at which breast milk becomes devoid of nutrients or loses its health benefits. But with my other children, nursing at this age was mostly about the connection, the bonding, the break in the middle of the day, the calm moment when I got to just be for a little while.

But I don't have that connection with Margaret; I still remember the first time I realized that my letdown no longer responded to Margaret's cries, but responded instead to the sound of the pump. Most times now, Margaret's not even in the room with me when I'm pumping, and if she is, it's certainly not calm because she's grabbing at the pump bottles, trying to climb on me, and kicking them off once she's there. It's not a break. How can you call stopping life to do something you hate a break? Bonding...maybe when she was new and I could hold her and feed her while I pumped, or even when she was a little older and I could lay her head in my lap, but not anymore.

Nursing mothers often speak of their breastfeeding relationship, but I don't really have an equivalent. A pumping relationship? If there is one, it's certainly not with Margaret. Can you really have a relationship with a piece of equipment? I suppose there's *something* there. My body's responding to something, but is that enough to qualify? Without that relationship, without that connection that I had with the others, I'm kinda left in the lurch.

I was lucky with Noah and Ruby. We kept going until they were ready to move on. I was mostly ready, too, but not enough to initiate weaning myself. I was sad at first, but I was ok with it. With Madylin, it wasn't really my choice, and if I had it to do over, I would definitely change things because I know better know. But I didn't then. We moved from Ohio to Alabama right before her first birthday. She spent the week with my mother while Matt and I wrapped things up. Nobody told me that I should have started pumping weeks ahead to make sure that I had enough milk stored up for her to have while we were apart, and by the time I realized, I was so stressed that there just wasn't much to pump. Arguably the worst method of weaning on the planet, and I do still feel guilty about it. But I didn't know.

On a side note, I just read an incredible quote on guilt. I'm clipping it here to suit my purposes, but it doesn't change the meaning in any way, just cuts out an irrelevant component. (I'll include the complete quote at the end of the post.)

Guilt, like a liquid, a thin liquor, seeping everywhere, informing everything, saturating the whole - corrosive, like seawater - Simon Mawer, The Gospel of Judas

Quite right, I think, at least in my current situation...maybe especially in my current situation. A large part of the reason I can't make a decision about whether or not to continue pumping is guilt. I failed to establish a successful breastfeeding relationship, so I must do the penance of pumping until...who knows when. (Actually, Fr. Don did tell me once during confession that he wasn't going to give me any penance because what I was doing was penance enough.) But, as John Adams said, "Great is the guilt of an unnecessary war." And while I know he wasn't talking about anything even close to what I'm dealing with, I still think his words apply. I'm fighting pumping, but maybe I don't have to. Maybe, if I can forgive myself, or even accept that there may not be anything to forgive...maybe then pumping won't feel like such a burden. Maybe I should take a note from Victor Hugo's page: The guilty one is not he who commits the sin, but the one who causes the darkness. Not that I think pumping is a sin, but as a reminder that I didn't start the downward spiral. Of course, I take responsibility for my decisions, but I wasn't the one who caused there to be a decision to make. If that makes any sense...

Anyway, back to the main point...So there's no connection, at least on my part. What about Margaret? Does she have a relationship with the bottle? With what's in it? Will she be upset if she doesn't get breast milk anymore? I don't know. I wish I could say. There are days when nothing else seems to satisfy her, when she refuses everything else. But, as my mother mentioned, is that maybe because she has my milk available? Don't think that she's anti-breastfeeding, though. I saw it more as playing Devil's advocate, trying to help me see all sides of the situation. In fact, my mom has been very supportive. I think it just hurts her to see me hurting.

And now I'm back to where I was when I started this whole blog in the first place, too many questions rolling around in my head and not a clue how to answer them.

Finally, for those who may be interested, here is the full Simon Mawer quote:

Grief and guilt. A powerful combination. Guilt like a liquid, a thin liquor, seeping everywhere, informing everything, saturating the whole - corrosive, like seawater, scented with the rich stench of ordure and corruption, and carrying with it hard, abrasive shards of grief.

On that note I say good night to you all. May your minds be more at peace than mine.

Pumping Pages - Individuality

2011-07-27T23:13:00.004-05:00

I'm not an expert. I'm just a mom who was booby-trapped, and, instead of formula, I opted to pump. As Stephanie says in her note on individuality, I'm just telling you what's worked for me, or what didn't, as the case may be. I hope that my experience will provide some guidance and support to other mothers who find themselves in situations similar to mine, but that's all it is: guidance, support, opinion. What works for me may not work for you, and what didn't work for me may be the very thing you need. Sometimes the first thing you try is exactly what you should be doing for your unique situation. Sometimes it takes a little trial and error. Sometimes it takes a lot of trial and error. All that to say, every mother-baby pair is different and unique unto themselves. Take what you read here, do some research, and consider your options. And then go write your own blog about *your* experience, so that someone else can benefit from it, just as you've benefited from mine.

AdSense

2011-07-26T20:03:00.000-05:00

I decided to monetize my blog. (Who knows? Maybe it will go viral, and I'll make tons of money.) I may have to reevaluate that decision, however, as bottle and formula ads keep popping up. I'm going to keep it in place for now, but please know that I do not necessarily endorse, recommend, support, etc. any of the products or services advertised, nor can I control which ads are displayed. Thanks for understanding.

Pumping Pages - Warning and Disclaimer

2011-07-26T11:50:00.000-05:00

Before I get into the main subject of this post, I have to say that I really think it's sad that there has to be a disclaimer in the first place. When did we lose the ability to make common sense decisions? And when did we become a society that can't always trust the advice of its elders? Sad, really...

OK, I'm not a medical professional. In fact, I'm not any kind of professional, at least not yet officially. (Too bad there's no professional mom.) What I write here is my personal experience, along with information I have gathered from different sources. I've done my research and decided what's best for me and my family. You should do the same.

If you have concerns or questions, I'm happy to offer my advice and opinions, but ultimately what you choose to do is your responsibility. (Read I am not responsible or liable for any outcome caused, or alleged to have been caused, directly or indirectly by the information and anecdotes posted on this blog.) If you think you need medical or other expert assistance, please seek it out. And of course, you should always check with your healthcare provider before taking any course of action that may affect you or your baby.

Finally, I'll end with a lovely piece of advice that we affirm at the start of every LLL meeting: Take what applies to you, and leave the rest behind. No two mother/baby pairs are the same, so not everything I say here will be relevant to you and your situation. If it doesn't sit well with you, that's probably a sign that you shouldn't do it.

(I think that's it. Hope I covered all my bases...)

Pumping Pages - Acknowledgments

2011-07-25T20:58:00.000-05:00

So we start off with the acknowledgments. Apologies in advance to those that I forget to name.

Auburn and Sue, my LLL leaders: You have been a constant source of support. It's a good thing we don't keep official group statistics, because I feel like I'd be dragging us down on that front. In spite of the fact that things haven't worked out the way I had hoped, you've always been there with a kind and encouraging word; a much needed hug; a funny, empowering, or thoughtful comment just when I needed it most. I have taken advantage of so many of the resources that you help to make available to our group. I hope that my experiences will serve as a new resource and that, with your help, I can help other mothers avoid the same traps that I fell into.

Allyson, Anna, Amy (all three of you), Ashleigh, Becky, Candace, Emily, Emma, Erin, Jackie, Joanna (both of you), Leighanne, Lindsey, Lisa, Monique, Sarah, Summer, Taniya, Tara, Tiffany, Wendy, and all the LLL group ladies, friends, and family that I may have forgotten (probably because you're not on Facebook, which means you probably won't be reading this anyway): Thank you a million times over for all the kind words, support, encouragement, hugs, sympathy, help, postpartum meals, offers to pump, and, most importantly, all the time you've spent just listening. I wouldn't be where I am now without strong women like you.

TBA, my pregnancy and labor support team: Without you, there wouldn't be a Margaret to worry over. Thank you for always believing me and believing in me.

Eric, Gregg, Jonathan, and Jason: Thank you for your support, even in the times that you didn't know what to say. I know you love me anyway.

Matt, my husband, my soul mate, my better half: Thank you for putting up with me and for loving me, especially on my worst days. Veggies!

And finally, my dear children, Madylin, Noah, Ruby, Sofia, Margaret, James, those who might be one day, and those who might have been: Without you, I would never have known the intensity of motherhood, the joys, the sorrows, the laughter, the heartache, and the love like no other. You make me proud.

Pumping Pages - How It All Started

2011-07-25T00:06:00.000-05:00

It seems that information and anecdotes about pumping in general, and exclusively pumping in particular, are sorely lacking in my little sphere of influence. I only know one other mother who EPed, and that was due to a medical issue. But she's moved away (I miss you dearly, J, even though I'm horrible at keeping up regular communication...), so, as far as I know, I'm it for the area.

So I'm going to attempt to do something I've been thinking about for a while. I have a wonderful book on EPing, called Exclusively Pumping Breast Milk, by Stephanie Casemore, which was ordered for me and offered on extended loan by my fabulous LLL leaders, Sue and Auburn. My plan is to go through the book a few sections at a time and just share what my thoughts and experiences have been: what I've done, what I haven't tried and why, what's worked, what hasn't, how I've felt about it all. Who knows? Maybe it'll be worth something one day. :)

And now, off to do a bit of laundry, get Margaret in bed, build my nest at the desk, and then crack open my book...

An ongoing collection of Facebook status posts on the funny, embarassing, baffling, and just plain weird things my kids say and do

2011-07-24T15:15:00.002-05:00

Ah, the joys of motherhood...The kids had grits for the first time in a long time today, and I got to resurrect the wonderful story of the most amazing breakfast dish: sliced grits, picked fresh from the tree.

Latest development in the story of Cat the cat, aka Stumpy the Nub (and please don't think we sit around talking about body parts all day)...Madylin: And he has testicles on his eyeballs! Me: So he has eye balls? Madylin: Yes... with testicles on them.

I was in the bedroom, working on laundry when I hear...Noah: Mom, may I please go into the kitchen and get some water? Me: Did you put your clothes back on? Noah: Yes. Me: Did you put *your* clothes back on? Noah: Yes.

I just finished vacuuming up an entire box of cheerios and a bag of dill pickle chips. As I turned off the vacuum, I noticed that Madylin and Ruby's clothes were in a little pile at the bottom of the stairs, and as I was turning around to see what they were doing, I heard Madylin say, "Hey, Ruby! Let's see if I can play the recorder with my butt!" Points to me for not *breaking* the recorder *on* her butt.

Madylin: Come on, Ruby! Run! Quick, like a bunny! ... No, like a fast bunny!

So tonight the kids made up their own bedtime story (actually an embellishment of a family joke) about a boring cat named Cat, or Stumpy the Nub, who sat around on his nubs and gummed dirt and waited for his owner to pour water into his mouth, while swishing his tail nub, listening with his ear stumps, smelling with his nose hole, and twitching his whisker stumps. Should I be afraid?

Madylin: Where's Easter Island? Me: Way out in the middle of the ocean. Madylin: Near Canada?

Me: Madylin, you realize that tomorrow we're starting the new system, and that you would have lost your no fighting card for pinching Noah? When are you going to learn not to hurt other people? Madylin: Tomorrow...

The kids are watching Matt shoot fireworks, which they apparently associate with pirates, for some reason, because they're singing their version of What Shall We Do With a Drunken Sailor: Booyah the Butchy Ride. (Don't ask. I have *no*clue...)

Ominous start to the day: "Mom, wake up! I have dead flies in my hair!"

Last craziness from the mouths of the Myers children for today...Madylin: Hey, Mom, what are those two things under Noah's peely (penis; his creation, not my suggestion)? You know, that look like two brains? Me: Noah: They're inside the thing that looks like a butt. You know, my scrootum.

A day of 'Doh!' from Noah...Me: Please bring me the pump bottle from the living room. Noah: Are you talking to me? Me: Is there anyone else in the room besides you and me? Noah: No. Me: So do you think I'm talking to you? Noah: I don't know. Me: Who else would I be talking to? Noah:

Noah: Mommy, Mommy, Mommy! So I went in the kitchen, and I saw ants on the ant thing, and I said [whispered] "bingo".

Noah: Madylin, come up stairs! There's something I want to throw at you! Me, to myself: It better not be poo. If it's poo, I think I'm going to cry.

Apparently it's Random Spontaneous Nakedness Day at the Myers house.

Madylin says we have too much money, so Matt should stop working. Would that it were true...

Out of the mouths of babes...Noah had to stand in the corner, and when he came out I explained that he had to do it because he was being disrespectful. He stood there for probably 30 seconds, with his eyebrows knit and eyes darting around, and finally looked at me and said, "I don't know what I'm supposed to say."

And in a continuation of our earlier conversation, Madylin just asked if she could touch Chicken Boo's technicals...

Sitting quietly with the kids, petting Chicken Boo...and then The Question...Madylin: Mommy, what's that? Me: That's Chicken Boo's scrotum. Madylin: No, inside. Me: His testicles. Madylin: What are testicles? What does he do with them? Me: They are part of his reproductivesystemheymargaretneedsadiaperchangebringmeadiaperplease. Madylin, what are you doing? Madylin: Looking for my Charlie Brown [encyclopedia] books. Me: Why? Madylin: I want to read about testicles.

Madylin asked to learn a tongue twister, so I started to teach her the Peter Piper one, but she got slap happy in the middle of learning, and we ended up with Peter Piper pood on his peppers, and Peter Piper went to Buddha Buddha. Ruby's joined in and is now walking around the house saying, "Pepper is booty booty. Peter peckal pick."

Ummm...just got everyone in the car, went to buckle Ruby, & discovered she didn't have a diaper on. I know she had one on when we left the house...

Bathroom deep cleaning done. I defy you to find anything not sparkling and in its proper place in this bathroom. I might even actually eat off the...Nevermind, Noah just went in to pee.

The kids have been "cleaning" the living room all afternoon, and every time Noah comes to tell me that it's clean, I call Madylin and ask her. She's said no every time, so I tell them to go back and keep cleaning until they can both agree that it's clean. Here's what I just overheard Noah say: I don't feel like cleaning anymore. I'm going to go tell Mom that it's clean, and when she calls and asks you, you say yes, ok?

So here's a new one for me...Noah's upset that Daddy is bigger than he is, and I don't mean taller...

So...Madylin came in with a paper grocery bag and told me that she needed me to make her some armor because she had seen a ghost in the dressing room. I told her that I knew of an even better protection: aluminum foil hats. She wanted some for her shoulders also, but I told her that, when she sees a ghost, a force field will come out of the point and surround her body. The other three had to have matching hats, of course...

Madylin's doing mad libs. It's hilarious to watch her read them when she's finished. She pauses, looks up, and laughs whenever she reads a filled-in word.

No, Noah, the cat does not have furry marshmallows in his butt. And no, you absolutely cannot pick them off.

Tornado siren is sounding, but nothing from the weather radio, although that didn't stop Madylin from running into the room shouting, "Tornado! Tornado! Quick, everyone panic!"

You know those kids at the Easter Vigil who have to pee every 5 minutes or smack loudly and blow raspberries during the most serious parts of the service or pitch a fit because they aren't allowed to lay on the floor under the pew or"whisper" during the prayers that they're thirsty? Yeah, they're all mine.

I was combing Ruby's hair last night when I heard Noah shout from the bathroom: "Excuse me! I just farted in the bathtub!"

Decisions, decisions...

2011-07-23T22:51:00.000-05:00

Two and a half weeks until Margaret's first birthday, and I should be worrying over party plans and a guest list, but, in all honesty, I haven't given it the first thought. I didn't even realize that it was that close until just now. Not like I don't have a ton of other things to worry about, and now I get to add to that guilt for, not only not throwing a huge party, but not even realizing that I have less than three weeks to not throw a party. Go me...

(Wait...that was a pity party. That counts, doesn't it?)

But what's really been on my mind lately, and even more than usual, believe it or not, is pumping. How long do I keep going? With breastfeeding, I always said that I would nurse for a year and then continue for however long we both wanted to. I made it just shy of a year with Madylin and then to 15 or 16 months with Noah and Ruby. But by that time, they were only nursing a couple of times a day: first thing in the morning, before bed, and maybe before nap. It wasn't a big deal to continue.

Pumping is different, especially post supply scare. I'm doing ok supplywise right now; Margaret's getting at least two 10 oz bottles a day, usually spread over three or four points in the day, and I've even been able to put some away. But it's nowhere near the quarts per day I was getting even three months ago. And it also doesn't match up with my pump schedule. (I'm pumping way more often than she's feeding.) If my supply were what it was, I'd have no problem doing some intense pumping for a couple of weeks to stock the freezer. Then I could put away the pump and use the stash and not think another thing about it because it would last her for a couple of months at least. Heck, she'd probably end up being the one who got my milk the longest.

But I can't do that now. To maintain my current supply, which is just enough most days, with some extra occasionally, I have to pump for half an hour, every four hours (yes, around the clock), plus I drink a quart of milk tea most days. (I don't forget; I have a tea schedule, which includes a day off.) I have just enough, and I should be grateful for that. There are those who don't have enough, or don't have any. For a while, *I* didn't have enough. I cried the day I used the last bag of milk in the freezer. Now I've got enough again, and it's such a relief in some ways, but that doesn't make it any less taxing, physically or emotionally.

And as much as I have worked to overcome the immense guilt I feel for not standing up to the ped and refusing to give Margaret a bottle, I am surrounded by mothers and health professionals (I'm look at you, Dr. Jack Newman...) who are more than happy to spout a list of drawbacks, disadvantages, and even harms caused by bottlefeeding, regardless of what's in the bottle or how it's given. Not that they're all negative, mind you. They're also eager to detail the benefits of breastfeeding that I'm failing to provide for my child, said benefits, of course, being available solely through breastfeeding.

Please don't misunderstand. I also have a wonderful group of dear friends who are incredibly supportive. Not one of them has ever made me feel like I'm harming Margaret in any way, or even putting her at a disadvantage, by not breastfeeding. But none of them are in my place either. And all the support in the world can't take away all the weight on my mind or the demands on my body.

Once again, I sound ungrateful. I'm not. I love my friends. I certainly wouldn't have made it this far without them. Any one of them would do whatever they could to help. All I have to do is ask. I've even had a couple offer to pump for us. But the fact remains that I am Margaret's mother, and I bear the ultimate responsibility. I have to deal with the consequences. Which brings me back around to me initial question: How long do I keep pumping?

I so wish this were a cut-and-dry issue, but there are so many factors to consider. Well...there are so many factors that *I* consider. First off, there's no mutual relationship to evaluate. I pump, and she gets a bottle. In some ways, the two are totally unrelated. I used to be able to pump while feeding her, but she's too big and squirrelly now, so there's not even a time connection anymore. Plus, she could get the bottle from anyone.

So which one of us takes priority? That's the big thing. I was raised to believe that you sacrifice everything for your kids. But (and don't think I mean to pump myself to death) is it really helping them to do something that causes you harm? I don't always hate pumping, but I'm not ever thrilled about it anymore. I used to be, back when I could get 18 oz first thing every morning. I'm not even really neutral about either. I seem to move between "Ugh, time to pump. At least I get to sit down and read for a bit." and "If I don't do this, I will be a complete failure as a mother." I already failed at breastfeeding; I can't fail at pumping, too. And this may be my last chance. I don't know if we'll have any more children. If Margaret *is* the last one, I'm not sure that it wouldn't haunt me to know that I could have pumped longer and didn't. Those are the really hard days.

And then there's Margaret. She's happy, she's healthy, she's growing (finally), she's doing all the things she supposed to do...for now. But we do the genetic testing next month. It may come back with nothing at all. But if there is something, what if continuing to get my milk will help? With my supply the way it is, once I stop pumping, I don't think I'll be able to get it back. And if I say that I'll pump until we get the results, what if there *is* something? Then what?

And back in the realm of the (slightly) more logical and concrete...As much as I hate to hear all those people with their breast-is-best-bottles-are-bad lists, there is truth to what they say. I've robbed her of the particular bonding that can only develop at the breast. I've screwed up her brain and eye development by not remembering to switch the arm I hold her in every time she gets a bottle. She'll be slackjawed and toothless due to subparmandibular
developmentcausedbythelessthanidealmouthandtongueplacementandsuckingskills
encouragedbyuseofartificialnipples. (OK, not really the last part...and probably not the second part, or at least not noticeably so...but definitely the first part...)

I do realize that this is where my depression kicks it up a notch, by making it extremely difficult to get off the what if train of thought. However, the fact is that Margaret hasn't received all the benefits of breastfeeding, because she didn't breastfeed for a significant period of time. Do I owe it to her to continue pumping and providing her with breastmilk for longer than I would normally breastfeed to compensate? *Would* it even compensate? Not on the emotional front, I know, but...

So that's where I'm at. No closer to a decision, and now anyone reading this will think I'm a nutjob...if you don't already, that is. Speaking of readers, if there are any, I'm not fishing for praise. I'm not looking for anyone to tell me what a great job I've done/am doing. I'm just frustrated and uncertain and not terribly optimistic and hoping that maybe there's someone out there that has the answer or can at least point me in the right direction.