patchwork mommy

Back to Work

2008-12-17T07:43:00.000-08:00

December is half over. Christmas is next week. And I'm going back to work in January. Sigh.

I'm still mentally adjusting to the idea. I'll bet every new mom who, before her baby is born, has every honest intention of returning to work ends up second guessing the decision at some point. And a whole lot of us back out of it.

This isn't to say I'm contemplating slipping my employer a note of resignation anytime soon, though I admit is is tempting. ("Thanks a bunch for all that paid maternity leave! Have fun filling my position!") I'm just really, really going to miss spending every second of every day with Little Blue Eyes. And I'm sure he'll miss me, too. He's awful young to be away from his mamma for two whole days a week.

Which is how I'm able to do it. I'm only returning to work two days a week, and I'll work the equivalent of one more day from home. And, I've lined up the most incredible childcare I could find, at a price that can't be beat. Isaac will be cared for here, in his home, by his Grandma. To pay her, I'll fill up her tank once in awhile. But it not payment my mother wants. She just wants to help raise her grandson, and the pleasure is hers.

So while rich people have nannies, the rest of us have grandmas. Thank goodness.

It must be that growth spurt

2008-12-13T09:42:00.000-08:00

I keep finding these little scratches all over Isaac - his head, neck, face, and chest. He even gouged his cute little pouty lower lip. And every time I find a new one, I'm the one that cries like a baby.

Believe me, I try to keep his nails trimmed, but they grow so fast! It must be all of that delicious, nutritious breastmilk he's been gorging on the like a famine is coming.

Growth spurts. I've been hearing about them since Baby Isaac was born. From everyone. "Oh, he's sleeping a lot? Must be that 3 week growth spurt." "Fussy at night, is he? I'm telling you, the 6-week growth spurt is a real trying time!" "Can't stop eating, huh? That's his 3-month growth spurt."

It jives. It's just that my kid seems to take these growth spurts to an extreme. At six weeks, his size 0-3 month sleepers with the bunnies on them were suddenly squeezing his feet, (not to mention cramping his style.) Now, at 3 months old, he's wearing 9-month onesies under his 6-month rompers. He's kind of a beefy baby. And isn't he cute?

On the boob

2008-12-06T09:12:00.000-08:00

I was not breastfed as a baby. Ditto for my older brother and younger sister. We were all born in the early 1970s, the era of the earth mother. I'd have expected breastfeeding rates in the U.S to be quite high then, along with the affinity for bra burning and macramé.

In fact, breastfeeding hit an all-time low in the U.S. in 1971, at just 25% for babies at birth. In contrast, the highest breastfeeding rate to date, since records were kept, is now, with an estimated 74% of newborns breastfed at birth.

This made me wonder - what happened in the 1960s and 1970s that led to such a low rate of breastfeeding? Why didn't my mom, a hippie herself, breastfeed her children?

She tried with my brother. She had little to no support. The doctors and nurses in her hospital were not actively in favor of it. Formula companies touted the benefits of formula over breastmilk in ads on TV, and no authoritative voice stepped in to correct the record. So when she encountered latch problems and then a bout of thrush, as so many new breastfeeding moms do, she just gave up. And she never tried it to pick it up again with her next two children.

I think that lack of support for my mom when her breastfeeding troubles began was key. Despite how natural and instinctual breastfeeding seems from the outside, the reality is that it is damned hard. To do it successfully, the mom and her partner need to be really committed to it, as do her doctors and nurses. And some sort of lactation support needs to be available to help when problems arise, like painful latching, infections like thrush or mastitis, or just general frustration with being "tied down."

I am now eleven weeks into exclusively breastfeeding Isaac. In the beginning, I was breastfeeding him about 50 hours per week. It was exhausting, and it hurt. But I enjoyed the quiet time we had alone together, and the closeness we experienced with each feeding. The most difficult period came about two weeks into it, when we both developed a mild case of thrush, which took a few weeks and a lot of work to get rid of. We've also worked through Isaac's outright refusal to take a bottle of pumped breastmilk, painful nipple vasospasm, and my baby's shortened frenulum contributing to a shallow latch.

But I've had an incredible support system. I live in King County, Washington, which has the highest rate of breastfeeding of any county in the country. We took a class on breastfeeding. All of my nurses in the hospital were lactation consultants. My neighborhood in Seattle has its own La Leche League chapter. And of course, these days, we all have Kellymom.com.

It's been really neat to share my experiences breastfeeding Isaac with my mom. She thinks it is wonderful that I am sticking with it. It's weird though... I don't at all feel like I was cheated by not being breastfed (though I do wonder if my infant bout with bronchitis could have been prevented had I been.) But I think my mother was cheated out of the experience of breastfeeding her children, and giving us, and herself, the benefits that exclusive breastfeeding provide. If only she'd have had a little support to get her over those initial, common breastfeeding humps...

Just passing time

2008-11-25T19:49:00.000-08:00

I'm on maternity leave from my job. Obviously, this time away has been to stay home and care for my son, who is just over two months old now. But an added bonus has been to disentangle myself mentally, albeit temporarily, from a job that I've always taken home with me. And it's been really nice.

Maternity leave is not what I thought it would be. I'm not, for example, sitting around reading old copies of the New York Times magazine. Nor am I reorganizing my bathroom drawers, or knitting scarves for Christmas presents. In fact, I'm lucky if I change out of my pajamas by noon, or get the bed made by the time my husband returns home from work. And no, I don't take a shower every day. Not even close.

Really, I'm just hanging out with Isaac. We just pass the time. And I love it.

Birth Class Redux

2008-11-21T09:01:00.000-08:00

Last weekend was our reunion for the childbirth class series we took this summer, taught by author, doula and childbirth advocate Penny Simkin. Everyone had their adorable babies in tow, we ate some very tasty potluck, and shared birth stories, from the near-perfect to the scary. Here's a photo of some of the fruits of all of our labors. (Isaac is the one about to suffocate the poor girl on the end.)

Natural childbirth has regained respect and popularity in recent years. For one, it seems we're all becoming more educated about the overuse of chemical induction agents like pitocin and medically-unnecessary cesarean births, thanks to books and movies like The Business of Being Born. More women are taking very active roles in their own birth experiences, writing birth plans and demanding that interventions in hospitals be explained to them and justified. And while epidural rates are as high as 90 percent in U.S. hospitals, there is a growing interest in med-free labor and childbirth.

My own desire for a natural childbirth stemmed from many things. I wanted what was healthiest for my baby. I don't like to be drugged and wanted to remember the experience with clarity. And, I wanted to fully experience birth -- which may be the most amazing and natural process of human life -- pain and all.

Preparing for natural childbirth is a little like preparing a Thanksgiving meal -- you make a guest list and menu, go shopping, slave away in the kitchen for days, and the beautiful dinner you've prepared gets all eaten up in about 45 minutes. Well, childbirth prep is just like that! For most first-time mothers, childbirth demands a ton of preparation over several months (especially if you want to go natural), yet the typical first-time labor lasts about 11 hours.

First, you have to choose where you want to deliver your baby and who is going to be your practitioner. I knew I wanted to work with a midwife, yet I wanted a hospital birth in case intervention was needed immediately. I chose to deliver at Ballard Swedish Hospital in Ballard with their team of midwives. Then, I bought a bunch of books, went to prenatal yoga and acupuncture every single week, drank gallons and gallons of red raspberry leaf tea to strengthen my uterus, and did more kegels than I'd ever care to count. I hired a fabulous doula. Then, I signed up for a childbirth class with Penny Simkin.

Penny Simkin is a bit of a celebrity around here in childbirth circles, and she's sort of the grande dame of doulas everywhere. She wrote Pregnancy, Childbirth and the Newborn and The Birth Partner. She started Doulas of North America. She rocks.

Her class series is geared towards pregnant women and their birth partners, and introduces and demonstrates a number of comfort measures that help deal with the physical and emotional sensations that happen during labor. (Comfort measures, by the way, are Penny's label for some things you can do to cope with the most intense pain of your life.) One of the class sessions was dedicated to explaining the common interventions that might be offered or become medically necessary in a hospital birth, such as IV fluids, vacuum extraction or emergent cesarean section (to which we all said, "Well, that won't happen to us!") She covered pain medication options (and did so graciously, without any bias whatsoever). We also had one class session devoted to breastfeeding, and one to newborn care.

Isaac's birth was wonderful, but did not go exactly as I'd hoped. I remember back when I was first drafting my birth plan, it began simply, "Our desire is to have a natural, med-free, low intervention vaginal childbirth." Then I got to the part where I was to outline "If a c-section becomes medically necessary..." I had no idea what to write. Which was no biggie, because that wasn't going to happen to me!

But it did. Isaac was positioned sunny-side up, and got stuck. After nearly four hours of pushing, it became clear that he would be born by cesarean. And the childbirth class was so important in preparing us, not just for the med-free part of my labor (which I needed too- that part lasted 24 hours), but also for the unplanned, the parts that weren't supposed to happen.

Looking back, I think this childbirth class was probably the most significant and effective thing we did to prepare for the natural childbirth I wanted. (I really could have skipped the perineum massage.)

The Power of a Smile

2008-11-19T08:45:00.000-08:00

No one could have prepared me for the feeling that welled up inside of me the first time Isaac smiled at me. I'm talking about the first time he really smiled, not just that dazed look of pleasure from passing gas. He was four weeks old, and my heart just melted.

I suspect my experience is paralleled by parents everywhere, but damn, it felt special. The feeling is beyond joy; it was pure, unconditional love, but also a little sadness mixed in, and maybe some apprehension about the power of that love. And, a little clarity about how my life before that moment had really not had that depth of meaning before. I was changed forever.

Isaac is almost nine weeks now. He smiles for me many times a day, and I have to shamefully admit that sometimes, I don't even notice it. But I will never forget that first smile, and the way it made me feel, and how much it has changed my life.

SIDS = Maddening!

2008-11-13T08:41:00.000-08:00

I just put my adorable baby boy down for a morning nap in his swing, right here next to me. Although he's less than an arm's length away, I can't resist stealing glances at his chest every 3 minutes to make sure he's still breathing.

OK. It's no secret that I'm neurotic. But see, I'm a new Mom, and my precious little boy will be eight weeks tomorrow. So naturally, I'm going out of my mind worrying about the mysterious tragedy known as Sudden Infant Death Syndrome, or SIDS.

SIDS kills about 3000 seemingly healthy babies every year in the U.S., most of them between 2-4 months of age. Most are killed at night, in the months of November, December and January. Sixty percent of the infants who die are boys.

Experts don't know what causes these tragic deaths. The current thinking among experts in the U.S. is that there is some biological problem with some babies that predisposes them to succumb to SIDS, should these babies be in a compromising situation. Recent research has lent some credence to this, such differences in the brainstem of SIDS infants, or in the inner ear of SIDS babies.

I took particular interest in the inner ear findings, as my son had his newborn hearing test shortly after he was born. I compared his hearing scores with those in the study, and was frightened to see that his scores more closely resembled those from the SIDS babies than the healthy, living babies. His scores for low-frequency sounds were a few points lower than the "normal" babies' averages. Also, his right ear scored just a tad lower than his left ear, and the opposite was true for the healthy babies. Yikes.

If these theories hold water, and I'm not convinced that they do, then as a parent, I just need to make sure my baby never gets into one of those compromising situations, right?. That's where the recommendations come in. For example, probably anyone with a baby knows that it is strongly recommended that you put your baby to sleep on his or her back, not tummy. Evidently, SIDS deaths have been cut in half since this recommendation was made. It may have something to do with them re-breathing their expelled air or something. Also, don't ever smoke around your baby, and don't have any loose blankets or stuffed animals or those cute little crib bumpers in their sleeping environment. Instead, to keep them warm, bundle them in a swaddle or sleep sack. But don't overbundle them, or they could die of SIDS. Got it? Oh, and to mess with their temperature even more, keep a fan running in their room, even in the wintertime. This could cut their risk of SIDS by 72%. (Except that I read the methodology for this study involved a whopping six subjects. And that the reduction in SIDS only applies to people who ignored all previous advice about tummy sleeping and not smoking and stuff...)

Still, if you follow these guidelines, your baby could die. Apparently, as many as two-thirds of infants who die of SIDS do not have any known risk factors. It's all a bit maddening, really.

But maybe there is another guideline that could actually save my baby's life. Maybe this guideline just happens to be missing from SIDS prevention tips lists here in the U.S. Maybe all I need to do is wrap his mattress.

The toxic mattress theory of SIDS appears to be little known or talked about here in the States. In fact, I knew nothing of this until yesterday, when I stumbled upon a mention of it in some blog comments. Evidently, some things used as flame retardants in mattresses can combine with the fungus that ends up in baby mattresses (from things like spit-up and urine). This could create a deadly nerve gas that hovers just above the mattress, poisons its infant victims, and they stop breathing.

Really? Well, 100,000 people in New Zealand think so, and there has not been a SIDS death among them. A study known as the Limerick Report claims to have disproved this theory, but really they were simply unable to replicate their lab findings, which confirmed the theory, in the field. The jury is still out. But the real-life statistics of mattress-wrapping in New Zealand is undeniably compelling.

Well then of course, after coming upon these mattress-wrapping instructions, I sent my husband straight away to Home Depot for a big role of polyethylene sheeting, which was $20. After about two hours, we'd wrapped our mattress and the baby's bassinet co-sleeper mattress in the noisy plastic. And off to sleep we went, waking only with each and every crunchy toss and turn.

Sigh. I'm still thinking about SIDS. Wrapping Isaac's mattress in plastic gave me some assurance for oh, about 37 minutes. Because really, the thing is... I'm not in control. He could die. And isn't it just maddening?

Sleepytown

2008-11-09T07:48:00.000-08:00

My MIL is visiting from Florida. I'm pretty worn out from the whole thing, to be honest. I'd not really prepared for entertaining a houseguest this early on, and instead had counted on this visit to be of help to us. The offers of help have been few and far between, and I've spent an exhausting amount of time in the kitchen keeping everyone fed.

I just want to go to Sleepytown.

"Sleepytown" is a song my Grandma Eleanor made up and used to sing to us before bed when we were little. She'd sing it roughly to the tune of Jingle Bells:

Let's all go to Sleepytown, let's all go today
We will laugh, we will sing, we'll dance the blues away
When we get there we will ride on the merry-go-round
So let's all close our eyes right now and go to Sleepytown

My own baby son loves it when I sing Sleepytown or almost any other song to him. (I know this - I get smiles.) But my repertoire of baby songs is astonishingly limited to the first verse of Oh My Darling, Clementin e and Que Sera, Sera (channeling Doris Day, which frightened him a bit at first, but he's gotten used to it.) Sometimes I'll get all sappy and sing him a Beatles tune, like "I'll be Back" or "If I Fell."

Mostly, though, I make up songs about poop. Here's my current favorite:

Isaac loves to poop. Yes Isaac loves to poop. Poopy doopy in his diaper, Issac loves to poop.
Isaac loves to fart. It wakes him with start. Pootin up a storm, yes Isaac loves to fart.

Wildly creative, I know.

My husband sings to him while he changes his diaper, but he doesn't sing about poop. So far I've overheard Steve Miller's Swingtown and Proud Mary (the Ike and Tina version).

I think I'll make a pot of veggie chili tonight. Last night's risotto was a little too exotic for the MIL, and I don't know why I bothered with the spinach in puff pastry the night before. One pot and three bowls cleaned, and the dishes will be done. Then it will be off to Sleepytown.

Vote Baby, Vote!

2008-11-04T15:55:00.000-08:00

The day is finally here.

I seldom went to the polls as a child with my parents on election day, but that doesn't mean they didn't involve us in their politics. My earliest memory of this is when I was age 5, I stayed up late to watch Jimmy Carter lose to Ronald Reagan, and remember the somber mood that lingered in the house for days, which my parents made no effort to hide.

In 1988, my mom and I were two of 14 people who met Kitty Dukakis, the democratic nominee's wife, at a local elementary school in southern Illinois for what was supposed to be a rally. (As you might imagine, it's just not really possible to have a rally with 14 people, but Kitty was a good sport.)

My parents always made sure we understood the importance of active participation in our democracy. My husband and I are so excited to do the same.

Today, I took my son to the polls, and we voted together. OK, yeah, so he's not yet seven weeks old. But I don't think you are never too young to be a thread in the fabric of our democracy, even if its just from your stroller, along for the ride.

"Look ma, no hands!" (or... babywearing is for wimps)

2008-11-02T10:50:00.000-08:00

What's with all the sling things?

I'm taking about all those ring slings, pouches, wraps and bouncy bjorn things you see babies carted around in these days. You'd think their mommies and daddies didn't have two perfectly able arms, for chrissake. And every time I see a newborn slouched and smothered in one of those things, his mother beaming to be hands-free, I can't hep but wonder if the poor thing can even breathe.

The truth is, I'm terribly jealous.

To say that my arms are tired today would be a gross understatement. My right wrist is so taxed that I can barely pick up my coffee mug, much less my 11-pound baby. But so far, babywearing has alluded me. And, in addition to my sore arms, shoulders and wrists, I feel guilty that my baby remains unworn. Because you see, babywearing is not just for cell-phoned-addicted mommies. It evidently offers numerous benefits to your baby as well.

My friend Kristen gave me my first babywearing device, a sling she'd used for her two small children. It is a cream-colored organic cotton New Native sling, size small. I was ecstatic to receive it. The first time I attempted to use this thing, Isaac was two weeks old, and I dropped him into the cradle hold, as explained in great detail on the product's website. His little head slumped onto his chest. Risk of possible asphyxiation! I thought to myself. Every 17 seconds I was spreading the fabric to make sure he wasn't turning purple. After 10 minutes of constant checking and rechecking, I pulled Isaac out of that thing and put it away in a drawer.

Several other carriers were to join it.

My friend Fran got us an Ergo baby carrier off our registry at Baby's Bottom Line., an online store of "eco-friendly baby products." This carrier is rumored to the the creme de la creme of baby carriers. The Cadillac. I was stoked.

Like the New Native sling, it was not immediately apparent how to use this thing. Fortunately, I quickly discovered a whole lot of folks have enough time on their hands to share their favorite Ergo wearing techniques with the world on You Tube. Unfortunately, I learned that without purchasing an additional product for $25, the infant insert, this carrier is useless until your baby is about four months old and can hold his or her head up. Into the drawer it went.

Sometimes, its best to not go straight for the Cadillac. Sharpen your teeth on the tried and the true. Like a Honda, for example.

Or a Pinto.

My good friend Helen has two small children, and plenty of sense. So when she gave us her Baby Bjorn, which I'd heard could be used with a newborn, I just knew we'd be wearing our little bundle of joy in no time. After all, I see newborns bobbling around town in them all the time and they always look to be happy as little clams.

My husband Brian gave it a whirl one night when Isaac was particularly fussy, and bouncing on the birthing ball with Isaac weighing heavily in his arms was getting old, fast. Ten minutes later, Brian's free hands were turning the pages of a book while our baby was cooing himself to sleep against Brian's chest, strapped on by our Baby Bjorn.

That would be the first time. And, that would be the last time.

See, the next day we visited Isaac's doctor, who put the kibosh on our Bjorn bliss. Apparently, carriers like the bjorn that rest the baby's weight solely on their crotch before their spine is more developed can affect the development of the spinal curve and possibly lead to spondylolisthesis (slippage of the vertebra). Into the drawer went the Bjorn.

My last hope was the Moby Wrap, a device often seen worn on moms who drive Volvos and sip soy lattes while walking around Seattle's Green Lake. It's crunchy chic, and simulates the womb as the baby gets wrapped up like a burrito against your chest. Being a vegetarian Volvo driver myself (albeit a 20-year beater), I decided to give it a try.

We purchased our Moby for $40 at a local birthing and baby store called Birth and Beyond. The saleslady helped me get it on and try it out - not with a doll but with my actual baby. The Moby is not something you just grab and slip on. It's actually just a long piece of fabric that feels like a t-shirt, and there are several ways you can fold it and configure it to support the various ways you can wear your baby with it. Let me just tell you that the ease of folding, wrapping and tying the Moby in the store, with a sleeping baby and the saleslady's expert assistance, was nothing like the real-life experience of trying to get this thing on at home to soothe a screaming infant. Nothing. While this carrier has not yet made it into the drawer, it is seldom reached for.

So here I am, sitting with Isaac cradled in my lap, wrist splint and all. I'm waiting for his spine to be developed enough for the Bjorn, his head to be held up enough for the Ergo, and my confidence to build enough to put him in the New Native sling. And I'm dreaming of the day when I, too, can join the ranks of hands-free mommies everywhere and wear my baby!

Six weeks gone by

2008-10-30T10:58:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting on my couch in a rare moment of quiet. Isaac is on my lap, but he's not really awake. Every once in awhile he'll stir, and I'll look down and realize, once again, that the tiny warm body on my lap is not, in fact, my cat.
What a difference six weeks can make.
The leaves outside my window are hued deeply of red, orange and yellow. They cling to their branches like spiders on feebly-spun webs. Funny, I don't remember them changing color. I don't even remember the end of summer.
The world has gone on outside our house, but I've hardly noticed.
I've had a baby boy named Isaac.