breastfeeding

Let them eat sugar

Posted on by amberhj

I took newly 17-month-old Stella out for ice cream last week. Just me and her. There was no special occasion other than “mama needs ice cream NOW.”  We headed out on foot at around 7pm to sneak in our treat before her 7:30 bath (which, of course, didn’t happen until 7:45). On the “walk” home, she stopped between wind sprints to request “more more more.” I happily served her bites of my mouthwatering masterpiece: perfectly salted caramel and rich chocolate Molly Moon’s ice cream in a waffle cone made two minutes before we ate it. I didn’t even mind sharing, until I realized she’d finished the salted caramel, leaving only chocolate and destroying the dessert’s mindblowing salty-sweet synergy. Really, the outing itself was a treat that instantly turned into a sweet memory.

So imagine my reaction to an increasingly popular declaration being made on mommy blogs lately: “My toddler eats no sugar or white flour whatsoever.”

First thought? Sheer defensiveness. Then, “WHAT DID YOUR POOR TODDLER DO TO DESERVE THIS???” Lemme tell ya, I gave up dairy for two and half months in a last-ditch effort to make breastfeeding work, and it eroded my soul. I’m 27% more evil now. Had I been forced to give up sugar and white flour too, which to me means insanely sexy chocolate and crusty loaves of French or Italian baked goodness, I would not be here today. With no caloric or emotional reserves to draw from, no boost from my extra special favorite foods, the breast pump would’ve eventually worn me down to a pathetic pulp. The way our dryer would wear down my jeans if I put them through an unrelenting tumble cycle every three hours for two and a half months straight.

Maybe it’s because I just finished reading “In Defense of Food” by Michael Pollan, which I highly recommend as an enlightening antidote to our need to control and monitor everything we eat. Maybe it’s because for a few hellacious months, my baby refused to eat and required a feeding tube. In the process of helping her learn to embrace and enjoy eating, I had to let go of my own lingering fear and anxiety around food. (Fear is likely behind parental sugar bans, by the way.) Whatever the reason may be, I find sugar-free righteousness to be ridiculous, unrealistic, unhelpful and practically inhuman. Mark my words: An all-out sugar ban will backfire.

Read More

Goodbye, breastfeeding guilt.

Posted on by amberhj

I destroyed the structural integrity of my boobs–what little there was–with an expensive, rented hospital grade breast pump in order to collect 500 ounces of milk that Stella would never drink. It sucked in every way.

Worse was the guilt and anxiety. None of it made any sense, but thankfully, it’s over. I was not able to breastfeed Stella past 11 and a half weeks and I am officially 100% okay with that. I feel a new sense of freedom and confidence. I really, really do. This can only be very good for me and Stella.

In an attempt to completely resolve any lingering bad feelings, I’ve been reading a blog called The Fearless Formula Feeder, where I found a link to this article in The Times. Against a backdrop of breastfeeding mania, this article is explosive. This exploration of the data (or lack thereof) behind breastfeeding’s benefits seems more comprehensive and credible and less emotive and debatable than Hanna Rosin’s notorious Atlantic article,  “The Case Against Breastfeeding”, which I also greatly appreciated. The bottom line is that it’s just not that big a deal. Breastfeeding is wonderful for some women and their babies, but its benefits have been greatly and widely overstated. Guilt and judgment toward formula-feeding moms has been unfair, out of control, and as it turns out, baseless.

I overthink things. So naturally, instead of letting go, I’d been doing a bit of research that helped chip away at my disappointment and breastmilk’s holy image. When you look closely at the actual studies, the mirage disappears almost completely. Of course there are some benefits to breastfeeding but they appear to be relatively small.  Furthermore, while there’s no way to know for sure, most of the benefits shown are likely due to the fact that breastfeeding moms are a self-selected population and are simply “the kind of moms” who tend to be more educated in general and in regards to childcare, more responsible, interested and engaged as a whole, and more financially ABLE to give their kids “the best” in many areas. It’s difficult if not impossible for studies to account for this.

The media tends to jump on any studies that suggest potential breastfeeding benefits, while completely ignoring the many, many studies that show no difference between breastfed and formula fed babies. Science has not been able to back up the “breastmilk as miracle cure” message. The main advantage of breastfeeding, in my experience, is that you don’t have to deal with the hassle of preparing and cleaning bottles, and you avoid the cost of formula. On the other hand, if you are frustrated with a feeding or parenthood in general, plastic bottles are great for throwing across the room–a major plus that can’t be overlooked. Ahem.

Like Rosin and the author of the Times article, the Fearless Formula Feeder is by no means anti-breastfeeding. She simply wants to defend formula feeders, and cleverly calls herself a “factivist.” It’s interesting to now look back and think about the “facts” I received about breastfeeding from all kinds of people and sources. I remember hearing in childcare and childbirth classes, in broad terms, that “breast was best.” This message is also plastered on every can of formula (thanks for rubbing it in, by the way). I was told that breastfed babies are smarter and healthier, and have better bonds with their mothers. More specifically, I heard that breastfed babies have fewer incidences of diarrhea and ear infections.

At the end of the day, I know my child better than any study. Here’s what I’ve experienced: Stella’s brilliant, ahead of the curve in every area. We share an incredibly close bond. She’s 14 months old and has never had an ear infection. And, drum roll, please… her eight-week bout of diarrhea STOPPED with her first bottle of formula. Just sayin’.

At this point, my only regret is that I didn’t stop breastfeeding sooner, so as to more quickly relieve her pain, prevent her feeding aversion, and end our stress and suffering. I was not able to stop until all hell broke loose and Stella wound up with a feeding tube. Why? Because of all the “facts” I heard about breastfeeding. It simply wasn’t possible that we could fail at breastfeeding, because breastfeeding is perfect and miraculous. I contacted a La Leche League leader and the very rude Jack Newman and several other breastfeeding experts over the phone or via email, and these well-known experts’ conclusion was that I must be doing something wrong. One supposedly all-knowing Ph.D. / IBCLC, after hearing the horrors of our situation, suggested, “Hold her more securely–don’t let her feet dangle. Babies need to feel secure.” If I could have punched her through the phone, I would have. Other high-profile experts said the problem was latch and that at Stella’s advanced age (10 weeks), it was too late to fix. This was stated with disapproval and disappointment, because clearly I hadn’t enforced proper latch. I cut out dairy and soy and tried even the dumbest suggestions. This led to a lot of crying and failure and desperation. To all that, I can now officially say, “BULLSHIT.”

I must  note that thankfully, at that difficult point in our lives, not all voices of authority shared an insane breastfeed-at-all-costs mentality. A renowned lactation consultant and a wonderful pediatrician helped me make the decision to stop breastfeeding. They said I may want to consider formula-feeding and that it would be okay. That breastfeeding’s toll was clearly too high, and that it simply wasn’t the be-all-end-all of child health. I didn’t believe them at first. But eventually, I was able to do what was best for us. I will always be grateful to them for being so sane, for being a voice of reason and compassion not just for Stella but for me, too. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

The truth about moms

Posted on by amberhj

On message boards across the web you can find, far too easily, cringe-inducing posts by moms skewering each other’s parenting styles and choices–battles over breastfeeding versus formula-feeding and catfights about co-sleeping and cribs, and that’s just the tip of the judgemental iceberg. This sad reality is partly why, even though it was necessary to ensure Stella’s wellbeing, the switch to hypoallergenic formula was so difficult.

I’ve thought a lot about all the guilt and shaming and I think that what it really boils down to is that today, there is no one clear way to raise a child. Somehow, with a constant flood of opinions, experts, and information, there are more questions than answers. Nothing is clear cut. We’re all so worried about making the “right choices” for our children that we cling tightly to our way of doing things, and they come to define us. It’s as if we are trying to convince ourselves, not just others, of their correctness. Defensiveness and insecurity can be the only explanation.

However. What I’ve learned through my experiences with this blog is that none of that matters. Not one bit. I’ve heard from mothers across the country and around the world–moms in Singapore, New Zealand, Ireland and Texas whose babies refuse to eat. We all do the same desperate things, ask the same questions, and think the same thoughts. Our feelings, stories and longings are not just similar, but identical. The fact that some of our babies enjoy breastmilk and some formula, and that some sleep nestled under our arms while others are tucked into lovingly adorned cribs, makes no difference whatsoever. These women span a diverse range of nationalities, but you’d never know it.

As I think about Hatice, Rocio, Erin and all of other moms who’ve contacted me, I am overcome with emotion. Not just because I’ve been where they are and know how gut-wrenching their struggles are. Not just because I know how terrifying it is to insert an NG tube, how the tape turns their scrumptious little cheek into a red, raw mess that seems to symbolize disfunction, and how an aversion comes to suffocate every other aspect of life. No. Really, my heart aches and expands when I think about them because they love their babies so very, very much–literally to the point of madness, sometimes. They would do anything at all, gladly handing over their own wellbeing and comfort, to ensure that their babies are happy and healthy. It’s that simple.

The truth about moms is that we are all incredibly alike, when it comes to what actually matters.

Me and Stella, all cozy and matchy matchy.

Me and Stella, all cozy and matchy matchy.

Goodnight, milk.

Posted on by amberhj

Stella wasn't sad to see the milk go. In fact, she was delighted.

Stella wasn't sad to see the milk go. In fact, she was delighted.

A couple of weeks ago, I threw out 341 ounces of frozen breastmilk. That was just the bottom shelf. I still need to clear out the top one.

It has been six months since the last of it was pumped, rendering my precious milk expired. At the beginning, every half ounce was sacred. Toward the end of my pumping days, I didn’t bother saving the milk. It sat out for hours, until I forced myself to pump again at which point I would dump the previous yield down the drain. I was so bitter. So exhausted. I’d had it with pumping. Stella had been diagnosed with cow’s milk protein intolerance and fed hypoallergenic formula through a tube for a good month, and still I pumped. The odds of returning to breastfeeding seemed grim at best. Still, it was hard to stop. I didn’t want to give up. I wanted her to have “the best.”

I’d been meaning to throw the milk out for some time now, but couldn’t let it go.

When I stopped breastfeeding, when Stella had her NG tube, I was an emotional wreck. But I was consumed with tube- and bottle-feeding my baby and completely focused on getting Stella over her feeding aversion. I never really allowed myself to think very deeply about the loss. So I never got to grieve my milk or my vision of breastfeeding and what it represented to me. I never really embraced the choice that I made–the only choice that seemed logical, the one that enabled Stella (and me) to thrive. I want to accept it completely and I’m not sure why it’s been so hard to do.

I’ve thought about this a lot lately, since dumping those 341 ounces. And perhaps the answer is simple. Formula-feeding is not what I wanted for Stella. I failed. Or that’s what it feels like. And a very small, insecure part of me wonders if there is simply something wrong with me. My milk made Stella sick. It didn’t protect or nourish her or do anything it was supposed to. I used to joke to myself, in the weeks just after Stella was born, that my breasts were being both destroyed and redeemed by breastfeeding. They were being stretched to the limit with the influx of milk, so I knew I could say goodbye to any perkiness. On the other hand, they’ve always been small and had really only been a source of ridicule from about fifth grade on, so I found it quite astounding that they had the amazing power to nourish my baby. To help her grow! For me, it was empowering. Unfortunately, that didn’t last.

I wrote about our attempt to give her a dairy-based formula. I never followed up on how it went. Let’s just say that the switch was not successful. Her intake started to drop slightly and she developed a couple of red splotches on her face.  We were very quick to switch back to hypoallergenic Elecare,  so we can’t be 100% sure if the milk protein was really bothering her or not. But my gut tells me something was off. It helps a little bit with the recurring thought that maybe, if I’d kept avoiding dairy and soy for just a little while longer, and kept trying to feed her, she’d have come around to enjoy nursing, and get the benefits of breastmilk without all the pain she’d been experiencing. Of course, that’s simplistic thinking, and dismissive of the severity of the issues we faced at that time. But the idea lingers.

So. yes. I’ve been reluctant to throw out my milk. I kept hoping that maybe someday, I could give her some.  My brain kept whispering, annoyingly, “You know, you could add a bit to each of her bottles and she’ll get the benefits!” But it’s clear now that, no, she will never have my milk again.

Every time I read about yet another benefit of breastmilk, I cringe. Each time I read some judgmental comment or article by some zealot who equates formula with poison, I seethe. (For that reason, I can no longer read Mothering magazine.)

Perhaps that’s why I painstakingly calculated the total number of ounces. I needed some proof, some evidence of how hard I tried. I will get the final number soon, when I gather the courage to toss the rest. Maybe then I can finally let go.

My other resume

Posted on by amberhj

I’ve jumped back into the freelance writing life in an effort to make a bit of money while I stay home with Stella Bella. This, of course, necessitated the updating of my resume.

It got me thinking. Some of my most impressive achievements and abilities will never grace the pages of this supposedly all-important document. And it seems like a shame. I am referring, of course, to motherhood–all that it requires. And with that, I present my other resume…

EXPERIENCE

Mother, 8/17/08–present (lifetime commitment)

  • Collaborate with Stella Eleanor’s father (my husband) to ensure that she grows and thrives; oversee everything from basic maintenance, such as diaper changes and feeding, to high-level development including babbling, drooling, sitting up, laughing, and rolling/tummy time, with plans to teach her how to be kind, walk, use the toilet and drive
  • Provide attention, protection, guidance and full range of entertainment services including peek-a-boo, tickling, general zaniness and impromptu songs, stories and farting noises
  • Willingly put my daughter’s needs before my own while still taking care of self and providing excellent example of how to live life to the fullest
  • Manage public relations; handle photography and mailing of seasonal cards and wellness updates; manage upkeep of Flickr account with near-daily shots of Stella to prevent extended family from suffering cuteness withdrawal
  • Love that girl with all my heart, 24 hours a day, seven days a week, 52 weeks a year–even when her yelling reaches peak annoy-ability levels

Giver of Life, 8/15/08–8/17/08

  • Gave birth to baby girl weighing 7 pounds and 7 ounces; filled with pure joy upon her arrival
  • Kicked ass throughout 32-hour un-medicated labor during which baby’s head was transverse (sideways)
  • Nearly broke husband’s hands with vice-like grip; will try harder next time

Grower of Human Being, 11/08–8/09

  • Provided egg for successful fertilization; worried endlessly about fetus from moment of conception
  • Attended prenatal yoga, birthing and parenting classes despite overwhelming exhaustion and overwhelmed bladder
  • Ate enough cheese to feed all of Wisconsin for three years; consumed record amounts of grapefruit juice
  • Tolerated the shooting of sharp pains up my rear-end for several months; withstood debilitating hip pain and baby’s roundhouse kicks
  • Enjoyed pregnancy despite all of the above

Warrior, 10/08–02/09

  • Assembled and coordinated a top-tier team of Seattle doctors, as well as two lactation consultants, an occupational therapist, nutritionist, dietitian and cranial osteopath
  • Managed to maintain sanity when baby refused to eat; chugged olive oil and ate bacon in a valiant attempt to fatten starving, anxiety-ridden self and improve quality and caloric value of breast milk
  • Mastered use of Supplemental Nursing System while successfully limiting use of the “f-word” to 400 times per day; managed insertion and maintenance of god-forsaken nasogastric feeding tube and associated god-damned pump and evil face tape and crap-tastic peripherals; sacrificed small but previously perky boobs to hospital grade breast pump
  • Navigated labyrinth of hospital and health care challenges; slashed red tape and improved child’s outcome by 1000%; successfully argued case for the removal of nasogastric tube and executed successful tube weaning; produced a happier child and family as a result of round-the-clock efforts
  • Analyzed growth charts, lab results and intake levels; conducted in-depth, terrifying online research on daughter’s condition and treatment

EDUCATION

The Parental Institution of Barbara and Gregory Hescock

  • Coursework in everything, with an emphasis on love, the value hard work, and a good sense of humor

School of Hard Knocks

  • Classes included Terrible Mistakes, Bad Relationships 101, and The Awkwardness of Middle School

Sink or Swim Academy

  • Curriculum revolved around parenting without anything resembling adequate preparation

SKILLS SUMMARY

General: Expert-level nurturing, crisis and conflict management, hazardous waste handling and sanitation, budgeting, soothing, teaching life skills and morals, child safety, nursery decorating, baby-wearing, silly face and nonsensical sounds mastery

Technical: Milk production, human creation, swaddling, rocking, one-handed diapering (experience with both formula and breast milk poop platforms), bottle maintenance, reflux abatement

COMMUNITY SERVICE

  • Contributed a new member to the human race
  • Responsible raising of a kind, compassionate, contributing citizen
  • Adept removal of screeching baby from public places, ensuring a peaceful community
  • Addition to the world of a love that grows by leaps and bounds each and every day

We set ’em up. Stella knocks ’em down.

Posted on by amberhj

Another triumphant feeding! Daddy and Stella celebrate after Stella takes 135 mls from the bottle!

Another triumphant feeding! Daddy and Stella celebrate after Stella takes 135 mls from the bottle!

Cody, Stella and I had a relaxing holiday weekend. I’m sad that it’s over and that Cody will have to return to work tomorrow. He’s been working a lot, which has been tough. Just having him around makes me feel better, and Stella loves it, too.

When I get down, he helps pick me up, and vice versa. Of course, when feeding doesn’t go well, we both feel discouraged and can sometimes work together to find the positives and pull ourselves up together.

This weekend, we realized that our standards had really risen in regards to Stella’s eating. We found ourselves feeling bummed when she took “only” 70 to 80 mls. We had to step back and remind ourselves that not long ago, that was considered a good feeding! 

Today is an interesting example. She had only four bottles because she slept so much, and because we gave her the usual two feedings via pump while she slept. The average number of mls she took per bottle was 111.75 (yes, we are that exact). Remember, her formula has 24 calories per ounce instead of the usual 20 calories per ounce, so she gets more calories with less volume–big feedings can really exacerbate reflux.

She complained a bit before her first feeding, but other than that, she accepted the bottle right away and was very comfortable while eating. Stella has come so very far! This whole feeding fiasco–or should I call it a “challenge” instead–has been an exercise in the power and importance of positive thinking. Slowly but surely, I’m learning.

Tonight, I returned the hospital grade breast pump that I rented two months ago. I was surprised by how emotional I got during this seemingly simple errand. I cried a lot and it really caught me off-guard. Then again, that pump and I, we spent so much time together. We worked so hard! We were side by side through the scariest times with Stella. When she didn’t want to eat and I thought her health was in serious danger and that it was my fault. When my milk supply was low because she wasn’t taking enough. When we had no idea what was going on with Stella and were desperate to get answers.

I tried. I really, really tried. Hundreds of ounces of breastmilk still sit in our freezer.

I tried. I really, really tried. Hundreds of ounces of breastmilk still sit in our freezer. Just can't bring myself to dump it. Too much effort and love went into making it. I'm wondering if I can donate it somewhere.

That huge, yellow pump became a fixture in our living room. It represented my long, last, and intense effort to continue breastfeeding Stella–and I suppose I had a hard time letting the pump go for that reason. Breastfeeding was what I wanted for her, and for me. I really miss the closeness that we enjoyed through breastfeeding. The proud and assured feeling that I was giving her the very best nutrition. The knowledge that I was nurturing her in such a direct and intimate way. I am grieving the loss of breastfeeding, though it’s not as sharp as when she had her first bottle of formula, or when I stopped pumping a couple of weeks ago. Even though formula truly helped Stella thrive by getting her comfortable and willing to eat, part of me really feels like Stella and I are missing out on something. However, toward the end of my time with this impressive piece of machinery, pumping was taking away more than it was giving us. 

At the hospital,  Stella was put on hypoallergenic formula “temporarily” to see how she’d do and to allow the doctors to do their assessment. (Of course, it didn’t turn out to be temporary, as stool testing showed that the switch helped Stella in many ways. I think that deep down, I actually knew that it would not be temporary, or at least I feared that would be the case.) I was pumping eight times a day even though it wasn’t clear if she’d ever safely be able to enjoy breastmilk again without jeopardizing her comfort and willingness to eat. I’d given up soy and dairy for the cause, which was difficult but wouldn’t have been as big a deal if anxiety wasn’t already beating the crap out of my appetite. 

Feeding Stella with the bottle, then the tube/pump is time-consuming and then to have to pump myself–it was too much for me to handle. I wanted more time to spend just being with and enjoying Stella instead of operating various pumps for hours a day. I needed rest, which was impossible with having to wake up to feed her via tube and stay up to pump. As my friend and cousin Regan pointed out, breastmilk is very beneficial to babies. But just as if not more beneficial? Happy, healthy moms.

Happy and healthy is how we can now describe Stella. Sure, I wish breastfeeding worked out for us. But it didn’t. It’s that pesky parenting lesson that keeps popping up! In short, sometimes things don’t work out like you planned or hoped or envisioned, and you just have to make the best of it. Besides, I have three months of fond breastfeeding memories to hold onto. I remember nursing her for 30 minutes right after she was born. I remember her first few weeks, when she’d wake up hungry in the middle of the night, and Cody would change her diaper and then place this beautiful, tiny, wriggling little baby next to me. She’d be crying and squirming and sucking on her hands–and then she’d latch on and suddenly be so peaceful. Later, that all changed and breastfeeding was not so peaceful, of course. But I’m so glad we had those early experiences together. And, stepping away from my emotional attachment to breastfeeding, I’m so very glad that the formula took away much of the pain Stella was experiencing.

She may no longer get my milk, but she’ll always get my best! I just love her so much. And that’s really all there is to it.