Prepare for Pregnancy, Birth, & Parenting – Page 23

Miscarriage – The Silent Empty Box

To be filled with life is something. To be pregnant with a growing little miracle of science and nature in your belly is beautiful. To lose a pregnancy is sad. The feeling is surrounded with so many emotions. Guilt, loss, nothing, emptiness, aching, breaking, bending into shadows dark. I had to take a break today and submerge myself in some creative work. I wanted to shake this feeling of empty. Shake it loose from the empty box it resides in now. Like a box with nothing inside. Just invisible strings connecting back to my heart. I don’t know how to put it in words so I am not going to worry about using dazzling adverbs or catchy phrases, but they may just happen to come out that way. I just want to write a post about it.

There are so many women out there feeling this same feeling today, yesterday, tomorrow. It covers me like a vine nobody can see. Much like a bean pole vine grasping to anything its tendril can reach.

Photo by memomuse – “Bean Pole Vines in My Garden”

Something sturdy, mounted in dirt, standing upright. This vine of sadness can’t grasp onto nothing. So I grasp and curl around words. Around people I trust. Around acknowledgement that it happened. That’s its over. That I need to grieve.

As my mind curls and bends in thoughts of what may have been, what was just yesterday, before the bleeding started, before the sadness erupted. Before yesterday, I was cocooning into a ball of beauty, growing inside, feelings of joy and elation surrounded me. Flowers and fruits of joy rippled in the sun.

“Layers of Light” – Photo by memomuse Layers of light echoed over me, through me, around me, spinning into thick spidery webs. Now there is nothing. Just this box of invisible sadness nobody can see with the naked eye.

Long story short – I went to visit my dying mother in Colorado three weeks ago. The night before I left, my husband and I made love. I went home to Wyoming and Colorado where I feel the most alive and vibrant, for it is home and my place on this earth. I have been transplanted to North Carolina and I am trying to make the most of it. But back home, where I come from, just as the Kenny Chesney song sings, I love it there. On this journey where I thought I was going to say goodbye to my mother, I was surrounded by a land that knows me. That I know. That I love. This journey home, this journey to say goodbye, something magical happened. We conceived a baby. A miracle. A seed that sprouted into life. I found out last week I was pregnant. I took three home pregnancy tests and was more surprised with each positive test, as I have struggled with infertility in the past. My son is just thirteen months old. We were not actively trying to get pregnant. So it was a surprise to find out we were pregnant without even a blink of the eye, without a blink of the heart.

I took a home pregnancy test on Monday, then Wednesday, and then Saturday. All positive. The faint blue line got thicker with each test. I took a urine test at the doctor on Monday and they told me to come back in a week because it was, not without a doubt, positive, but there was a shadow line. So I took two more home tests that week, Wednesday and Saturday. And sure enough, positive. I started to feel the pregnancy symptoms, fatigue and drop to the floor tired.

I went in to take another urine test at the doctor yesterday, feeling it wasn’t needed, feeling pregnant, feeling sure a life was growing and thriving inside me. I didn’t need a doctor or lab technician to tell me I was pregnant. Something bigger happened – a life bloomed from my journey to say goodbye to my mother. How serendipitous. How miraculous. How joyous. It made the fact that my mother is dying a soft sleeve to rest on. To rejoice on. I was sure this baby was a girl and I was going to name her Eleanor Elizabeth and call her Ellie Elizabeth.

My mom, Elizabeth, and me as a baby

Elizabeth, named after my mother. I had visions of her soft curls, her big blue eyes, her big heart.

When I took the test at the doctor just yesterday, I noticed some blood. Frightened, I told the nurse. Then the results from the lab technician came in. The test was negative. I fumbled with my paperwork to hand to the check out clerk at the doctors. She gave me a silent nod and a sweet abbreviation of sugar, “You’re all set, Sug.” I wanted so badly to walk out the back door, nobody to see my sadness or my tears, as they began to gush. I walked past all the ripe bellies, round and plump with life.

Sometimes I wish there was a sign women going through the grief of miscarriage could wear on their back. “Please treat with kindness – grieving heart – may slumber slowly today and tomorrow and certainly the day after next.” But it is invisible. Our eyes are swollen, sad, and watered with tears only time can heal. There is no clock for this time passage. It is not an hour, a week, a month, or a year. It is a hole in our heart. We go on. And on. And hopefully you can give a hug to someone in need. Perhaps, you just don’t know. And what do you say? There are no words. Just invisible tendrils trying to clutch at something strong, sturdy. For it may be the hope of another chance at conceiving.

My toddler in my arms

Perhaps it is the smile from a toddler in your arms. Perhaps it is the earthy soil in your hands as you plant a memorial garden. Perhaps, the box is still empty when you shake it, although you are sure something is inside. Something thick. Something heavy. Because something like a life just doesn’t vanish when you bleed.

* This essay was written four months ago.

Telling Your Child About Death

Just three weeks ago I paced the house, cleaning and straightening. I was nervous about breaking the horrible news that our neighbor and first-grade teacher had died suddenly. My eight-year-old daughter adored this woman and I knew that she would be hurt.

Children learn about death from many sources, but they learn about grieving from the people they love most.

Many AP parents want to know how to be an attached parent beyond the baby years. I hope this post helps others to understand how the principles of AP can come together to help you make gentle parenting choices throughout the lives of your children. I did not realize until now just how many AP principles went into my approach.

I learned of the death after dinner, but knew that the end of a long day was the wrong time to tell her. We were still uncertain about the cause of death and hoped that morning would bring more information. Such tragic news delivered at bedtime was sure to bring poor sleep and nightmares. (API Principle 5: Ensure safe sleep; physically and emotionally)

After a good, healthy breakfast (Principle 2: Feed with love and respect) and some play time with her sisters, I found a chance to tell her alone. Random bits of advice and knowledge had swirled around in my head all morning.

Years ago, I heard a child psychologist tell parents that bad news should be delivered to children during the first ten seconds of the conversation. Children often get lost and overly anxious if you spend too much time trying to soften the blow. (Principle 1: Prepare for parenting)

Remembering this, I held her hands (Principle 4: Use nurturing touch) and told her that I had something hard to tell her. She was sitting across from me on my bed. I watched her head drop and her tiny heart break with the horrible words, “Mrs. Apolzan died this weekend.”

With just the slightest movement of my hands, she fell into my arms so we could cry together. (Principle 3: Respond with sensitivity.) Over the next few days, I answered all of her questions as patiently and honestly as I could. We allowed her to cry, to be sad, but also to forget all about it and just play.

She attended a painfully sad memorial service with me at her request and we talked about different customs regarding death, funerals and burial options. She is a very inquisitive child and the extra information seemed to help her to sort out her feelings.

Death is painful only to the living. I did not want to write about it. Looking back now, I realize I simply did not want to live it. I certainly did not want to be the one to inflict the heartache of death upon my child.

But, I’m a mother.

I could never let someone else deliver such a crushing blow. My only real choice was to catch her, to hold her and to love her while she learned this painful lesson of life.

Grace and peace.

We loved you, Mrs. Apolzan, and we will always be grateful for our opportunity to know you.

7 resolutions for baby #2

So, about that whole balance thing. I’m bad at it. Really bad. And as we mothers tend to do when expecting baby number two, I’m going through my mental list of things I want to do differently now that I have some experience under my belt. My list seems to revolve around achieving balance. Which, I haven’t yet learned to do with my firstborn. Here are some things I plan to try to get better at this.

1. I will put the baby down. Sometimes. Once upon a time, I thought bouncy seats and swings were for mean mommies. But you know what? We need both of our hands and a full range of motion from time to time. To feed ourselves, to tend to the needs of our other children, to wipe up that dust bunny that brings our hormonal selves to tears because we’ve been staring at it for a week with a sleeping baby in our arms. Even the fanciest slings and carriers come with limitations. Tending to other things, including, you know, basic hygiene, is part of the program. And the baby will be no less content and secure. If she is, I trust that my instincts will pick up on it. Which brings me to…

2. I will trust my instincts. I had a hard time with this one early on. Could you blame me? What did I know? First, I’d never been a mother, so it was all new territory for me. Second, my mother had passed away years before my first was born, so I didn’t have that person I felt I could call to give me the right answer every time. I relied on books, where each one contradicts the next, and instinct. In retrospect, I’ve realized that instinct usually trumped what I found in print.

This time around, I’ll acknowledge that my mothering instincts are there and in working order. We are equipped with them for a reason.

3. I won’t be so paranoid about nursing in public. More often than I’d like to admit, I left a cartful of groceries in the middle of the aisle to run out to the car, or ducked into a bedroom, or surveyed a building upon arrival to find a hidden place to nurse, or lugged around an extra 15 lbs of bottles, pumped milk and ice, or made my crying, hungry child wait for a bottle to warm. And for what? For the comfort of the few squeamish who, in my humble opinion, need to lighten up? Wow, I prioritized rude strangers’ comfort over my child’s and my own. Not cool. I can’t whine that breastfeeding isn’t the norm if I’m not willing to be a part of the change I’d like to see.

4. I will try to remember that I’m a person, too. And I shouldn’t feel guilty about passing off parent duty to the husband or a caregiver to go to that yoga class I wanted to try, or to take a hot shower, or go to an actual store to find post-partum clothes that fit (vs. buying online). True, the baby might cry. And if I’m not there, Dad or the person in charge will do their best to soothe her.

Confession: I still feel guilty if I take a shower while my toddler is awake. My husband would think this is stupid.

5. I will live in the moment. As soon as my little guy was born, I started my mental panic countdown to the day I would have to go back to my full-time job. How much time must I have wasted feeling sad about someday being apart from him when I could have been enjoying my time with him?

Although I will be able to stay home with my kids this time around, being present is just as important. Sometimes it’s hard to do the day-to-day thing mindfully in our multi-tasking, over-scheduling culture. I need to remind myself to slow down and enjoy every moment as much as one can on just a few hours of sleep here and there.

6. I won’t feel guilty when I don’t get it all done. Heck, I don’t get it all done now. I would love to be superhuman, but see #4. I’m just a plain ol’ person. Even if it doesn’t get done, it’ll all be okay. It always turns out okay.

7. I’ll ask for help. Well, I say that now, but when the time comes I probably won’t. Those who know me know that if I’ve asked for something, it’s pretty much a life-or-death emergency and they should rush to my side. Hey, I listed it, which means I’m going to try. (I hope I don’t alarm anyone.)

Maybe I should revisit this list once the baby is born…

Is there anything you would do differently?

Interview Series: Martha Wood

We are continuing our interview series with API Contributing Bloggers with Martha Wood. Read on to hear more about her thoughts regarding weaning, co-parenting, and how she peacefully deals with breastfeeding criticism.

Tell us about your family.

I am a single mom, co-parenting with my daughter’s father. She is 2.5. She is my only child. We live in Austin, Tx. We are a biracial family. I am white and my daughter’s father is black. I grew up in Abilene, Tx. Annika’s dad is Nigerian born and immigrated to the United States when he was 8 years old. He grew up in Ann Arbor, MI. Annika’s dad and I were never married. We met in Detroit, MI, while attending Wayne State University. We worked together at the school newspaper, The South End. I was the news editor and he was the graphic designer.

What led you to Attachment Parenting?

I was drawn to attachment parenting through a series of random events and a background of being raised by a mother who was involved with La Leche League. I was nursed until I was 3, and slept with my parents until I was 4. I would not characterize my parents as “AP” but there were some similarities in their early parenting style, such as extended breastfeeding and co-sleeping.

I began being interested in the AP world when a friend gave me a copy of The Baby Book by William Sears. I liked what he had to say about co-sleeping, breastfeeding, babywearing and positive discipline. During my pregnancy I met a neighbor of my mom’s who had given birth to her first child just six months before me. She told me about the local API meetings at the library and I began attending mostly because I wanted to get out of the house and I thought I would meet some other moms to hang out with. After the first meeting I was hooked! I loved the speaker, although, I don’t even remember who it was. I was blown away by all the wonderful and alternative parenting methods I had discovered.

When I was pregnant I knew that I wanted to breastfeed and use a sling. I knew that I wanted to avoid spanking as a method of discipline. I knew that I wanted to have a better and closer relationship with my daughter than I had with my own parents. After this meeting, I knew that I had found the answers to my questions. Luckily for me, the first meeting I attended was when my daughter was about four weeks old.

I had begun co-sleeping about two weeks after she was born, after realizing how frustrating and tiring it was getting up to nurse twice a night. (I was lucky, in that my daughter slept really well as a newborn, believe me, that changed after a few months. 🙂 )

How do you deal with friends/family/strangers who don’t understand or who disagree with AP practices?

My parents are very supportive about the way I parent. My daughter’s father and I have disagreed on some of it, but overall he is a really good dad and often more patient than I am! He wishes that I had weaned her at a year, and doesn’t like the co-sleeping, but he hasn’t fought me on it.

It depends on the situation whether I just smile and nod, or try to educate. If I think someone is open to hearing about my views, I definitely try to educate and give supporting information about my parenting practices.

My daughter’s paternal grandmother has been very vocal about disagreeing with my parenting style, and for the sake of familial harmony, I usually don’t say anything. They live in another state though, so it has not been a real issue. When she was 18 months, and I nursed my daughter in front of her grandmother, she commented, “Are you STILL nursing????” I just said yes and looked away. Then her sister, who was visiting from Nigeria, leaned over and whispered that she had nursed her babies until they were 2.

After that, I just avoided nursing Annika in front of her grandmother. My mother told me that when I was that age, if she needed to nurse me, she would just take me in the other room. So that’s what I did on our next visit. I am normally not the type of person to avoid confrontation, but in this case, I felt like it was the easiest and most harmonious route.

Have you ever had an affirming moment in your AP journey?

So far I haven’t seen a lot of payoff. But there have been some brief moments. My daughter is unusually compassionate with other children. I’ve been told by other parents that they are surprised by how sweet she is with other children. Once she was staying with a small group of children at a Buddhist meeting that we attend sometimes. When one of the other babies was crying for her mom, I was told that Annika went over to her and put her arm around her and told her that it would be okay. (She’s 2.)

She also loves to “wear” her babies, and she nurses them.

What does 2011 hold for your family? What goals do you have for your kids/ family in the coming year?

2011 holds for us, more time away from mama, and possibly weaning. I always wanted to let Annika wean on her own, but I am really ready for it. I am thinking that we will give up nursing around her third birthday in May. We have started talking about it and are down to three times a day. We are also forming a Montessori co-op with a group of AP mamas from our playgroups. I am looking forward to keeping her world small for a few more years while giving both of us a little more freedom.

When to stop breastfeeding is such a hard choice to make. What factors are you considering in your decision? How are you going about weaning?

The idea of making any final decision on when to stop breastfeeding stresses me out, so I haven’t made any hard and fast rules about when we will stop. I keep thinking that I’d like to be done by the time she’s 3 (this May). Sometimes I tell myself that I will definitely do that, (I may have even told you that in my last e-mail, now I don’t remember) and sometimes I start to think maybe I will just keep nursing her for a while longer if she really needs it.

Another AP mom here in Austin, gave me some advice. You may know her — or of her. Her name is Camille North (she edits one of the API newsletters). She said that when her youngest was around 2, she was so ready to be done. He was her third child and she had been nursing pretty much solidly for several years. She began *offering* the breast when he was busy with other things.

I started doing that recently and it really helps a lot! It gives me the feeling that I have some control over the situation, which I think breastfeeding moms often lack, therefore making it more frustrating.

Sometimes she even says no, which I think it huge for her, because it is giving her the feeling that it is available all the time, so she can afford to turn it down.

Basically I think it gives both of us a feeling of control. It releases her overwhelming desire from it, by worrying that it won’t be available if I do the opposite and limit her based on my needs.

It helps a lot. And she is recently down to nursing two or sometimes three times a day. And the best part, she doesn’t ask for it constantly like she was before, so I don’t feel like a jerk for saying no, or feeling resentful sitting there with my 2.5 year-old’s long legs dangling off my lap and wondering why she can’t just eat some cheese. LOL

Actually, I only had to do the offering thing for a couple of months and now she only asks to nurse once during the day, most of the time, so I almost always say yes. We also bargain. Sometimes, we’ll agree that she can nurse, but only for five minutes. Sometimes, she’ll even say it, “Mama, can I nurse for five minutes?” I think that’s her way of saying she just wants a little and it’s really important to her.

I guess, basically, these are the steps I’m taking toward weaning. Trying to give her control over it without feeling like I’m trapped. I have read How Weaning Happens, by Diane Bengson, a couple of times. I like the idea presented in the book that, weaning, is just like any other developmental stage. Just like we help our kids learn to walk and talk, we help our kids learn how to stop nursing. We don’t expect them to just wake up one day and be walking. So we can’t expect that they will just up and wean all by themselves. Some children do that. But I think that most of the time, moms prod them in that direction, even if they don’t realize they are doing it.

Can you talk some more about the Montessori co-op? That sounds like a beautiful thing. Is it an informal kind of thing? Do you anticipate sending Annika to a Montessori school? What about that kind of learning style appeals to you?

The Montessori co-op is very new and relatively informal. I foresee that we will stick with Montessori for pre-school. What I like about Montessori is that the style is very much child-led, but it’s not a free for all. I like that the stages of learning are developmentally appropriate. The theory behind it is that you teach observation skills, and engage the children in their personal interests. Then they learn because they know how, and they are intrigued by the topic. I think learning is, in itself, a skill.

Beyond that, I don’t know. The public school situation is very tenuous right now here in Austin. They’ve just announced the potential closing of several schools. Aside from that, the options here in Austin vary greatly. There are a wide array of private schools, with all sorts of methodology. The homeschooling network is pretty big from what I hear. I recently joined the Yahoo group, but I haven’t participated much at all. And the public school system has some dual language programs, with some new ones starting up in the next couple of years.

I think we will just keep examining our options and then see what fits best with her learning style.

Thank you Martha! Everyone please stop by her blog to learn more about her and her attachment parenting journey!

Interview Series: Amber Strocel

Today we are excited to introduce another API Speaks blogger to you. Amber is a mother of two and hails from Vancouver! Read on to learn about her tips for successful relationships (she and her husband have been together for 20 years!), her big venture to help people live intentionally, and how she balances it all.

Tell us about your family.

I am married to my husband of almost 10 years, Jon. We met in high school – we will celebrate 20 years together this May. Which is a long time, considering that we’re still in our mid-30s. We have two children – Hannah will turn 6 in February, and Jacob is 2 1/2. We live in suburban Vancouver, BC. Right now, Jon is working for a local television station, and I’m working from home.

I am amazed that you and Jon have been together for 20 years! What has been important in maintaining that relationship? You have obviously gone through a lot of seasons of life together already! I am so intrigued by the ways that an AP parenting style translates to marriage. How do you and Jon balance parenting?

I think the most important thing in maintaining a relationship is flexibility and openness to change. Jon and I are very different people now than we were in 1991 when we started dating as teenagers. We have accepted that change and growth is part of being together, and we embrace it.
Continue reading “Interview Series: Amber Strocel”

Worry Over Miscarriage

By Rita Brhel, www.theattachedfamily.com

At the end of December, I found out that I’m pregnant with my third child. My first emotion was pure joy and uncontainable excitement. My second emotion was worry. Worry over the health of my baby, worry over the fear of miscarriage. Not that I have any particular reason to worry, but some expectant mothers have this practice of not announcing their pregnancy until the second trimester, just in case a miscarriage should happen.

I found out with my first baby that worry and motherhood go hand-in-hand, so this emotion was nothing new. But still, there is nothing pleasant about worrying. It doesn’t bring a magic solution. Worrying doesn’t guard against bad things. But I am a worrier by nature.

Today, I decided that I’m not going to wait to announce my pregnancy. I’m in my first trimester. I have a long way to go before I see this baby face-to-face. And I don’t want to wait that long to tell the world that there’s a new little one in our family.
Continue reading “Worry Over Miscarriage”

What’s the Big Deal with CIO?

See what’s going on in Attachment Parenting this week on The Attached Family online magazine:

What’s the Big Deal with CIO?
Among parents of infants these days, there is constant debate about how to respond to a baby’s cries. On one hand, there are proponents of the “cry it out” method, where the baby is left alone to cry in the hopes that he or she will eventually stop. On the other hand, there are the attachment parents who respond immediately to their crying babies and attempt to soothe them using various methods including holding and cuddling. Margaret Chuong-Kim explains at http://theattachedfamily.com/membersonly/?p=2664.

Healing Birth, The Second Time Around
How do you heal from a traumatic birth experience? How do you put it behind you and find the inner strength to not only move on but to decide to do it all again? Read Heather Spergel’s birth story at
http://theattachedfamily.com/membersonly/?p=2658.

The Toddler: ‘Baby on Wheels’
It’s 8:30 in the morning. My husband looks at me on his way to work and says, “Have a great day!” Apparently he didn’t notice the poop on my shirt and disinfectant wipes in my hand. Or the scrambled eggs in my hair. Avanya Manasseh talks toddlers at http://theattachedfamily.com/membersonly/?p=2653.

A Touch Today for a Better Tomorrow
Beginning in the womb, your child becomes used to your touch. The swishing of the amniotic fluid and your gentle movements sway your child within the warmth of your body. This need to be touched by the infant never ceases and, if anything, becomes stronger once you deliver your child. Danielle Buffardi gives an overview of the importance of touch at
http://theattachedfamily.com/membersonly/?p=2650.

A Lullaby Massage Riddle
See if you can figure out the motions to this finger massage from Sybil Hart: A Lullaby Massage Riddle.

Choosing Midwifery Care

Long before I was pregnant, I knew that I wanted to have midwifery care. It was the first decision I made in preparation for pregnancy and birth. Now, looking back as the mother of a 5 1/2-year-old and a 2-year-old, I’m glad that I made that decision. I’ve had two midwife-attended births, and I would choose to have another if I became pregnant again.

I made the choice to seek midwifery care for a few reasons. I wanted to get to know my health care provider, and choosing a midwife team allowed that. My midwives worked in pairs, and I became well-acquainted with both of them through prenatal visits. When I gave birth, it was with someone I knew and trusted. I had a goal of giving birth without medications, and with few or no interventions, and my midwives supported that. And I wanted to be involved in my own care. My midwives’ policy of informed consent, coupled with their hour-long prenatal appointments, ensured that I was able to make my voice heard.

When I wanted to know more about routine newborn procedures, my midwives took the time to answer my questions, and help me make the decision that was best for me. When I decided to forgo certain tests, and request others, they worked with me. I felt that I was part of a team, working together to ensure not only that my baby and I were healthy, but that we were really cared for.

Where I live, midwives are licensed and regulated. They are covered under our public health care system, in the same way that doctors are. They attend home births or hospital births, and offer follow-up visits at your home in the days after birth. I realize that this is not the case for everyone, and that different medical systems may lead to different choices. But I feel fortunate that my midwifery care was covered in the same way that any other prenatal care would have been covered. I was free to choose my care provider based on what was best for me.

Sometimes, complications arise that require midwives to refer their clients to an obstetrician. This happened during my first birth, when I went into labor at 34 weeks. But even in that high-risk situation, my midwives stayed with me as I gave birth, and provided follow-up care after my baby was born. They referred me, and I had an obstetrician, but they didn’t leave me. It meant so much to have them there to help me and advocate for me as I faced a very medicalized birth situation.

I am not sure where life will lead my children. But I know that they both got their starts with the help of some amazing midwives. I am so thankful to those women who stood with me, and guided me through my entry into motherhood.

Have you used midwifery care? Is it an option where you live? And what is important to you when you’re choosing a care provider for pregnancy and birth? I’d love to hear!