Breastfeeding came remarkably easily for me with both my second and third children. I was fortunate my milk supply was strong -- perhaps even a bit too strong. Leaking through those useless nursing pads happened on a daily basis. Busy prints, flattering or not, became my uniform and I didn't travel anywhere without a decorative scarf capable of camouflaging whatever excess staining the pads or prints had missed.
I was also working a very part-time, flexible schedule that allowed me, for the most part, to nurse "on demand." And the fact that both my of my younger kids were born in Madison, which I have found to have a very accepting attitude toward public breastfeeding, meant I could take them anywhere without having to worry about finding a private spot or open bathroom stall when either of them got hungry.
I breastfed my younger two not just for the health and bonding benefits, but also because I found unbuttoning my shirt and letting my little person latch on to be a whole lot easier than sterilizing bottles.
Son number one, though, was born in Chicago, which, at least in the late 1990s, wasn't quite so open to the possibility that a nipple might be flashed during a coffee shop feeding. And nursing him was further complicated by the fact that he suffered from an unusual allergy to cow's milk protein. It wasn't direct contact with cows' milk that was causing the problem, but instead an issue with my milk that stemmed from milk products I was ingesting. This meant I had to go dairy-free (very challenging for a cappuccino addict) for months.
And perhaps most difficult for me, since I was worked full-time in an office during his first year, was adapting to the ritual of pumping three times daily. I found it to be messy, uncomfortable and fairly unproductive -- I could never seem to get more than two or three ounces expressed, total, at a time.
So when my oldest was around nine months old, I gave in and began to allow my babysitter to supplement during the day with bottles of soy (he couldn't drink dairy, of course) formula. It wasn't so much that I couldn't keep up the pumping...I just didn't want to. I was tired of missing meetings and having milk leak all over my dry-clean-only blouses. I was looking for an excuse to not have to work so hard to feed my precious little guy.
So when I saw last week's Isthmus article on adoptive moms who choose to breastfeed, I was astounded. Not just by the fact that it was medically possible (I never paid much attention in biology class), but also by the lengths to which these women went to guarantee their much-longed-for infant received both the health and bonding benefits of nursing.
These women use Supplemental Nursing Systems (SNS)-- a bottle with tubes that can be taped to the nipple to provide additional milk while the baby is feeding. They tape and untape at every feeding, which means, basically, every hour on the hour. Now, that's sacrifice.
And these moms try medications, like birth control pills, and experiment with herbs that are known to enhance milk supply. There is no way I could have remembered to take a medication every day in the haze of infant parenting (which is probably one contributing factor to the fact I have three children).
But most impressive to me, these mamas pump and pump -- the bane of my existence with my first-born -- religiously. And I am guessing joyfully, as well. And to think I complained about having to do the extra laundry milk-stained shirts entailed?
Even though I didn't pay attention during class in high school, adoptive moms, you've taught me something really important about biology. In this case, that it makes certain aspects of parenting much easier and not something I should have taken for granted. And, I am truly humbled, by all you do to give your babies the beauty of breastfeeding.comments powered by Disqus
Do you have a little reader or an aspiring teenaged writer in your house? If so, you may want to venture to the Wisconsin Book Festival this weekend, to whet their appetite for wonderful words as well as your own.
When I was pregnant with my daughter, my husband and I had two names picked out. Upon her arrival we had not yet come to a conclusion on what that name would be. Everyone told us that when we saw her we would just know. We didn't.
At age 10 months, my kids have seen the zoo a lot already. I was a zoology major in college, and I have something of a zoo addiction still, so the twins (and their dad) are more or less condemned to a future rife with zoo visits.
Home-schooling can be a lonely proposition. Even as a college professor, Juliana Hunt remembers struggling to find support to home-school her now-grown daughter. "I was always hoping to find like-minded people who were in the same position as me," she says. "I know that children learn best through a give-and-take, question-and-answer process of teaching and learning, but where do you find mentors who can make that happen?"
After sleep patterns, I think the next biggest parenting concern I have and hear about revolves around the topic of food. How can I make sure my kids are eating enough vegetables? Did I pack them a lunch that is healthy enough? What can I feed them after school that doesn't come from a box? How many gripes am I going to get about the dinner I'm about to prepare?
As far as places to embark on Baby's First Air Travel go, Dane County Regional Airport is a pretty sound choice, especially at 6 p.m. on a Saturday night. My biggest fear was that my nine-month-old son would start screaming in the airport; my second biggest fear was that my son would start screaming and some of my former Epic colleagues would be around to hear it.
The recent shift in the weather is just another sign that autumn is fast approaching. That means one of my favorite activities is just around the corner -- apple picking. My husband and I have been picking apples every fall since before our kids were born.
I have a lot of questions about what to put on my eight-month-olds' plates -- and, if I'm honest, a deep and abiding fear of putting the wrong thing there. Did I start them on solid foods at the right time? What's the deal with baby-led weaning -- how much self-feeding should they be doing? At what age should I give them potential allergens like shellfish or nut products?
Lily the potbellied pig arrived at Heartland Farm Sanctuary blind, lethargic and too overweight to walk. The children of Heartland's summer day camp program took it upon themselves to put the curl back in her tail.
Is it just me or does each summer seem to go by quicker than the last? The end of summer is upon us and for many families this means the start of a new school year.
This past week, on the way to the grocery store, my daughter asked what I believed she thought would be a innocuous question, "Mom, when are we going back-to-school shopping?"
Volunteering with the Young Writers Summer Camp this past week really helped me to remember how utterly creative kids can be when encouraged to come up with their own ideas and use their own words.
This past week I gleefully accepted an offer for new job on the UW-Madison campus. My kids are getting are older and I guess I've felt for a while now that it was time to figure out what would be next for me on the professional front.
"Kids spend so much time in and around school, it's the only place where some have a chance to develop an appreciation for a healthy lifestyle," says Katie Hensel, founder and executive director of Tri 4 Schools.
"I'm envious, mom," said my twelve-year-old daughter as she hopped in the car after theater camp last week. "All the other kids in my group seem to really like, and to be really good at, singing, dancing and acting. But I think all those things are just okay."
"People are looking to book space here all the time," says Remy Fernández-O'Brien, communications and facilities coordinator for the Lussier Community Education Center, a private, nonprofit community center on Madison's west side. "They want to throw their child's first birthday party here or hold a Girl Scout meeting. We're really busy year-round, but it's especially lively here in the summer."
Last week, in response to the county-wide Sleep Safe, Sleep Well public health campaign that encourages parents to "share the room, not the bed" with their sleeping infants, Isthmus contributor Ruth Conniff penned a lovely opinion piece in defense of bed sharing entitled "Confessions of a Co-Sleeper."
As much as I'd like to believe there is latent genius in my daughter's early finger paintings, I'm pretty sure her works are not distinguishable from those created by the pointer fingers and pinkies of thousands of other children from across the world.
Seeing Romeo and Juliet this past weekend was a definite reminder that I need to prepare for something that might resemble a (near) West Side Story around our place pretty soon.
All during childhood, we calmly tell our kids they don't need to be afraid of the dark, thunder or the monster under the bed. But it's pretty hard to keep your parental cool when your kid is about to embark on the one thing that terrifies you. I knew the problem wasn't really with him. It was with me.