Extended Breastfeeding

I'm not a "lactivist". When it comes to nutrition for babies, I will always give my opinion if it's solicited, but I also don't feel I'm in any position to judge people who've made an informed decision for their child, even if it's not the decision I would make. Although, I will certainly bitch about it to my husband and breastfeeding friends if it's an uninformed or selfish decision. 

Lately, however, as I hang out more on birth boards and have time to read the comments on articles and blog posts I read online, I keep bumping head on into this attitude: There is no need to breastfeed after one and anyone who does it is creepy/ disgusting.

This fires me up like nothing else. I've said before in this blog that I aimed to breastfeed Lily until two. Well, hospital bed rest is an obstacle I hadn't really envisaged. But you can't keep a good breastfeeding mother down, and we're working with it. While my greatest heartbreak as a mother has been that she is now almost exclusively bottle fed (that, and that we never got into cloth nappies. That actually makes me feel shame, but is not the point of this blog), no one in the family has actually given up yet. We all make sure Lily at least tries every time she visits, and I've spoken to a lactation consultant that says if I keep that up she will remember and will probably enjoy tandem feeding when my milk comes back down in earnest after the baby is born. And when I go home in a couple of weeks, we will pick right back up where we left off. The only person not on board with this is Lily. It seems that as my milk supply has dwindled in the face of not feeding her 4 - 6 times a day, my colostrum has taken this as a cue to take over.

 I read many articles about breastfeeding and pregnancy before we made the final decision to begin trying for a second child. I really didn't want anything to interfere with Lily's breastfeeding, and I wanted to make an informed choice about whether falling pregnant while she was still breastfeeding was the best thing for everyone. Well, I read about the challenges, but it seemed most people have an overwhelmingly positive experience, especially once they made it out the other side and were able to tandem feed, which I desperately want to do. And Lily and I were doing great! She hadn't even batted an eyelid at the flavour change, she had adjusted her number of feeds to make up for my low supply, I was ignoring the nipple pain, we were cheerfully ignoring people who were trying to convince us to stop , Dr Cattanach was being very supportive and I wasn't yet big enough to feel uncomfortable. It seemed we would meet this challenge and I would get to fulfil my desire to tandem feed. And then I got put on bed rest. At first Lily loved the special Mummy cuddle, but then she got less interested, having a go, and then looking at me and talking to me and finally, Monday night sealed it. Grandma optimistically didn't bring a bottle with her on Monday night, hoping Lily would take a breastfeed. She had a go and then she just cried and cried. It doesn't matter. She was tired and ready to go home and there are still different things we can try, like feeding her when she gets here so she's not tired, and in two weeks, she and I will go back to working as a team full time to make breastfeeding work. If it doesn't, which it may not as the appearance of colostrum on the scene sometimes spells the end as the flavour is so dramatically different, we will still try and pick it up again after the baby is born. You can't keep a good breastfeeding mother down, after all!

Which is a very roundabout way of getting to my explanation of why it upsets me so badly when people act like breastfeeding after one is either unnecessary or wrong on some level. Like I said at the beginning of the post, I don't feel it's my place to cast judgement on people who have made an informed decision for them and their child. Difficulties with breastfeeding are a very real problem for many and who am I to say what they are doing is wrong? Well, on the flip side, I don't want to be told be anyone that what I am doing is wrong. Especially when it is in no way harmful to my daughter, not by any stretch of the imagination, and there is so much evidence to suggest that what I am doing is exactly the right thing. Not only is the WHO on board with breastfeeding well past one, it seems that western governments are jumping on the bandwagon. Queensland Health is now on board, and recently a friend of mine posted nutrition information for children over one produced by the Canadian government that had breast milk as a food. I'm sure that countries in Europe, and maybe even good old America have similar policies and recommendations. In fact, I have never read any serious medical or nutritional evidence that says that breastfeeding after one is unnecessary. If one is mentioned, it's usually in an "at least" capacity. I certainly don't think I will ever find any evidence that there is something creepy or harmful about breastfeeding a toddler, except, perhaps, for ignorant opinion.

Maybe it's just that I get most of my information from people that where their pro-breastfeeding stance on their sleeve. I don't really think so though. I think the problem is community ignorance, which is a shame, especially as good nutrition for children is such a community issue with rising levels of overweight and obese children. 

In the end, community opinion is not going to sway me. I have made the right choice for my family, in consultation with the only other person that really matters, my husband. Lily and I are going to do our best to keep it up until two, despite what anyone has to say, and I will also be breastfeeding my son for as long. And we'll be cheerfully and proudly doing it in public, too!

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A little bit special

Lily has always done things her own way, no matter how offbeat or out of step with "normal". 

Recently, I have noticed three things about her in particular.

1. While she talks, she doesn't "babble". She talks all day, long "sentences" of gibberish punctuated with "Hi!", "Yeah" and "Mum", but no "dadadadada", no repetitive sounds at all. I don't worry because she definitely talks, but it's different.
2. She is very clever with her hands. Her pincer grip is awesome, you can't look away for a minute, because she can pick things up as fiddly as grass and coarse sand, and in the mouth they go. She can undo her seat belt and pram belt. She is working out her shape sorter. She owned Duplo for a day and was playing with it for maybe 10 minutes before she was busily trying to snap pieces together. She strokes her books because she loves her Usborne "That's not my" series so much, she hopes they are all touchy-feely. There are other things, but if I mention them, she may just stop speaking to me in her teen years.
3. She is totally and utterly gumby from the waist down. A slow roller, and a medium sitter, she is now a slow crawler and stander. She has been bum shuffling for some time, but crawling has, until now, eluded her. She finally worked it out Friday. She sped quickly across the carpet at Grandma's. Backwards.

Darkest Days

It has taken me a very long time to work up the courage to write this post. It's the next in the story of Lily's birth and it still makes my tear up even now. Even more so, now that I'm staring down the barrel of doing it all over again.

So, one deep breath and here we go.

After the honeymoon, my doctor diagnosed me with a short cervix, which does not equal incompetent cervix, but can. So every fortnight from 18+6 weeks, I went to see Maternal Fetal Medicine at the Mater, to check to make sure, though short, my cervix was doing just fine. At 20+6, everything was fine. At 22+6, the bottom fell out of my world. Scratch that. It felt like the entire world had laid itself on me in the manner of a wrecking ball embracing a building.

At 22+6 weeks, my cervix had been found to have shortened by about a centimetre, which meant I was suffering from an incompetent cervix. Having just eaten lunch, I was not eligible to be operated on right then as the plan was to put me to sleep and I would have to wait until the next morning. By this stage, I'd been rushed into Dr Cattanach from MFM, but they had assured me my cervix was closed, and that I didn't need to panic.

Dr Cattanach looked a bit worried and was very upset that I'd eaten so recently. It was then he chose to hit me with the full gravity of the situation. If my baby arrived that night, or anytime in the next week, she would die. Although around 20% of 23 weekers survive, they are often severely disabled and most hospitals opt to keep 23 weekers born breathing comfortable until they pass away rather than working on them. Most are still born.

I was very, very scared. But all through my admission and until Bob left that night, I kept my chin up. Inside I was screaming. Bob left because he had to work the next day and wouldn't be allowed in for the operation anyway. He assured me I could call him at anytime during the night, and I agreed I would if I needed him.

Oddly, I went to sleep quite early. And then I woke up. I can't remember the time now, perhaps 11 o'clock. And fear gripped me. This horrible, intense, overwhelming fear. It hurt my insides and made my head vibrate. It was the most terrible thing I have ever experienced. And then thoughts like no one should ever think filled my head. Sad, scared, lonely thoughts. I was so worried about being given full anaesthetic the next day and desperately wanted to ask for an epidural.

Who would demand my daughter be given oxygen if she was born breathing and fighting? Who would wrap her up and put her hat on? Who would hold her and kiss her? Who would rock her gently to a never waking sleep? Who would take photos of my sleeping angel? Would I be brave enough to hold her and love her if I woke up after she was gone? Would she be cold or would they keep her warm for me? Would I let the nurses take her when it was time? How on earth would I EVER be brave enough to put her in the ground?

I wanted to ring Bob and BEG him to come the next day. He needed to be there for his daughter. I was sure of it. But I didn't. I wasn't sure he'd understand how very important this was.

And these thoughts brought morning to me. And when they wheeled me to the operating theatre, I was too scared to say or do anything or even move. I wanted to beg Dr Cattanach to ask the anaesthesiologist to give me an epidural, but I wasn't brave enough.

But in the end, I didn't need to be. I was too far along to be knocked out. And the anaesthesiologist was the most beautiful lady I have ever met. She and a nurse held my hand and stroked my hair while I cried and cried.

But everything went okay. Even though I had no cervix to speak of by the time Dr Cattanach started the stitch, everything had gone much better than expected. There are so many complications from a stitch. It can make you go into labour, it can give you infection, they can accidentally break the membranes. All of these would have been a death sentence for Lily. But none of them did. But Dr Cattanach, with years of high risk experience wouldn't give me false hope.

He reminded me to do a long list of everything right, he wouldn't give me steroids until 24 weeks and each day from 23 weeks to 24 weeks, he would walk in and ask me about contractions and bleeding and say very little else. But I was doing just fine. On the surface.

After 2 years of tragedy after tragedy, I have learned I am very good at being okay on the surface. Inside is a different story.

I spent every night from 11pm to 1am watching the clock, counting the minutes until the precious next day, and then a little extra, just to make sure. I peed like clockwork at midnight every night, checking for bleeding

The days I spent planning her funeral. This sounds so horrible now, but it's the truth. There would be so many flowers in pink and white the chapel would be unrecognisable. There would be stuffed toys everywhere. I would dress her myself in something beautiful. There would be a slide show of all her beautiful ultrasound images and the photos we took at her birth. The coffin would be white and open so I could kiss her goodbye. When we said goodbye they would play "Baby Mine" sung by Bette Midler. She would be buried with other children around her so she could play.

There was a crucifix on the wall and I would beg Jesus every day to care for my child in a way I was obviously unable to. I would implore my poppy to watch over her.

And they must have, because we made it to 24 weeks. Dr Cattanach shook my hand that day. But 24 weeks is only 50% chance of survival with high chance of disability.

I HATED seeing midwives after their three days off, or the weekend doctor, or the physio because they would always be surprised I was still there. I remember my first weekend doctor looked at my chart and said "You're not planning to give birth this weekend are you?"

But 24 weeks was easier than 23 weeks and I only did my midnight ritual at the 24/ 25 week turn over, although my day time thoughts still strayed down the darkest paths.

Two of my friends had just had beautiful babies, one an amazing little girl, and I was jealous, and angry at myself and sad to look at their photos, unsure I'd ever have ones like that myself. But I never let on, at least, I don't think I did. I definitely didn't look at any pregnancy shots as I wasn't even showing a little bit yet and didn't think I ever would and this was what I had been looking forward to most.

And 25 weeks became 26 weeks. And hope lit a little flame in my chest. I was allowed places in a wheelchair and to craft once a week, had another scan and decided I wanted NICU tour.

The NICU tour was so awful. They showed me a little 26 weaker and she looked so raw. So uncooked and red and not really human at all. There were parents down there admitting their new 24 weaker and I felt so sad for them.

When 26 weeks became 27 Dr Cattanach said I could go home at 28 weeks as long as I promised to be very good. I wanted to dance.

I was so lonely in the hospital. Even though I had visitors every day, and Bob stayed often, I felt like I was going it alone, like no one really knew what I was experiencing. Even Bob didn't really seem to understand the full gravity of what I was going through. And even as hope really started to build, I still worried and thought dark things.

At 28 weeks I got to go home. And the rest of the story is for another post.

But I didn't escaped unscathed from this because my little girl was born beautiful. I am still insanely jealous of pregnant ladies, especially ones with big, beautiful tummies. It is hard for me not to warn people of all the things that can go wrong. I want to rush up to people and tell them to get a cervical length scan. DEMAND IT. I feel annoyed at people that are flippant about bed rest, like it's a choice, or may not work, or they know better than their doctor.

I feel failed as a mother. Failed at being pregnant and it makes me mad. I can't really understand, "Why me?" And being pregnant again feels less like a second chance to have a lovely little full term baby (which, if I'm honest with myself is one of the reasons we went so soon, instead of waiting the planned 12 months), it feels more like I'm endangering another little life by making them premature. I HAD wanted three children, but I can't do this again. This all consuming worry. This checking the toilet paper, this sick feeling at every twinge, this fear.

But right now, there aren't too many dark days, and I am grateful to have left such a dark time in my life behind me and hope that this pregnancy is happy and healthy and brings me a closure I haven't yet found.

Mother's Little Helpers

I'm not referring to a cup of tea, a Bex and a lie down or my kid's Ritalin here. I'm referring to the things that have helped me to continue to be a mother to Lily while I battle up hill with really quite nasty morning sickness.

• Jarred food. A couple of companies now make organic jarred food with nothing, or very little, in them other than meat and vegetables or fruit. With my approximately 3 million food and smell aversions, this has been a God send. I simply can't cook the yummy, nutrious food I want to cook her and she and I have both come to realise this is a more than acceptable alternative. She definately prefers "Only Organic" Bolognaise to mine. Traitor.
• Maxolon. I can't live without this delightful drug. Not only does it settle my nausea, it increases my milk production, which is excellent as I was running on almost empty and Lily was feeding around 2 hourly. We're back on a much more normal feed schedule now, which is happy for me and my sore, pregnancy nipples.
• Ginger. An excellent nautral remedy that I have tablets for. Ginger ale is nice, too.
• Ice cubes. For over a week I couldn't drink water, so I'd suck ice cubes. It felt like Popeye and his spinach.
• Bob. Bob has stepped up as a father. He gets up with her in the morning and dresses her, plays with her and gives her breakfast while I sleep in. He takes her at night and plays with her and showers/ baths her and gives her dinner. I couldn't do it without him.

I'm REALLY hanging out for that magic 12 week. 

Things I have learned about baby clothing.

My daughter has A LOT of clothes. A scary amount, actually. Now she has slowed down growing, it's not nearly as bad as when she would only last in size for a couple of months. Sometimes, things would only get worn once. I always felt that this was a sickening testament to how rich we are as society, that a small child could accumulate so much stuff. However, I also learned to look after her clothes really well, so here are some tips, some Australia/Brisbane centric.

• If a stain won't come out on the first soak, try hand washing, if it still won't come out, soak it every load until comes out. It almost always will.
• Carrot and bolognaise are HORRIBLE to get out of your child's clothes. You are better off feeding them nude.
• If it can't be soaked, don't buy it.
• A tumble dryer is your best friend.
• If it says on the label "do not tumble dry", dry it on low heat. I have never ruined anything by ignoring this label.
• If it needs handwashing, you don't need it
• If you have a winter baby, you need at least one woollen hat and jumper. They DO need hand washing, but are the warmest thing you can get, so ignore previous rule.
• 3000 bibs, singlets and socks are not enough. Make it 6000. Actually, at least 20 bibs, singlets and socks. Little hats don't go amiss either.
• Everyone will buy you wraps. I had so many. Don't buy yourself wraps. 
• Muslin wraps are the best for breastfeeding. Don't buy any expensive special designed crap, because that's all it is.
• If you are planning on using disposable nappies, wait for sales. Big W has GREAT sales on Huggies. Stock up then. A box (108 NB, 99 Crawler) represents about a month.
• If you plan to use cloth, go to the Children and Babies Expo. They have samples you can handle, people to give you advice and excellent deals.
• Washers are cheaper and gentler on your baby's skin than even Huggies sensitive skin products. Target sells ten packs that are about $5 and they are the perfect size and thickness.
• Anything from Target will wash better, fit better and last longer than anything else. This includes Pumpkin Patch, all the DJs and Myer brands, Kmart and Big W. Best and Less is a very close second to Target.
• If you want gorgeous stuff that is unique, Australian made, inexpensive and well made, make the time to go to a Mummy Market. There are lots of them. My one of choice is the Ipswich Handmade Expo. There's also the Mummy Tree Market, the Butterfly Tree Market and the Mumma Market.
• Alternatively, buy off Facebook sellers. They are actually awesome.
• Bonds Wondersuits and singlets are expensive. This is because they are the best. Target and Best and Less often have sales that put them at a price that is comparitive to the home brand.
• No matter what you dress your child in, someone will, at some point, incorrectly identify your child's gender. This has happened to me at least twice while Lily was dressed extremely girly.

Anyway, I think that's all. Mummys feel free to add in the comments!

Things that annoy me (when it comes to parenting)

Just for fun, because I feel like it, I'm going to go on a little rant about things that annoy me. This is mainly inspired by me, in the face of Lily's upcoming 12 month vaccines, having a re-look at anti-vaccine advice.

1. Mummier-than-thou: I don't mind a bit of mumpetition. I actually quite like it. It makes me think through my choices for my daughter, read and re-read research and helps me learn to protect my daughter's best interests. It also helps me to humbly except that sometimes, I am wrong, or even a bit haphazard. What I can't stand, and I rarely get into conversation with such people and they certainly aren't my friends, is people who think that their choice is the only choice, that simply because you disagree, your research is flawed or non-existent. Better yet, I love people that flat out refuse to listen to bodies of evidence produced by better research practices than their sources because they know their sister-in-law's, cousin's, aunt's, dog's breeder did it the way their massively flawed research suggests. Sometimes I like to goad these people on message boards, but one must be careful arguing with such people as idiots nearly always win arguments by dragging you down to their level and beating you with experience. Or simply exasperating you so much, you give up as your brain leaks out your ears.
2. People who are rude about breastfeeding: I'm about to come out of the closest here. *deep breath* I plan to breastfeed until Lily is AT LEAST 2. This is not something I planned when I was pregnant. My mum didn't breastfeed, and my grandma didn't breastfeed long as Mum failed thrive on breast milk and many of my friends had been unsuccessful with breastfeeding and I was very anxious about public attitude. I planned to give it a go for at least 6 weeks and then what happened, happened. Then Lily was born prem and while I have yet to find unshakeable evidence that breast outstrips formula by a wide enough margin that it should be shoved down the throats of parents of healthy, full term babies the way some groups think it should, the evidence of the benefits of breast for prems is pretty much uncontested. So 6 weeks came and went, and my attitude shifted. I decided to breastfeed until at least 1, which had been Bob's attitude all along. Then 6 months came and went. And I decided that 2 was my new aim, and Bob agreed. Lily was pretty much a case for the text books on how good breast is for prems. But the disgusting things that are said about breastfeeding in some circles, usually not parents, have really made the bile rise in my throat. Comparing it to urinating or defecating in public, suggesting women should hide out in toilets or use bottles, suggesting there is something PERVERTED about it. It makes me furious. The public attitude is absurd. I've even heard some people, that should KNOW better, saying they will not breastfeed, not because of careful research or personal negative experience, but because they don't want to be tied down to their child. Oh, FFS. Well, for the love of all things holy DON'T BREED, because your kid will be a clear asset to society. Of course, things are turning around, and the new push by Queensland Health is for breast for 12 months+, which I think it awesome! Having said that, I will champion anyone who has chosen bottle for good reasons, and there are lots of them, exclusive of physical inability, and have done on many occasions.
3. And finally, why I'm here, the Anti-Vaccine Movement: When I was in hospital, I felt the urge to pick apart every decision for our child. It seemed like a better use of my time than moping. One of the things that piqued my interest was whether to vaccinate or not. I did exactly 10 minutes research. I went to the Australian Vaccination Network website, one of the leading anti-vax groups in the world, and was astonished there was no forum or way to make comment on the papers they presented. So I dug a little deeper and found them to be an exceptionally horrible organisation that had committed borderline terrorist acts, were vitriolic towards parents of sick children who were too young to immunised and had caught diseases off unimmunised children and called for people to sue anyone who gave them advice to vaccinate if their child had an adverse reaction, but didn't seem to think that the reverse could be true. That THEY may be sued if a child died after their parents took the advice of their organisation. And the absurd things they were saying, such as calling measles a benign disease made me distrust ALL their research and finally, I decided that anyone who told me to vax was at least more right than these fools when I discovered they weren't just AIDS deniers but CANCER deniers. And I discontinued my research. And Lily had been jabbed with everything since. 

However, as a footnote, since then I have followed all anti-vax/ pro-vax discussions and have kept a close eye on the activities of Meryl and her cronies. I have learned through doing this that:

• anti-vaxxers pose a threat to herd immunity, because the fewer people that vaccinate, the more a disease is likely to pop up and the less effective immunisation is as a whole because not all vaccines are 100% effective, 100% of the time and they require high levels of vaccination for efficacy. If 10% of people are allergic or unable to vaccinate because of disease, and 10% fail to vaccinate, you reach 80% vaccination rate, which is when herd immunity begins to fail. 
• The vast majority of anti-vax research is done with small test groups, poor scientific practise and with an end goal in mind. Sometimes, the research isn't even done by doctors, immunologists or scientists; sometimes it is an opinion paper from someone such as a naturopath, who really has no place purporting such things.
• If 100 papers support vaccination, anti-vaxxers will champion the one that doesn't, calling the sometimes THOUSANDS of doctors and scientists involved in the other papers sell-outs and cronies of "big pharma". 
• They still think Andrew Wakefield is a hero and have no f***ing idea about ASDs.
• they think SIDS guidelines are another thing the government is using to control the masses
• that Andrew Wakefield's paper set real Autism research back decades
• that, having read detailed descriptions of adverse reactions, and having seen what is described as a adverse reaction by anti-vaxxers as reason not vaccinate, that they are hysterical (c'mon, a grumpy baby with a fever and sore arm is a well documented reaction and is no reason not to vaccinate), fail to recognise other environmental factors (Autism cannot be recognised until 9 months and often not until after, so yes, it DOES correlate with the MMR, but only by coincidence) and gloss over cases of obvious child abuse (one case was clearly shaken baby syndrome)

This is not EVERYTHING I have learned but, in short, yes, I am worried about adverse reactions and hold my breath for up to a week after she gets vaccinated, but I am not going to stop vaccinating her because of this. Quite frankly, if you don't immunise your kid, you are a fucking idiot.