Tempering the Temperament...

Temperament. Something I learned extensively about as a developmental psychologist. The importance of which was something I talked about in my own classes to my graduate students. Something I eagerly awaited to evaluate in my own child.

You see, temperament is almost always inherited from the mother or father; it's innate and somewhat inflexible. Some temperaments are able to be altered, but most are only influenced by trauma and abuse. A child's temperament is very important to understand because it not only predicts what kind of personality the child will have, it helps you to understand the types of issues the child may face, as well as what style of parenting you will need to have with this particular child. Temperament is why parents of multiple children say "that totally worked with my first child, but not at all with my second." In a word, temperament is your child's 'constitution'.

I know a lot about it, so before Wilson, I evaluated both Mike and my temperament as children. Based on our parents' descriptions, I was an 'easy' baby and Mike was 'slow to warm'. 

An easy temperament baby is the one that everyone hopes will show up in their child. They are calm, flexible, easy-going babies. They love to be cuddled, but can be very happy for hours playing by themselves. As babies, these infants sleep well, eat well (unless there is a concurrent digestive issue) and their parents are likely to say "This baby stuff is hard, but it's do-able." Wilson had about a 45% chance of being an easy baby since I was, but alas, he is not.

Another form of an easy temperament baby is the "active" baby. They have the easy disposition, but can't sit still. As an infant, they develop physically very quickly and are constantly on the move. It is not uncommon for them to get into lots of mischief, be bored easily and be walking well before they are one year old. They can't sit still and they exhaust the crap out of their parents, but at least the kids are very happy while they do it. Parents of an active baby usually say things like, "This kid never stops!!!" Since neither Mike nor I had this temperament, Wilson had about a 5% chance of being active. But, thank goodness, he does not have active temperament. I'm way too old for to survive a child that can't sit still.

A slow-to-warm baby is basically a shy child. As an infant, they are slow to react to things: eating, sleeping, etc. They like to be cuddly with their parents and can be anxious when they can't see them. They use parents as the home base and need encouragement to try new situations and meet new people. Parents of the slow-to-warm baby say things like, "He's a little clingy..." Since Wilson was clearly not easy, I was holding out for this one. After all, he had a 45% chance of getting this one as well. But, nope. He was not.

The last main type of temperament is difficult. It's called that because this is the type that parents fear. Literally, the last possible type you would ever want. Babies that have a difficult temperament have a horrible time regulating ANYTHING. They don't easily regulate their senses, their sleep cycles, their eating, their emotions - so basically their whole lives. They cry over everything, need tons of constant soothing, cling to you like a suction cup, sleep like crap and eat irregularly. They are often comorbid with colic, but not all the time. Many parents think their children are difficult, until they actually meet a difficult child. There is no break, no end to the neediness of these little ones. Parents of difficult children usually say things like, "Do you want a child? Please, take mine!" Wilson had a 5% chance of getting this temperament. But my kid likes to play the odds.

Before 2 months, I noticed a few things in Wilson's behavior that were a little disconcerting. He had a hard time with transitions. When you switched his position, handed him to another person or even put him down, he would fuss a little. Mike and I responded by taking the time to soothe him and never rushed him. Consequently, his ability to handle transitions became much improved. I also noticed that the kid didn't sleep. He slept about an hour at a time (MAX) until I would put him on his belly, when he would sleep about 3 hours at a time (maybe). He also had issues with eating. If you've read my other posts, you know he hasn't been able to breastfeed - partially due to his low threshold for frustration, but even with the bottle, he was finicky about how we held it and what kind of bottle we used. Also, some days he would eat 35 ounces and others only 15 ounces. But he didn't really cry too much - he fussed a little and we could easily calm him down. So, I was hoping beyond hope that he was a slow-to-warm child.

At 2 months, I noticed a huge shift in Wilson's behavior. So much so that I thought he was teething. I could see a little white below the gum (still there), so I thought perhaps this atrocious behavior was due to him teething. But, now I believe it is stable enough to call his temperament. He suddenly found his lungs and would cry intensely over any discomfort. He could no longer easily fall asleep at night and began waking up more at night (5 to 6 times). He refused to be put down AT ALL during the day. And when I say refused, I mean that he cried bloody murder until he was picked up and consoled. He didn't like riding in the car, he doesn't like being in the stroller, he just wants to be strapped onto your body and jiggled. Good thing I had lots of carriers; I perfected baby-wearing and doing dishes and laundry with this baby strapped to me. Babywearing also became necessary for anything outside - including eating out or getting groceries. Here's the tough thing about "difficult" babies - you know that they are changed, they are fed and that their major needs have been met. So, you feel intensely manipulated - like the kid must be doing this to you on purpose. But this isn't a toddler (who knows how to manipulate). A baby doesn't even understand that you are a separate individual, so they aren't capable of manipulation. They are crying because they don't understand, are scared, anxious and unable to regulate and adjust like other infants. So what else can you do except go to your infant and help them when they are crying for your help so intensely? I knew the research about difficult temperament which says if you don't do this, they can end up with trust issues and major behavioral problems. Great. So, I know I need to be responsive consistently for this little man, but it was becoming really difficult.

At 10 weeks after he was born, I was at the end of my rope. I couldn't balance work with taking care of him at all. I felt like a little parasite had attached itself to me and was slowly sucking the life out of me. I loved (and still do!) him so much, but I was sleep-deprived, losing weight at an alarming rate (probably from all the jiggling and no time to eat), barely showered, had no time for self-care and was grieving the fact that my baby was not easy or slow-to-warm. My baby was just like my pregnancy and labor: difficult.

I did some meditation and realized that I had to change how I was seeing Wilson's temperament. I started a major shift in my self-care and began doing important things like eating and showering again (important stuff!). I had to make sure that I shared enough tasks with Mike to stay sane so that we could both be as responsive as we needed to be. Mike and I talked about the research on difficult temperament. Sure, it is really exhausting, but at the same time, difficult is the ONLY temperament where parental behavior can make a huge difference in the child's personality as an adult. Outside of abuse or trauma, an easy child will grow up to be a laid-back adult. A slow-to-warm child will always be a little shy. An active child will always be a whirlwind of energy. But a difficult child is completely dependent on their parents for what their personality will be like as an adult. Research shows that difficult children whose parents are responsive consistently and teach their child how to regulate grow up to have an easy-going, balanced and calm disposition as adults. They are stable, empathic and show leadership abilities. On the other hand, when parents are not consistently responsive, these children have academic, social and behavioral problems as older children, adolescents and adults. They can be quite anti-social and get into trouble a lot. So, even though that is a ton of pressure, it made me remember something. 

I remembered a poem that Linda shared with me when I was trying to get pregnant and for mother's day once I was pregnant with Wilson. It is essentially about how when you are dreaming of your child and hoping for them, that they are dreaming and hoping for you. In fact, they really chose you, rather than the other way around. And that encourages me that there IS a reason why Wilson came to us. He knew that we would always love him no matter what - no matter how difficult he was born. He knew that despite my sleep deprivation and utter exhaustion, I would never stop hugging him. That we would take a deep breath and talk him through whatever difficulty he was having. That I would jiggle and sing him to sleep when he was crying so hard because he couldn't shut down and was overtired. That I would get him to giggle even when he was miserable. That I would rock him when he was feeling unhappy and let him sleep on my chest when he didn't want to be alone. That I would always do my best to understand what was wrong and help to fix it. That he would always come first in our lives and his emotional needs were just as important to us as his physical ones. That I wanted him for so long that the fact that he was "difficult" wouldn't make me want him any less. That Mike and I could survive and help Wilson to become the person he is meant to be. Over the last few weeks, I have come to fully embrace his temperament, joke about it, plan for it and be thankful that Wilson came to us rather than 16-year-olds without a stable life and marriage (I love watching 16 and pregnant..it always makes me feel better) who may not know how to help him.

And one day when he is an adult, we'll be able to look at him and say "we did that; we helped him." And I'll remind him, along with stories of my 50-hour-labor, that without us, he might have ended up in prison, so there better be no nursing homes in our future. 

Addendum: I now realize that Mike was misinformed about his temperament; he and Wilson are carbon copies and share difficult temperament. This information really should be disclosed prior to breeding. 

Back-ish to Work

So I am officially off of my 8 weeks of Family Medical Maternity Leave. I took two extra weeks for breastfeeding problems, not that we made much progress on that front, but I did up my milk supply, so all was not lost.

As I worked from home today and get ready to go back tomorrow (with baby in tow), I have so many mixed emotions. I miss teaching, my coworkers and my students quite a bit. Being a teacher was such a fundamental part of my identity that it never felt like work. I don't have to teach this semester, just do research, committee and administrative work, as well as work on my new business (Baby Signs). So, on the one hand, I am excited to get back into work, to be in front of a computer again, to be using the cerebral portion of my brain. But, my heart breaks not being with my son. The people who have been helping me take care of him while I try to work or pump or even sleep have been amazing. They are wonderful people who Wilson loves. But Wilson is a total mommy's boy. I had to stop working twice today just to hold him because he was so fussy for his babysitter and, apparently, he missed me. As soon as I took him, he calmed down, stopped crying and smiled. Little cheeky monkey.

Still, I got sooo much work done today it was ridiculous. To have six hours mostly uninterrupted (except for 2 calm-Wilson sessions and to breast pump) was beautiful. I didn't feel frustrated as I usually do trying to do anything - like read one email. It's like he has an internal alarm that goes off telling him to start crying whenever I need to work, pump or fall asleep. But today, with a helper, my work time was definitely more concentrated and productive. 

But, interestingly, there is part of me that really just wants to be a stay-at-home mom now. That is so not like me at all. I've always been incredibly active at work - some would say a work-a-holic even. And yet, playing with Wilson, feeding him, breast-pumping and cuddling him to sleep are about all I really want to do right now. Damn these hormones. 

I think there is also a part of me that doesn't want to begin what will inevitably happen. Wilson will grow up. He won't ever need me again like he does right now. He has literally been a part of me and we are so innately connected, that I am experiencing a spiritual and meaningful connection I never thought possible.

If you had asked me 5 years ago if I could see myself not wanting to work, to stay at home, cook, clean and care for a child, I would have called you crazy. Insane, even. But, tonight, after I got done working and sat down to rock Wilson and give him a bottle, I realized how happy this little guy has made me. My whole being has never been in the moment as it is when I am with him. When else would you find yourself singing, dancing, laughing and smiling all through the day? I love consoling and hugging him, kissing his little head and dressing him in insanely-cute outfits and enjoying every second of every day. Even though I have lost a lot - pieces of my identity pre-baby that I probably won't ever get back, I've never experienced these feelings before...this feeling of happiness, of pure love and joy from just living and loving. So, I understand why many moms do not want to go back to work or feel horrible when they do. Either way, there is no choice in the matter if we would like to not go bankrupt, so I am going to do my best to enjoy working and being with him as much as I possibly can. My office will now have a little baby decor (a little bassinet and swing) to go along with my totem poles, drums and feathers. I am very thankful that I can bring him in to work with me and have lots of faculty that have pledged to help me out with him. Plus, I think Wilson can be a great new addition to the junior faculty at SCSU. Too bad he can't earn a paycheck yet...

Who am I?

In my developmental course for graduate students, I often talk about the identity change that happens to a parent when they have their first child. Based on the research, for the best identity evolution, the parent must incorporate who they were -- with who they now are as a parent. Over-identifying as a parent is bad for the parent, and under-identifying as a parent is bad for the child. So, the goal is to find who you are as an individual and a parent and balance them together.

When I taught this in class, it was totally convincing -- and based on research. Now, I say --hahahahahahahahaha. I'm not entirely sure when I'm supposed to express who I am as an individual. Perhaps in those 30 seconds each day between feedings and diaper changes. I barely have time to shower and go to the bathroom, much less consider an existential identity evolution. Even as I am typing this, Mike is 3 feet from me jiggling the baby to sleep while I pump breast milk. I can type as this tortuous machine violates my personal space, but not get in touch with who I was a person pre-baby. 

I did consider the change recently, however, as I attended my friend Valerie's baby shower. A little over two years ago, my best friend Jess and I went to our friend Alina's baby shower; she was the first of us to have a baby. Jess and I walked into Babies'R'Us begrudgingly and looked around. We sort of shrugged at each other as we saw bottles, diapers and various accoutrement that we had no idea its purpose. We bought a totally impractical outfit for her baby girl, then begged the registry woman to pick out $75 of baby crap, since we had no idea what we were doing. We only had one rule - no diaper stuff; nothing like considering poop with your present. Flash forward two years. Jess and I are in Babies (we are on a first name basis now) for our friend Valerie's baby shower. Not only do we know what everything is, we know exactly where it is located, since this store is now like our second home. As we perused the registry, we considered what we would each get. As I squinted at the list through my sleep-deprived via newborn eyelids and Jess read through her toddler-exhausted ones, we nodded, then ran to the bottle section of the store, followed by the diaper section of the store. Gifts that keep on giving: diaper pail, diapers, wipes, butt paste, bottles, bottle rack, bibs and pacifiers. Oh how, our lives have changed. We used to want something cute and fashionable - something that said, "Misty and Jess bought this for you..." Now, we bought something that we used and appreciated post-baby - poop and food accessories. 

So, let me consider this now: who am I? Pre-baby, I was a shaman, a teacher, a friend, a wife, a mother of furries. I was funny, loved playing the piano, playing computer games, watching good television and going to see the latest movie. I loved fashion, shoes, makeup. I loved reading trashy vampire romance novels and the latest peer-reviewed journal articles. I practiced meditation and yoga. My identity was secure and stable for several years. I feel as though I am still these things, but there has been no time for these activities with taking care of a high-maintenance newborn. I am now a breast-pumping, newborn jiggling, diaper-wielding, bottle-preparing MOM. If I'm not doing any of those things, I'm sleeping, eating or bathing myself. I'm fairly confident that this will get better and I will be able to express my pre-baby parts of my personality, but right now, it's all about being a mom.

And, ironically, I wouldn't change a thing. Who knew I could be so competent at holding a baby while doing three other things. I'm an expert burper and baby-bather. One of my favorite moments in the day is when I take a bath with Wilson and hold him and sing to him as he smiles. Or when he falls asleep on my chest and we take a brief nap together in the late morning. I love when he rubs my arm and grabs my shirt as he drinks his bottle. I love watching his smiles as we play peek-a-boo when I slip his onesie over his head and how his legs and arms go wild when I am changing his diaper. I think he's hilarious when he makes funny faces at me or does silly things - like turning his head side to side repeatedly in what can only be described as a Stevie-Wonder head dance. I'm totally in love with this little man and don't care that who I was before has been put on hold for now.

However, I am apparently still funny to Wilson who laughed hysterically today when I rubbed lotion on him while saying in my creepiest Silence-of-the-lambs voice "it puts the lotion on the baby or else it gets the hose again..."Ah well, enough existential pondering: off to prepare another bottle...

Adventures in Breastfeeding, part deux

My life has continued to be a blur of diaper changes, feedings, sleeping and jiggling - Wilson is fond of the rock, rock, pat, pat, jiggle, jiggle, sshhhh, sshhhh method of calming. My mom came up to help while I had two extra weeks off from work to get breastfeeding "under control". Well, it's been a week and a half and some things are better, but I wouldn't qualify them as under control yet.

My little bundle of joy is a voracious eater. He eats more than any other baby I've ever heard of and his growth spurts are weeks long, not just a day or two, like they are supposed to be. An average "cluster feeding" day consists of little Wilson drinking a bottle, then me carefully getting him to sleep. I run to the bathroom, get a drink and something quick to eat and start to pump, followed by the inevitable interruption of Wilson waking up to eat more (he sleeps no more than a half an hour to 40 minutes on growth spurt days). Rinse and repeat for 24 hours. With my mother here, I've been able to pump uninterrupted and have built up my supply to about 35 ounces a day. This makes me feel happy, but also like a cow. A happy cow, if you will. With all this eating, Wilson has ended up in the 90th percentile for weight and 98th percentile for height.

Now, last I wrote, breastfeeding was more like a nightmare than a "natural," lovely experience. A few weeks later, things are improving, but it's good that I have the patience of Job. To recap, from birth Wilson went from latching for a minute -- to staring at my breasts with no idea what to do -- to crying hysterically when he saw boobs -- to tolerating boobs but having no interest in them -- to being interested but just mouthing it --to his most recent accomplishment: "the bad latch." He now looks like he really wants to latch and in fact, does...very poorly. So it feels, essentially, like a giant clamp is cutting your nipple off. I stopped him and tried to re-latch, but to no avail. His giant nipple-chomper mouth just doesn't want to open wide enough.

It's at this point that I completely understand people who give up on breastfeeding. Honestly, is it worth all the hassle?!? I've actually settled into the whole pumping thing and I think I can keep this up for quite awhile, so if actual breastfeeding doesn't happen, I believe I can do exclusive pumping. I really don't even care if we do formula, but as every recent mother knows, if you don't at least try breastfeeding, you are a horrible, negligent mother who doesn't care about your baby's health. At least that is what everyone makes you think, especially those that I like to call the "boob nazis" who look at you with contempt if you complain about a sore nipple or speak of supplementing with formula. 

But, as I think about the vast adventures I am having with breastfeeding, I realize that they aren't very different from my adventures getting pregnant, being pregnant and giving birth. They require understanding, patience, hope and trust. I understand that breastfeeding isn't totally natural, at least for modern American women. I also understand that my baby and my boobs don't seemingly match each other. I have the patience to learn this new skill and I have the patience to wait for Wilson to chomp his way through his learning as well. I have hope that my vision of nursing my son, while he quietly looks up at me and that feeling of love (and oxytocin) courses through me. And I trust that someday this will happen. I'm not giving up until it does! It may take until Wilson is 7, but I'm pretty sure he'll be able to follow instructions by then.

My honest, unfiltered feelings about the beauty of breastfeeding...

So, the only thing on my mind right now is breastfeeding. It could be because I pump 6 times a day, around the clock. It could be because Wilson has never successfully latched, or it could be because every day seems to bring with it more challenges than successes with breastfeeding. So even though I refuse to give up, I must purge my thoughts on this topic now. Forewarning: this post has a little TMI in it. If you are uncomfortable with talk of boobies, skip this post. You have been warned.

I should have known that there may be some issues with breastfeeding, but being the ultimate optimist I am, I thought that we would easily overcome these issues and I pictured myself happily breastfeeding my little cooperative infant. During pregnancy, my boobs seemed to take on a life of their own, or at least their own zipcode. I went from a double D pre-pregnancy to an L. Yes, that is a bra size. So that is a 9 size increase. Nine cup sizes. Ridiculous. But I hoped that this meant that I would have lots of milk and the baby would be thrilled. The midwives also informed me that since my breasts were getting so large, I had something called "flat nipples", which I didn't have pre-pregnancy. They told me it was no big deal; "babies will latch on your shoulder," they said. LIES.

Right after we delivered, Wilson latched right away. He didn't stay there long, but I was very happy; it seemed like we were going to have minimal problems. The next day in the hospital, Wilson really wasn't hungry. He didn't root at all (the little sucking faces babies make in order to communicate they would like to eat) and was passing lots of diapers, so we didn't really worry about it. Then the nurses and our pediatrician freaked us out when they said "he should be latching already," "you have to do this before you go home", "your milk supply will be compromised", etc. So being worried about that, against my better judgment, I let the nurses "help" me try to get Wilson to latch. The help consisted of a random nurse grabbing my boob, putting Wilson into some torturous position and thrusting it in his face. He would cry almost immediately. After a few of those experiences, I let the nurses know I wouldn't need any more help, but I couldn't do it on my own either. When I looked at my poor little infant son with this ginormous boob coming at him, I didn't really blame him for crying. I could barely hold him and me at the same time. It must have been humorous, although very sad, to watch. 

I decided to try to pump some colostrum and was actually successful at getting quite a bit to feed him in a dropper, so that made me feel better momentarily. The pediatrician also informed us that he had a small tongue tie, which might make it more difficult for him to latch. "Great," I thought. "My infant has a low threshold for frustration, a small mouth and a tongue tie. I have large breasts with flat nipples. How the heck is this supposed to be natural for us?" Feeling a bit defective, when Wilson was finally hungry on the morning of our discharge, I didn't hesitate to give him formula. He took it easily and seemed very content. 

Mike and I went home and got Earth's Best organic formula and I got to pumping...absolutely nothing. I would pump for 20 minutes and would get 3 drops. It was heartbreaking. I put warm compresses on before pumping, I took a shower, I held the baby and I looked at the baby while pumping. Nothing helped. I reassured myself that my milk wasn't in yet and it would be ok. Even though I had the hands free system, I didn't have the bustier that works with it, so I had to use my hands to hold the pump on - massaging the milk ducts as I went. As a side note, I've never touched my boobs this much, nor thought so little of it. On day 5, my milk still hadn't come in, but the drops I did get looked like they were transitional milk, so I felt hopeful. We went to Dr. Smillie, who is this world-renown breastfeeding expert. She made me feel so much better; I cried, but in happiness. She explained that breastfeeding is natural, but in our culture, we are so bad at it, that we end up doing it wrong because we hear lots of bad advice on how to do it - hence my hospital experience. She showed us a video where the mother just leans back and physically and emotionally supports the infant. The baby wriggles and moved down the mother and then latched right on themselves. I cried thinking about that possibility. So, I leaned back, Wilson laid on me and did an amazing job of moving down to my breast. Then he looked at my boob... and burst out crying. Dr. Smillie set him back up on my chest and he went down again (we have that part down), stared at my boob and cried hysterically again. Dr. Smillie made me feel much better; she explained to me that boobs come in all different sizes and shapes; mine were completely within the range of normal, as were those pesky flat nipples. However, Wilson now had what was called "breast distress'. The nurses at the hospital had literally made my baby phobic of my boobs. So our homework was for me to keep my milk supply up, keep feeding him from the bottle and reconnect to Wilson without the threat of danger-boobs. I just had to hold him on my chest, skin-to-skin when he was full and connect with him. 

That night, I tried to hand express, like she had shown me in the office. I watched a video. I read instructions. I tried. I tried again. And again. I could not do it. I could graduate with a doctorate from Yale, but I could not, for the life of me, figure out how to milk myself. Our doula was there that night and offered to help try to hand-express the milk. Out of pure desperation, I accepted. Mike had this strange expression on his face as he watched this scene; he told me later, that he wasn't sure whether to be excited or horrified. Either way, it didn't work. So I switched back to the pump. Only problem was that the flanges were too small, so it pinched me as it pumped. I sat there, trying to pump through the pain and then hand express, all to no avail. Finally, I just burst out crying. Mike looked at me frantically, but luckily Jess, my best friend, was there to provide some much-needed words of encouragement. She told me that every woman she knows who has breastfed has had problems at one point AND cried over it. She told me that she didn't feel comfortable with breastfeeding until 6 weeks and I had lots of time. Plus my milk would come in soon and I shouldn't worry. I sopped up my tears and went to sleep. Only to wake up in the morning with my wish coming true: my milk had come in. And the phrase be careful what you wish for resonated in my head as the pain set in, coupled with a feeling of hardness I did not anticipate. The pump wasn't working since it was too small, I couldn't figure out how to hand-express and it felt like my boobs were going to explode. Hence, I cried again. Mike called around to get the right size flanges for me and raced off to pick them up. I ordered a hands-free bustier and prayed that Wilson stayed asleep so I didn't have to move. When Mike got back, I took a shower and pumped. And lo and behold, Milk! Lots of it. One issue seemed to be resolved. I rejoiced and was even happier when my hands free system was actually hands free with the arrival of the bustier. I continued the skin to skin with Wilson and felt happy that we had progressed. 

I pumped a lot, but couldn't keep up with Wilson's eating schedule. I asked a few friends because I felt like I was making a lot of milk, but couldn't figure out why I wasn't keeping up. I was pumping about 25 ounces a day and he was still taking 10 ounces of formula on top of that. I found out that that was not quite normal and the fact that I pumped that much a day was really great. In the interim, Mike had done research on formula and found out that most of the formula in the U.S. is not that great. Big surprise. In fact, the "organic" formula we were using has arsenic and other bad chemicals in it as a byproduct of the way it creates DHA from mold. I was more than a bit horrified; luckily my husband is a crazy researcher like me and found a formula used in Europe (Halle) that is truly organic and meets all European standards, meaning it won't poison your baby. You'd think we may want that in the states, but whatever. So he had it imported from France and we found that not only did Wilson love it, it gave him less gas as well. Also, I learned apparently I had an over-achiever boob and a lazy boob. I would get 4 ounces out of one side and only 1 ounce out of the other. Apparently this is common, but annoying.

Our next visit with Dr. Smillie was a bit different. Wilson was in a cluster feeding day, so he was easily frustrated and we couldn't even attempt to latch without him getting frustrated right away. They told me that the uneven breast milk issue wasn't a problem unless I cared about having different sizes when my milk came in. I let them know that attractiveness was really not a priority at this point. When I'm pumping or when I'm covered in spit-up, I'm really not thinking about how good I look in my bra. They tracked his weight and found that he had jumped substantially; from 8 pounds at birth to 11 pounds 10 ounces at week 4. They thought that maybe my milk was not creating enough cream. I told them I was pretty sure it was because I could see it separate in the bottle, but it made sense with how fast he was growing. With too much skim, it just makes the baby perpetually hungry and they never get the fulfilling fat content of the cream. They taught me how to do the "breast milk shake", which involves more massaging of your boobs and sent me home with instructions to get a new bottle because Wilson's latch was also way too small - even on the bottle. I had bought Tommee Tippee Closer to Nature bottles because they were supposed to be good for breastfeeding mothers. Apparently, they are also big liars. They recommended Playtex nursers with slow flow nipples because those are actually the closest thing to how a real nipple looks when it is compressed in a baby's mouth, whereas Tommee Tippee bottles just look like a boob. She also clued me in that you can lubricate the flanges using lanolin or olive oil, which I hadn't been doing before - explaining some of the pain I felt with the friction of pumping. So, after all that new information, I drove home...and cried again. I just wanted one thing to be easy with this. For the whole "natural" part to show it's beautiful head. Instead, I got skim milk and bad bottles on top of our already large laundry list of breastfeeding issues. 

On the advice of Jess, I refrigerated my milk to see how much skim was really in my milk, since it separates when refrigerated. Surprisingly, my milk is vastly cream, so that was NOT the problem in the least. I felt better about that, but then realized that this meant that my baby was just a giant milk piggy. I'm not sure if that is better or not... The doctors also wanted me to pump less - only 10  minutes. But I didn't let down significantly until after 15 minutes - needing to pump to 30 minutes or more sometimes to empty. I asked them what the issue was if I did pump for a really long time and they said the only problem is sore nipples. Apparently, that is the one thing I have going for me: my nipples are real troopers. But, pumping is a huge time suck, no pun intended. Thirty minutes 6 or 7 times a day means HOURS of pumping around the clock. Minus that time from the amount of sleep I get because I have to wait for Wilson to fall asleep to pump unless Mike is home. 

However, I finally figured out a good pumping schedule (every 4 hours) and am almost making enough milk for Wilson's 35 ounces a day. I also tried the whole hand expression thing after pumping once and I figured it out! I was so excited, I had to show Mike. I realized how much my life has changed when I thought that a little over a month ago, I was showing him my publications with equal excitement. We finally bought the new bottles today. I prepared them all, sanitized them, got them ready and then poured some breast milk in them after pumping. I happily gave it to Wilson and watched him make the biggest stank face I've ever seen as he tried to figure out how to suck from this differently. He finally opened his mouth a little wider, then drank 2 ounces. I burped him and then he went back, only to let out those very familiar 'this is torture' cries I remembered when we first tried breast feeding. I let him drink the last few ounces from his old bottle, which we had handy. The next feeding was a repeat and I felt dejected once again. It felt like 1 step forward, 2 steps back.

The bottom line with breastfeeding is that it sucks, even when your infant doesn't. Pumping is abnormal and sometimes painful. When my milk comes in, it feels like a bee has made a nest in my breast and is flying through it. If I get a good pump in, I get 7 ounces out. But then, sometimes I get 2 ounces after pumping the same amount of time. Pumping takes forever when you count the time spent getting ready, putting on the torture device and then cleaning up after pumping. After that much effort, it feels like this liquid is more precious than gold. If I spill any of the breast milk or when he spits it up, it feels like someone is ripping out my soul.

And yet, I'm still doing it. I still hope that he will latch. I pray for that day. I know I'm giving him the best start he can have by giving him breast milk. I look at how much he's growing and know that his fast physical and cognitive development are really great things. I look at how lucky I am to have him, to be married to Mike (who could win a world's best husband award at this point) and I am content. I know other mothers have far worse problems than I am having and so I keep reminding myself to stay strong and to keep moving forward one step at a time.

As I was writing this, Wilson woke up and I fed him with the new bottle. Almost cried because I hadn't secured the nipple on it right, so when I tipped it up I dumped an ounce on him and me (soul-ripping), BUT then he drank from the bottle once it was fixed. All of his 3 ounces, got milk drunk better than usual and fell right back to sleep to be put to bed. One step forward. Now to go change my clothes...

New Mothers

So I stopped by my University (Southern Connecticut State University) to drop things off, see people and check my mailbox on Friday. I stopped into a Group Counseling class taught by my friend and colleague, Cheri Smith; and I got to see a bunch of my students, who I miss so much!! In the course of my visit, Cheri asked me (as an impromptu guest speaker), if I was going to make a counseling group for new mothers, what would the themes of discussion be? I answered in the brief 4 minutes that Wilson allowed for me and then had to run to feed the little monkey, but I kept thinking about the question later on that day. What are the psychological and emotional needs of a new mother? Hence, my new post. This is based not only on my experiences, but my developmental psychology training and the experiences of all the new mothers I now know.

• Identity Change. Your identity as a "person" unique and individual to you changes into something else: a parent. It is a little surreal, however. It's not like this just happens overnight or at the delivery of your baby. It really didn't hit me until Wilson was about 3 weeks old that I was a "mom". Your vision of who you are before has to merge with who you are now, as a mother. That may be easier for some than others, depending on what your identity was before. It is not easy to be sexy, quirky, and cute while covered in poop and spit up. For me, I have found that my laid-back attitude, love for academia and humor have persisted into motherhood; right now, however, they are expressed very differently than they were pre-motherhood. Being laid-back means I don't ever freak out at every issue - crying, poop-plosion diapers, his little bump on his head from the birth, etc. My love for academia has evolved into research on baby stuff, writing this blog, staying connected to the faculty and students and watching thought-provoking crime tv shows (which is truly just sad). And my humor has stayed the same; although a 1-month old doesn't appreciate it like my husband or my classes do. Despite your previous identity, however, you find yourself singing everyday tasks (My latest song was: I'm about to change your diaper...Look you pooped! Gross, kid, Gross, kid, Mommy wants to sleep!), making funny faces and cooing at your baby and falling in love with this little beast despite the amount of aversive consequences at first: no sleep, crying in your face and digging you with those tiny wolverine-like fingernails.
• Learning Curve. The amount of new data that needs to be downloaded into your new mommy brain is immense. Lanugo, placenta, lochia, co-sleeper, baby-wearing...the new terms are substantive enough for a new college course. Then the skills you must be able to perform are really quite intense, in terms of the learning curve. Mike and I have, at first, looked like monkeys while we tried to: install the car seat, open the baby stroller, put him in the infant car seat without him screaming bloody murder, pump milk with the "freestyle" pump (big lie) and attach the Madonna-looking hands free bustier (way less sexy than it sounds) for breast milk pumping. I have additionally learned to pick him up with one hand, feed him and burp him while pumping, change a diaper at lightening speeds, calm him when he's freaking out (it involves a combination of jiggling, talking and singing - my son is as weird as me) and how to stay sane with no sleep (that is not a sure thing yet). In fact, while I was trying to write this blog, I had to balance my breastpump while changing and feeding him and letting the 3 dogs outside.
• Conflicting Emotions. There are so many emotions that are linked the crazy hormones you are experiencing postpartum; and in addition, you also are reacting to the-whole-change-of-life thing, which is also emotion-laden. On one hand you are so happy to be a mother, loving and appreciating this new little person in your life. On the other hand, you are sleep deprived, mourning your old life and identity, frustrated, annoyed, exhausted, sad and feel guilty/unappreciative. During the first month, I kept seeing monarch butterflies everywhere, which are a great totem symbolizing change. The great thing about butterflies is that you have to allow the change to happen itself and can't rush it no matter how difficult it is, knowing that at the end of this transition, something truly beautiful will result. I try to remind myself of this at 3 a.m. when Wilson won't go back to sleep for 3 hours.
• Dealing with Perfectionism. Women are really their own worst critics; they not only have lower self-esteem than men, they tend to minimize their positive qualities and strengths. Although I typically have high standards for myself, I tend not to be perfectionistic in nature. But even I felt the pressure of being a "mom". You need to be all, do all and know all or you feel judged. While it's cute for a dad to struggle with understanding his newborn, if a mom feels that way, she feels like something is wrong with her, or worse yet, others treat her that way. Nothing you do will be perfect - you will probably do a lot wrong with your little one, but you need to remember what you are modeling for your child. You try your best and when you don't do something well, you try again, apologize if needed, fix it and move on. You wouldn't want your child to beat themselves up and agonize over their mistakes, so why would you?
• Whim of a Tiny Little Beast. I think one of the hardest things to deal with is that your life is now at the whim of your newborn. When you can eat, pee, shower and spend time with your partner now depends on this new person with their own agenda. It is easy to get frustrated sometimes and it is easy to forget to empathize with your infant, who is struggling to adjust to being alive in the outside world. But either way, it is a difficult adjustment to realize that you are not your own person anymore. Your life is completely at the whim of this tiny little person; and no matter how cute they are, that is a big adjustment.
• Relationship Evolution. Your relationship will absolutely change with your partner, for the better or worse. Everything from who does more with the baby, who sleeps more, who has given up more and how you are both adjusting will be topics of frequent conversation. It's difficult to adjust as an individual to these changes; it is even harder to adjust as a couple. Mike and I have found that we are a great team in taking care of Wilson, but it took us a month after Wilson was born for us to snuggle together on the couch. Your priorities are: baby, sleeping, eating, showering, work, and then your relationship. So, it's easy to take each other for granted, become resentful and forget how much you mean to each other. This is why it's important that you remember who you are as individuals and as a couple.
• Body Changes. You cannot fully prepare for how your body will change and how you will now completely change how you look at your body. No matter what you think, modesty will absolutely leave you in the hospital during labor. Your partner will see things you never wished them to see and you probably won't care, for the most part. But nothing prepares you for the physical changes in pregnancy and after birth. Between the breastfeeding and pumping, the changes in your weight, the possibility of lovely side effects of pregnancy and birth: things like heartburn, gas, hemorrhoids, burping, etc., your love life is likely to take a hit. But at the same time, you are amazed at the ability of your body to create life, which is unlike anything else in the world.
• Breastfeeding. No matter what anyone says about how natural breastfeeding is, I call bullshit. In a culture where we grew up watching breastfeeding and where we experience births with less medical interventions, I am sure that breastfeeding is natural. In our culture, no, no no. Between trying to get the latch correct, everyone telling you incorrect information about breastfeeding, hoping that your nipples don't get sore, bloody and/or cracked (ew) and attaching a mechanical pump to your nipples to pump out milk, the whole thing just feels...wrong. And if you don't want to struggle with this crap anymore, you feel like a totally horrible mother who wants to give her infant poison (otherwise known as formula). I'm totally committed to giving breastmilk to Wilson, so since he has NEVER latched, I have to pump 5 to 7 times a day in addition to supplementing with formula. Even though I keep praying he will latch someday, I wonder if that will even be better; I hear my friends who talk about sore, cracked nipples because their babies struggle with a correct latch. Others struggle with making enough milk and others have too much. However, I'm holding out for the beauty that I still see in breastfeeding; hoping beyond hope that one day we can achieve that. But if not, the pump will continue to be my friend. 
• Being Confident in Your Decisions. Everyone gives you advice about parenting, so one thing you have to learn quite quickly is to trust your own instincts. You will hear lots of contrary advice and some things, particularly from older generations, sound like downright crazy-talk. I have learned to be appreciative and listen to everyone who gives advice, solicited or unsolicited, but I only accept and use that advice that matches my own instincts and sense.
• Your Appreciation for Your Own Parents. Regardless of your relationship with your parents, you realize that at minimum, they kept you alive, which you now realize is a huge accomplishment. They gave birth to you, changed your ridiculous number of diapers, bathed you, fed you and loved you. Watching my mother with my son was an amazing experience for me. It made me realize what a wonderful mother she was to me and how affectionate, loving and nurturing she was (and is). And now she gets to tell me, "I told you so."

There are probably more themes that would emerge, but these are the ones I have noticed in my brief 1-month stint as a parent. But as difficult as this transition is, I find myself looking at my son with wonder, amazement and love. Today he smiled at me and my heart burst with love for this little person, making any amount of pain, transition and difficulty worth every single second.

You Know What They Say...

One of the most interesting things that has happened to us as new parents is being exposed to the barrage of advice that assaults you at every turn. Some very useful, some not so much. As with people's opinions in my pregnancy, Mike and I tried to sift out what resonated with us and what did not, balancing our intuition with research. But the stakes are much higher now, it feels. 

We look at little Wilson and worry that we may be choosing the wrong thing - whose advice should we listen to? Add on top of that that every child is different and we are starting to get an idea of the immense pressure that parents feel every day when choosing anything for their child. 

When it comes to sleep, we hear to swaddle him tightly, don't swaddle because it can hurt their development and their hips, make sure you lay them on their back because of SIDS, feed him until he's stuffed, then force feed him some more, let him graze, don't let him graze, let him sleep on you, don't let him sleep on you, etc. For breastfeeding and pumping, I've heard everything from drink beer to using different holds (football being a favorite piece of advice) to avoid certain foods so that I don't make the baby gassy. We've heard that we should stop Wilson from eating so much and to let him eat as much as he wants. If you truly listened to all this advice, we'd be dizzy, depressed and confused.

So instead of listening to all the advice, we've tried our best to listen to our instincts and to Wilson himself. He seems to tell us what he needs and what works better than anyone else. He hates being swaddled and loves to lay on his stomach (I have only let him do it when I'm awake, but I've learned that many parents do this as their dark parenting secret since many babies sleep so much better this way). He loves baths. He eats voraciously and goes through a lot of growth spurts every few days - waking up every hour to eat sometimes all night and all day. He loves to sleep on us and prefers physical contact with us for a lot of the time, but sometimes he likes to sleep in his bassinet or nap nanny under a blanket with no one near him. Sometimes he likes to graze - drinking half an ounce (painful when I've just made 3 ounces of formula) - other times he drinks 5 ounces (painful when it just took me a long time to pump and watch him put it down in 3 minutes). I hate beer and am producing enough milk now - although I have uneven milk production for some reason (I have a lazy boob apparently) and Wilson still hasn't latched. He tries a few times and does really well with my encouragement, but my intuition tells me he's still not ready. Luckily we have Dr. Smillie, who has been successful with getting infants to breastfeed even when they haven't latched for a year. Wilson loves to be sung to, taking car rides (as long as we don't stop too much), being hugged and his mom (sometimes when he's fussy, he just wants to look at me and he calms down immediately). 

So, Mike and I, as we sift through the advice that "makes sense" and those that do not for Wilson, have found that everyone has an opinion (and possibly judgment) of what should be done and what we are doing. But, in the end, the only opinion that matters is Wilson's, Mike's and mine. We are the ones that have to make the choices and live with the consequences. We listen to the advice of those we trust and the advice that resonates with what we know of Wilson from these few weeks of his life. One thing is for sure; he keeps us on our toes and what works today, may change tomorrow. So once again, we have to live in the moment, trust our instincts and be respectful and mindful of the new little person who has completely transformed our life.