smell the sabotage

Rixa has a new post, *(please go read it first!)which brings into light a really messed up thing...very sneaky and insidious and I cant help but wonder what kind of fake public service this is supposed to perform or more upsettingly, how many mothers and their babies it will dupe and possibly end a beautiful and vital human relationship for...seems that Enfamil is providing a "breastfeeding support kit" which is cleverly designed to destroy your breastfeeding forays by, oh, about day 5. Maybe a teensy bit later. I know if I were alone and struggling with nursing a newborn, be it my first or my tenth baby, and this "helpful kit" were next to my bedside table, believe me, my chances of reaching for it would be exponentially higher than actually sending hubby out to the store to buy this crap. AND THEY KNOW IT.

Here is the deal. In reference to a mother and newborn who would like very much to breastfeed, here is the deal:
A newborn is born wanting to suckle. To hold this baby and keep him or her at your breast for most of the day and night, this is the intended set up. First the baby gets colostrum and this brings in the milk. It is alot, even after five babies, even after nursing non stop for 11 years, it is alot. Your nipples get sore. Your arms ache. Your body aches. The milk coming in aches. Your head aches. You ache for sleep. and all of this is without any complications. You really really want sleep. you have been through 9 months of pregnancy, climaxed it with a birth, and now BOOM time to...start a huge endeavor. The only thing keeping you from sleep is the boobs/baby situation. If you give a baby a rubber nipple and that formula just glugs down their throats and instantly fills their little bellies with no more suction that you need to do to a straw on a McDonalds' Coke, then this is what the newborn can learn. they can get lazy, they can try to nurse on you like that and then the colostrum doesnt come out and they cry and BAM you have an instant set up for the all too common as of the last 50 years "I just didnt have enough milk!" Mm-hmm. Like the Failure to Progress and all of that jazz, it is a very rare condition given proper circumstances, and there Is a great monetary profit in not only selling these mama-babies the latest in Savior-Kits a la cesareans and powdered milks, but in keeping them feeling GRATEFUL AND BROKEN. When women are kept feeling grateful and broken, the monetary profit potential is infinite.


In the absence of these insidious little kits, Mama aches and the baby works that little tongue and the Mama is exhausted but the baby is hungry and they stay up all day all night for many many days and many many nights and soon they get it and they doze in and out and the milk comes in and the nipples heal up and its Good good good. Hard and exhausting, but good. Like the pregnancy, like the labor, like it all, hard and exhausting, good good good. Worth It. Etc. Youll be soooooo glad later kind of a good.
BUT
like a nurse asking you hourly if you want a little something for the pain,
like an epidural on the nightstand at your homebirth,
or a make-it-stop-just-for-one-goddamned-night packet of formula at the foot of your bed,

The human temptation is too great. I think it is a sabotage and I will tell you why. NOT because I think one bottle of cow-powder will ruin anything. Not because I think it is poison or child abuse or bad or any of that doctrine/Mama bashing bullshit, no. Because the very nature of it, IT, just being given to you by the authorities, being called Breastfeeding Support, is just more confusion and marketing and of no help whatsoever.

Please leave Rixa some cool ideas and comments, she has proposed an alternative breastfeeding support basket/kit and she deserves the comments on this one, it is a wonderful idea. I did something like this for most of my friends who have had baby showers, including "fun" things like magazines and Red Bull or vitamin energy drinks and goodness yes the Lansinoh...

****One more time, this is NOT about me ripping on anyone for using formula. If you needed to. If you wanted to. Whatever. This is about setting women up in a sideways and very uncool way at an extremely vulnerable time and potentially ruining something for her and her baby and maybe even her future babies, in a disguise, under a ruse, through the backdoor, completely univited.****

Breastfeeding with *just* breasts

I must throw this in: from Mama-Is (Hathor the Cow Goddess)
I dont pump either. I tried it a little when baby#2 was born. you see, the grandparents were so gung ho about "babysitting" our firstborn, that I thought, ok, Ill go for this. I could use a little date with Steve. So when I was super engorged with a sleepy post-surgery newborn, I got a little handheld Isis and I tried. It kind of worked but I hated the whole thing. Bent over trying to look up the barrel of the tubing at the end of my boob to see if milk was coming out while the actual live baby screamed and howled red faced on the floor beside me seemed and was, ridiculous. I put a few little bags in the freezer and the baby sitters never ended up happening ; ) I guess the prospect of watching TWO was too much. I think I used the milk to bottlefeed Mickey over my shoulder in the backseat of the car while driving (safe!). He was a very scream-y baby.

I dont pump. All of my baby's breastmilk comes right from me. Its not a militant stance, its just how we do it. Every feeding she has ever had has come from me. I dont get the assumption that we must pump. I know I am in the vast minority but I just dont really have any interest. Or maybe when I have a little bitty baby, I just dont have anywhere to go that seems that urgent that I would do all that and sit there all engorging and worried.

Im not judging anyone and obviously moms who go to work outside the home who pump too are amazing. Moms who go on cool outing, dates, engagements and even trips are probably doing better mentally. But I was smiling to see Mama-Is post this simple little comic. There are a few mommyland things that I have never ever felt kindred with anyone about and this is one of them. Anyone else not pump for an exclusively breastfed baby?

B+B is dead.

Last night, I had a real moment. Epiphany. Deep thought. Tuned in. God. Goddess. Self awareness. Intuition. All, none, other. Doesnt matter. I have been clogged, ruminating, nesting, hibernating, pacing, thinking, thinking, thinking since about November about things, and last night it came to me, from Eska. I was holding her and she was hugging me, and she told me this. Or it was released. Or whatever it was, this is the message. As clear and true as anything that has come to me in a long long time, so I jumped out of bed to post this post to you all, to share with you the message.

It is okay to love us now. All five of us. it doesnt matter anymore how we were born. It just doesnt. Its time to come back together. All of Joy, walk right through all this fragmentation and injury and broken-ness and just be MamaJoy again. Breast and Belly is dead. It was an angry dark blog and it served its purpose, lived out its life cycle. Homeschool is love is dead. It was a defensive blog to impress relatives and serve as accountability to imaginary officials and it livewd out its life cycle. Hearth and Home is not something to be seperate, it is me and it is life. Everything Joy is not shameful or naughty or less important, it is me. A huge part of me. Its all me.

I am going to use this web address for the new Whole-Mama blog that will be up in a few days, because this is my most popular blog, and there are a few awesome folks out there who have links to this one on thier sidebars. On the other 3 blogs I am going to just direct them to this address.

I am so excited! Excited to be OKAY with the fact that I am all of it. A birth writer, a rock star, a homemaker and a married tandem nursing homeschooling mother obsessed with color and form and Oak trees and xylophones and feminism and sourdoughbread. With Blue hair. And combat boots. And and and and and.....

see you soon.

blown away

This made me sad and ill. I know it is just some nice nurse thingy but it made me almost throw up and I thought I was gonna hit the floor when I read it. So I thought something so emotional might as well be shared.

Its fine advice I guess. It just made me shake with fear. Im not kidding you, I feel so terrified just reading that, memories I guess.

I want to write one called how to get out of bed and run the entire household the day Daddy goes back to work and no one gives a shit if any of you live or die.

I dont know why I am posting this. I guess I have alot more mental stuff/ptsd than I was aware of on this random Saturday. I feel like I have to go to sleep now. thats how upsetting it was for me to even READ anything about c sections and afterwards. I totally did my makeup and we have someone coming over and I am sobbing and ruined my fun eyeshadow that I never wear. Wow.
and ps:
F U C K the person who said just stand up tall. Still cant 7 months later.

mush

I loved this. Thanks for explaining wtf is UP with me "lately" (aka the last 3 years)
Read the comments especially!

My class action thingy dream

I would like to start something big. I think it is big. Maybe there are huge columns all over ICAN already on this subject, but well, here it is:

I want physical therapy offered as a matter of course to all women who have had a cesarean. When I think about all the other surgeries that can land you in months of "rehab" and how they just shoved me out the door three times crippled and helpless, and how twisted and mangled and f-ed up my body is after three of these lovely surgeries, I just ---well, I cry and I get angry and I want to help others and I need to help myself and frankly, I think us women deserve more than the small possibility of happening on some little back alley Chinese massage technique guy or internet fumblings---we need follow up care.

I had so much attention and care when I TWISTED--not even broke-- my knee playing soccer when I was 13. Apparently recreational sports injuries are serious biz....mothers are not.

I think of every fool who torqued their elbow water skiing or got whiplash at Whirlyball and the hotubs and special exercises and care and support and medications and little handouts THEY are getting and it makes me wanna---well, I dunno. Maybe I should go take a sword throwing class and cut my belly in half and then I could get some flipping care.

Here's the deal and here is what I am suggesting: I had my c section in June of '08. I saw the doc at a four week check up and told him how bad I was doing and he literally pat patted me. As in, I was crying and hobbling and he told me to get some help around the house and it takes time and buh bye.
I cancelled my health insurance in July '08 thinking we could really use the money. I look back at this move as very symbolic of how I devalued myself and as a flaming red light sign of deep set depression and self hate. But nonetheless, the premiums are over $200 A WEEK and so we dropped it, thinking we could use the money on special things for me but it didnt happen. I dont know if it was self hate it was more like I was too hurt to get myself and 5 children to a doctor (who all "sucked" anyway and didnt listen to me) and we had no car and well, guess I was making the choice for better food and household items. I regretted it as I sunk into depression and had two serious falls but at my husband's job, you can only sign up in January or July so I had to wait.

I have health insurance again now (HALLELUEA!) and want to pursue this. What should I do? I have visions of grandeur (who, me? : )) of like this becoming some landmark case that I pursue for the betterment of all women. I am thinking of first visiting the OB again and telling him what it is that I am asking for. Him denying me and then me pursuing the insurance company or my primary care physician. Them most likely telling me that c section are not considered injuries (??or something along those lines) and me again pursuing the insurance co. And so on.

Does this sound awesome or futile or cool or useless or what? My body is just a wreck and I know that many others are in the same boat, if not worse. Like i told my friend the other day, I can slap on some makeup and show up at the coffee shop and appear to be a vibrant young(ish) mama. But truth be told, I am a brittle, pinched, mangled old thing who can't stand up long enough to even go to the bookstore and read the titles with my head sideways for more than 10 minutes.

Breastfeeding keeps you in your chair, alot. Makes sense. Have the new mom rest. Sit and milk your cubby-bear. But mine is 7 months old and this isnt about doing some crunches. My entire kinesthetics or whatever are all messed up. I do NOT think it should be on me to have to flounder about and "try" a bunch of mysterious exercises and see if i can move the next day. I ASKED the OB at my check up for some exercises and he said go about your normal household activities at 8 weeks. HA. The assertion that a)if you cant do that then oh well I guess you suck and are broken and b) that that counted as ADVICE just disgusted me. Like I had a choice to do anything but. and like I could. you know?

grrrr
I felt a definite change in healing at 10 1/2 weeks. I could walk for a long time. But that was it. I do not feel any better than when that happened.

I know you could all send me sweet little stretches and moves to do but this is what I am saying, WHY if "they" are so into keeping women's secrets and tricks and truths away from us and forcing the Medical Model onto us do then then not impose some medical healing model onto us? You gave me the damn surgical birth, so wheres my medical healing plan? now its back to garlic and yoga? Does anyone hear the hypocrisy and bullshit of this? Is it on me to find little cyber ladies to send me recipes? Wasnt that SO BAD AND DANGEROUS when i was pregnant? To rely on wisdom and here say and advice of other mamas--isnt that what the doctors and hospitals are so against?

Please tell me what you think.

5 1/2 hours of sleep!

I sleep with baby Eskarina and it works for us splendidly. She is cuddly and nurses frequently but not obnoxiously. She does unattach from her beloved nursie and assumes the adorable on the back with hands way up over her head position for lots of the night. When she starts to root and snuffle around, I help her find her beloved and we both go back to sleep. Neither her nor I barely open our eyes. She needs much less "help" than when she was a newborn, of course, and I hope to bedshare with her for a long time to come. We slept with Greta until she was 14 months old. The boys were younger, about 9 months. The reason we kicked them out so to speak ; ) is because they would wake up and instead of a sweet little search for the breast, they would bolt upright and start the party time! Crawling on my damn head, grinding their foot into my neck, trying to pull my eyelids and smack smack smacking me Ma-Ma-Ma-Ba-Ba-Ba....uh-uh. Any attempts to reattch them to the breast would get me a strong bite and then they would jam their feet into my thighs for use as a launching pad for their olympic backdive routine. I was lucky if they gave me the courtesy of letting go of my nipple before backflipping.

But Eska is cuddly and so far so good. Except for the past couple of weeks. She is getting all kinds of teeth and taking too many dozes in the mid evenings and so she has been bright eyed and perky around midnight. When I try to get her to nurse, she laughs or squeezes or pinches or just won't. Well, last night I had had enough. My upper back has had a badly pinched nerve in it for about 4 days (I know, my physical health is still so crappy but I just don't talk about it that much anymore/lately) and I couldn't do what it would have taken to twist and chase her in the bed so Daddy took her in the front room to hang out for a little while. Steve knows that men are not inherently as tuned in to that light sleep that women are when it comes to babies and so he just does not co-sleep. I think once when Greta was a baby he fell asleep with her watching tv and he woke up SO wigged out that he told me he just cannot and will not ever do that again. So I was wondering what exactly he had in mind but I was too tired and pinched to care. I figured he would watch some tv and bring her back soon.

I woke up at 5:30 am! Ahhh! What?! I went out in the living room and he had her buckled int o her baby carseat with a little blanket in front of the television. He was on the couch. she slept for 5 1/2 hours like that?!?! What a genius. How strange. Who cares?

I feel so refreshed, I didn't even realize how tired I was. I feel like a gallon of confusion-fluid has been drained from my brain and my face.

I don't know if this will work again and I don't want to start a habit. I do NOT want my period to return, and for me, the night nursing is the one thing that keeps that nightmare at bay. My first period after Casey was sleeping long stretches at night had me in the hospital for the day for hemorrhage. Plus, with my emotional physical self being what they are, I am sure it will be no surprise to learn that I suffer horrifically from PMS and deathly cramping and insane horror movie bleeding.

Screw that. I dont want that for as long as humanly possible.
So it was really really neat and weird that she slept that long or that Steve came up with that as his idea. Very Dad-ly, but I think dads operate in less of a guilt and should world that they come up with awesome stuff. (Lots of hollywood images come to mind of Mr. Moms drying babies' bums with blow dryers and other creative/funny stuff...)

If im ever dying for some deep sleep Ill try that again.

Cubby

So this is the sitting up baby-dear. She also has four teeth now and I am having a hard time photographing them. All is well here, just sort of hibernating. I like the idea of the babies and Mamas going indoors for the winter and coming out so grown up and different! Kind of like a little bear cub. Which is exactly what she is--same size, too! A little sturdy roly poly cubby who sits now.

I wish all babies, my own previous-borns included- could be as appreciated and adored as my Eska is. I literally sniff her and kiss her 1000 times a day.

Babies, Business, Breastfeeding, another oldie

Here's a breastfeeding/tandem nursing/family bed thing I wrote from a little while back.

29 years old, 2 kids, married, please

Bad Mama! Another little something I wrote on the old blog.

Oldies

I am experiencing major mush-brain, but I wanted to tell you a little about how this blog got started!

I used to have a homeschooling/family newsletter type blog. But then everyonce in a while, I would really, really want to write about birth. Every once in a while I would really, really want to write about pink hairdye. every once in a while I would really, really want to write about recipes or ways to save money or simplicity ala moving to a tiny house....and it didnt seem to fit. Especially the birth stuff, it was way too radical for my "readers" and my anger levels felt very bottled up and I just wanted a dedicated platform to say my thang, you know?

So I envisioned having a birth blog. But where to discuss fashion? Where to discuss groceries? So I made all four.

Here was one of my first birthy things I ever wrote on the original blog. It might not be my best writing but I remember the feelings of writing that piece like it was yesterday. Believe it or not this was one of the first times I ever DISCUSSED my feelings about my c section(s), anywhere, ever! I had a TON of anger at the "people who didnt come help me" and at my own naivete and foolishness at not putting aside alot of money to just hire-out. Almost exactly like Eska's birth, the anger circles around and grasps for someone to be angry AT and it goes back to myself and then it does slow down, it does.

ps I am STILL writing my birth story but it is so long!!!!! it is in "drafts"--very rare for ole' impulsive Joy.

Slow down girly!

Last weekend Eska got her first tooth!

Then 2 days later she got the other one next to it, on the bottom!

Then she started CRAWLING , reall crawling, hands and knees, Monday!

Then she started going from rolling about to complete unassisted sitting up yesterday!

Somebody tell this babyapricot that she is only 6 months old, please?!!?!?

Chaos Theory and getting out of the cultural blueprint for psychic death: by me and Ms. Gore

My dear friend Kelley, who had a baby girl on the exact same day as Eska was born, is in the exact same boat as I would be if I hadn't recently re-discovered the very noble art of resting. Yes, resting! I sit in my second-hand chair, enveloped in my favorite color, green, and I just BE. And guess what, not only is it totally ok, but the house and home did not collapse, not even close to it!

I threw out my back a few weeks ago and could NOT move. Barely. I could waddle to the bathroom if I grabbed onto tables and stuff. So, I just sat in my little chair and pulled up a sidetable with diapers, wipes, water, coffee, remotes, telephone, paper and pen, motrin, chapstick. I was beside myself with worry--what about homeschool? What about xmas obsessing/decorating/cooking/planning/mailing/crafting/baking/beautifying?...but it all had to wait. I thought it was all over, my days my schedules, my hideously stressful and rigorous routine that I thought I had to "do"---all would decimate in 12 hours, right? Not at all! It was an eye-opening day. The housework was handled that evening by me and my husband in way less time than I would have spent spinning about all wigged out all day. Me and the kids watched awesome shows on TV and Greta finally got to cook without me and my obsessive watching and lecturing about not spilling eggs on the floor.

How does this happen, this house-wife madness stuff? How can cool intelligent mamas succumb to the freaked out hyper micromanagement stuff that we might remember from our own moms, our own childhoods? It happens from just being locked indoors too long. (Because every spring, as we swing on great old swings, nothing under our feet besides new green grass, i am ALWAYS struck by the insanity of organizing bric-a-brac, obsessing over tiny stains, the imprisoning lists, sales ads, TV Guide....screw it! Its not right! Its all stupid!) and yet.....when you are locked inside with it all, IT ALL becomes your life, your world, and the weirder it gets to be trapped in that house, the tighter you keep the reigns, the more susceptible you will become, (Yes you, the intelligent cool woman) to the feminine mystique and all that fly lady stuff. It happens from being seperated from other mamas, seperated from ourselves, deprived of silence, deprived of sleep, deprived of nutritious food, depreived of rock and roll, deprived of travel, deprived of truth and reality and each other. We might remember our own childhoods in daycare centers or some "family" we saw on television, in the movies, or in the glossy ads, and we begin to sort of wander around our own homes, which we suppossed to be our sanctuaries, and start play acting out some role, some fake and weird thing, and we dont even know what the title of this play is, or why we are starring in it or why we are making our kids be in the cast and the whole f-ing thing becomes depersonalizing and freaky and then it just happens, BAM, you, the kick ass chick, is now walking around with a swiffer in your hand, actually seriously convinced you are conquering dust and....well, its psychic death.

It DOES suck to be in a messy house with messes everywhere. I am not suggesting slobbery or a complete cessation of basic routine or care. But if we cant get out, get away, get a perspective, right now, in the winter, we will all go mad, and drag our kids with us. For real. I have done it over and over. I have succumbed time and time again to the lure of thinking I was only one clever chart away from happiness, one good menu plan away from tranquility, one recipe, exercise video, homeschool product, popular blog entry, checkbook balance, golden flaky crust, color coded wash load, fruity facial scrub away from bliss. But that's all bullshit. You know it, I know it, but damn it is hard to crack out of it all. Without guilt. Without harming the children. Without filth.

I am hesitant to accidentally just start plagiarizing my favorite book of all time, but it is EXTREMELY important to me to share some of this stuff with you guys, and I have referred to it time and time again: The Mother Trip by Ariel Gore. It was on my sidetable when I sat there with my back thrown out. It is with me in the bathroom, it is always lost and yet always at hand and you HAVE to read it.

The excellent and incredible Ms. Gore reminds us of the chaos and reminds us that there ain't a damn thing we can do to stop it, life, Motherhood IS chaos. It is chaos and it is supposed to be, and just like birth, we really can only succumb to it to finally just let IT happen. Life. Motherhood. The only thing I can do now, and I hope dearly that I am not doing something illegal here, is to just share with you the beginning of this most excellent book. Please take care of yourselves, Mamas! Your lives depend on it.


From the preface of The Mother Trip, by Ariel Gore:

We have children because mothering is good for the soul. Having kids wont make us rich. it wont make our lives more tranquil. We do it because it's good for the soul. Simple, right? But motherhood is never simple. Because we don't just get new people to raise when we become Mama-women. no, with them come all the chaos of personal transformation and a wicked little cultural blueprint for soul-sacrifice and depression cleverly disguised as helpful advice and "whats best for the children".

American families have always been incredibly diverse. We all know that. We also know that Grandma Lulu was propped up on Valium and Grandma Millie worked three jobs. Its not the past we suddenly feel nostalgic for. Its more like an apple-pie-in-the-sky-perfect-mother-perfect-family fantasy thing that can-especially when were tired-be incredibly seductive. It tells us what our families should look like. It tells us who we should be and how we should act. it promises stability, eternal happiness, and laundry that's whiter than white.

The modern Mama fantasy includes layers of the 1980's supermom, the 1950's happy housewife, the early 20th century domestic scientist and the Victorian fountain of moral purity. Underneath that all there's the flickering memory of slavery, genocide, and some three hundred years of witch-hunts when we burned our midwives and our wise women at the stake and women's real lives became the stuff of secrets.

When we have kids, we cant help but catch a glimpse of that old knowledge buried underneath all our cultural fantasies. We see the personal transformation we've signed up for in it's full chaotic glory and too often, because we're also exhausted and hopelessly unsupported, we get scared. So, like our mothers and grandmothers before us, we back away from the soulful transformation and instead take the blueprint and start selling off pieces of our soul for those weird promises of stability.

To varying extents, we all do it. As the Buddhist nun Pema Chodron says, "Fear is a natural reaction to moving closer to the truth." But our flight into those empty promises is the reason mothers are the most depressed segment of the American population. There's no such thing as whiter than white. We all know that. and the alternative to chaos isn't stability- its psychic death.

My friend Wendy describes the Pacific as a vast ocean of mother's tears. "How sad!" I blurted out as we sat drinking lattes at Royal Coffee. But she shook her head: "Its not sad." Motherhood is not what we imagined. It is more delightful, more heartbreaking. it ruins everything. Its not the calm after the storm we have been led to expect. It is almost more than a person can bear. Almost.

...the word chaos brings up images of disorder, confusion and turmoil. But modern chaos theory doesn't claim that there's no order in the universe. No, chaos theory just reminds us that the order is intricate and changeable, that we might as well just give up trying to control and predict things. Its the scientific version of "do your best and forget the rest."

Only chaos theory can explain a dripping faucet, the branches of a tree, blood vessels, the beat of a human heart, my desk, or the nature of motherhood. Because it's change at work here. Chaos is reality. It's truth. So the next time anybody tries to sell you stability, make sure you don't get suckered into paying too dearly for it. Its a junk bond. Its whiter than white. Apple-pie-in-the-sky, big patriarchal lie.If that weren't bummer enough, its also more toxic than three big macs and a prozac shake. The more of it you eat, the sicker you'll feel.

Our intuition isn't always accessible. We need each other's support and helpful words. what we don't need is junk-food advice that tells us to ignore our feelings, that undermines our confidence and insults our intelligence. Its just a recipe for depression.Because what is intuition? Its a capacity of the spirit. Its knowledge.and what is depression? Its low spirits. Its knowledge withheld. but there is also a jumping-off point from this circular equation, a point where we can recognize our exhaustion for what it is, give ourselves a break, and in that quiet hour begin to transform the energy our culture has taught us to use to scrutinize and blame ourselves, and turn it outward, into something revolutionary.

-Ariel Gore, The Mother Trip, 2000.

I am only computer literate in a fake kind of way

Who wants to help me make the blog fancy, see where the hits are coming from, start up a flickr or whatever account for my pictures....anyone? Email me Housefairy75@gmail.com please!!! This is all too boring for me. I need much much more coolness.

Still here...

...just going through some stuff. We pulled the kids out of public school--although I am avoiding that phraseology--pulled them out, like reluctant turnips---because it sounds like there were these dear little students and the big hand reached down and snatched them away from their rightful paradise in wooden desks---LOL--but it is a wonderful thing for all of us, to be back together again.

I am giving myself permission to do some healing. In a lot of ways. I am being gentle and slow and thoughtful. I am trying to remember those times when I was pregnant when I treated myself like a sacred important giver of life, and when I ate nutritious wonderful meals, when I took long hot baths, when I wore comfortable clothes and when I was good to myself. For many women pregnancy is the ONLY time they do this, and then the moment the baby is born, that was considered to be that--and it is time to lose the weight, etc. For me, it goes from conception to the end of breastfeeding. Although its easy to forget and get swept away in the slick and hyper super wifey bullshit pretty darn quick. Baby be darned. Whole family be darned. Mama get depressed and attack everyone. (....Mama put all your kids in school.....)

We gave up a lot of our integrity as a family with the school thing. We feel weird now, strange, unsure and uncomfortable, defensive, awkward. This will pass with time and healing. I am being good to myself and winter doesnt give much of a choice, it helps to be cozy and slow and eat tons of soup when it is dark at 4:50 pm and nobody is rollerblading down the street making me feel lazy and blobular.

So we rest. And we heal. Cocoa mixed with coffee with whipped cream and shaved dark chocolate and smashed candy canes help. And the roly poly baby rolls and polls. Still no tooth, all the other kids were 4 months old, young I know...she also has not had any "food" and I dont see any reason to start messing around with that yet. she is happy and fat as a little pinky pig-a-let and I am sure no milk teeth yet is a sign that all is well being an all nursey baby apricot angel. 100% breastfed--but not by some militant stance, just see no need yet. I remember Mickey WANTED food from thr table at 5 months. His eyes followed every bite we took from his rightful place in our laps at the dinner table,and he was like reaching and grabbing for it, mouthing the air! I think he started on real mashed potatoes--butter and salt and maybe even pepper too--like humans did for eons before Gerber got us all in a tizzy measuring out little dead flakes to mix with microwaved tap water. Blech. But Eska doesnt do any of that yet.

Have cozy holidays and keep all your little ones warm and snug. Mamas in all stages of motherhood, calm down, slow down, take good care of yourselves. sorry for going so long w/out blogging, it has been overwhleming at times having all five kids home again in terms of sharing the computer and such and we are working on me not drowning in a lack of me-time.

And....she's rolling!

The stay put days are over! Baby dolly can roll! You go, girl!

Lil' Eska, four months old

Comebacks! Will there be a fifth one?

When I had Greta, she was my world, and I was hers. We didnt think about another baby until she was going on 2 1/2. We didnt have much trouble getting pregnant, maybe 2 or 3 cycles, and the new baby was born almost three years later, to the day. Very good spacing. My pregnancy with her gave me tons of stretch marks, huge new boobs, but all in all, a good return. Vaginal delivery, fit into my old clothes right away, when Mickey was born, Greta was still nursing but that was my choice it was infrequent,and it wasnt an issue. For the most part, with Greta, I felt like I had been pregnant, had a baby, and had a good long "comeback" between babies. Socializing, going out a little, wearing real jeans with zippers, decorative bras, a little alcohol, you know, just an adult.

After I had Mickey, the recovery time was harder, since he was a c section, and since I now had two children. But truly, by that Christmas I was bee-boppin Joy. I felt great, didnt really fit in the old clothes like before, had a scar on my belly now, but no freaky lump or roll or anything, and back to the old me for a good long while, too. Now, even though we tried to get pregnant as soon as humanly possible, (my period returned when Mickey was 9 months old), but pregnancy actually didnt happen for 20 months! So despite our secret sadness and worry and testing and charting and all that crap, I was having a very long comeback, so to speak. My farthest spaced children, in fact-- almost 38 months apart.

So we had our little Casey at home, when Mickey was 3 years + 2 months old, and it was a true one week recovery. I laid in bed for 4 days, came out to the living room for the next three days, daddy went back to work and I was doing great. I was tired, and going from 2 to 3 kids was a very very big adjustment for some reason, but the comeback was on the horizon, no doubt. I remember growing my hair very long, getting really into homeschooling, babywearing, cloth diapering, vegetarianism, all things natural, doing alot of baking, photography, reading, going to the library constantly, a very productive and positive time for me. Right before he turned one year old I got very serious about losing weight. I tried a few times before but it was too soon postpartum for me to be able to handle the low(er)-calorie thing without fits of rage and demetia, but when he was about 11 months old I had a little event happen to me in a dressing room and I started walking and drinking slimfast for breakfast and lunch and eating rice and steamed veggies for dinner and no more cola and no more beer and I lost alot of weight and then BAM I got pregnant when he was 17 months old although the comeback was a really strong one, that was January of 2005 and I have been in a state of extreme maternity ever since. Really, since Casey was conceived, in November 2002. pregnant,birth,lose a little weight,pregnant again, csection, dont heal up at all, pregnant again, csection, nursing all these little goofballs the whole time,hello it is almost November 2008!

Extreme maternity is pregnancy, full time breastfeeding at least one baby or kid, postpartum healing, depression, no sleep, no comebacks.

I dont know. I did have that cute fun blue hair time and lots of writing and blogging and good good times. But my body for SURE and my mind ALOT has had no comebacks and I am feeling it. Charlie's c section gave me the dreaded roll-sack-lump thingy on my belly which I detest and despise. The boobs have crashed and burned. I have grey hairs. Wrinkles. I can never come up with nouns, names, or titles anymore. Red spots. Spider veins. Neck ache. Back ache. Stiff hands. Broken shoulder never healed. Crazy crackling knees. Sexy!

This isnt about the scale or the clothing label. You guys know I am all about the beautiful motherly body and how glorious it all is, truly. But I am talking about comebacks here. If I can make one, just this one last time, it will be a true miracle. If youve ever had a baby or been the partner of someone, shared the life with someone who has had a baby you know about comebacks.

I have been in a state of extreme maternity for 5 years now. Its nothing compared to some of my readers with the 6 kids in 6 years (CNH!!! I LOVE YOU!!) but it was too much for this old girl. This comeback is gonna take time and its gonna have to be a real one, not a Wonderbra-and-coffee one, is this resonating with any other Mamas? Any comeback stories?

Ive made great strides mentally. For me, its too early for dieting. I am walking lots and drinking water. I am almost ready for exercises. My hair is resting and growing. I am getting my household back on track. My homeschool is smaller now but it is going nicely. Everyday is a little step closer to full comeback status.