Breastfeeding

About six years ago I attended a Doula training during which I learned about the "breast crawl"- When a baby is born and placed on the mother's stomach, it has the instinctive ability to crawl up to the breast and latch on without any help. We watched a few videos of this seeming phenomenon, and I was convinced that it was the only way; someday when I had babies they would crawl up my stomach and latch on and breastfeeding would be beautiful and perfect from the very first hour of life outside my womb.

I'm not sure anything is ever really beautiful and perfect from the get go, and Harrison's and my breastfeeding relationship certainly was not.

Harrison was born after 61 hours of labor in a way that was very different from my hopeful birth plan. There was a lot of activity around us for a while as we were skin to skin for his first moments of life, I was exhausted from the intensity of the past few days, and Harrison was likely a bit groggy since I ended up with an epidural (and who knows what else they pumped in me.) There was no breast crawl, and hardly a mention of breastfeeding for a while. I have no recollection of the moment Harrison first latched, or of any of the first moments we were trying to latch. No teary-eyed picture of my newborn and I bonding in that way at all (which was part of the beautiful and perfect fantasy.)

My first memory of breastfeeding is of a few hours after Harrison was born, and the nurse saying to me "I don't usually like to offer a nipple shield before a baby is 24 hours old but ..." And so it was with that help that Harrison and I began breastfeeding, with a piece of plastic between us. I so did not want it, but I was offered no other advice, and my baby needed to eat. (I had a small knowledge of breastfeeding from a class I took before Harrison was born, but I don't think anything can prepare you for the application of that knowledge when everything is brand new and you are too out of it to make conscious decisions.)

We left the hospital the next day but not before the hospital lactation consultant visited with us, per my request because I wanted to nurse without a nipple shield. I remember only two things from the time she spent with us - 1. She had a lot of things to say and I felt like I was being talked at rather than helped. And 2. She asked if she could put a drop of sugar water on my breast to encourage Harrison to latch. After an hour of being talked at I learned nothing, and Harrison hadn't latched, and we went home with the nipple shield.

One of our midwives came to check on us the next day and everything looked great aside from Harrison being slightly jaundiced, and that I was still sorting out how to nurse him, even with the shield. So it was suggested I reach out to a lactation support company who would send someone the next day to both check his bilirubin levels (for the jaundice) and help us out with nursing.

That visit was an interesting one. The LC brought a very specific nursing pillow with her and talked me through the steps of nursing Harrison with the pillow. To my request of getting rid of the shield, she said I'd likely be able to stop using it in a few weeks. Looking back, it was another person talking at me and giving generic answers to my questions. Towards the end of her visit she started talking about how she was running late for her next client. I was feeling good enough at that point and she left in a hurry. But then Jer and I were left with needing to go out and buy more things (the very specific nursing pillow that was an important part of the only way she showed me to nurse), and while my post-partum brain thought that I had just gotten a lot of help, after processing through it a week later I realized it had been mostly a waste of time. My questions hadn't been answered and my thoughts hadn't been heard.

Fast-forward almost two weeks later, at another follow up appointment with our midwife when we found out Harrison hadn't gained any weight for a week. Our midwife wrote that he was "failure to thrive" and made sure I reached out to another lactation consultant immediately.

Ugh. The heaviness of that scenario was rough. I felt like all I was doing was nursing, it felt awkward each time and I was starting to dread him needing to eat, I had been "helped" by three different people (who, in hindsight, were part of the reason he wasn't nursing well), and I just didn't know what to do.

The one thing I do love, looking back on the messiness of that time, is that never once did someone mention a bottle or formula. It never even crossed my mind, and I am so thankful to have had people around me who wanted to see Harrison and I work out our nursing relationship and knew that we could, and so in their support they never mentioned an alternative to breastfeeding, instead they talked about a plan for Harrison and I to better learn how to do it. I see far too often formula pushed as the "only" option- given as an assumption that if a baby is not gaining weight, Mama isn't producing enough milk- while in reality it is not quite as common as it seems for mothers to not make enough milk for their babies. I wish that instead of formula being the very first thing talked about, mainstream advice would first look to checking for lip and tongue ties, encourage nursing on demand, discourage sleeping through the night, check how efficiently the baby is getting milk, and through all that giving mothers the tools they need to have the correct milk supply and the confidence that they ARE enough to feed their babies. And even after all that, I wish more women were made aware of donor milk and/or supplemental nursing systems if they do end up needing to search out an alternative. My issue is not with formula, but with the lack of support and options given to mothers in mainstream pediatric practices. If I hadn't been seen by my "crunchy" midwives, and if I hadn't already had a little bit of knowledge surrounding breastfeeding, I was in the perfect situation to be given formula for Harrison and left to my own devices after that- and this is AFTER being helped by three different women who's jobs were to help Harrison and me establish breastfeeding. I am so thankful that the support I had in the process was always "How can we help breastfeeding be established better so that Harrison is eating enough?"

It was with that support that I (finally) reached out to a friend who is an International Board Certified Lactation Consultant. Why she wasn't the first person we talked to is beyond me, I wasn't thinking clearly those days and other people were making decisions for me.

Kim came to our home the very next day, with a softness and gentle energy I hadn't yet felt by anyone else in her field. She took one look at the nipple shield and told me to put it in the trash. She watched me struggle with the nursing pillow for all of 10 seconds and then we set it aside for good. She checked Harrison out. She checked me out. We grabbed a bunch of pillows from our bed and she showed me and Jeremy how to use them to get Harrison to nurse in a variety of positions. She showed me how to actively help Harrison nurse, and got him to latch immediately. He was gulping down milk so fast and strong we could hear it hitting his stomach. We chatted, and I was listened to. As questions arose, they were answered. Harrison and I were looked at as two individuals learning how to do something together in a unique way best suited only to us. She left by showing me how to side-lie nurse in bed, Harrison next to me, me in the middle, and Jeremy being an active participant by cuddling as the big spoon. There was a calmness in the air and for the first time in two weeks, I had a bit of confidence that everything was going to be okay.

Kim came back two days later to weigh Harrison and was looking for a one ounce weight gain. He had gained THREE ounces and was already starting to form the double chin that has stuck with him now for the past year.

And everything was okay after that, though not to say it was all rainbows and butterflies. I was stressed out for the better part of the next few weeks, tracking all his feeds, listening for his gulps, and being very hands on when he nursed, as he still needed a lot of support to be efficient with it. I was exhausted, my breasts were sore, and I was constantly worried that he wasn't getting enough. But time released the fears, little by little, and nursing became easier and easier, and at some point it became second nature and neither of us had to exert much effort. I was finally in the place I wanted to be with breastfeeding.

Harrison and I have continued to have a wonderful nursing relationship. He exclusively nursed for close to seven months, and we started slowly on solids- giving him the opportunity to learn flavors and textures, rather than looking at the food as a source of nutrition- so for almost his entire first year he thrived on mostly breast milk. These days he is obsessed with eating solids and nurses noticeably less, even turning down the opportunity at times. But he still nurses frequently at night and nap time, and I am eager to continue that through at least age two, and am hopeful that he will still ask for the occasional feed a year or two or three after that.

first birthday nursing snuggles

I am thankful that while learning to breastfeed had its struggles and frustrations, the only "problem" we had was bad advice. Harrison simply wasn't able to nurse effectively with that darn nipple shield. I am doubly thankful we were finally able to find good advice to get us on track for our positive nursing experience. I know there are so many issues that women face in their breastfeeding journeys that can take a lot more effort, time, and intervention to fix; I sincerely hope that mainstream knowledge will start to take a turn and focus more on how to help new Mamas and babies efficiently nurse and that more positive breastfeeding support will be available for everyone who needs it.

I will breastfeed here or there, I will breastfeed anywhere

Elimination Communication

Dirty diapers are supposed to be a fact of life with a baby. And we have our fair share, kind of. Plenty of diapers filled with pee, thrown in the wet bag, and washed every other day (more on cloth diapers another time. *edit, here is my post on cloth diapering) But dirty as in poop? Please no. I can't remember the last time I changed a poopy diaper, and for that I am grateful. But how? I promise you my little guy is healthy and normal and regular. It's just that he knows that poop goes in the potty, and so that's where he takes care of it. This is the stuff of Elimination Communication!

I can't remember where I first heard of EC, but I know that I learned of it either before or during my pregnancy. The general concept is that babies are born with an awareness of doing their business, and instinctually they'd much rather not dirty a diaper- but the faster-paced society we live in now, coupled with the convenience of disposable diapers, has made us essentially train our children to make dirty diapers. With EC, you learn your baby's signs for needing to go potty, and you give them the opportunity to do so on the toilet when they need to. You can start this as early as the day they are born. What's great is that EC can look different for everyone; there is not one single standard approach. Some families EC full time, and they may have their babies in underwear by one-year-old. Some EC only during the day, some only when they are at home, etc.
Much like you and your baby learn how to communicate about his hunger, or sleepiness, or happiness, or discomfort, overstimulation, you can learn how to communicate about his needs to relieve himself. EC was alluring to Jeremy and me because of that communication, we liked the idea of having one more way to connect with Harrison. We also prefer the language used in the EC community. Peeing in a diaper or any other undesirable location is not an "accident"- rather, it is a "miss." That simple rephrasing suits our gentle parenting hearts well. Additionally, "catching" it on the toilet is not meant to be some big celebration, it is instead just a fact of how things are meant to go, and is treated as such.
We started very casually EC-ing when Harrison was four months. In the early days, I gave him a lot of diaper free time on absorbent blankets and puddle pads, and spent that time observing him and looking for cues. Anytime he did go, I made a sound to associate with the action- "psssss" for pee, and a sort of grunting for poop. I also took note of how long he took to pee after he nursed. When he was in a diaper, I tried to change it every hour (and/or 20 minutes after nursing), in an effort to find a dry one and offer him the toilet (or the sink, initially.) I offered him the potty during every diaper change, regardless of it being wet or dry. When we were on the toilet, I cued him with the sounds for pee and poop as well as verbally asking him if he needed to go potty.
There was certainly a transitional time of missing almost everything as Harrison and I both tried to figure out what was going on, but after a short few weeks we sort of had it figured out, and we were noticeably going through less diapers.
Our casual EC-ing has remained casual, and evolved into simply offering the toilet with every diaper change (which is at most every two hours due to the cloth diapers.) I also offer him the toilet during transitional times- immediately after getting home, or waking up, or getting out of the carrier- as I've learned he is more prone to going at those times. We don't EC at night because Harrison is rarely fully awake throughout the night, and we didn't want to sacrifice that. This casual take on EC has led us to catching a handful of pees throughout the day; some days are better than others. Harrison truly understands the concept, but we never did work hard enough to get him to communicate a need to pee, and he is perfectly happy to go in his diaper if I don't happen to catch it.
But the glorious ease at catching poops will never be lost on me. He has always made it fairly obvious when he needs to do it, and I estimate that we've caught 80-90% on the toilet since he was six months old or so. And as a bonus (as is meant to be the general nature of EC), since he's been mobile, Harrison will come and get my attention when he needs to go- he will often crawl or walk up to me and tell me in his own way what he needs to do, and I bring him to the toilet to take care of it.
Though we never jumped in to EC full-time, I am hopeful that since Harrison has maintained his awareness of these important body functions, he will be fully diaper free long before it is the societal norm to start standard potty training. I'm in just as much uncharted territory as anyone else with a one-year-old, but I am hopeful that the past eight months of EC-ing will be beneficial in transitioning Harrison to be diaper free and potty independent sometime in the next six months. (And then say goodbye to washing all those diapers!)
(The book "The Diaper Free Baby" by Christine Gross-Loh was very helpful when we first started, and it was a simple and straightforward read. I was able to get it at the library- though I had to put it on hold and wait a few weeks ... I need to meet these other EC-ing families!)

the seed

On the day you were born
a seed was planted in my heart.

It's hard to understand
the first few weeks of motherhood
until you've been through it.
The inner doubts,
the ever-changing emotions,
feeling like a stranger in your body.
Learning how to care
for the neediest little being
and forgetting to care
for yourself.

Confidence came in sprinkles
a little rain shower
every now and again
and the seed slowly rooted.

We learned together
and as you grew
I grew
and the roots reached down
and held steadfast
while little vines stretched up.

The newness turned to
insight,
the doubts to trust.
Emotions leveled off.

I found gratitude
for my body,
a vessel that housed you,
kept you safe,
nourished you,
for forty weeks
and forevermore.

The vines stretched up more
and more
the roots found firm ground
and grew deeper
deeper
and deeper.

My heart reached a fullness
never known before.
You bring such joy, such hope.

It's hard to understand
the first year of motherhood
until you've been through it.
The peace, the tender
ferocity, the balance,
the purposeful sacrifice.
Learning how to protect
and set free,
how to encourage and indulge,
how to instruct.

The love that was planted
one year ago
now bursts out of me.
Unwieldy
unconditionally
growing faster each day.

Happy first birthday my sweet Harrison, Mama loves you.

Sourdough all the time

My new obsession these days is homemade sourdough bread. Tough, crunchy crust, and soft, tangy, chewy middle- topped with what Jeremy has nicknamed a "Bekah-amount" of butter, and sometimes jam on top of that.

YUM.

I've been interested in making sourdough for a while now; my love for fermented food is never-ending, and I've been buying loaves of delicious but not "real" sourdough bread at the grocery store for far too long. Most of my other food is homemade, and so it was time to add to my repertoire.

True sourdough bread is made with a starter that involves flour, water, and wild yeast. You can maintain a starter for years and years and years once you get it going- and pass it down through many generations! Thanks to the starter, and the length of time you wait for the dough to rise, sourdough bread is more easily digestible, as the bacteria and yeast in the starter pre-digest the starches in the flour. Some sourdough breads, while made with wheat flour, lay claim to being entirely gluten free for this reason.

Now, I am not yet at the place where I know how to "do" sourdough as well as I do kombucha, and my first attempt at a sourdough starter was a true fail- I grew mold instead. But I've a lovely friend who has been taking care of her starter for two years now, and she shared some with me. And I found a seemingly fool-proof recipe from one of my favorite blogs, and for five weeks now our home has had delicious loaf after delicious loaf.

Hopefully later this year I will be able to write about some variations on this method, and learn some troubleshooting, but for now- here are some iPhone pictures and the method I am using to make real sourdough bread on a weekly basis. I start on Wednesday night and bake on Friday morning. If I can manage self-control, Jeremy and I share the first bites of a new loaf when he gets home from work on Friday evening. Start to finish is truly a lesson in patience.

The evening of day one:

1. Take sourdough starter out of the fridge and pour off all but 1/4-1/2 cup into a large glass bowl (my 4qt pyrex works great for this).

2. Feed the separated stater with one cup of water and 1.5-2 cups of flour. I mix white and wheat flour.

3. Feed your original starter with 1/2 cup of water and 1 cup of flour.

4. Let both starters sit in a warm place with a towel draped over top for 12-24 hours.

The morning of day two:

1. Cover the original starter and put it back in the fridge until next week.

2. Feed the new starter with approximately 3 cups of flour, 1.5 cups of water, and 1 teaspoon of salt.

3. Cover with a towel and leave undisturbed once more for 12-24 hours.

The morning of day three:

1. Preheat the oven to 450°

2. Place a large lidded french oven (or in my case, a stainless steel pot, as it is all I have), into the oven and let it get hot for 20 minutes.

3. Liberally flour a large tea towel- 3/4 to 1 cup of flour will do. Pour the sourdough batter on top of the towel and flip it all around to ensure it is covered in flour on all sides.

4. Take the pot out of the oven (carefully!!!), and transfer the dough/batter into the pot. Put the lid on and bake for 30-35 minutes.

5. After the first half of baking time, take the lid off and bake for another 30-35 minutes.

6. The bread is done once the crust is nice and hard. Carefully dump it out of the pot and let cool- it is crucial to not cut into it until it is cool, the heat will release all of the moisture.

For the next few days:

1. Indulge in exorbitant slices of sourdough with even more exorbitant amounts of butter, jam, cheese, anything delicious.

To store, just keep the bread on a cutting board, cut side down on the counter. The crust will get crunchier as the days go on, but it protects the middle and keeps it soft. You can throw a towel over if to keep pests away.

At least once a day, you can find me in the kitchen, slices of sourdough in hand, butter not forgotten. Harrison will often join me, and as I'm enjoying my bread and butter, he enjoys his butter and butter- one of his current favorite foods- and giving him pieces of butter to eat greatly increases the amount of time I am able to relax and enjoy my homemade goodness.

fresh out of the oven

holes are good- they show the yeast has done its job

a Bekah amount of butter