Milk and Donuts

Hello Dear Readers,

Well, Sukie and I went to the office on Monday! I was excited. After Robert was born, I felt guilty for feeling excited to get back to my breadwinning gig. But this time not so much. Perhaps it's because I see now that Robert is doing just great being raised by his excellent (although lactation challenged) father. But I also see quite clearly that I need the balance of the rent gig and the parent gig, and I haven't even felt the need to hide behind the economic necessity nearly as much this time around. I hope other mamas who need to make the donuts as well as make the milk are able to find this peace. Too many of us feel guilty or conflicted about going back to work. Staying home grumpy does not make us better mothers.

I had been mentally cautioning myself not to expect to get too much done, given that I would need to get my bearings again and slog though tons of email. Just to drive the point home, my computer wouldn't speak to my monitor all day, so I got almost nothing done. I enjoyed the cheerful welcome back wishes from my colleagues, though, and participated in our investment committee meeting. And Sukie and I did just fine. Matt brought the kiddos over at lunchtime, since I figured I wasn't getting anything done anyway I might as well nurse Jackie. Wednesday, though, I did yoga on my lunch break. It's absurdly difficult to find 40 minutes and a quiet spot to accomplish this at home in our tiny, crowded (but cozy and joyful!) apartment. So while there is barely enough room in my office for a sun salute, it still works better to do it there.

Copying the genius of my friend and colleague Mama C.C., I have ordered enough spare pump parts to get through a work day without washing any. They aren't all here yet but I am very much looking forward to the convenience of that practice. I'll get some dishwasher baskets too, so I can just toss them all in there at the end of the day and be done with it.

I hope you are all well and calmer than I am in this joyful season. Those who may be concerned that I might forget that "Jesus is the reason for the season" need not worry, as I frequently and fervently pray to get everything done without losing my mind. Also, a happy Hanukkah to those who celebrate, and let me know if you want to arrange a latke-for-gingerbread exchange. And happy Kwanza, happy Yule, happy Solstice (yay longer daylight!) and if I forgot someone please accept my general wishes for a pleasant and peaceful season.

Much love,

Suzi

Frequent Nurser Miles

Hello Dear Boobjuicers and Friends!

We just got back yesterday from a trip to see the in-laws in Indiana. I think my breasts should get their own frequent flyer miles. I mean, they are doing an important service for everyone on the plane by keeping the baby happy. Not sure Delta is going to see it that way. But they get points for the super attentive flight attendant who rushed out onto the jetway to see how he could help, as I wrestled with my behemoth stroller and my 8,000 bags. Recall I had brought Sukie the Breastpump on this trip, in case I wanted to keep up with pumping or needed relief while Jackie was sleeping. Of course Sukie only made it out of her tote bag when the TSA agent in Indianapolis thought she was part of a terrorist plot. Some women might feel similarly about their pumps, frankly. But anyway better to have her along and not need her than the other way 'round. And now that I think about it, it's in everyone's best interest to get the mama with too much stuff and a sleeping baby onto the plane as quickly and efficiently as possible, so maybe the other three flight crews on our trip should take a note from this guy...

In addition to Boobjuice Heroes, I want to share stories of Boobjuice Angels - folks who helped us while we were nursing, rather than other nursing mamas who served as examples. This week's Boobjuice Angel is the nice waitress who saw me poking ineffectively at the chicken strips in my salad with my fork while holding Jackie at the boob, and offered to cut it up for me. "Yes, that would be very helpful, thank you," I said, while I thought, "and thank you for saving me from asking you to cut my food for me, which seemed a little too... something." She quickly and effectively cut it into more manageable pieces while telling me about some nitwit who got all offended with her for nursing her son in a doctor's office waiting room. I tipped well. Got a Boobjuice Angel to tell me about? Leave me a comment!

I had a lovely conversation about breastfeeding this evening with a six year old. She is a colleague's daughter (and amazingly articulate and smart and so cute I want to put her in my pocket, but I don't think she'll fit) and I was nursing Jackie at the end of our Ladies' Christmas Ornament Exchange party. (My ornament, indulgently fetched by my dear husband, was not a hit, but I swapped with this young lady and took it back home - Robert likes it, and now the young lady likes hers better, so that made me happy.) Anyway, Young Lady had questions about how breastfeeding works, did it hurt, how come it was okay to do it in public. She wasn't comfortable using the word breast, but seemed to become more comfortable as we talked more. I hope I was able to be reassuring and make breastfeeding seem more normal for her. We need to figure out how to have young'uns understand how normal and natural breastfeeding is even if they don't have younger siblings/cousins/neighbors nursing around them all the time. I think nursing at an office Christmas party is a good start.

Ugh. I'm tired. I reread this post and it's not a sparkling example of witty prose, but I think it's what I've got in me tonight. Hope you are all well!

Much love,

Suzi

Par For the Course

Hello Dear Boobjuicers and Friends!

Both kids are napping at the same time! I should do the dishes. Or take a nap. So I'll write a blog entry. That makes the sense.

Enjoyed nursing on the Portland Streetcar this morning. Two men were brave and made smiley eye contact. Good on ya, fellas! Then we nursed in the dentist's chair during a cleaning - a bit tricky to be sure but preferable to having Jackie scream the house down. This led me to think once again of wacky nursing locations. I'm pretty sure the dental chair is my wackiest one - share yours with me in a comment! Which led me to think of locations - like blog locations. I'm probably not making the best use of blogger, but I wonder if there is somewhere more interesting to host my approximately twice monthly musings? It would also be fun to have more pages on a website - list of articles, list of places that are boobjuice friendly, topic-specific lists of links, lists of products I've found interesting/helpful. Perhaps I'm just feeling a bit listless... Ugh, sorry. Had to do it.

I have a plugged duct again. Usually these clear up on their own as long as one keeps on nursing, but this one is being stubborn. I've tried hot showers and baths, pumping, and yes, folks, I even managed to self nurse a bit to see if I could clear it. I feel pretty weird admitting that, which means everyone else probably feels even weirder, which means this is yet another subject around nursing which needs to be taken out of the closet and aired out. But anyway it didn't really accomplish anything. I also read at Dr. Newman's site that he has had success with localized ultrasound for clearing blocked ducts. Hm, what is ultrasound? Really high frequency vibrations. What else do we have around the house that vibrates? Suffice to say I don't think it worked. The thing that worked the best was going to bed and nursing side-lying until we both fell asleep. The nursing and the sleeping and the position probably all helped. Next step is some supplement starting with an L that my dear Dr. Rachael suggested. Ooo, I'm very linky today.

Pumping is going pretty well. Sukie and I are getting along. Currently I'm only running her off her internal rechargeable battery to see how long it takes to run it down. I'm planning to bring her to Indiana (visiting the in-laws) on the 8th though, so that experiment may get interrupted. Basically I don't want to go a week without pumping, just to keep supply up. I haven't decided what to do with the collected milk - will probably FedEx it home to my sister to put in the freezer. I've told a lot of breadwinning mamas to do that, so maybe I should try it to see what I'm getting these ladies into. Another possibility is to put it in the in-laws' freezer and Craig's list it for a local mama to pick up. Not sure if she would want to bother for what will probably be 9 ounces, though. Means a lot to me, but if you're going to the trouble of finding a donation and trusting a stranger, you probably want a bigger haul.

Post-partum anxiety is still a rat bastard and should be bitchslapped. I'm trying hypnotherapy. I found the hypnobirthing class did a great job reducing anxiety surrounding the birth, which went great, so why not? I know cognitive behavioral therapy is supposed to be very effective, too, but it sounds like a lot of work, and mamas, I am a busy busy lady!!! So far I like my new therapist, but I've had to bring Jackie each time, so we haven't gotten to the hypno part yet. After this week we'll probably try leaving her at home with Daddy, and the pumped milk stash as a back up. Good practice for going back to work. So I better go through the equipment in the cupboard - I bet all the nipples have aged past usefulness. Silicone is mortal, it would seem.

I go back to work 12/19, for three days a week, and 1/3/12 full time. This seems like an ideal way to ramp back up to the breadwinning. I also have the best boss at the kid-friendliest company on the planet. Okay, maybe not *the* kid-friendliest. But they let me use their dedicated lactation room at my second interview, and they throw an annual Hallowe'en party for the company kiddos. So when I said I wanted a little more leave than what was paid for, NiceBossMan said, "Just put it on the calendar so I know when to expect you." Ooo, which I haven't done yet, oops. Two other local mamas I know are not so lucky - one is going back full time from the get go (although perhaps no one suggested the "start back on a Wednesday" trick?) and the other only gets six weeks. The latter is criminal. The leave, not the mama. She seems very law abiding. But the Family Medical Leave Act promises 12 weeks, although not paid. Perhaps this is a financial decision and 6 weeks is what her company pays for. I can't imagine trying to show up showered, dressed, and coherent at 6 weeks. Tell me your return to work stories, mamas!

Ah, hubby is home. Maybe I'll go try to look useful, or take a nap, or help put groceries away.

Much love,

Suzi

Me and Sukie at the Crack 'o (three hours until) Dawn

Hello Dear Boobjuicers and Friends!

It's 4:45 here in Stumptown, and of course pitch black out. I'm up with the other dairy farmers, pumping and hoping that I get to finish before Jackie wakes up hungry. Okay the other dairy farmers probably aren't worried about the baby cows waking up. And they are probably outside in the chilly air, so really I have it good.

Long-time readers may recall that I named my previous breastpump, a Medela Pump in Style, Bessie. Well, for reasons to be explored in another entry, Bessie has been put out to pasture, and I now have Sukie, a Hygeia EnJoye... something. There's a number after that. But it has an internal, rechargable battery, which is good, because I couldn't find an extension cord this morning to be able to plug it in to the fancy child-proof socket covers that Hubby has diligently installed throughout the living/kitchen/dining/playroom. (I did mention our current apartment is rather... efficient, didn't I?) Anyway, I was tearing around like a madwoman looking for where the heck Hubby has stored the extension cords and getting more and more upset when I realized, hey, this thing is supposed to be able to run without being plugged in. Which it is now doing like a little champ next to me as I type. And I'm sure Matt put the extension cords somewhere very sensible, which is why I can't find them in my anxious pre-pre-pre-dawn state. Or better yet I probably put that one somewhere and forgot. Or Kiddo relocated it to under a cat. Who knows. But the whole thing made me super anxious.

Okay, yes, I have post-partum anxiety and everything makes me anxious. But for some reason pumping tends to make me anxious, even when I'm not as anxious about other things. For Robert, I sort of constantly had barely enough milk in the fridge and freezer, and just when I thought I'd caught ahead, he'd have a growth spurt, or Matt would start feeding him another half ounce in a feeding, and the supply would disappear faster than donuts in an office kitchen. Add to that the 45 minute commute on the LA freeway (45 minutes was in good traffic) and the last round of PPA, and the whole experience was less than spa-like. I think mostly I'm just worried about having enough. It's also sort of unrelaxing that things aren't in a routine yet, I just have to hope that I'll wake up before Jackie's hungry in the morning enough times to collect enough before going back to work. I'm not getting the sort of amounts that I used to get at my early morning pumping sessions, or even that I got when I first started pumping this time. Probably just a normal function of supply waxing and waning, and how long ago I nursed, and being tired. As a "trained peer counselor" I have lots of places to look for ideas on that. But it makes me anxious too. (I hope it's not a difference in the pump... seems unlikely as this thing is working fine and I got more at a couple sessions.)

As much as I like to march around advocating for pumping and working outside the home, I gotta say, it's no picnic, and I totally want to acknowledge that for any other mamas feeling the same way.

I hear Jackie again... better proofread and get things wrapped up here with Sukie.

Much love,

Suzi

A Month Already?

Wow! That went kinda fast. By way of a boobjuice update, Jackie is gaining weight nicely and going through diapers like a champ, so the most important things are all good. But the yeast is still with us. Grrr. Nothing like last kiddo, but not fun. When let down feeling changed from achy to prickly (it's hard to write a blog entry while pointed towards my husband's computer showing The Hulk. Edward Norton is a genius. I swear watching him eat breakfast cereal would be interesting.) Anyway, as I was saying. When I felt prickly I said "oh no you DIDN'T" and called my physician. After discussing my case history with Robert, she said she ordinarily wouldn't skip to fluconazole (diflucan), as being the Big Guns, but given my history, she would be willing to do so. I said I wanted to nip this sucker in the bud before it spoiled all my fun. So guess what I've got? Yep. Seven days into the prescription with a refill for seven more on the way. Not. Messing. Around. Plus I think the topical anti-yeast salve I was using was making my nipples itch. So I switched to coconut oil. I love coconut oil. I use it on baby bottoms, on mama nipples, and there's a really tasty recipe for a spread made out of coconut oil in Hilary Jacobson's Mother Food.

Supply seems to be fine, which is nice. I want to get the pumping going now before my supply calms down from that after birth make milk and lots of it reaction. But I don't want to freeze milk with yeast in it. So I've pumped and dumped a couple times, which sort of breaks my heart, but I'm not getting that much yet anyway. Soon, though, yeast or not, I'll want to start freezing to build a stockpile for my return to work.

And then more broadly - it's easier the second time around, or it has been for us. Some of that is likely just knowing what we were in for. Some of it is being able to relax and enjoy, and having (so far knock wood) a much milder case of post partum anxiety this time to spoil the fun. And Jackie seems like a pretty easy baby so far, although of course she has those afternoon/evening fussy periods where she wants to nurse all the time but won't stay latched on. My midwife suggested putting her in the carrier and going for a walk, so next time we'll give that a shot. Last night when it happened, my brother in law took her and I got to go take a hot bath. Ahhhh.

Which brings me to the biggest thing that is making it easier this time around. Help. My sister and her hubby are in our building. One time when Jackie was about a week old, Cathy came downstairs and just did the dishes. It was the day before my birthday, and that is the best birthday present I've gotten in a while, I must say. Friends have stopped by with food. And I got a birthday check, which I promptly turned around and spent on post partum doula services. This was a stroke of sheer genius. My birth doula also does post partum doula work, so she has been doing most of the hours. She comes over and does dishes or folds laundry or holds the baby so I can take a sitz bath (ah, hemorrhoids...) But she's also a mama and a lactation-friendly source of lots of interesting info on birth and new parenthood. So we can talk about yeast or is this a plugged duct or whatever, and she checks in on me and is smart about what to look out for in a new (again) mama.

If I was composing my first baby registry today, it would have way less stuff, and more services. Lactation consultant, doula services, massage, house cleaning... that's my latest splurge by the way. I am determined that we are going to clean up our own mess on an ongoing basis, but we had gotten far enough behind and are spending so much of our not-holding-a-kid time on laundry that I went ahead and had a service come in once to get us caught up. I figure it will be easier to try to keep it that way than get it that way. Not easy, mind you, but easier.

So that's the haps from boobjuice central over here. In a final note, recently heard from Mama Suzi to her eldest: "That's right. We don't put stickers on Mommy's nipples."

Much love,

Suzi

Not. Messing. Around.

Hello Dear Boobjuicers and Friends!

My little nursling is sleeping (for now) on my lap, and I am typing with my arms awkwardly aloft over her, laptop on my knees. We'll see how long that lasts. I still want to write up a comparison of the care surrounding a hospital birth and a birth center birth. But first I wanted to share some steps I have taken after Jackie's birth to make sure things go as well as they can.

Robert and I had latch challenges, yeast, and post partum anxiety (well me not him on that one) and this time I am determined to nip all that crap in the bud. After Jackie was born it looked to me like her jaw was pulled back a bit, which I suspected was contributing to our latch problems. So I got her some cranial sacral therapy - on her second day of life, in the birth center, from a fabulous woman who came the same day one of the post partum doulas called her. This made an immediate, visible difference in several ways, but we still had latch problems. So I had a lactation consultant come see us on day three, again, still in the birth center. Interestingly, she teaches latching totally differently from the woman I saw in Southern California. Could be a change in standard practice, or regional, who knows. But her way is easier, and is working pretty well now. She also suspected yeast and got one of the midwives to confirm this diagnosis. So I'm on crazy amounts of probiotics, and grapefruit seed extract, and Jackie's on probiotics too. The LC came to my home a few days later for a follow up. This has been tremendously helpful, and we are doing much better.

Then about a week, maybe nine days in, I noticed I'm scared of the balcony again. Smells like post partum anxiety. I am not having this crap this time thankyouverymuch. I immediately called my acupuncturist's office and got a next day appointment. It's helping too, and interestingly, the hypnobirthing techniques really help me to push the crazy thoughts away more effectively than I could before. I also discussed my placenta medicine with him and got dosing instructions. Yes, you read that right. Placenta. As in, I had that thing cooked, dehydrated, powdered, and encapsulated, and I'm swallowing it. "Eeeeew!" right? Well, not to me. Most mammals eat the placenta as sushi right after birth. This is much more innocuous - it actually looks a lot like the grapefruit seed extract capsules. And traditional medicine practices have used it for millennia for post partum anxiety and depression, to boost milk supply, and even to treat menopause. Frankly at this point if someone came up with some studies to show that PPA could be warded off by wearing banana peels in your hair, I'd be happy to give it a shot.

"Geez, Suzi, what did you spend on all this?" Well that's a good point. A non-trivial amount, although the cranial sacral was complementary with the massage that was part of the stay at the birth center (which is SHEER GENIUS). It's more than worth it to me. But then I am in a position to say that. A lot of women in this country don't have the option of just picking up the phone and calling some specialist at the first hint of trouble. And that doesn't feel right to me, particularly in the case of the lactation consultant. Some insurance companies will pay for LCs, and a lot of hospitals offer support in the form of one hopelessly overscheduled RN who is an IBCLC as well. I think we can do better. Every mama deserves a doula, an LC, whatever the heck it takes to ward off PPA and PPD, and a massage. And ice cream. This is one of the many, many ways we can, without guilt-tripping anyone, improve breastfeeding rates in this country, not to mention women's health generally.

Spread the word.

Much love,
Suzi

Jackie's Birth

Hello Dear Readers!

This is a totally unapologetic, no goo censored version of my birthing of my daughter. Uncensored. Meaning don't read it while you are eating. And I've sort of barely proofread it because I need to go pee before my little blessing wants to nurse again! But I wanted to get it written before more time had passed.

Much Love,
Suzi


I woke up with more frequent practice surges, and they felt more like menstrual cramps than their predecessors. After some standard morning routine stuff, I called my doula, Carissa, and described what was going on. She thought they were early labor, but of course that could go on for a while. I said what I wanted to do was go to the grocery store and then have a quiet afternoon, maybe watch a movie. Carissa thought that sounded good, it was a nice morning, and we could check in later.

The surges got a bit more intense while I was grocery shopping, which kept me focused, which is good because I am usually a grocery store dawdler. Not this time, boy howdy. By the time I reached the checkout counter I was needing to belly dance through the surges (subtly, I hope). I of course got the slowest checker in Oregon. By the time I got home I was glad I didn't have to drive anymore. I came in the door (with only the two lightest grocery bags) and said, "I think this baby's coming." Matt leapt into action. I asked him to call Erick to come get Robert, then go get the rest of the groceries (he very wisely put the meat straight into the freezer), and I went off to call Carissa again. Then I called Melissa, my lead midwife. She agreed that it was early labor but pointed out that it could go on for days or even stop. I felt skeptical.

I went to the bathroom, needing to poop, but not able to sit still enough on the toilet to accomplish this task. Cloth diaper mamas are not afraid to poop on a bathmat! Thank heaven. Carissa was getting ready to come check on me, and thankfully I had suggested that she call before actually getting in the car, because by the time she did, I had decided to go to the birth center. Katherine, assistant midwife, asked if we could give them half an hour - "Probably?" the idea horrified me but it probably took that long to get clothes on and get me and the stuff down to the car. A slightly bewildered neighbor held the elevator for us and let us go ahead, probably not wanting to see my water break in the elevator (fair enough!), wishing us good luck. Walking was hard but sort of felt good, in fact moving around felt better than not. The car ride was challenging. I rolled down the window a bit for the air, and Matt got us there in less than ten minutes (LOVE Portland). Apparently I was screaming through surges (well I'll say moaning really loudly) on the ride, too, with said window open. (Um, Hi Portland! We love you…) We pulled up to the birth center and Carissa opened the door. I yelled through another surge and Carissa took my hand and said, "That's the last one you have to do in the car." Hallelujah!

Getting up the stairs to the front door was interesting. We were in a downstairs room, for which I was grateful. I don't remember a lot of the sequence of events from this point. I know I was leaning on the tub, listening to it fill. I remember crawling into the tub. The water was pleasant, but not the Nirvana of Comfort I had built up in my mind (apparently for some mamas it is) and I couldn't really find a position that felt good. I tried a couple, sitting cross legged and leaning on the edge of the tub, laying back on Matt. The surges were very powerful by this point, and I was trying to keep my tone low as I moan/screamed through them. I also did a lot of squeezing Matt's extremities, apparently cutting off circulation to his hand a couple times but mostly favoring forearms and calves. I remember asking if my body could do this without my brain, and being reassured that in fact it would do so better. "Can we take my brain out and put it in the fridge?" I think I asked. Because really, it wasn't that the surges hurt, so much as that they were so powerful and overwhelming that I just wanted to let them happen without having to be present for them mentally. This, of course, is the point of hypnobirthing, but having spent the first five centimeters in Fred Meyer, I missed my chance to really establish that great hypnotic state in which I would be able to let the surges wash over and past me like an ocean wave. But who knew this would go so fast!

So at some point we got out of the tub and tried the toilet, sitting forwards and backwards. Not comfy. So we moved to a birth stool. I don't remember when we started pushing, I think in the tub, but on the birth stool we were PUSHING. I was instructed to pull down with my arms and push through the surges. This felt counter intuitive - I wanted to push up with my arms. Neither way was doing the trick. I felt the baby's head, and then again a while later, and it hadn't progressed since moving to the birth stool. "She's stuck!" I wailed. "She's not stuck." Katherine assured me. "She hasn't moved down any." "Then it's time to change position." They put me in the bed on my back with my knees in the air. This felt MUCH BETTER. it helped the pressure on my back (not like back labor but not yummy), it slowed down the surges a little bit for a while, which was a pleasant rest, and my pushing felt different.

At some point in the tub I had complained that I didn't want to scream any more but it didn't feel voluntary. I tried singing/harmonic chanting through them, which helped some. I tried saying, "yes," to encourage my brain to accept the surges as a good thing (I got this from a home birth mama years ago, felt goofy but helped for a bit). Well, by the time we were in the bed pushing, there were wild banshee screams coming out of me and I had no say in the matter. My throat was getting tired, even though I was sipping Gatorade or water between every contraction. While I was on the birth stool I got hungry (recall I didn't get lunch after the grocery store - thank goodness for that medium decaf mocha freddo I had while shopping!) The midwives offered me food but I found it difficult to believe eating could be a good idea. Wasn't I supposed to be vomiting? So at this on the bed pushing like heck phase I said, "I'm running out of steam." "Then you need to eat." A popsicle was selected as most appealing to me - it was probably the best popsicle I ever ate. Carissa fed me bites between contractions.

The pushing was making progress at this point, and the feeling would change and the reaction of my Birth Posse (Hubby, three midwives, plus doula equals birth posse!) would change to let me know we were getting somewhere. At some point they offered me an oxygen mask, not insisting but suggesting, with which I was happy to cooperate. The decelerations in the baby's heart rate were acceptable but getting more pronounced and I wanted to do anything necessary to help her bounce back as fast as possible. The mask was hot and I didn't like to wear it during surges/pushes, but I put it back on or asked for it back between. This was when "sleep breathing" to let go of the surge became really helpful, the baby's heart rate reacted to my deep breathing fairly immediately. Soon she crowned, and I could feel her head coming out. The stretching became burning, and I felt some tearing. "OUCH!" at the end of push moans. Technique says slow down to let your perineum stretch more and I remembered this but I needed to be DONE and was okay with the discomfort.

Then her head was out! Yay! So why wasn't I done? Well, she was facing to the side. Left side, specifically, which makes sense because sleeping on my right felt best for most of my third trimester. Also, her hand was up by her cheek. So pushing out her shoulders was as hard or maybe harder than pushing out her head. Katherine took her hand and pulled her arm out (I think, I should verify with Matt) and then YAY! There's a warm, gooey baby on my tummy!!! The relief I felt from the surges being done was immense. I had spent a lot of time in the labor telling myself this was just a moment in time, it would be over soon, etc., and here it was, done! Baby! She felt just right resting on my heart where she belongs. The midwives were happy with how she looked and was sounding and everything, and I was over the moon. When the placenta came out I got another big surge (not nearly as big as the ones that got the baby out) and a gush of warm jello-like feeling and liquid, and then that was it. Done. I birthed my baby out my vagina without any meds (which is ONLY because I was in the birth center because I almost asked for them at least a dozen times but the thought of the trip to the hospital stopped me) just like I wanted. Several times during the experience I thought to myself, well if THIS is what I was missing it was silly of me to be so upset about how Robert's birth went! But now I am so grateful for this birth experience. When the midwives told me Jackie was 9 pounds 3 ounces I was astounded. I don't know how many times after that I said "Nine pounds?!?!?"

I needed stitching up, but they wanted to feed me first to get my strength up and let the swelling go down a bit. "Oh okay," I murmured skeptically, and then, "OOOooo, pasta!!!" I munched my way through half a (massive) serving of veggie lasagna from Pastini, which was delicious. Soon they got me up to go pee - I had gotten to the birth center around 2, and Jackie was born at 5:24. The labor was so lightening fast that I didn't manage to pee - even when I was laboring on the toilet I couldn't get the pee to come out. About 2/3 of the way to the toilet I got woozy, and when they sat me down I realized I was going to faint. I woke up to Melissa holding me up like a teddy bear, saying "are you with me Suzanne?" I dreamt during the faint and woke up with a song in my head that I had heard on the radio on my drive from the grocery store (dancing on the edge of the Hollywood sign…). Still no peeing accomplished. They put me in a wheelchair and got me back to and into bed. I lay there feeling like maybe I ate more lasagna than was really wise for a while, but eventually felt better, and we got me onto a bedside commode. PEEEEEE! Seriously you know that scene in the second Austen Powers movie where they get him out of cryosleep? Lots and lots of pee.

Now it was time to stitch me up. I was super apprehensive about the lydocaine, and asked Susannah (apprentice midwife) to pet my head and chat with me to distract me. It wasn't too bad, a couple of the shots in the perineum were pretty stingy but it was much better than when I was 15 and needed stitches in my face from a fall. Katherine stitched me up while Melissa watched, and Melissa praised Katherine's work, which made me feel good. They used purple thread, which amuses me because they know I like purple. Another trip to the bedside commode and it was time for sleep!

More thoughts later on the stay at the birth center, etc.

Introducing Nursling #2

Hello Dear Boobuicers and Friends!

I only have a minute, but I wanted to announce that I am once again officially a boobjuicer, as Ms. Jacqueline made her debut Sunday 9/18 at 5:24 pm. She was a whopping 9 pounds 3 oz and was born super fast - I woke up feeling like something was different, figured I had tons of time, went to the grocery store (in retrospect, this was perhaps an error), and came home feeling like, nope, this means business. My cervix disappeared fast but we had to push for a couple hours, and she came out sideways. So if anyone would like to explain to me how exactly I pushed out a 9 lb baby sideways with no drugs, I'm all ears. Holy crap. Anyway I'm feeling pretty good - sore where you would think I would be sore after that, couple stitches, but waaaay better than 2 days after a c-section. Which is not to frighten anyone, a c-section is totally survivable, but this way is easier afterwards, I will say.

And in case anyone is wondering if you can have latch challenges on your second kid, yes. Yes you can.

More later, I hear baby noises.

Much love,
Suzi

Busy Gestating.

Hello Dear Readers!

The entire month of August escaped me with no blog entry. Not that I didn't have anything to say, mind you (that pretty much doesn't happen, you will no doubt be shocked to hear). But I have been so busy preparing for the arrival of Blessing #2 that the month came and went and all the blog entries just rattled around in my head making me just that much more scattered and confused. Plus hubby is shooting a documentary, and my mom came to visit, and we all went to the beach (I think I'm supposed to call it "the coast" now that I'm an Oregonian but it hasn't sunk in yet) and oh, yeah, there's that job thing, with the 40 hours per week and the paychecks. Kind of important. All of which is going on while I am all big and pregnant and tired. But all this sort of pales in comparison to the todo list for this baby.

Here is the stuff I'm doing, or supposed to be doing, just to prepare to have ProtoPerson exit my uterus:

Yoga
Walking
Hypnobirthing practice - solo hypnosis with audio files, practice with husband, listening to affirmations, birth breathing practice
Make birth music mix (Hubby is on point on this one, being as he is the King of iTunes)
Perineal massage (massage is not always relaxing, I must say)
Kegels
Practice belly dancing
Pack birth bag

And then we still have prep for the actual baby:
Boil diapers (bought a massive pile of used Fuzzibunz off Craig's List - yay - but want to sterilize)
Bring new dresser in from balcony where it is outgassing (mmmm, pressboard) and load mass quantities of washed, folded hand me downs into it (currently they are in piles on my dresser, the new changing table, etc...)
Finish washing new baby clothing received
Set up loaner arms-reach cosleeper (thanks Mama G!)
Make dinners for freezer to help with crazy first weeks of life
Review stuff needed list and obtain (I think all we have left is a pad for the new changing table, and frankly I'm tempted to use old towels this time around...) (and yes, we needed a new changing table, to have one in our bedroom given that Robert is still in diapers. But I got it used from Craig's List, too.)

And things I'm doing to try to get the apartment in order before baby arrives:
Finish purging boxes of paper brought down from storage unit
Organize "desk" (now a vertical shelf unit, since all I ever do is pile it with stuff and then use my laptop at the dining table anyway)
Update mint.com, sort out budget
Shampoo carpets (okay, to be fair, I'm making Matt do this one, but I gotta get all my stuff out of the way before he can get it done).

In comparison, here is Mother Nature's todo list for birthing and motherhood:
Have sex
Wait nine months, eat a lot
Breastfeed, cuddle, eat more

Sometimes I wonder if I'm missing the elegant simplicity of this process.

Meanwhile I have my first live phone service session for the Nursing Mother's Counsel tomorrow. Woohoo! I did message checking for a week in August, and got zero messages. None. Which apparently happens sometimes, but I was disappointed. So now I have to be brave and start with live phone calls. But I'm pretty excited.

And lastly, check out this radio program from last year's Big Latch On PDX. You can hear me right near the beginning, and around 15:30 too. The whole thing is terrific though, give it a listen.

I hope you are all enjoying the last hurrah of summer before school, fall, etc.

Much love,
Suzi

Oof.

Hello Dear Readers!

Okay remember when I told you that you could remind me of that list of loving being pregnant when I'm all huge and uncomfortable? Well, we're there. And two months to go. I'm uncomfortable and tired and puffy and cranky at random intervals. And if anyone here knows of a visually impaired woman who could teach me how to shave my ankles, I'd be grateful for her advice, 'cause I can't see mine anymore. Except enough to see how puffy they are. That may sound like an insensitive joke, except I'm not kidding. I'm not someone who would enjoy just not shaving for two months, I can't see what I'm doing, and waxing ain't in the budget. Sigh.

But anyway, check this out. We already know that I have it pretty cushy compared to a lot of moms out there. But these ladies are just an absolute, top-notch, inspiration. I'm getting that book, too, I'll let you know if there are good tidbits in there for moms in other workplaces.

So I'm finally signed up for a message checking session with the Nursing Mothers' Counsel. I got all scared. People are going to call me and want answers! On my blog or on Facebook I have all the time I can spare between breadwinning, parenting, householding, and trying to find my ankles to look up answers for mamas. On the phone that would be a lot of awkward dead air. So message checking is a good start. It's next week, wish me luck!

Another mama in my mom friends group on facebook is getting chewed on by her teething little one. Ouch! Lots of moms had lots of suggestions for trying to get the little one to take a bottle. I suggested cold compresses on kiddo's gums before nursing, so she won't want to chew so much (hopefully), plus the old if you bite you get taken off and left to cry for a minute before you get to try again trick. For her ailing nipples I recommended nudity (as legally as possible), coconut oil (because she said the lanolin wasn't helping anymore), and cold compresses after nursing. Anyone else want to chime in? Recall Robert and I got past this because I involuntarily shrieked when he really chomped on me one time. He cried and cried and cried... like the world had ended. But he didn't bite again, or not many times after that. I did the pop him off trick too but I think it was the shriek that did it. This is a dangerous tactic, one might find oneself facing a nursing strike. In my case it was a reflex, not a tactic, and I got lucky in that it only ended that one session and then he was back at it. So I'm not recommending it, more saying, if it happens, it's okay...

I'm looking forward to nursing another little one, but I'm remembering all the ouchie parts and that pumping is a big pain in the fanny. Of course I have my military mamas to inspire me. But I'm also grateful that this time I'll be five blocks away from my little hungry one, rather than 28 miles of LA freeway (ugh). I remember all the moments I literally giggled with glee while nursing my little Robert (who, by the way, is now a big tall toddler who can make sentences and wreak all sorts of havoc - WOW it does go fast. I got so sick of people telling me that, and they were right, which makes it even more annoying that they all told me so many times...) I remember how proud I felt of how long we kept it up and how much mama milk he got, even while I was miles away pretending to be a financial professional. And I remember how sad I was when he weaned, even though it happened just as I had hoped (he chose, on his schedule) and we had gone for 21 months which is plenty. It will be interesting to see how things go with Proto. I hope they will go at least as well. Every kiddo is different, though so I can't assume. And if intra-uterine squirminess is any indication, we have a feisty one on our hands this time!!!

I hope you are all having a lovely summer. Don't get too much sun or you might get cranky and tired. Not that I'm speaking from experience today at my company picnic or anything.

Much love,
Suzi

Class Superlatives: Biggest Boobjuicer?

Hello Dear Readers!

Today was my 20 year high school reunion (yep. 37. Lots of grey. Still not sure what it means to feel like a "grown up.") What a handsome and interesting group of folks I went to school with! Seriously I think a couple of them will look that smooth and curvy when we are 70. So the funny part is, I walk up to the group at the family picnic this afternoon, and am greeted with, "Ms. Boobjuice Herself!" Tee hee! It's true, I can't deny it. Motherhood changes people (I'm sure fatherhood does too but I can't speak from personal experience there) and the Big Loud Lactivist stick whalloped me upside the head the minute that little dude came out. As did the You Will Now Cry at Every Damn Thing that Ever Happens Ever stick. Everyone was very congratulatory about my big ol' baby belly (aw, thanks guys!) and not a one of them said "Wow you have a lot of grey for 37." Not that I thought they would really, but that's what I felt most insecure about the week leading up to the reunion. Ah well, my stylist says she'll come to the birth center... I'm kidding, I'll give the kid a few weeks to get used to how I smell before I put weird stuff on my head.

So another mama on my online mamas group is having a rough start - she has too much post-partum bleeding and was given a drug in the ER (yikes!) that is a question mark for nursing and can reduce prolactin (the "make milk now" hormone) and such. Sounds like she got a lot of the standard knee-jerk, "my insurance wants me to tell you not to breastfeed on this drug and despite being a doctor I am skeeved out by your boobs" sort of advice. (Okay not fair they are of course just trying to keep her from bleeding to death but seriously, AMA, tell your med schools to teach doctors about breastfeeding in a useful way, please.) So I thinks she's getting the help she needs to work through this in the way that is best for her and her little one. But this is so common and so frustrating! Right at the start, when poor mama is exhausted and probably freaked out and trying to learn how to nurse, and kiddo is, hello, brand new to everything, and it's so hard to get the support we need to take care of ourselves and our babies the way we want to. It's hard to research breastfeeding online when you are sleep deprived and learning how to be a mama (Ack! This creature is so tiny and delicate and they sent us home ALONE!? With no supervision???) I want our country to be a place where mama and baby get breastfeeding friendly help and support from the start without having to hunt it down in a panic in the middle of the night. Notice this would be very different from a guilt trip in a breastfeeding class before giving birth. This is like doctors who are trained well to understand breastfeeding (seriously anyone who might be treating a woman age 15-55 should know this stuff) and post-partum in-house visits from lactation consultants and whatever mama needs to sort this out. That first month is so critical and so freaking hard! How can we make this happen?

Great, now I'm all fired up and it's almost midnight. I want to bring this mama a casserole. But I don't actually know her, or what state she lives in, or whether she likes casserole.

Those so inclined please pray for our new mama and her little one to find some ease and rest soon!

Much love,
Suzi

Things I Love About Being Pregnant

Hello Dear Readers!

There are a lot of hilarious blogs, books, movies, etc. out there about what a pain in the butt (literally - hemorrhoids, anyone?) it can be to be pregnant. Fair 'nuff. But I'm kind of sad that this is probably my last ride on this merry-go-round, and I want to enjoy it as much as I can. So here, in no particular order, is a list of things I love about being pregnant.

1. Happy attention. Yes, I seem to like attention. Are we surprised? But this is not just attention - attention can be bad. (Stop staring, I know my kid is screaming on your airplane and I'm doing the best I can. Go away.) This is happy attention. Pregnant bellies make people smile, ask how you are feeling, when is the baby due. Pregnant bellies inspire hope and optimism, and perhaps a bit of wonder about how that fairly small woman is carrying around all that baby belly and that bag of groceries and that toddler...

2. BOOBS! Yes I admit it. I like the bigger boobs. I have never been busty, even at the times in my life when I needed to take off a few pounds, it goes pear shaped (and then when I do take off those few pounds it seems to all come out of my chest - not fair!!!) So the busty look of being pregnant and the early months of nursing are a lot of fun for me. And maybe for someone else too but we'll leave him out of it for now.

3. Food. I like to eat. It's fun to eat more. This is great about nursing, too, of course, but I find it very freeing to be in this time where I *should* eat more and put on weight. All in moderation of course, and I don't get to just chow down on cookies (mmm, cookies...). But I had a steak sandwich and fries for lunch yesterday, and it was DELICIOUS. And I'm not even a little sorry - I need the iron and protein, and Protoperson seems to love potatoes. Even the resultant food coma was kind of fun.

4. Spoiling. Of course having folks carry things for me and let me off the hook for stuff would be more fun if I wasn't so freaking tired. (Read: if it wasn't necessary.) But if I get to be Princess for a Trimester, that's just fine.

5. There's a person growing in my tummy. Dude have you checked this out? It's incredible! There is a whole, if tiny and not yet independently viable, human being, in my BELLY! She moves and kicks and I'm so curious who she is going to turn out to be! It's so amazing. And she's so small! Okay she does not FEEL small when I'm trying to carry Robert and the groceries. But think about it - if you set out to, say, carve out of driftwood a creature with fingernails that small, I reckon you would have a hard time doing so. DNA is wild stuff.

6. Improved body image. Okay this one is a bit of a dome scratcher for a lot of folks, and on the first try it didn't kick in during pregnancy. In fact, I felt like I was wearing a clown suit. But sometime after Robert was born, I went from a sort of typical American female level of poor body image to "holy crap! I made that person in my belly! and I fed him with my breasts! How the heck did I do that? That's amazing!!!" and all those pesky details about cellulite and breast size just sort of faded into the background. It probably didn't hurt that I lost more weight after the pregnancy than I gained during it. Although I will fess up that I was pretty disappointed when my chest deflated after Robert's solid food intake ramped up. So this time around I'm enjoying my nice round belly, and the fact that certain other areas are getting bigger too are honestly not bothering me as much.

7. Robert. It is so cute to watch him look at the ultrasounds of Proto and say "That's a head. That's a belly." He kisses my belly too, and says, "Robert kiss the baby." And lately when he asks me to pick him up he reaches up with both hands on my belly and says his usual "Want upamomma." So from my point of view I see belly, cute little hands, cute little upturned face. Yay.

8. Looking forward to nursing again. Maybe this time I'll get lucky and won't get some nasty yeast infection to spoil the fun. And I feel like all I learned on the last go-round has to make it easier this time. But I've lined up a great lactation consultant service (Yay Zenana Spa!) just in case and some $$$ in the "Baby Wish List" budget to spend on it.

9. Contraception. What contraception? Exactly! Although to be fair this doesn't necessarily totally make up for the complicated mechanics of the big round tummy.

10. Matt. I have the sweetest husband. He takes such nice care of me while I am preggers, and it's fun. He doesn't complain when I am behind on my share of housework or when I want to go to bed at 8 pm on weeknights (not that I do a very good job at actually going to bed at 8...) And he's always telling me how cute he thinks I look pregnant, and never once has he rolled his eyes (where I could see him anyway) about the flatulence or how much unsolicited information he's getting about various bodily functions that are getting confused by all the hormones coursing through my veins.

11. My midwives. That's right, plural. These women are taking such wonderful care of me, and they are so kind and gentle and reassuring and patient. I'm sure I'm not the most high-maintenance patient they've ever had, but I bet I'm more than one standard deviation above the mean (So that's more high-maintenance than 67% of the population, or so, assuming a normally distributed population, which is an heroic assumption, and way more math than anyone probably wanted to see on this blog.) And they just sit patiently answering my questions and asking if I had anything else I wanted to talk about. Yay.

Feel free to waive these at me in a few months when I have to mosey from place to place and can't take a deep breath.

Much love,
Suzi

Crazy Mama Brain

Hello Dear Boobjuicers and Friends!

I am insane. I just spent four days solo parenting, had a lovely and frustrating and exhausting and wonderful time, and was so excited to get Matt back tonight... and now I'm mad because he stole bedtime. Which I asked him to do so I could have a quiet minute to myself. I've been "away" from Robert (read: in the next room) for a whopping fifteen minutes, and I miss him. I miss this kid who I literally spent the entirety of four days with - if he was awake, we were together, if he was asleep, I had him on the baby monitor or was possibly asleep on his floor. (Our couch seat cushions make a remarkably comfortable portable bed.) I got a two hour break last night because I had tired myself out to the point that I thought I was going to barf (shouldn't have done those 8 loads of laundry over three days and still made pea soup? or just pregnant?) and my sweet, compassionate sister and brother-in-law rushed right over on their way home from Seattle (literally I called them while they were just getting off the train) and scooped Robert up to get me a break. Have I mentioned how much I love living in the same building with them? A lot. Several hundred dollars a month worth, apparently, given our not moving to a cheaper building when our lease was up and we realized we weren't ready to buy a house. But then that was mostly about, "Why would I move out of my sister's building right before giving birth?" which clearly was inspired brilliance. (I just re-read this paragraph to look for a way to break it into two, to spare my dear readers from the mania which is my brain. No logical place to stop it. Just like my brain.)

Phew. So motherhood has clearly broken my brain. Which was not that unbroken to start with. I come from odd folk. Nerdy, good hearted, with a lot of integrity. But we are weird. And parenthood ain't helping. I feel like five people I love have tied ropes around my brain and are pulling it in different directions, and I'm in the middle, being just plain tired. And confused. And conflicted. And we're having another one. On purpose. What the heck were we thinking? We are going to be totally outgunned. I have friends with 3 kids, or even four, or God bless her five boys and homeschooling (you know who you are!) and all I can think is that I am just not made out of the same stuff as these people. They are made out of energy and love and strength and patience and amazing budgeting skills, and I am made out of anxiety and fatigue. And sugar, apparently. And love. I do love my kids. I love my Robert and my little protoperson who is busy trying out different kickboxing moves on my bladder. I love them so fiercely I don't know myself sometimes.

Friday I screwed up naptime and Robert was a mess all afternoon/evening, and I lost my cool and yelled at him, and he looked just wounded. And I sent him to play in his room, and washed the dishes and cried and felt like flinging myself off the balcony. (Which I will NOT do, please no one freak out.) And he came back out and was all sweet and clearly still liked me and I felt like I didn't deserve it because I had yelled. Which is ridiculous. People yell. Parents yell. Even good parents. Even parents who get along really well with their kids. And since we are so opposed to hitting, that pretty much leaves us yelling and time outs for enforcement (and taking stuff away but sometimes you can't - how do I take away the kitchen counter? It's kind of heavy.)

Ugh. I'm just exhausted and hormonal and need a weekend to get over my weekend, at it's 10pm and I have to get up at 6 and go to work. Where no one is going to torture the cat or get a time out. Or if they do it's not my job to do anything about it. But really I just want to curl up in a ball and hide for a day and a half.

All of which is STILL ridiculous because I really had a fun weekend and enjoyed having Robert all to myself - I almost never get to spend so much time with him.

Maybe it's more like ten people with ropes around my brain.

Here's hoping y'all had a more emotionally simple Memorial Day weekend.

Much love,
Suzi

Boob Slang

Hello Beloved Boobjuicers and Friends!

I finished up my course and now am officially qualified as a Peer Counselor for the Oregon Nursing Mothers' Counsel. YAY! Then I promptly dove into crunch season at work and took a trip to Minnesota, coming home with a cold and zero energy. But I am on the mend and back to chat with you lovely people once again.

One thing on my mind is boobs. Yes, I know, I always have boobs on my mind. But specifically, this somewhat childish word to refer to breasts. Clearly not all lactivists are in to the idea of being flip about breastfeeding, breasts, etc. In fact I'm pretty sure at least one woman in my peer counseling class was downright grossed out by the title of my blog. This made me ponder. Am I chasing women away who would like the information my fellow boobjuicers and I have to share? Should I change my approach?

When I was pregnant with Robert, I found the insipid tone of a lot of resources aimed at the first-time pregnant mama absolutely infuriating. Hormones or no, I did not just regress three decades and I did not want to be patronized. I imagine the elderly feel like this a lot - just because I need help carrying this box up the stairs does not mean I suddenly became stupid or infantile. After giving birth, the tone changed - to a sort of gentle, over-reverent, over-feminine whisper, with terms like "at the breast" and cautious glances. Oh please. I was exhausted and in pain and wanted someone to give me some straight up information and help without making assumptions about what a rapturous mood I must be in all the time. I found it very difficult, at times, to sort through all this lavender flowery haze to get at the real information, which I very much needed, from these sources.

Hence boobjuice. The tone is about how I feel about breastfeeding. It is wonderful, it did become rapturous at times, but let's face it, it's also just a practical every day thing and I don't want to have to talk about it like some holy event all the time. Sometimes I just want to feed my kid and get some work done. Sticking my tongue out at all the overly-reverent parenting resources, admonishing me for involuntarily screaming the first time Robert chomped down on my nipple (I'm sorry but that freaking hurt) was one way that I was able to keep going despite being pissed off.

My sense of humor, offputting though it may be to some, has gotten me through depression, my father's cancer and passing, and a lot of other crap without letting these things stop me in my tracks. Lots of people don't get it or won't like it. (After Dad died, the poor med resident who came with the doc to verify that Dad was dead [apparently the nurse who held one of his hands while he passed is not considered qualified to do that] was shocked that Mom and I were cracking jokes.) But I think there are probably a lot of other women who find it refreshing. Or if not, maybe they can say, "well, I'm not as weird as her yet, so I must be okay." And for the others, there are TONS of wonderful resources in that lavender flowered whispering tone that might be more palatable. God bless 'em.

So if you're still reading you're probably not offended, and I hope I will be of some use to you!

Happy boobjuicing!

Much love,
Suzi

A Guest Blogger! Boobjuice Heros, continued.

Hello Dear Readers!

Check me out, having a guest blogger like some fancy Real Blog with ads and stuff. (I'm not trying to make a living off this and I don't want to let Google monetize this blog because I'm sure Similac will get all over it.)

Mama Kathleen shared a profile of a Boobjuice Hero of hers, which is great and I'm really excited to share it. Mama Kathleen is in academia, which is, as far as I can tell, weirdly segmented in how mama friendly and breastfeeding friendly it is. I know another mama in an almost entirely female department (I think there's one man in there or something) who felt like there's a lot of hostility around her needs as a mama, like pumping. And it probably varies by region, discipline, who's in your department... So this profile is inspiring and useful!

Happy reading!

Much love,
Suzi


TL, whose baby A is two months older than mine. I met her here in Central NY state, where she is an academic. When she had baby A she was finishing a few one year positions, so she was on the job market. She went to an academic conference where she had job interviews with tiny baby A in a sling. “Hi, I’m professor TL, this is my daughter A. Let me tell you about my research.” I don’t think even in my entirely pro-nursing world I would ever have considered interviewing with an infant actually attached to me as an option, but mama / professor TL makes it seem totally normal. She lucked out and got baby A into a day care across the street from home before she was 18 months old. TL had a pretty flexible schedule, but was working at least two days a week 130 miles away. I’ve never heard her complain or even consider feeding her baby any other way than nursing and food.

Then she got pregnant with baby G (her girls are 20 months apart), and she got a permanent academic position 130 miles away. Her husband was then unexpectedly not reappointed for his position, and they moved at the end of the school year. Baby A nursed all through her pregnancy, mama TL seemingly never gave it a second thought (“Does it hurt?” I asked “A little, but not like the beginning,” she replied), baby G was born and mama TL went back to work when she was ready with baby G in the sling and (toddler) baby A in day care. Both still nursing. Just like that. This year baby G got to go to the conferences.

Mama TL is lucky to have support, she’s got easy babies, and she knows it, but the really amazing thing about her is that she just doesn’t let anyone else’s way of imagining the way moms go to work get into her head: she’s nursing her babies, she’s supporting her family and that’s that. Her quiet confidence in her own version of professional motherhood, one I personally see no where else, is inspiring.

Boobjuice Class! Lactinerd Heaven!

Hello Beloved Readers!

I am so excited. I have gone to my Boobjuice class, or more properly referred to as peer counselor training for the Nursing Mothers' Counsel of Oregon, twice now. It's awesome! I am so excited that I'm sure I was a hyper pain in the butt for the first class (sorry ladies, I'm trying to contain myself, I swear). It's a really interesting mix of folks. All women - you have to have experience breastfeeding a babe to be a peer counselor, so not too surprising. I think half the class is doulas. One mama brings her little six month old to class and nurses him and lets him play on a blanket on the floor. He is sooooo cute and I got to sit next to them last class and make faces to make him smile. We have a doctor and a nurse and at least one teacher and then there's this random investment consultant, what's she doing in there? Oh wait, that's me.

Our teacher is a lactation consultant, natch, and a really neat lady. She's very patient and encouraging. We've learned a lot about how the breast works (it's so cool!), and we've gotten all fired up about formula companies, and heard interesting stories about her clients (very discreet of course). The book is interesting (boobjuice homework!) and I'm excited to be preparing to be of use to my fellow mamas. Also in addition to peer counseling (on the phones) one chooses another activity. I want to reach out to employers and help them become breastfeeding friendly. There's another person in the organization who's in charge of that and I'll get to meet her at the last class. I'm all fired up to call Nike and check them out. Presuming I can get them to take my call. I bet I can...

Another lactation consultant joined last time to help out, and from her I learned a useful thing. My Medela pump may have been colonized by my resistant yeast. Blech. So she advised me to chuck it. Which sounds expensive, but I gotta tell you dear readers, in the height of my misery if lighting $300 on fire would have cured me I would have done it in a heartbeat. So I may investigate a bit but likely, out it goes. Ameda and Hygeia both make pumps that have a filter between the breastmilk and the pump, so they can be used by another mama (with new accessories) and thus will not be colonized if, God forbid, I get yeast again. So I think I'll try calling Ameda and Hygeia and ask for a free/cheap pump in return for reviewing them and comparing them on my blog. What do you think, will it work? We'll see. Maybe at least a big coupon could be had... Do any of you mamas have experience with these brands?

Also I have been very remiss in getting those travel posts up. I will return to those stories I have collected and finish getting permissions and post them, but in the mean time, one of our readers is going on a week long business trip with her four month old and is seeking tips. Her mom is providing child care (sweet!) but what else can we think of to ease her trip?

And a teaser for an upcoming post - A guest blogger!!! She's really interesting, I'm looking forward to it.

Happy breastfeeding dear friends!

Love,
Suzi

Boobjuice Heroes! Rachael and Eddie

Hello Dear Boobjuicers and Friends!

Here is my first Boobjuice Hero interview. Rachael is a family medicine doctor (MD) with a large county health service in Minneapolis. Eddie is currently a stay at home dad. They have three little ones, ages 10, 7, and 3. I asked if I could interview Rachael as a Boobjuice Hero, and she said I should interview Eddie too, because there is no way she could have managed nursing while in medical school and residency without him. This raises an excellent point. Most of the nursing success stories I have heard involve a lot of critical support from the other grown-ups in the mama's life. Their story is no exception.

Sophie was born when Rachael was 28 and 3 years into medical school. She had intended to take 3-6 months off, but after struggling through two unsuccessful pregnancies, she decided to take a year at home with her new kiddo. Eddie switched from custom woodworking, which he liked, to collections, which he did not like, to make this work. His insurance kicked in the week before Sophie was due, and the new position offered flexible hours. When Sophie was 3-6 months old, Rachael started doing some phone interpreting and phlebotomy to make some money and keep up her Spanish and phlebotomy skills. This enabled her to mostly stay home for the first year.

A week after Sophie's first birthday, Rachael returned to medschool in a midwife rotation. This was a very breastfeeding friendly situation but she was still sobbing when she had to leave Sophie. “I think it's probably easier at a year than it would have been at three months, but it's hard whenever you go back.” A lot of her patients say it's a hard transition, even the ones who are not stay-at-home material “Eddie made it a lot nicer because he would bring her to nurse at lunch time. Eddie has been fabulous through the whole thing, with the pumped milk at home, then bringing her to nurse and I'd hand off the milk I'd pumped during the day, nurse in an exam room or the car, and hand her back, pump in the afternoon, and then go home and nurse when I got home.”

Toughest Times

A couple of different times were really hard. When interviewing for residency programs, Rachael got a lot of rather condescending attitudes towards her breastfeeding. “Oh, that won't last long, we can find you a place if you need it but no one continues to breastfeed in residency. It's just not realistic.” One of the reasons she chose the program she did was because they were so supportive. “By Minnesota law, [employers] have to give you a 15-20 minute break* every 3 hours if you are nursing, in a clean non-bathroom place with a plug and a locking door.” But even with this supportive atmosphere, the way Rachael made it work was to make it an “of course,” an assertion, not a “may I” or a question. As in, at the beginning of each rotation, saying “hi, I'm the new resident, and I'll be pumping breastmilk every three hours and where can I do that?” It helped to have a couple of senior residents who were very supportive at the beginning when, as a first-year resident, she was low, low down on the food chain. Once Rachael got further along she did the same for her residents - “Have you had a chance to pump? Okay, go pump and then go admit patient Mrs. So and so,” to show that it was just as much or more of a priority to take care of their bodies and their babies.

Another hard time was when the kids would get sick, and nurse more at night when Mama was more available. One really tough week, Sophie and Sasha had each been sick, and Rachael had been up every hour for half an hour, had three nights of almost no sleep and then was on call for three days on a family medicine rotation which is pretty relentless. “I had gotten 6 hours of sleep in 96 hours, was tired to the point of falling down on my feet and puking. I had reached the point of completely diminishing returns, would have five hours worth of work to do, work for an hour, and still have five hours of work to do. I fell into my boss's chair crying.” After hearing what was up, wise boss woman sent Rachael home with orders to go to sleep, not do anything useful or play with her kids or anything, just sleep. “Burning the candle at both ends with a blow torch doesn't work.”

It helps to be a little bit crazy, which Rachael says is a prerequisite for med school and residency. But she insists, “I wasn't suffering. I felt more connected to my kids for being able to continue that nursing relationship. Eddie would try to bring them to me at lunch or dinner or bedtime so I could check in with the kids. In residency I was tandem nursing Sophie and Sasha, and would nurse them together. Sophie would get done and we would just chat while Sasha would continue on the other side. Just having that time was tremendously important. Many of my colleagues in residency only saw their kids one day a week. It made a big difference to have a spouse who would make that extra effort. Even if Eddie had been working [outside the home] but had been willing to bring the kids at bedtime and dinner, it would still have made a big difference.”

Weaning

“As far as evidence-based medicine goes, the longer you nurse, the more benefit you get. We have family histories of diabetes and allergies. Plus I have ginormous boobs that are difficult to examine, so it's a good thing to reduce breast cancer risk. When they wean on their own it's easy as heck, harder on the mom than the kid.” Rachael didn't even notice when her son Sasha (kiddo #2) weaned, almost exactly when Gryphon was born. “I thought I would be tandem nursing again, and I had mixed feelings about it either way. Sasha would nurse 2-4 times a day at most, at wake up and bed time, and if he had the chance at the start and end of nap, and when he got sick or hurt.” Sasha was just past four years old when he weaned. Sophie weaned at four and a half, when Sasha turned two. Gryphon is three and still nursing. So if you do the math you will see that Rachael has been lactating continuously for ten years.

So we aren't all Rachael and Eddie. I didn't nurse Robert as long as she nursed her kids, and we aren't all as determined as they are. But as I got to know their story, I realized, well heck, if they can do that I can swing a commute and a few meetings and slinging Bessie the Breastpump around. She's also a great example to hold up when your mother-in-law or nosy neighbor is pressuring you to wean your kid. “Hey, I know a doctor whose kids weaned at four and a half.”

You can do this. Rachael and Eddie are rooting for you, and so am I.

Much love,
Suzi

* This is now federal law, praise be. And frankly I need 40 minutes but 20 is better than nothing.

Nurse 'em Here, Nurse 'em There, Nurse Those Kiddos Anywhere!

Hello Dear Boobjuicers and Friends!

Just a few quick random items today. I'm working on my first Boobjuice Heroes profile, having interviewed one of my personal heroes for this inaugural missive. Meanwhile, check out this interactive nursing law map.

I am frequently annoyed that mamas have been asked to move from a public spot when caught feeding their kids the best food possible, when we all know if they were giving baby manufactured "food" from a bottle they would be allowed to stay. Grrr. Latest one I heard of was the Walker art center in Minneapolis. Where there are no doubt lots of sculpted and painted bare breasts. The irony here would be amusing if I wasn't so exasperated for my friend. We may call for a nurse in, with extra points for nursing next to said nudes. Stay tuned.

Plus I was in Ikea today, one of the kid friendliest places EVER - they get an A-. Why the minus? They should have a non-bathroom designated nursing area, with two setups for nursing mamas in comfy chairs (which of course are for sale - a good capitalist never misses an opportunity to help customers realize how comfortable their products are, and Robert was nursed in a Poing about a bazillion times.) and some toys for older siblings. Not that a brazen boobjuicer like me couldn't just plop down in one of the existing displays and nurse, but a little tucked away nook would be better for more modest mamas, with catalogues for mama to look through while nursing, and if they want a gold star, a water fountain and paper cups. (Are you listening, o brilliant Scandinavian furniture purveyors? I am your biggest fan. Make me love you even more.) Also, not boobjuice related, but I want that cafeteria in my office building. I like the salad with the little shrimp on top.

But I digress. Nurse 'em where you got 'em ladies!

And lastly, some shopping fun - sexy nursing bras! No, really! Mama A.D. swears by 'em. I'm looking forward to buying some in October.

Happy nursing ANYWHERE YOU WANT everyone!

Much love,
Suzi

New Mama Neighbor!

I met a new dad in the elevator of our apartment building today! His daughter is 12 days old. So of course I gave him one of my blog cards. (They're very cheery, with blue flowers...) I remember how valuable it was to me to have another nursing mama in the building when we brought little Robert home. We were exhausted and terrified, and my nipples hurt and it seemed like I was never going to figure this breastfeeding thing out. We were still working on latching and didn't yet know that I had yeast (ugh), and I was miserable. I dreaded the next nursing, and would procrastinate until the poor little guy was too mad to latch on well. I was convinced it would always hurt. Then my neighbor mama RC told me she hated it at first too, that it was painful and difficult and she was frustrated. "Now I love it," she said, very matter-of-factly.

Mama RC is not one to blow sunshine up one's skirt. She is immensely practical and down to earth and capable - if you have to organize moving the entire country one foot to the left, you want her to do it. So I sort of looked at her incredulously, thinking, "That is not possible. But I know she would not make that up." This is the sort of woman who would not lie if the real answer was "it still sucks and I can't wait for it to be over." But she didn't say that, so it must be true, she loves it. It gave me a glimmer of hope. And of course you all know the result - I loved nursing Robert so much, I cried when it was over, and blogged about it for weeks. Not that it takes much to get me to babble for weeks, but on the other hand my attention doesn't always stay that rapt.

So on I struggled. And it did get better. It got less painful, I got more confident in it, and then one day I realized I had liked it for a while. And soon, I loved it. I got a happy mama bliss moment when we got started nursing, and felt so wonderfully bonded to Robert, and so proud of myself for persevering. And that was while we were *still* fighting the yeast!

So I hope my neighbor hangs in there. I read in one of my nursing books - Companion or Womanly Art, don't remember - an interesting analogy. Quitting after a few weeks is like going to see a movie you are really excited about, dealing with traffic and parking, waiting in a long ticket line, waiting in a long concession line, finally getting to your seat, and then deciding the whole thing is taking too long and going home, just when you were about to get a tremendous reward for your trouble. But the movie is great, will last longer than the unpleasant beginning, and will give you wonderful memories for years.

I promise it's worth it new mama! And I'm in 1402 if you want to talk.

Much love to you all!
Suzi

Preggers!

Okay how many of you already knew because all I can talk about lately is birth? But yes, we are very blessed and happy and grateful and tired, and are now ready to share that we are expecting Kiddo #2 in late September. I have been blessed so far with a fairly easy pregnancy, no barfing (please don't hate me) just queasiness, fatigue, and dizziness. And odd food aversions and cravings. Robert was "bunny" for a long time because all I wanted to eat was nectarines and leaves. This one is some sort of marathon runner, because I've been sucking down Gatorade (which helps with the dizziness) and potatoes. Seriously I have been eating baked potatoes for breakfast. They re-warm in the microwave fairly well, and there's good nutrition in the skins. And of course they make an excellent vehicle for butter and salt.

We are working with a midwife this time, and WOW what a difference. I get an HOUR to see her at each appointment. I actually have THREE midwives, a lead, an assistant, and a student (named Susannah! A good omen.) I can text any of them when I am concerned about something and they answer me as soon as they can (no dice if they are at a birth or sleeping after a birth of course but there are THREE of them so one of them is bound to be awake). We are probably going to birth at their birth center, hopefully in one of their huge, gorgeous birth tubs - like a really big bath tubs. Good luck to them getting me back out of that thing after nine months of no hot baths. Well it won't be hot but still. And if the God forbid happens, which it won't, they stick me in an ambulance and come with me to a great hospital five minutes away. My OB in Cali was a very good man and all, but this is just a totally different model and I like it way better.

So speaking of God forbid, and let me preface this with the fact that protoperson and I are just fine, I managed to scare the foo out of my already nervous mother this weekend by passing out at the farmer's market. Oops. I felt cruddy so I sat down on the ground, which is good because I didn't fall. But apparently I passed out with my eyes open, which is really freaky looking, and my poor mother (who is a little old lady who probably figured at 37 her youngest child was done scaring her) thought I was dead. So I woke up with Mom yelling my name, thinking, "Why is Mom yelling? I'm trying to take a nap. Wait, I'm outside. Who's that other lady leaning over me? Why are all these people looking at me? Huh. This is weird." The paramedics were very nice, my nurse in the ER was a hoot, and the doctor was very reassuring. We got an ultrasound to check the baby (when she said protoperson was fine I was so relieved that I cried and she had to ask me to stop jiggling my stomach - oops. Well, she's an ER doc, she's seen worse than a few tears.) and my Mom got to see the little critter, who waved at her, as if to say "Hi Grandma! See, I'm fine!"

And now I have already taken an ambulance to that very same hospital, and I can tell you they do good work. I'm fine now, it was just a nasty intestinal something or other which cleared up in a few hours. If I wasn't preggers I probably would have just gone home.

In less dramatic news, I'm signed up for the peer counselor training at the Oregon Nursing Mother's Counsel. I'm so excited! What a great outlet for my lactivism - a blog and a volunteer activity might be enough to keep me from babbling about breastfeeding at random parties and doctors' appointments. Well, maybe not, but anyway it's good to put abundant enthusiasm to productive use. I'm sure I'll blog about it after it starts. They've already sent me homework! Hee hee. I have boobjuice homework. A lactonerd's dream!

Much love and happy boobjuicing!
Suzi

Back from the Beyond...

Hello Dear Boobjuicers and Friends!

I have climbed back over the edge of the planet and returned to my beloved blog. Sorry about that! I think I'm feeling like I'm not lactating at the moment so I can't possibly have anything valid to say to y'all. Which is absurd. How much terrific advice and support have I gotten from mamas who were done with the boobjuicing part of their motherhood? Eight million metric tons. And I still have a lot of great travel stories from mama friends to share. And some tips that have been on my mind. So here we are, a fairly disjointed, well-intended, and as always, enthusiastic post intended to support, help, or at least amuse all the boobjuicers and friends.

I think a lot of expecting mamas, especially first time mamas, wonder what they can do to prepare for the arrival of their babies, and make the amazing, crazy first few weeks and months of life go a little more smoothly. Lots of folks give some very useful practical advice in this regard - make double batches of dinner favorites for a while before your due date so you can chock the freezer full of good, healthful, cost-efficient dinners. (I highly suggest this, especially if you are getting antsy and need something to distract yourself.). You will be (quite rightly) encouraged not to be shy about accepting offers of help - there are even web calendars available now to schedule your well-intending helpers so you don't get three dinners tonight and none next week. But what about planning for supporting breastfeeding?

There are breastfeeding classes available at many hospitals and birth centers. I imagine these vary from helpful and gently supportive to whacking you over the head with a copy of The Womanly Art of Breastfeeding until you feel so scared and guilty that you try to crawl under the table and hide. We took one and I think it helped, but it's really hard to teach how to get a good latch when you don't have a baby to work with.

I think it might have been helpful to find a lactation consultant BEFORE you give birth. You may not need her, great, nothing lost. But if you do need her, the web research or phone calls you have to go through to find her when you are uncomfortable and possibly worried may seem excruciating. Note that you don't have to go for the individual consultant style if that's not financially viable for you. Find the local breastfeeding support groups and make a list somewhere on your computer or fridge. Find out if your birth center/midwife/hospital has services - my fairly mainstream hospital had an on-site full-time lactation consultant, and a lot of the nurses were lactation educators. Easier to find on the Left Coast, I grant you. But more and more states are offering breastfeeding support services too - a quick Google search turned up TX, GA, NY, PA, and I didn't even click to the second page. And if you worked with a doula, chances are she has a lot of practice with breastfeeding support.

Another idea I had is to create your breastfeeding support network before giving birth. Who do you know who nursed their babies for at least a year? Yes, she may be a little weird or seem a bit out there to you. I bet you a donut she would be delighted to help you succeed at nursing your little bundle of hunger, er, joy. Who are the mamas you know and respect? It doesn't matter if they are far away, you are an internet maven and you know how to contact these people. Who seems wary of your choice to breastfeed, or maybe even completely against it? Let them know that you are not interested in discouraging comments, or if you don't feel like being that direct with them, give yourself permission now to avoid their phone calls for however long it takes to feel confident in your nursing so you can deal with them without getting upset. Is it someone you can't get away with avoiding? Practice now what you will say to stop undermining comments in their tracks. "I don't want to talk about it." That's good enough. You don't owe anyone an explanation. Or you could burst into tears and ask them to leave. Totally fair game for a new mama, and if you can do it on command, why not?

I will also say that the biggest transformation for me in motherhood, I think, or a top three candidate anyway, was in learning to trust myself with less second-guessing. This is freaking hard. I suck at it, broadly speaking. But out of my mouth I have heard the words, “I am the mama. My word is law.” Spoken to someone older than me, not to my kiddo. Lots of “voices of authority” are going to tell you things that are utter crap. They do not think it is crap, and they are not lying to you. It's just stuff that isn't right for you and your kiddo. These well-intending people may include, but are not limited to:
Your mother
Your mother-in-law
Your partner
Your best friend
Your pediatrician
and possibly even,
Your lactation consultant.

The one that was hardest, though, was when I was struggling with yeast (yuk) and called the lactation support group at a famous, well-reputed So Cal hospital for advice. She listed this completely impractical regimen including smearing athlete's foot cream on my boobs, doing a no-sugar diet (which works great for vaginal yeast, as long as you can spend all weekend on meal-planning, shopping, and cooking), sunning my naked breasts (still illegal, even in Cali), and a bunch of other crap I can't even remember. I hung up and felt like, okay, I'm screwed. Nursing is going to hurt like hell forever. NOT TRUE. And boy do I wish I had known it then. Thank God I am (a) a nerd and (b) stubborn as a pig. Uncle Internet presented me with Dr. Newman, whose yeast protocol I promptly faxed to my Ob/Gyn, who actually thanked me for the “interesting article” and called in exactly the prescription I wanted. Yes, you can boss your doctor around, and if she or he doesn't cooperate, get another doctor. It's your body, they are your boobs, and your kiddo is your kiddo.

Ooo, another example of bad advice – the WOMAN Ob/Gyn who said I would have to stop breastfeeding to take fluconazole (Diflucan). See previous post. Grrrrrr. It would be mean of me to wish a yeast infection of the milk ducts on someone, right?

Okay so this has morphed from “how to prep for baby” to “you are going to get crap advice so be ready to have a thick skin.” But I think that's part of “how to get ready for baby.” And don't worry, I do not have a thick skin naturally. In fact, I'm quite the sensitive little creature. It's sort of a pain in the ass, and a license therapist has assured me that it's hard wired, you can't unlearn it in cognitive behavioral therapy (although like anything you can learn to deal with it). So if you are a bit of a shrinking violet and think that you can't possibly stand up to your mother-in-law, your pediatrician, and the pushy lady at your breastfeeding support group, well, think again Mama. You totally can. And what's better, if you don't feel like it, just avoid 'em. Yep. You have the universe's permission to avoid talking to m-i-l for weeks and just say, “oh, the baby's nocturnal right now, so we're always sleeping when it's a polite hour to call/visit.” And to switch pediatricians. And breastfeeding support groups.

So I hope I haven't frightened anyone. This is an amazing, wonderful ride and you are going to love the heck out of it, even if it takes a while to get there. I think I wasted half the fun of my last month of pregnancy worrying about what kind of mother I would be and whether I had bought enough crap for the kid. People did tell me that all I really need is diapers, a car seat, and my boobs, and the rest can always be bought at Target or borrowed from friends, even late at night. But I didn't believe them. Which would be funny now if I didn't have mint.com telling me what my ignorance cost me. Ah well.

Be well beloved boobjuicers and friends!
Much love,
Suzi

PS - usual disclaimer that none of the above is medical advice, I am not a doctor, and I have no money so don't sue me.