Night Nurse

We went camping to a beautiful spot near Mt Hood called Lost Lake. Georgous, simply breathtaking. 30 miles or so from any towns, totally isolated, crystal clear water... I was ready to give it all up and become a hermit, forage for huckleberries and live in an old log. We settled into our tent for the night and I found that I was more comfortable on the hard ground than ever before! The air--so fresh! The stars--so bright! At first I felt wide awake from all the excitement of the day, but then...my lids got heavy and I found myself so ready to slumber at a shocking 9:00pm.

And then it began. Lev woke up to nurse, thrashing around to find me through the sweaters and sleepingbags, about every two hours. Maybe more frequently (I should have been charting it by the movement of the stars I suppose). And everytime I woke up, I marvelled at how well I had been sleeping, how deeply I was resting, how comfortable I was in our little tent. (Ususally, I sleep like hell in the great outdoors...) The night was long, made even longer by our early to bed routine. When the sun finally rose, I felt Jared move around in a well-rested outdoorsman seize-the-day type way; I tossed Lev to him with a snarl and fell back to sleep.

I woke up a few hours later and announced to Jared that I was through! "I'm through!", I said. "I am no longer a night nurse! I've had it!" Jared basically knows every reggae song ever written, and began singing a Greggory Issac song entitled "Night Nurse". I felt outraged. He began singing the lyrics to me: "Night nurse Only you alone can quench this Jah thirst. " I saw red. "I said, I"m through!" I said. And, struggling with the zipper on the tent door, I managed to make as impressive an exit as I could.

I feel it appropriate to post the lyrics to this song here. This is basically my life. Minus the broken heart stuff. I've bolded the lines that speak to my experience the most...

Tell her try her best just to make it quick
Woman tend to the sick
'Cause there must be something she can do
This heart is broken in two
Tell her it's a case of emergency
There's a patient by the name of Gregory

Night nurse
Only you alone can quench this Jah thirst
My night nurse, oh gosh
Oh the pain is getting worse

I don't wanna see no doc
I need attendance from my nurse around the clock
'Cause there's no prescription for me
She's the one, the only remedy

Night nurse
Only you alone can quench this Jah thirst
My night nurse
Oh the pain is getting worse

I hurt my love
And I'm sure
No doctor can cure
Night nurse
Night nurse

Lev continues to have very wakeful sleep...G-d, make this phase end soon!!

Now I lay you down to sleep...

Its been some time since my last update, and with good reason! Summer began, J-daddy got out of work, we moved, Mirabel arrived from Vermont and J's mom from Japan. So its been nuts.

One thing that I've been up against recently is the old "let your baby cry themselves to sleep" routine. When I express my sentiments against this practice, I have noticed that some people react with an internal "well, she's just hysterical", while others share my feelings and make me feel pretty right on. J tends to think that my maternal instincts are "too strong", which is a load of shit as far as I'm concerned. I know he means well, but I also know that there is no way in hell I'm letting Lev cry it out just so I can watch action movies all night.

We're in Vermont visiting my family right now. A member of my best friend Meara just had a baby, and also has a three-year-old son. Today I had the chance to be in the same room with both of them, and it made me feel very acutely how fast children grow. Lev was once the size of this little newborn, but is far from being 3...however, he is on his way. He is on the brink of crawling, he is about to sprout his third tooth and today he called out "Mama" as I was leaving a room. What does this tell you? Lev is going to be a little boy in no time. He is going to grow, and change, and develop and evolve dramatically all in this amazingly short amount of time. So what's a few action movies compared to precious time soothing my child to sleep?

I now understand that it is all about your additude. You can take the same scenario and see it either as a problem or as a night-time routine. Take Mom A for example:

"He justs wants me to hold him and nurse him until he falls asleep. I find myself just laying there and wishing that it would just end already! I can't stand how he depends on me and forces me to make him comfortable, while all I want is to relax after a long day!"

And then we have Mom B:

"Every night at bedtime, I lay down with my baby and nurse him until he falls alseep. Sometimes it takes an hour, sometimes it takes ten minutes, but I know that eventually he will drift off and then I can spend the rest of the evening doing what I want to do. It is sometimes hard knowing that I am the only one who can help him fall asleep, but I know that this is only temporary."

So there you have it. I don't want to be too judgy to all those Mom A's out there. I have it easy compared to some women; I don't have to go to work in the morning and I have the luxury of a caring partner. However, just because I nurse him to sleep doesn't mean he has a problem. Or, if I am willing to spend the time doing this, it doesn't mean I am hysterical.

Just wanted to clear that up.

So, in recent more creative news, I've been having inspirations to try and develop a comic for this parenting zine in Portland. They don't know about it yet, but I think they'd go nuts for it. Thus far, my vision is a comic of the experience I had at the Dr's office regarding vaccines and breastfeeding... Once I've got something throw together, I might post it here!

Lev updates include that we are feeding him bananas and mashed carrot. His poop smells bad, he loves eating, and that's basically all I have to say about it.

Also, its dark and rainy and I have next to no energy... Lev will wake up from his nap soon and I'll be back in sluggish action.

More to come...

My Lovely Lady Lumps

It has been a week and a half of plugged ducts from hell. For those of you who aren't in the know: this means the milk duct is not allowing the milk to flow, resulting in a hard lump that grows increasingly more painful as you try your damnest to get the milk flowing again--this means, pressure, squeezing, massaging and holding it under hot water in hopes of loosening up whatever it is that is keeping it clogged...

This is not a sensual experience, this is not a laughing matter...this is probably the worst part of breast feeding. Every mother has their "thing"--apparently this is mine.

I've talked to a Le Leche League leader, who advised me to rest up and keep drinking water. I talked to a Board Certified Lactation Consultant, who basically didn't really hear me and kept repeating her standard phrases...however, she told me about the use of ultrasound as a way to break up the clog. I'm considering this as a seriously last resort. She also informed me that it can take up to TWO WEEKS for some plugged ducts to heal, so she wasn't too concerned with my measley week and a half. Have I mentioned that I've had FOUR flare ups in that time? Each time, I was so relieved when it ended, only to find myself in a panic as it returned some 24-36 hours later...

Picture this: your breast has a lump in it and you know that if you don't do something about it, there is a chance it will become infected meaning that you'll likely get a fever and be treated with antibiotics. Picture this: you are nursing your baby on that breast hoping that they will help unplug that duct, all the while "massaging" the affected area. Picture this: you're irritable as all hell, dragging yourself around the house in a baggy house-dress (no bras! nothing restricting), grumbing as your baby insists on being bounced/sang to/played with/fed/cooed at/entertained and all you want to do is pull the covers over your head and hide from your own boob. Picture this: you're half-clothed, dipping your boob in a hot-tea-concoction while grating potatoes, which you plan on applying to the affected boob once you're done leaning over a bowl of tea.

Listen, I've done this a thousand times. I've done it more times than the average woman. I've done this so many times that I don't even want to have breasts anymore. I'm done. I'll have them removed, donated, returned! Take them back!

But for the rest of you out there--don't let this dissuade you from breast feeding--I'm just this freak show with a boob lump. I don't know anyone else who has suffered from this like I have. Its just my thing--a thing that I would like to end NOW.

The Break Hath Cometh...

My parents came for a short weekend visit (from Vermont--it nearly killed both of them I think). They got to be grandparents up close and personal--it made me feel so good to have them here, namely, because it meant that I got to take a little time off. This experience has really made me wish that more of these relative types lived closer--Mirabel, my sister, will be here in June, which will make a huge difference, but still! How do new families manage without grandparents??

So here is a toast to grandparents--we wish you were closer, because we need a break! Hip, hip, horray!

Speaking of breaks, my back is nearly broke. This baby-child of mine has hit the 20 pound mark, making him both adorably healthy and freaking heavy.

In other news, we may be moving to a new place--more room for this child to grow. He is like a goldfish.

I'm starting to have fantasies of feeding Lev solid foods and him sleeping through the night... My patience really started wearing thin this past weekend. I think part of this is really due to the little known fact that mothers DO NOT GET A FUCKING BREAK. Alright, with that outbreak taken care of, I can address the real issue: baby mama is tired... Once again, the late humorist Erma Bombeck is starting to feel like my personal muse. She wrote a weekly column about the woes of being a housewife that eventually were turned into books. Titles like "The grass is always greener over the septic tank"... etc etc. She gave a voice to the housewife of the 1970s and 1980s that was a post-feminist/pre-new wave feminist--basically, she missed out on it all--but that really truly spoke to millions of American women who also, through generation gaps etc, totally were your definition of the "unliberated", "unenlightened" American woman. But also--even if you are a "liberated" modern gal, you still gotta load the laundry, wash the dishes, feed your kids and make happy with your husband. So where is our break?

Jared is starting to get it--that his job ends at 4pm everyday, and my day stops for a few hours in the night when Lev is asleep, between feedings. Oh, alright, so it doesn't stop. (Here is my disclaimer where I remind you all how much I really, truely love my baby and I'm grateful for everything I have.) Anyway, you get the picture: the modern gal, her non-stop baby, her tired and loving husband and the movies they watch at night to take the edge off.

All that said, I am thinking about trying to pump breastmilk again so that I can have a little time apart from the family... however, this thought also makes me kinda nausiated. I hate pumping. Hence, thinking about starting to feed Lev solid foods... which, I am pretty conflicted about. So it continues... in the mean time, come visit and hold the baby for a few minutes so I can make myself some eggs and toast.

Did I say that he cut one tooth? I meant to say he cut TWO teeth. Soon, he will look like the darling little Jack'o'Lantern that I've always dreamed of giving a name to.

In other news, I'm reading this book that every woman in this country must read. It is called Wild Feminine, written by Tami Lynn Kent. She is a Portland writer, she is a healer (Women's Health Physical Therapy) and is basically the shit. She has written a book that more or less details everything that needs to be said about the nature of the feminine in modern times. Feminine, not as a adjective, but as an energy force. Please, please, please--ladies.

Read it. Get into it. Right now.

--->check this out please!! http://www.wildfeminine.com