I will be okay.

I wrote a poem. I'm fairly ignorant about these things but it's what was on my heart. So here it is.
Love,
Suzi

I will be okay.

I’m always okay again, eventually.

Not because everything was fine.

But because I kept putting one foot in front of the other.

Not because it didn’t hurt.

Because I believed it would hurt a little less each day.

Not because I wasn’t sad.

But because I was brave.

Let me cry.

Let me rage.

Let me fear.

Let me wonder.

You may hold me

You may comfort me

You may offer me your sympathy and understanding.

But do not try to stop me.

Do not try to take away my anguish.

Let me feel.

Or get out of the way.

Without these feelings there is no joy.

To feel joy I must feel grief, anger, fear, hurt, doubt.

Without these I cannot love.

To have faith I must allow doubt and move forward anyway.

To love I must allow myself to be hurt.

Not to be mortally wounded.

Not to sit defenseless while I am abused.

I will care for myself.

I can take care of myself.

I can leave if I need to.

I do not need you.

I simply want you.

I must allow myself the risk of hurt

To allow myself the possibility of love.

I will trust you

Because I trust myself.

I am strong.

I am brave.

I will be okay.

Therefore, I can love.


 

Happens to Everyone, Right?

Beloved Readers,

As you may well have noticed, I am a yoga enthusiast. It can be tricky to get a real yoga class squeezed in between work, kid time, laundry, and oh, right, sleep. So the other day, I left work at 4:40 to rush over the river to a 5:00 class. (Which turned out to be a 5:30 class, which renders all the ridiculousness to follow even less necessary.) My favorite studio is just at the first exit off I-5 North after crossing the lovely Willamette, so I take that route even when it looks like a parking lot. Which it did on this lovely evening. Going six miles per hour, I reasoned, even if I completely lost control of my cute little Prius, I wasn't going to kill anyone - likely not even bruise them. So it made perfect sense, of course, to change my clothes in the car. Right? Are you with me? Come on, I've pumped milk in that car... Right. I'm glad you agree.

Now I didn't want to give any truckers a free show, so I calculated how I could effect the whole transaction without actually being bare at any time, while still waiting to get up the on-ramp. I wiggle my shoes off, move forward a bit, move the waist of my skirt up a couple inches, go ten feet... so I'm working on merging into the stop and idle traffic just as I'm getting my underpants off my second leg, glancing at the person who's going to be neighborly and let me merge in front of him. I'm changing totally on autopilot, I've totally forgotten that it's even going on, just as the guy waves me in, I bring my right hand up to wave thanks... and then realize I've got my hot pink panties in that hand.

So that's how I waved my panties at a stranger on the freeway. I was mortified and giggled my way across the river. But that's the nicest smile I think I've gotten in traffic for years and years.

Right. Happens to everyone, I'm sure.

Much love,
Suzi

Massage, Weaning, and Other Matters

Beloved Readers,

Hello! I've missed you. I won't presume the feeling is mutual. I've had stuff going on, and I've been quite remiss. You would be well within your rights to be mad at me. But I am quite determined to finally write my weaning post. Why would that take me so long? Surely Ms. Boobjuice knows all about the weaning.

Nope.

Fairly useless on this topic. You can scroll back to see that in fact Robert called it quits, not the other way 'round. Jackie is still a boobmonster, and will turn three in September. Actually at this rate *I* will be turning to *you* for weaning tips. I have to preferred to think that I will let the kiddos decide, but with 32 pounds of squirmy mischief climbing on me at 5 in the morning, I may have to re-think that philosophy.

Luckily I have some other ideas for you.

One is to look at Kelly Mom. That website is a wealth of information.

Another is "Nursies When The Sun Shines," which is pretty much what it sounds like - a book to help a toddler understand that if they crawl into your bed and yank on your jammies at midnight, they ain't getting the good stuff.

Which leads me to another thought. A lot of us have cried "ENOUGH!" when in fact what we really want is to sleep for more than three consecutive hours. I am not going to judge you on either count. But if you think it's time to wean and are feeling conflicted about it, maybe consider if there is an interim step that would address your needs and your concerns at the same time. Like no nursing from 9 pm to 6 am, or something. Or to have your mother in law shut the hell up about how nursing past a year will turn your son gay. (I love that one. I thought men who loved boobs preferred women? And who the hell gives a crap if he's gay? People are so silly.)

With Robert, pretty soon after his first birthday I limited him to bed time and wake up time, and if he asked and it wasn't one of those, I explained that to him. (At 16 months I'm sure he found my reasoning terribly compelling.) In retrospect, this probably led to him weaning at 21 months instead of the 24 months I had hoped for. (And yes, with the balm of time I have acknowledged that those three months probably wouldn't have made a big difference to either of us.) I was a bit heartbroken, which my husband found confusing. Have y'all noticed that the sweetest, most supportive, allegedly pro-breastfeeding people do not understand why weaning leaves mama feeling like baby just broke up with her? I mean sometimes. Probably some mamas it doesn't. But I felt so rejected.

So with Jackie I was bound and determined not to do the same thing. I decided I'd let her decide. Well, at this rate, I'll be nursing her before she takes her driving test. Not my particular preference. So I have started enforcing the "it's too freaking early, I'll tuck you back into bed but no nursies" policy, and if I'm feeling "touched out" or if she's been chewing on me or if I'm trying to slice up steak for stir fry, I'll say no. More news as events warrant on whether she loses interest or I cut her off at the source.

Meanwhile I want to share that I had a FANTASTIC massage today at Dragontree Spa in NW Portland, and a lovely conversation with the therapist about birth. Tee hee! I love my cute little crunchy granola city. I also loved my massage - I may request her next time. And massage is SO. LOVELY. But you knew that.

AHhhhhhhhhhh.

Much love,
Suzi

Self-Love

Beloved readers,

Before I start this topic, let me acknowledge that I owe several folks a post on weaning.

Okay self-love - is she talking about masturbation? Because she totally would. Yes, I would, and no, I'm not.

I've been doing a lot of hard work in therapy lately, and a lot of it boils down to trusting that I have worth. Wait, what? Suzi is so outgoing she talks about boobs and sex and money on her blog. She says "breastpump" to high level executives at her multinational bank. (Some would just say I'm crazy but that's not really tonight's topic.) How could Suzi be anything but full of self-confidence?

I'm wildly co-dependent. A lot of us are. I've been getting a lot out of "Co-Dependent No More," which I highly recommend. And through this process I have realized that I define a lot of my value in how I can make someone else feel, or conversely, in being careful not to make other people feel certain things. Example: If someone is mad at me, I go into "fight or flight" mode, the world is going to end, and I will do crazy shit to make that person not be mad at me anymore. This behavior, as you might guess, is not serving anyone particularly well.

So I was thinking about this. Some of you will remember, and many of you might enjoy, my post about body image, "I Have A Really Great Ass." (Which I do.) If you haven't read it and don't care to, I'll spoil the ending here: I challenge the reader to say five things they love about their body. Unconditionally complementary. Preferably while looking in the mirror. Out loud. Repeatedly until you believe it, and even better, until it's comfortable to say.

Tonight (in a wine bar with a rather ordinary caprese salad and a pleasant glass of chardonnay), I have another challenge for myself and for you, my beloved readers.

Tell yourself that you have worth. You have value. You matter. You add to the universe. And say at least five reasons why. Here's the tricky part - they can't be because of something you cause other people to think or feel. No, "I have value because I make other people feel good." Instead, "I have value because I am kind."

Here's mine.

I have value.
I am kind.
I am strong.
I am brave.
I am loving.
I am industrious.
I am passionate.
I am good.
I add to the universe.

I want to do lists for a bunch of people I know and love, but the point of this exercise is for us each to tell ourselves these things, and know them all the way down to our bones, and feel them in our hearts. So then we don't NEED each other to be at peace. We may WANT one another's companionship, love, comfort, and so on, but we know that we are each sufficient in ourselves, without any particular person or thing outside of us. And then later, when I do get to tell you all the wonderful things about you, well that's just icing on the cake.

Do yours now. Say them out loud. Say them in the mirror. Do it even if it's scary. Keep doing it even if it makes you cry. Practice every day, until you can say them with a smile and calm sureness in your heart.

I love you all, and I love me too.
Suzi

Eyes On the Ball, Please

Hello Dearest Readers,

I hope you are all well. I'm just back from Kindergarten Roundup for my little guy. I only cried a little. Matt laughed at me a disproportionate amount, I think. He probably feels differently about that. I am amazed at how much of public education is NOT free. I mean, we're in a position to shell out the $400/month to get "whole day" kindergarten, so we're quite blessed. But hello? 2.5 hours of school for "free" and if you want it up to 6 hours you have to pay. That changes next year in Oregon, and is not the case at schools where the majority of families qualify for nutritional support. But yikes. People. You want to know why America is losing labor competitiveness? It ain't the unions. It's the fact that WE DO NOT TEACH PEOPLE TO READ OR DO MATH. Sweet cuddly Jesus.

Anyway, enough of THAT rant for five minutes.

So this happened. It boils down to, if someone is the PR face of the company for your social media platform, maybe you should be sure they actually know your company's policies. So I fault Delta, not for their breastfeeding policies, but for their employee training. And no, I'm not going to boycott Delta. They have never asked ME not to nurse or pump on a flight. (And it's a dang good thing as I'm sure you can all guess.)

What I want to comment on is, why should any mom even think she has to ask permission to feed her kid? It's not the clean room at a microchip factory. It's a mode of transit. Kind of like a glorified charter bus. Here is a great story about nursing on a public bus. But back to my point.

You ever hear a parent call an airline and say, "Can I give my kid a granola bar on the flight?" Nope, pretty sure you haven't.  If you are horrified at the sight of granola bars, do you get to tell another passenger to put a blanket over their kid's head while they eat said granola bar? Nope, you don't. Rather, in the country of free speech, you can say it, and everyone else will give you a big "you crazy" face and no one will dignify your complaint with a response.

It's food. Yes, it comes out of breasts. Yes, breasts are beautiful. You know what else is beautiful? Eyes. And smiles. And cheeks.

Let's grow up and move on and work on some ACTUAL problems now, please. Like the "public" education we are NOT providing to our citizens. Democracy is dependent on an educated, informed populous. China has a gazillion engineers to throw at Apple's iPhone factories.

Eyes on the ball people. Get over the boobs. Teach some math.

Much love always,

Suzi

PS - you know what works even better than a nursing cover? Not staring at my boobs while I'm feeding my kid. You gonna stare at my boobs while Robert eats a granola bar? Didn't think so.

News Flash

Parenting is hard.

I'll wait while you recover from the shock of this brand new information.

Robert and I had a really tough morning. We both freaked out and I behaved about as well as he did. So I do not feel awesome about that. I then confessed myself to the preschool teacher, who presumably would call child protective services if I had in fact turned into a monster. She chuckled at that suggestion. I confessed to several coworkers, my husband, a dear friend, and a few Starbucks workers (note to self - go back and put more money in tip jar) just to be sure. None of them appeared shocked, made moves towards a phone, or, in some cases, seemed to understand why I was telling them this. But they were all very gracious and kind.

Sigh.

After numerous kind souls said assorted versions of calm the eff down, I seem to have at least distracted myself enough to act like a vaguely normal person for the rest of the day. I even got a little work done. And we had arranged child care for the evening, so I went to see Frozen. (I liked it. Too scary for our kiddos though.) So I got a time out. Which of course made me miss my kiddos terribly. I wanted to come home and cuddle them. But I was supposed to be having a break. Hence the movie. How else was I going to get through a whole evening of break? Sigh. I refer you to my post on why all the mamas are crazy, here. Tonight was another shining example of this phenomenon. Not that I needed any more of those.

Each time I have a moment like this, I think, this is That Seminal Moment where I will Learn the Valuable Thing and Henceforth Be Transformed. And sometimes it kinda is for a bit. And then something changes, for the harder, and there's another Seminal Moment. And I'm all mad at myself for not Learning My Lesson the previous n times, where n is large. And this leads to Capitalizing All The Things. Which is really not good prose.

I'm trying to learn to be more gentle with myself. I kinda suck at it. But if nothing else, I certainly don't want my kiddos to be as hard on themselves as I am on me. So there's that. Either learn how to treat myself gently, or learn how to fake it really convincingly.

Okay, wine poured, bathtub a-calling. I want a hot tub. A lot. I bet I can get a psychiatrist to write me a prescription for one so I can pay for it with flex spending dollars...

Much love always,
Suzi

Going Back to the (other) Job

Hello beloved readers!

I hope you are all well and enjoying a lovely start to 2014. I'm back to the "grind," which makes me chuckle, because it is so much easier than staying home with two small children. Seriously. None of my coworkers has EVER pooped on the floor in my office. Just for comparison.

But that doesn't mean going back to the breadwinning gig after maternity leave is easy. Not at all. I'm pretty sure we all cry. Possibly more than the first day. Possibly the first month. I believe in trusting your mama instincts, and if you decide to give it up, I ain't gonna judge you. But, I will say this. One, it's worth giving it a real try, like at least six weeks, because this is a BIG readjustment. Remember you can quit in a heartbeat but coming back is harder if you decide it wasn't the right decision. And two, there are a LOT of things you can do to ease the transition. Here are a few ideas.

Weeks before resuming the breadwinning gig:
So, if you're going back tomorrow, do NOT let this section freak you out. In fact, just scroll past it. No sense getting upset over what you can't do.
But if you have a while, read this bit.

• Start pumping as soon as you can stand it. NOT sooner than you can stand it, mind you. If it's only two weeks out when you can finally find all the parts of your pump and hand the baby to someone else long enough to use it, then so be it. But it will be easier to accumulate a stash the sooner you start, and you'll have an easier time finding a few pockets of time to pump if you start earlier in the day. Most mamas make more milk in the morning, too. "But baby is ALWAYS on the boob!" Yeah, they do that. Try pumping one side while nursing the other. Remember you can pump and then nurse almost immediately. Baby might be annoyed if the milk comes out slower where you just pumped, but baby will not starve.
• Accumulate a stash or form a back-up plan. Donor milk? Formula? Whatever it is, know before you have to get on the train to work, if at all possible. Also realize you only need ONE day of milk the first day you're gone. You'll almost certainly get more milk when you're away from baby all day than when you're sneaking in sessions between nursing and trying to pee alone. It's very comforting to have more, but not strictly necessary. Also there are a lot of resources on how much is one day of milk, how much to give at a feeding - this is at LEAST one more blog post, so I shan't cover it now. But there are tips and tricks to be had.
• Go to the office/plant/school and figure out where you're going to pump. Nurse in that spot if you can, to help your lizard brain form an association between that location and making breastmilk. Do you work out of a car? Get a car charger for your pump and window shades or a nursing cover. 
• Talk to your boss about your return. More ideas below, but in particular, make sure they understand that you will need a little while to get back up to your awesome pre-baby level of productivity, but that you are eager to return and appreciate their understanding. Note that this is a good line to take even if Boss is being an asshat, because always taking the high road will serve you well in negotiations, and if, heaven forfend, you find yourself having to file some sort of official complaint later. If you even slightly suspect this might happen (or perhaps even if you don't), it would be good to keep notes about your conversation and/or create a "paper trail" by following up with an email.

First Day Back

• Come back on a Wednesday, or part time for a couple weeks. Going from zero to full time in one step is even more exhausting and confusing than ramping up slowly. If your work will accommodate it, try to come back 3-4 days a week at first, with a break in the middle, not mon-thurs. If that's not an option, set your first day back for the middle of the work week, so you get a short first week.
• Expect to be useless your first day back. Between the emotional adjustment, figuring out your pumping routine, and remembering how to use your frontal lobe for something besides when you can manage to shower, you are unlikely to cross off your typical number of todos on this day. My first day back after kid 2, my computer refused to work all day, which frankly I took as a blessing. I had someone else to blame for my utter lack of productivity!
• Put your pumping sessions in your calendar as busy. If you don't want to announce to the world what you are doing, call them "mama breaks" or mark them private (if this is on a computer). This is not something that others can ask you to defer or skip. This is an appointment, and everyone else can work around it. Period. If ER Docs can pump, your work can let you pump too. (And I know two docs who have pumped on ER shifts.)
• Find your allies. These could be other moms to vent to. These could be non-parents or dads who are sympathetic to your situation. Could be HR. Whatever it takes, it helps to know that you are not alone, and someone is in your corner.

Going Along

• Always ask for what you need, politely, unapologetically, and as far in advance as possible. This works remarkably well. We women tend to apologize for even taking up oxygen. This is not necessary. You might have to explain and/or negotiate, though. For example, a sales person hosting me for a meeting once suggested I pump in the bathroom. Ew. I said, "Well, it's food. You wouldn't make a sandwich in there." He said, "Oh. I hadn't thought of that." Totally innocent, not intending to be gross, just totally unfamiliar with the concept. (I ended up in a perfectly comfortable file room.)
• Do not be shy or ashamed. You have no more reason to feel this way about providing your milk for your baby than you did about having the baby in the first place. Just be matter of fact and most folks will be happy to accommodate.
• Take it one day at a time. I know, I know, I just told you to do all this advanced planning. But I found myself staring at every drop of milk that came out, thinking about business trips that were weeks off. Not good for my psyche. Trust that you and your baby are going to be fine, and figure out what is in front of you first. You don't have to solve tomorrow, it isn't here yet.
• Be proud of every drop of mama milk you give your kiddo. Don't beat yourself up over a bit of formula or the possibility of using donor milk. Every ounce of liquid gold is a win. Just focus on that.
• Be creative. Can your caregiver bring your baby to nurse on lunch breaks? Can you get kiddo to daycare 15 minutes early to nurse one more time? Can you tell the caregiver that you'll text when you're on your way and you'll want to nurse when you arrive, so please don't feed kiddo or if you just fed kiddo let me know and I'll pump first? Communication helps!

Always

Be proud of the awesome job you are doing. Reach out for help when you need it. Know that lots of mamas are there with you and we got your back!

Much love,

Suzi