Are you a bone marrow donor? Please consider joining at Be The Match. It takes no time at all--they send you a swab and you get some cells off the sides of your cheeks and mail it back. Then, if you're matched with someone who is in desperate need for bone marrow, they'll call you and you go through the process of donating. Donation will mean the difference between life and death. My mother has been registered as a bone marrow donor for as long as I can remember (back when the only way to register was to go through a donation process!) and she's never been called up, but stands ready. As of a few months ago, I, too, stand ready and will be thrilled to donate if needed. BTW, I don't work for Be the Match or have any stake in the issue other than compassion.
I bring up bone marrow donation because the family at reproducing genius is experiencing a potential diagnosis of a rare form of leukemia in their beautiful three year old son. Please go there, donate some money via paypal if you can, and sign up for Be The Match. One never knows if their son will need bone marrow donation or not, but it cannot hurt to have as many people signed up as possible. Please offer support in whatever way you can. I've been an occasional reader there over the years, but because I have an almost three year old boy and a connection to the academic world, I feel immediately called to send out the word, hoping that someone would do the same for me if I were in that situation.
Life is so unpredictable. It often seems that horrible things happen all the time, especially when we are part of the ALI community in any way. We are privy to each others' moments of pain on a regular basis. But beautiful things happen too--all the freaking time--and we have to band together and send beauty and love and hope and money and bone marrow and whatever we have (--everything we have--) to anyone who is going through a time of need. Please join me in doing so.
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
the long process of weaning
Last night, I slept with cabbage leaves in my bra. A true sign of desperation!
How did I get to cabbage leaves? Well, I've been thinking about weaning for a while. I started the breastfeeding journey with E with small goals. 2 weeks. 2 months. 3 months. Hey, maybe we'll make it to 6 months! And ultimately, I hoped to make it close to a year like I did with her big brother W. Around 9 months, she started to be much less interested in nursing than in food. It became a challenge to get her to latch on long enough to bring on let-down. I skirted mastitis twice during months 9 and 10 because of plugged ducts. I got shoddy about my pumping at work, abandoning it altogether at some point because my output was so low and I didn't feel engorged during the day. Even worse, she started chomping down on me with her four little teeth, especially during those middle of the night feedings where we were both half asleep. Around 10 months, I decided I had enough.
If you've read any of my previous entries, you know that I'm generally pro-breastfeeding but am also very supportive of formula feeding--my philosophy is that babies need food and love, and the kind of food doesn't really matter. That said, I've been feeling some anxiety about not making it closer to a year. You know how it is. A philosophy for others is one thing, but a philosophy applied to ME? Different. I think I've worked through that anxiety for the most part. Remembering those little teeth biting me is helping!
So our last breastfeeding session was a middle of the nighter about 10 days ago. I felt a pang of sadness and then a bit of relief to know that this would be it. She barely took anything and seems mostly to have adjusted. There were a few days where she'd kiss my chest or bury her head in my clothed breasts, but I took this as a signal that she was hungry and that she could use extra cuddling, both of which I provided right away. Now, she seems to be okay with the sippy cups of formula and on her end of things, all seems to be well. In fact, she has started sleeping through the night after almost 11 months of at least one wake-up (often two or three). It took a few days of my husband going in and cuddling/rocking her to sleep, but she almost magically stopped waking all on her own.
The weird part--the part that leads to cabbage leaves--is that I seem to still be making milk, and in fact, am again skirting plugged ducts and mastitis. I actually got up and pumped briefly last night because I was certain that if I didn't, the blockage might get worse. Do cabbage leaves really work? I'll let you know. So far, they just seem soggy and smelly and weird.
One of the hard parts of this transition is that my baby girl seems suddenly closer to toddlerhood than babyhood. I'm not great with the baby phase, but seeing it end is still very sad. I loved breastfeeding, especially in those early months where it's just you, the baby, and the endless cuddle. I don't plan on having any more babies, so in all likelihood, I'll never snuggle a baby to the breast again and just writing that makes my eyes well up.
But it's time. It's time for me to go back on medication that helps me control my anxiety. It's time to enjoy being with baby E more than when I was wincing in pain from being bitten or when I had to force her on. I sometimes wish I was the kind of mother who was all extended-breastfeeding-is-for-me. And again, I support whatever works for other people. Most of my friends are extended bfers and I think it's awesome.
For now, I'm reeking of soggy cabbage and hoping that this new phase of milk production winds itself down soon. I'll keep you posted!
How did I get to cabbage leaves? Well, I've been thinking about weaning for a while. I started the breastfeeding journey with E with small goals. 2 weeks. 2 months. 3 months. Hey, maybe we'll make it to 6 months! And ultimately, I hoped to make it close to a year like I did with her big brother W. Around 9 months, she started to be much less interested in nursing than in food. It became a challenge to get her to latch on long enough to bring on let-down. I skirted mastitis twice during months 9 and 10 because of plugged ducts. I got shoddy about my pumping at work, abandoning it altogether at some point because my output was so low and I didn't feel engorged during the day. Even worse, she started chomping down on me with her four little teeth, especially during those middle of the night feedings where we were both half asleep. Around 10 months, I decided I had enough.
If you've read any of my previous entries, you know that I'm generally pro-breastfeeding but am also very supportive of formula feeding--my philosophy is that babies need food and love, and the kind of food doesn't really matter. That said, I've been feeling some anxiety about not making it closer to a year. You know how it is. A philosophy for others is one thing, but a philosophy applied to ME? Different. I think I've worked through that anxiety for the most part. Remembering those little teeth biting me is helping!
So our last breastfeeding session was a middle of the nighter about 10 days ago. I felt a pang of sadness and then a bit of relief to know that this would be it. She barely took anything and seems mostly to have adjusted. There were a few days where she'd kiss my chest or bury her head in my clothed breasts, but I took this as a signal that she was hungry and that she could use extra cuddling, both of which I provided right away. Now, she seems to be okay with the sippy cups of formula and on her end of things, all seems to be well. In fact, she has started sleeping through the night after almost 11 months of at least one wake-up (often two or three). It took a few days of my husband going in and cuddling/rocking her to sleep, but she almost magically stopped waking all on her own.
The weird part--the part that leads to cabbage leaves--is that I seem to still be making milk, and in fact, am again skirting plugged ducts and mastitis. I actually got up and pumped briefly last night because I was certain that if I didn't, the blockage might get worse. Do cabbage leaves really work? I'll let you know. So far, they just seem soggy and smelly and weird.
One of the hard parts of this transition is that my baby girl seems suddenly closer to toddlerhood than babyhood. I'm not great with the baby phase, but seeing it end is still very sad. I loved breastfeeding, especially in those early months where it's just you, the baby, and the endless cuddle. I don't plan on having any more babies, so in all likelihood, I'll never snuggle a baby to the breast again and just writing that makes my eyes well up.
But it's time. It's time for me to go back on medication that helps me control my anxiety. It's time to enjoy being with baby E more than when I was wincing in pain from being bitten or when I had to force her on. I sometimes wish I was the kind of mother who was all extended-breastfeeding-is-for-me. And again, I support whatever works for other people. Most of my friends are extended bfers and I think it's awesome.
For now, I'm reeking of soggy cabbage and hoping that this new phase of milk production winds itself down soon. I'll keep you posted!
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
a rough spot
I haven't written much because I'm in a rough spot. I'm having a completely mixed summer. The kids are my joy and give me the happiest of moments. I have a few posts in the works about who they are, what they're up to. I have plenty of things to say about them, but I'm not in the mood to write those things today.
Today, and for the last few weeks, I've been worrying over the rough spot I'm in. What's happening is that my relationship with my husband is completely on the rocks, and not in an interesting or casual way. We're not having a fight. We're not clashing over an issue that we'll finally resolve with a hug and a kiss. Instead, we're silent. Angry. Furious. Most of the time. How did this happen? When did this happen? What the hell shifted and left us here?
I feel very tender. Like a big part of my life is an open wound that I return to again and again, unsure of what to do to make it feel better. Worrying that it will never feel better and it will always be open and sore. We have good days and bad days, and I just don't see how we'll get out of this rut. I miss him and yet I feel nervous when we have long periods of time together because these days, the silence is crushing.
Even worse, the summer is ending and the fall semester begins in a few weeks. He's a high school teacher, so he'll be returning to school and I'm a college professor and will be doing the same. Our lives will suddenly get much more complicated and stressful than they are now, juggling too little money, too much responsibility, two full time jobs, two little kids who are in part time daycare (yes, seriously, I do my full time job in far fewer than the hours needed to do it well because we can't afford to put them in full time care...it's hard and stressful and I really wish we had the money for full time care). How will we handle all this given that we're in the rough spot now, during the relaxed summer season?
I know this post sucks. It's not telling you anything specific about my life and it's not ending on a happy note (like: we had a fight but we worked it out and all is fine!). It's just messy. But this is where I am today.
One last thing to mention. I really want to stop breastfeeding baby E because I want to go back on medication to help me manage all this anxiety. But adorable baby E has no interest in weaning. So on top of the messiness of my relationship, I have this sweet girl who practically crawls inside my shirt when she's hungry, and I can't deny her because it's so wonderful that it makes me smile just thinking about it. How do you wean an 11 month old baby who doesn't want to wean? I guess the answer is that I don't. I'm going to keep going for a little while longer. Hopefully I can just keep managing the anxiety until then. Breastfeeding is so complicated! And even though I want to quit bfing, I'm also heartbroken at the thought of doing so--I envy women who can breastfeed until the baby becomes a toddler, and yet I know I'm not one of those women.
Maybe this is all part of a bigger question: What kind of woman am I? What is my relationship to my husband, my kids, my job? It feels like I return to this question again and again in my writing, and perhaps that's where I should spend some time meditating. Perhaps if I figured out my own self, my own needs more fully, I'd be able to be less caught in the (often ordinary) chaos of life? Perhaps the rough spots would feel a little less rough?
p.s. The answer of taking an SSRI compatible with breastfeeding is not possible because I've had negative reactions to SSRIs in the past. I've spoken to my doctor and therapist about it. I just have to wait until bfing is over to take meds. But this is not to pass judgment on someone who takes an SSRI and bfs. It's just a personal thing for my body's chemistry.
Today, and for the last few weeks, I've been worrying over the rough spot I'm in. What's happening is that my relationship with my husband is completely on the rocks, and not in an interesting or casual way. We're not having a fight. We're not clashing over an issue that we'll finally resolve with a hug and a kiss. Instead, we're silent. Angry. Furious. Most of the time. How did this happen? When did this happen? What the hell shifted and left us here?
I feel very tender. Like a big part of my life is an open wound that I return to again and again, unsure of what to do to make it feel better. Worrying that it will never feel better and it will always be open and sore. We have good days and bad days, and I just don't see how we'll get out of this rut. I miss him and yet I feel nervous when we have long periods of time together because these days, the silence is crushing.
Even worse, the summer is ending and the fall semester begins in a few weeks. He's a high school teacher, so he'll be returning to school and I'm a college professor and will be doing the same. Our lives will suddenly get much more complicated and stressful than they are now, juggling too little money, too much responsibility, two full time jobs, two little kids who are in part time daycare (yes, seriously, I do my full time job in far fewer than the hours needed to do it well because we can't afford to put them in full time care...it's hard and stressful and I really wish we had the money for full time care). How will we handle all this given that we're in the rough spot now, during the relaxed summer season?
I know this post sucks. It's not telling you anything specific about my life and it's not ending on a happy note (like: we had a fight but we worked it out and all is fine!). It's just messy. But this is where I am today.
One last thing to mention. I really want to stop breastfeeding baby E because I want to go back on medication to help me manage all this anxiety. But adorable baby E has no interest in weaning. So on top of the messiness of my relationship, I have this sweet girl who practically crawls inside my shirt when she's hungry, and I can't deny her because it's so wonderful that it makes me smile just thinking about it. How do you wean an 11 month old baby who doesn't want to wean? I guess the answer is that I don't. I'm going to keep going for a little while longer. Hopefully I can just keep managing the anxiety until then. Breastfeeding is so complicated! And even though I want to quit bfing, I'm also heartbroken at the thought of doing so--I envy women who can breastfeed until the baby becomes a toddler, and yet I know I'm not one of those women.
Maybe this is all part of a bigger question: What kind of woman am I? What is my relationship to my husband, my kids, my job? It feels like I return to this question again and again in my writing, and perhaps that's where I should spend some time meditating. Perhaps if I figured out my own self, my own needs more fully, I'd be able to be less caught in the (often ordinary) chaos of life? Perhaps the rough spots would feel a little less rough?
p.s. The answer of taking an SSRI compatible with breastfeeding is not possible because I've had negative reactions to SSRIs in the past. I've spoken to my doctor and therapist about it. I just have to wait until bfing is over to take meds. But this is not to pass judgment on someone who takes an SSRI and bfs. It's just a personal thing for my body's chemistry.
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
advice to a 32 year old woman
I mentored a graduate student this past semester, which meant that we sat in my office for an hour every week to talk about teaching. I gave her advice on how to handle problem students, we shared ideas for generating class participation, and we compared notes about how to comment on paper drafts. At times, we talked about the sorry state of the profession and the limited job prospects of a new Ph.D. in English, and as we grew comfortable with each other, we chatted warmly about our lives outside of the university. She is young(ish), about 10 years younger than I, and after a few months of this, she began to feel like a friend, not a student. I genuinely enjoyed her company and am sad that the mentoring relationship has ended (which it has because she's not teaching next semester and I probably won't see her very often given our very different schedules).
In one of our last meetings, she jumped right into a discussion that I didn't anticipate by asking, "How is it to have children and be a professor of English?" Huh. Well, I said, it's pretty great. My schedule is flexible and I can make time to take them to pediatrician appointments, the zoo, and have a relaxed daycare protocol in which neither child is in full time (W goes to daycare four days a week, and E goes three). It's pretty ideal, in other words, and even though I sometimes feel like I have more work on my plate than I'd like, it's work I can complete on my own time.
What she was really driving at, though, was a deeper, more painful, question, which she asked as the conversation continued. At 32, she explained, she was in a new relationship, in the third year of a Ph.D. program, and was starting to worry that between the graduate program, the awful job market for new Ph.D.s in our field, and her fledgling relationship, she might not find a way to have kids before her fertility ran out. How important was it, she asked, to get her degree finished and her career started before having children? What advice might I have for someone in her situation? Should she even continue seeking the Ph.D. and instead, should she prioritize kids and family by getting a regular full time job and finding something a little more stable?
Whoo boy. I joked that we really needed to be having this kind of conversation over cocktails. I told her that I wouldn't dare to really give advice--every person's life is different. Every path is unique. And each of us must figure out our own paths pretty much on our own. I can't tell her what to do. I've often wished for a mentor who would take away my many options and would simply tell me what to do to be most successful in whatever I was worrying about at the moment. But that kind of mentor doesn't exist and we should mostly be thankful for her absence. It really is best to own our decisions and choices, and being told what to do takes away that power.
But, I offered, it seemed very wise that she was puzzling over these choices now and not waiting until the clock is ticking so loudly. And at 32, her time is probably not up, though one never knows. I am all too aware of women in their 20s who have fertility issues, so it's never enough to assume that age is the only/best factor to consider.
I said that it seemed to me that the Ph.D. is, indeed, not a clear means to a career. If she knows this and still wants to continue, even if it means going into debt, go for it. I did, and while I hate the debt (oh, you have no idea!), I don't regret the graduate school experience or the fact that I'm in a relatively great job as a result of it, even though it's not on the tenure-track. I would mostly do it all over again, though I'd take out fewer loans and I'd have focused on a slightly different field than the one I did, which has turned out to be the most saturated field in the profession. Ugh.
I also suggested that she think about these issues separately, rather than all in one big mess, because it might be easier to sort out her feelings about these issues one on one. So figure out whether the Ph.D. is really important. Once you know that, you'll be able to think about the baby question and the relationship question more clearly.
As for the baby question, I relayed what I have heard from other academic women, which is that there is no "good" time for a woman in academia to have a baby. If you have a baby in graduate school, you get accused of not being serious about your work. If you have a baby in the first five or seven years of your career, you get accused of not being serious about your career. If you have a baby after you've been established, seven years or more into the career, you get accused of not being a good colleague and of being not serious about the profession. See? It sucks all around. So the advice: have a baby when you damn well want to have it or when modern medicine suggests that you do, not when it makes sense in the academic career.
As for the relationship part, I had no real advice, as that's something she's got to play out on her own. They just started dating, though they've been friends for years, and she said they both know they want to have kids. One part of my brain was screaming: get moving! Do it now! Don't wait because it's possible that your fertility or his fertility is compromised. Go, go go! The other part of my brain, the more rational one, was saying that the two of them will hopefully reach a time when it seems right to them to start trying, but I did throw in a few caveats about how hard it is after 35, etc. I reminded her that men aren't always aware of how fertility works, so she should certainly broach this subject with her boyfriend when she felt like the relationship was headed in a committed direction.
How'd I do? It sounds here like I gave her lots of "advice," but really, I hope what I did was to relate my story, share some stories of others I knew, and reinforce that she was doing an excellent job of thinking these things through in a responsible way. My ultimate advice was to take these big decisions in 6-month increments. Think a bit and then revisit decisions/thoughts again in six months (and six months later, and so on). Don't make any rash decisions yet about the Ph.D. or the relationship or babies. But don't dally, either. And in the meantime, I said: live your life. Enjoy today and tomorrow and the next without spending too much time worrying about what's around the corner. Be smart, be diligent in thinking through your choices, but then live. We never know how long we have on this earth, and so it's worthwhile to savor it in all its uncertainty and messiness.
I wish someone had told me all this when I was 32, though I was a very different kind of 32. At 32, I had just finished my doctorate and had gotten my first non-tenure-track job at a SLAC in the northeast. I was full of hope for my career, and that memory makes me smile ruefully. How little I understood at 32! And babies were not anywhere on my radar, really. I thought I might want to have them, but I assumed the "right" guy was around the corner. As soon as he arrived, we'd get started on all that. Well, the "right" guy didn't show up until I was 35 and he didn't want kids at all when we began our relationship. I wouldn't have had this kind of mature conversation at 32.
What would you have said to this promising young person if she was in your profession? Or if you met someone like this in your travels and she had similar concerns? How much do we offer to people we don't know well about fertility, motherhood, and the complications of being a woman? Surely men don't have these kind of conversations, do they?
In one of our last meetings, she jumped right into a discussion that I didn't anticipate by asking, "How is it to have children and be a professor of English?" Huh. Well, I said, it's pretty great. My schedule is flexible and I can make time to take them to pediatrician appointments, the zoo, and have a relaxed daycare protocol in which neither child is in full time (W goes to daycare four days a week, and E goes three). It's pretty ideal, in other words, and even though I sometimes feel like I have more work on my plate than I'd like, it's work I can complete on my own time.
What she was really driving at, though, was a deeper, more painful, question, which she asked as the conversation continued. At 32, she explained, she was in a new relationship, in the third year of a Ph.D. program, and was starting to worry that between the graduate program, the awful job market for new Ph.D.s in our field, and her fledgling relationship, she might not find a way to have kids before her fertility ran out. How important was it, she asked, to get her degree finished and her career started before having children? What advice might I have for someone in her situation? Should she even continue seeking the Ph.D. and instead, should she prioritize kids and family by getting a regular full time job and finding something a little more stable?
Whoo boy. I joked that we really needed to be having this kind of conversation over cocktails. I told her that I wouldn't dare to really give advice--every person's life is different. Every path is unique. And each of us must figure out our own paths pretty much on our own. I can't tell her what to do. I've often wished for a mentor who would take away my many options and would simply tell me what to do to be most successful in whatever I was worrying about at the moment. But that kind of mentor doesn't exist and we should mostly be thankful for her absence. It really is best to own our decisions and choices, and being told what to do takes away that power.
But, I offered, it seemed very wise that she was puzzling over these choices now and not waiting until the clock is ticking so loudly. And at 32, her time is probably not up, though one never knows. I am all too aware of women in their 20s who have fertility issues, so it's never enough to assume that age is the only/best factor to consider.
I said that it seemed to me that the Ph.D. is, indeed, not a clear means to a career. If she knows this and still wants to continue, even if it means going into debt, go for it. I did, and while I hate the debt (oh, you have no idea!), I don't regret the graduate school experience or the fact that I'm in a relatively great job as a result of it, even though it's not on the tenure-track. I would mostly do it all over again, though I'd take out fewer loans and I'd have focused on a slightly different field than the one I did, which has turned out to be the most saturated field in the profession. Ugh.
I also suggested that she think about these issues separately, rather than all in one big mess, because it might be easier to sort out her feelings about these issues one on one. So figure out whether the Ph.D. is really important. Once you know that, you'll be able to think about the baby question and the relationship question more clearly.
As for the baby question, I relayed what I have heard from other academic women, which is that there is no "good" time for a woman in academia to have a baby. If you have a baby in graduate school, you get accused of not being serious about your work. If you have a baby in the first five or seven years of your career, you get accused of not being serious about your career. If you have a baby after you've been established, seven years or more into the career, you get accused of not being a good colleague and of being not serious about the profession. See? It sucks all around. So the advice: have a baby when you damn well want to have it or when modern medicine suggests that you do, not when it makes sense in the academic career.
As for the relationship part, I had no real advice, as that's something she's got to play out on her own. They just started dating, though they've been friends for years, and she said they both know they want to have kids. One part of my brain was screaming: get moving! Do it now! Don't wait because it's possible that your fertility or his fertility is compromised. Go, go go! The other part of my brain, the more rational one, was saying that the two of them will hopefully reach a time when it seems right to them to start trying, but I did throw in a few caveats about how hard it is after 35, etc. I reminded her that men aren't always aware of how fertility works, so she should certainly broach this subject with her boyfriend when she felt like the relationship was headed in a committed direction.
How'd I do? It sounds here like I gave her lots of "advice," but really, I hope what I did was to relate my story, share some stories of others I knew, and reinforce that she was doing an excellent job of thinking these things through in a responsible way. My ultimate advice was to take these big decisions in 6-month increments. Think a bit and then revisit decisions/thoughts again in six months (and six months later, and so on). Don't make any rash decisions yet about the Ph.D. or the relationship or babies. But don't dally, either. And in the meantime, I said: live your life. Enjoy today and tomorrow and the next without spending too much time worrying about what's around the corner. Be smart, be diligent in thinking through your choices, but then live. We never know how long we have on this earth, and so it's worthwhile to savor it in all its uncertainty and messiness.
I wish someone had told me all this when I was 32, though I was a very different kind of 32. At 32, I had just finished my doctorate and had gotten my first non-tenure-track job at a SLAC in the northeast. I was full of hope for my career, and that memory makes me smile ruefully. How little I understood at 32! And babies were not anywhere on my radar, really. I thought I might want to have them, but I assumed the "right" guy was around the corner. As soon as he arrived, we'd get started on all that. Well, the "right" guy didn't show up until I was 35 and he didn't want kids at all when we began our relationship. I wouldn't have had this kind of mature conversation at 32.
What would you have said to this promising young person if she was in your profession? Or if you met someone like this in your travels and she had similar concerns? How much do we offer to people we don't know well about fertility, motherhood, and the complications of being a woman? Surely men don't have these kind of conversations, do they?
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
me, myself, and I
This morning, as I was crawling back into bed at 4 am after
nursing baby E, I felt a sharp pain in the middle of my chest. I lay still and prayed that it would
go away, that it was a muscle spasm brought on by anxiety and/or a strange
position during the most recent nursing session. I willed it away because I’m
only 42 and can’t imagine not being around for my baby and preschooler. I begged and pleaded with God to keep me safe and alive and healthy.
It seems to have gone away and I think it must have been a
muscle spasm. While laying there, I renewed my commitment to making a doctor’s
appointment for a check up. I’ve been between doctors for about two years now—my
old, favorite, primary care doctor is in the city and I have no time to get
there these days (and I have yet to find a new, hopefully wonderful, doctor in
the ‘burbs near us).
It’s part of a theme I’m pursuing these days in which I am committed
to taking care of myself in as many ways as possible. I went running on Sunday
with our new (to us—thank you Craigs.list) double jogging stroller. I’m not
buying mass produced cookies and am instead indulging my cravings for dessert with
one or two squares of dark chocolate. I’m turning off the TV to read whenever
possible. I’m trying to look at myself in the mirror with kindness, the way I would
look at someone I love and respect. I’m considering getting off the
diet-coke-train that I’m on. (Hey, I know I should just get off right now, but
I have an incredibly addictive personality and I can’t imagine giving up my 20
oz of the bitter drink every morning. I’ll get there eventually.)
This—my commitment to myself—may be the biggest and most important
commitment in my world. Yes, my relationship with my husband is an important commitment.
And of course, my commitment to care for my kids is vitally important—they’re
my heart and soul living and breathing outside of my own body. I cherish these
family commitments with everything I have and am. But all of these other
commitments fall apart if I don’t keep a strong and centered commitment to
myself. If I don’t care for myself, I’m not caring for anyone. I remember this,
oh, some of the time, and my goal is to simply remember it and practice it even
more often. It’s not selfish to care for yourself so that you can care for
others. In fact, I wish more people practiced it (Mom, even though you don’t
know this blog exists, I’m looking at you, here!).
I think I’ve found a doctor—a small practice connected to a
bigger practice in my little suburban town. I’m going to call today and make an
appointment, and I’ll definitely mention the muscle spasm and the other various
and sundry physical complaints of middle age that I’m experiencing. I'm really enjoying this life, these days, and have no intention of compromising it any longer by not caring for myself.
What are you doing to care for yourself today? How are you
keeping your commitments?
Saturday, April 28, 2012
up to date
I cannot believe it's been so long since I last wrote. What a bummer.
Maybe a brief list of items would be reasonable here, just to catch up quickly?
Item One. The semester is ending and I will really miss my current students. The theme of the course is graphic novels, and they've risen to every challenge except one, in which I tried to introduce them to the amazing comics of Charles Burns and most of them had the following reaction: "Ick. This book scared me." It is a kind of horror comic, though I cannot stand true horror, so it's really not that scary and it's more freaky and beautiful. I will miss them, though--they were talkative and smart and (mostly) interesting. I love when I can say this kind of thing at the end of a semester.
Item Two. I have been meaning to comment on a powerful post by Esperanza a few weeks ago in which she discusses how hard it is to be off meds while TTC. I have now commented but thought it deserved a mention here, too, because it's just such a great post. In fact, her recent series of honest and raw posts have been so moving I've found myself in tears. They're bringing back feelings I thought I had successfully buried. Surprise! Not so much. Anyway, the comment I want to make out loud here is that I, too, take meds for adult ADD and I'm currently off them because I'm still breastfeeding. I've been off them since January of 2009. I miss them every single day. Without them, I'm tired, often cranky, scatterbrained, and incredibly prone to procrastination. If I'm fair, though, I'm still a procrastinator and a bit scatterbrained even ON the meds, but less so. If you've ever wondered what life for someone who takes/needs meds for ADD is like without them, read her post.
I struggle with the "need" aspect of them the same way she does because it really seems like I "should" be able to motivate myself better/smarter/more successfully without medical help. I berate myself for not being "good enough" to live life without them. And the fact that they help with weight loss and maintenance makes it all worse because it seems like I'm making an excuse for taking them through my scatterbrainedness, even though I don't really think (in my calmer, more rational moments) that's the case. Whatever. I am coming out as a person who takes meds and needs them and who knows that there's no shame in getting the help you need.
Item Three. E is sitting on her own these days, only occasionally toppling over when she reaches over to grab a toy. When the hell did she get so big and strong?
Item Four. Reflux, the old devil, is back in my life yet again. I described E's symptoms to her doctor a few weeks ago and sure enough, she said we might benefit from meds. So we're in the middle of trying a second level medication for it, prev.acid. W was on it until 18 months and it remains to be seen how E does. She's taking it in suspension rather than in solutab (W was on solutabs) and there is controversy over whether the suspension method works as well as it's supposed to. Solutabs are apparently in shortage at the moment, so we can't switch over (yet).
Item Five. I generally dislike poetry. But I've had the hankering to start writing poetry lately. Strange. It's like poems keep popping into my head. I haven't written any down yet because I assume I really cannot write these poems (because I'm not a poet or a real writer--I teach because I cannot do). I know that makes no sense. So I'm going to start writing poetry one of these days. What an odd midlife thing to do. It might be because I'm hanging around poets IRL these days and they're on my FB page a lot, writing snippets and posting cool poetry links. Maybe I'm just going through some version of high school envy? Poets are cool and therefore I should become a poet (much like in high school when guess jeans were cool and I was poor, so I worked 20 hours a week at my part time job to buy myself guess jeans?). I'll keep you posted on whether this poetry thing manifests itself.
Item Six. A friend is going through last chance IVF in June and my heart is in my throat for her. Think good thoughts in early June for her. She's 46 and this is almost certainly her last chance.
Item Seven. I have a post brewing about a conversation I had with a graduate student I'm mentoring. She's 32 and asked me whether I thought it was important to have children before establishing her career or not. I'll let you know what I said (spoiler alert: if you want children badly, put off your career; if you are on the fence, live your life and check in about it again every 6 months until you make a true decision).
Maybe a brief list of items would be reasonable here, just to catch up quickly?
Item One. The semester is ending and I will really miss my current students. The theme of the course is graphic novels, and they've risen to every challenge except one, in which I tried to introduce them to the amazing comics of Charles Burns and most of them had the following reaction: "Ick. This book scared me." It is a kind of horror comic, though I cannot stand true horror, so it's really not that scary and it's more freaky and beautiful. I will miss them, though--they were talkative and smart and (mostly) interesting. I love when I can say this kind of thing at the end of a semester.
Item Two. I have been meaning to comment on a powerful post by Esperanza a few weeks ago in which she discusses how hard it is to be off meds while TTC. I have now commented but thought it deserved a mention here, too, because it's just such a great post. In fact, her recent series of honest and raw posts have been so moving I've found myself in tears. They're bringing back feelings I thought I had successfully buried. Surprise! Not so much. Anyway, the comment I want to make out loud here is that I, too, take meds for adult ADD and I'm currently off them because I'm still breastfeeding. I've been off them since January of 2009. I miss them every single day. Without them, I'm tired, often cranky, scatterbrained, and incredibly prone to procrastination. If I'm fair, though, I'm still a procrastinator and a bit scatterbrained even ON the meds, but less so. If you've ever wondered what life for someone who takes/needs meds for ADD is like without them, read her post.
I struggle with the "need" aspect of them the same way she does because it really seems like I "should" be able to motivate myself better/smarter/more successfully without medical help. I berate myself for not being "good enough" to live life without them. And the fact that they help with weight loss and maintenance makes it all worse because it seems like I'm making an excuse for taking them through my scatterbrainedness, even though I don't really think (in my calmer, more rational moments) that's the case. Whatever. I am coming out as a person who takes meds and needs them and who knows that there's no shame in getting the help you need.
Item Three. E is sitting on her own these days, only occasionally toppling over when she reaches over to grab a toy. When the hell did she get so big and strong?
Item Four. Reflux, the old devil, is back in my life yet again. I described E's symptoms to her doctor a few weeks ago and sure enough, she said we might benefit from meds. So we're in the middle of trying a second level medication for it, prev.acid. W was on it until 18 months and it remains to be seen how E does. She's taking it in suspension rather than in solutab (W was on solutabs) and there is controversy over whether the suspension method works as well as it's supposed to. Solutabs are apparently in shortage at the moment, so we can't switch over (yet).
Item Five. I generally dislike poetry. But I've had the hankering to start writing poetry lately. Strange. It's like poems keep popping into my head. I haven't written any down yet because I assume I really cannot write these poems (because I'm not a poet or a real writer--I teach because I cannot do). I know that makes no sense. So I'm going to start writing poetry one of these days. What an odd midlife thing to do. It might be because I'm hanging around poets IRL these days and they're on my FB page a lot, writing snippets and posting cool poetry links. Maybe I'm just going through some version of high school envy? Poets are cool and therefore I should become a poet (much like in high school when guess jeans were cool and I was poor, so I worked 20 hours a week at my part time job to buy myself guess jeans?). I'll keep you posted on whether this poetry thing manifests itself.
Item Six. A friend is going through last chance IVF in June and my heart is in my throat for her. Think good thoughts in early June for her. She's 46 and this is almost certainly her last chance.
Item Seven. I have a post brewing about a conversation I had with a graduate student I'm mentoring. She's 32 and asked me whether I thought it was important to have children before establishing her career or not. I'll let you know what I said (spoiler alert: if you want children badly, put off your career; if you are on the fence, live your life and check in about it again every 6 months until you make a true decision).
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
breastfeeding (a PAIL theme post)
In the 1970s, my mother was a La Lec.he Lea.gue group leader. I remember, as a child, sitting on the floor with other kids whose moms were similarly passionate about breastfeeding. We sat though so many damn meetings. She was hardcore about breastfeeding, too. Apparently, she not only allowed me and my brother to nurse LONG past the time when we could ask for it, she also allowed a close friend who had a child around my same age to feed me if my Mom had run to the store or was otherwise busy. I assume she fed her friend's child in the same manner. WTF. Feeding another woman's baby, just because you can, strikes me as odd. And breastfeeding a preschooler just isn't for me. I have nothing against it, per se, but I think there are many interesting foods out there beyond breastfeeding by the preschool years that are/should be more nourishing than breastmilk. (Yeah, yeah...I know it's the perfect food and all...I'm just sayin'.)
All that said, I'm a pretty passionate breastfeeder. I have been committed to it with both kids. I breastfed W, my two year old, until he chose to quit at almost a year old. I was getting ready to quit it if he hadn't, but even so, I felt a bit disappointed when he refused the breast the first time. And now, with baby #2, my 6 month old, we're still breastfeeding well. It's a very different experience the second time around. My son would nurse constantly, even when not hungry. He got the comfort-nursing thing. E, the baby girl, is more interested in breastfeeding for food. She is much quicker to reject it if she's not hungry.
I fought hard to be able to breastfeed. In both cases, my kids started life with a few days back in the hospital drinking formula from bottles. I pumped and pumped to get my supply going (I'm a late starter...my milk doesn't tend to come in until at least a week after birth). And I tried finger feeding and other measures to keep them both from loving the bottle and refusing the breast. I'm very lucky that it all worked--it was just as likely as not to have failed.
I'm also a very poor pumper, and I'm not sure if it's just that I'm not doing it well (I sometimes forget when I'm at work) or if I'm just a low producer. Perhaps both are true. So when E is at daycare, she gets one bottle of breastmilk and at least one of formula. To me, formula is a total blessing. It allows my child to eat while I'm away from her and it takes some of the pumping pressure off of me. And for so many people, formula is the only option and I really hate when someone looks down on that choice or situation. A good lactation consultant will say that the first thing all mothers should do is feed their child, whether it be breastmilk or formula.
When I meet a pregnant woman and she asks me about my breastfeeding experience (it does happen!), I almost always tell her how difficult it is going to be. It's painful for the first few week and worrying about whether your child is getting enough food will drive you nuts, but if you can get it all to work, it's wonderful. And if you can't get it to work and you don't breastfeed, either by choice or by situation, it's also wonderful. Feed your child and don't worry too much about how.
All that said, I'm a pretty passionate breastfeeder. I have been committed to it with both kids. I breastfed W, my two year old, until he chose to quit at almost a year old. I was getting ready to quit it if he hadn't, but even so, I felt a bit disappointed when he refused the breast the first time. And now, with baby #2, my 6 month old, we're still breastfeeding well. It's a very different experience the second time around. My son would nurse constantly, even when not hungry. He got the comfort-nursing thing. E, the baby girl, is more interested in breastfeeding for food. She is much quicker to reject it if she's not hungry.
I fought hard to be able to breastfeed. In both cases, my kids started life with a few days back in the hospital drinking formula from bottles. I pumped and pumped to get my supply going (I'm a late starter...my milk doesn't tend to come in until at least a week after birth). And I tried finger feeding and other measures to keep them both from loving the bottle and refusing the breast. I'm very lucky that it all worked--it was just as likely as not to have failed.
I'm also a very poor pumper, and I'm not sure if it's just that I'm not doing it well (I sometimes forget when I'm at work) or if I'm just a low producer. Perhaps both are true. So when E is at daycare, she gets one bottle of breastmilk and at least one of formula. To me, formula is a total blessing. It allows my child to eat while I'm away from her and it takes some of the pumping pressure off of me. And for so many people, formula is the only option and I really hate when someone looks down on that choice or situation. A good lactation consultant will say that the first thing all mothers should do is feed their child, whether it be breastmilk or formula.
When I meet a pregnant woman and she asks me about my breastfeeding experience (it does happen!), I almost always tell her how difficult it is going to be. It's painful for the first few week and worrying about whether your child is getting enough food will drive you nuts, but if you can get it all to work, it's wonderful. And if you can't get it to work and you don't breastfeed, either by choice or by situation, it's also wonderful. Feed your child and don't worry too much about how.
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