Amberism

Adventures not about boobs, but babies are mentioned

Last weekend and part of the previous week, we went up to Mt Washington to cross-country ski, snow-shoe and just get out of town. Steve was supposed to run a race on the Sunday in Comox but unfortunately he caught the cold the kids had and we ended up heading back to town a day early. Damn colds.

The trip was still fairly successful. Callum was a champ, and slept in his room without any trouble and had a lot of fun entertaining our friends who had come up with us. Claire was sick, so was ultra-sucky, but she was fine if we were outside and keeping her snuggled and entertained. Unfortunately she slept badly which meant I slept badly.

On Friday we took the kids snow-shoeing and rented Callum a pair so he could give it a go. That went over BADLY, he screamed the entire time we were strapping him into the snow-shoes and then kept yelling “Stuck Mama! Stuck! Help Mama!” when he tried to lift his feet. It was a adorable, but in the end he got to go in the backpack like Claire. I think that is where we made our mistake, we took the backpack out of the car and he LOVES the backpack, so once he saw it he had his heart set on being in the backpack.

We did about 4 km with the kids on our back, headed to the lodge for lunch and then it started snowing like mad. We took the kids into town where we met up with my Mom, she took the kids, and Steve and I went back up the mountain. By the time we got there, it was spectacular out. We did another 6 or 7 km and were the only people out there, the sun was shining, the snow perfectly crisp, it was just incredible.

Snow-shoeing is a lot more fun than cross-country skiing too. I am all keen to buy the whole family snow-shoes now!

Sunday, since Steve was all sick and mopey Mom and I took the kids out to Fanny Bay to see the Sea Lions, and then stopped at another beach that was crowded with seagulls. Snow-to-sea in one weekend, I'm like that commercial (although I have no idea what the commercial is advertising... which makes it a bad commercial. Is it a car?).

(you'll just have to believe me when I tell you those random black lumps are sealions. I don't own a digital SLR with a zoom lens... One did come up to the shore, but I missed getting its picture!)

Thank you all for the sweet comments on my breastfeeding post, I so seldom post anything of substance, perhaps I will consider doing so more often!

The End of The Breastfeeding Relationship

Claire is now officially weaned. I considered titling this post “What I Won’t Be Doing This Summer” since it was basically all I did last summer. Claire’s weaning had very little to do with her desire to wean, or even my desire to wean, and everything to do with day-light savings. I had been nursing almost exclusively on the days I wasn’t working, until my birthday weekend in Calgary. After that weekend we were only nursing first thing in the morning, which I think Claire was very keen on, but once the time changed it just wasn’t possible with our schedule. I suppose I could have made it work, but she’s almost a year old and the fact that we came this far seemed pretty incredible to me. To be honest, I was tired of “making it work”, I just spent almost a year “making it work”, which perhaps makes me selfish but I’m ok with that, and did I mention she’s almost a year? That right there is enough reason to be okay with the weaning.

For some time I have considered putting together a post about my thoughts on breastfeeding. Mostly my goal is to put it out in the universe that the entire breastfeeding debate or discussion, whatever you’d like to call it, does a pretty good job of making woman feel either superior or inadequate but does little to provide a supportive and understanding cushion for most new mothers. I think that statement rings true for those of us who have a pretty fantastic support system of woman to draw on, too.

I think every soon-to-be Mom understands abstractly that breastfeeding is going to be all encompassing at first, but I don’t think it is made clear that it is more than all encompassing; it is basically ALL YOU DO, besides sleep if you’re lucky, for 6 weeks. The literature suggests that the average babe will nurse every 3 hours for upwards of 45 minutes, so that means out of every 3 hours, an hour of that time you’re nursing. Honestly, if that were true, I may not be at all bitter about the breastfeeding discussion. That sounds utterly manageable to me as it provides two hours where there isn’t a child attached to your breast.

Let me say this – if that was true for you, count yourself incredibly blessed. It certainly was not true for me, or for many women I know. I fed about every 1.5 hours, usually for 40 minutes (at which point, I’d end the session as at NO POINT did either of my children spontaneously stop nursing because they were satisfied) and that meant I’d have anywhere from 45 minutes or if I got really lucky, an hour and half to do everything else. And by everything else I mean change diapers, use the washroom or have something to eat. I don’t mean I was desperate for time to scrapbook or knit, I was desperate for time to pee.

(I should mention, though, that I did all those things anyway because I can tolerate children screaming. In fact, I have a video, possibly two, of my children shrieking like they were being tortured. I am a mean, mean Mommy. Also? My kids don’t cry with enough drama to really cause me to haul ass. I’ve heard other kids cry, and whoa, they have it mastered and in those moments I say a little prayer of thanks that I’m not the mother of the child with The Scream That Ends All Screams).

One important point that is often misrepresented in the breastfeeding discussion is that some women do not make a lot of milk; it doesn’t matter if the latch is perfect, the suck is perfect, or Mom and baby are nursing aggressively to encourage the milk to come in. Some women either don’t produce the hormones required to make copious amounts of milk, or they don’t have large enough storage facilities to provide a satisfactory meal, meaning that the baby wants to nurse again, almost immediately.

I suspect I fall into the former category as I am not an especially hormonal person. At any rate, it was clear from the very beginning that my milk supply was lacking. Even though this was of no fault of my own, I still felt like I was failing and beyond my best friends and family, most of the support out there did a pretty good job at pounding in the Failure nail. I drank weird-ass teas, I took herbal medications, and I took over-the-counter medications. I monitored my water intake, didn’t drink coffee, nursed and then immediately pumped, and then would nurse again, over and over. All per the directions of the health nurses at the breastfeeding clinic. With Claire I was even more determined to make breastfeeding a "success" since it was very likely my last shot at being successful.

During all of that I was made to believe that the nursing relationship was extraordinary. That by nursing I would have an extra special bond with my child and to not nurse would mean I was somehow missing out. That I would never experience the bliss that, apparently, only a nursing mother feels.

BULLSHIT.

I can’t tell you how much that annoys me most of all. More than anything else about this discussion. The bliss a mother feels when holding her infant is not exclusive to nursing mothers. It is called LOVE. You feel love whether your child is breastfeeding exclusively, bottle-fed or some combination of the two and that feeling isn’t any less intense if you’re not breastfeeding. It’s awful enough to feel inadequate and incompetent and selfish if you can’t exclusively breastfeed but let’s throw on another layer of guilt and tell women that they’re missing out on motherly bliss, too. Because God forbid women actually SUPPORT each other.

Not long ago I was at a birthday party and a friend was nursing her son (who is several months younger than Claire yet he’s considerably larger). He nursed for about 10 minutes, was completely satisfied, and unlatched himself. To say I was jealous would be an understatement. I was continually punishing myself for something out of my control, and I have to admit that I now wonder why my friends who have since become new mothers do the same thing. Yet I completely understand why they do. The entire discussion inevitably makes it seem like we’re not trying hard enough.

The point of this post is to expand the discussion, and to hopefully let some new Moms out there know that it’s hard and if it isn’t working for you, if it never works for you, it isn’t because you are somehow more selfish than the woman next to you. Chances are, the woman next you is getting a lot more time to herself, time to use the washroom, time to wash her hair, time to sleep. She might not be getting the time she got before she had children, but she is likely getting more time to herself to allow her to cope. Her child is probably not screaming in hunger 75% of the time, because her child probably isn’t hungry. And if it did work for you, as a Mom, don’t assume that you found some magic formula, that you’re doing it better. The casual remarks are the most hurtful. The remarks like “most woman are capable of making enough milk, usually it’s a problem of latch” or the like, make those of us who are physically not capable of nourishing our children of being somehow stupid, or selfish.

That’s my $1.50 on the subject. Hopefully I’ll return to regularly scheduled blogging soon.

Mama's Dollies

Inspired by Alicia Paulson's Clothe Pin Dolls, a little package of wooden clothe pins and stands I picked up several months ago from a thrift shop, and this tutorial, I decided to make little dollies for all the little girls I know born at the end of March and beginning of April (which is several, including my own little Bear ~sob~).

I had this idea that I'd whip up these gals in an afternoon.

At least I'm always the optimist.

They took considerably longer than an afternoon, and I made numerous mistakes in their construction, only adding to the time it took to put them together. I also had this vague idea I'd sew them entire wardrobes and the girls could then play dress-up with them.

At least I'm always the optimist.

That idea was quickly tossed when I realized that I know absolutely nothing about sewing doll clothes. Hell, I know absolutely nothing about sewing. I am, however, quite gifted with a glue gun.

There is absolutely no way these dolls can be "played with", as I'm pretty sure after one play session they'd be destroyed but they would look pretty on a shelf. A high shelf.

Yet! Cuteness! And, according to Steve, slightly creepy...

While I was on my clothe pin doll kick, I made up some little bunnies for Claire, Callum and their cousins who will be here over Easter. I adore these bunnies. Everything about them, with the exception of the bead-heads, was thrifted. The baskets? Bottle caps wrapped with twine.

These little guys can be played with, and I really don't care if they last. Callum adores them!

Spring is certainly in the air, and there may have been a bit of bunny naughty fun on the beach today. I predict numerous baby bunnies in the coming months...

At least I'm always the optimist :).

(The red and pink dolls are for my god-daughter and are suppose to represent myself and Michelle. The silver doll is for my niece, whose Mommy is blonde, and the blue dolly is for Claire, again to represent me. What? They're my dolls, I can make two that represent me. Shut up. I can. And for some reason, during their entire creation, I thought of you, Suzy :) )

That Sums it Up

This morning Steve got Callum up at about 8:15 am (which for Callum is really 7:15 because 2-year olds? Not into Day Light Savings). Steve brought Callum downstairs and proceeded to change his diaper. Callum FREAKED OUT. He is completely losing it the entire time Steve is attempting to change his diaper. We put him down on his chair for breakfast, while he continues to scream his head off, then he gets up off his chair, stomps out of the kitchen, up the stairs, slams his door and climbs back into bed.

I couldn't agree more with the little guy.