explanation

i live in a bible belt. i won't say which denominations are popular but several are pretty hardcore.

spanking kids is still considered normal here. i was spanked as a kid, even though i don't feel that it helped me at all; in fact, i think it delayed my development. (i am afraid of authority and i'm nonconfrontational to the point of having to be passive-aggressive at times although i've really improved in the last few years.) i could be reasoned with although no one ever took the time to do this.

i'm not criticizing my parents, though. they did what was popular at the time. besides, their brand of spanking was 'lite' compared to the abuse my dad took when he was a kid. incidentally, my parents now say that, if they were to parent all over again, they would not spank.

i do not believe in spanking. i'm into attachment parenting, peaceful parenting, or whatever you want to call it. to me, it's just common sense - to read a baby's/child's cues and to respond appropriately - but apparently i'm in the minority. anyway, whatever. i don't mean to start a debate on that point. i know this is a loaded topic.

my cousin - the one whose baby was due two days apart from my first baby (whom i subsequently miscarried) - posted something on FB about reading the book 'To Train Up a Child' by Debi and Michael Pearl, part of the cohort of 'christian baby trainers' (a kind of christian author who is in favour of rigid schedules, cry-it-out, spanking, etc. - not all christians are like this - see the Sears books on parenting, for instance).

i'm on an anti-pearl FB group because their book amounts to no more than a child abuse manual. if you believe in hitting an infant, go read and follow that book. yep, it's that bad. they are crazies. and their book has sold over a million copies. scary.

here are a few quotations:

-On p.79 they recommend whipping a 7 month old for screaming: A seven-month-old boy had, upon failing to get his way, stiffened clenched his fists, bared his toothless gums and called down damnation on the whole place. At a time like that, the angry expression on a baby’s face can resemble that of one instigating a riot. The young mother, wanting to do the right thing, stood there in helpless consternation, apologetically shrugged her shoulders and said, “What can I do?” My incredulous nine-year-old whipped back, “Switch him.” The mother responded, “I can’t, he’s too little.” With the wisdom of a veteran who had been on the little end of the switch, my daughter answered, “If he is old enough to pitch a fit, he is old enough to be spanked.”

-On p.56 Debi Pearl trades blows with a 2 year old: This time, her bottom came off the couch as she drew back to return the blow; and I heard a little karate like wheeze come from somewhere deep inside.

-The Pearls recommend pulling a nursing infant’s hair (p.7): One particularly painful experience of nursing mothers is the biting baby. My wife did not waste time finding a cure. When the baby bit, she pulled hair (an alternative has to be sought for baldheaded babies).

(thank you to Why Not Train a Child for the quotations.)

my cousin is hugely into this kind of thing. she quotes scripture on it and her interpretations would do the pharisees proud. i know all the references. i grew up in a church like hers. i used to believe in all of that discourse. i don't anymore. i even spent a chapter of my thesis critiquing my culture's beliefs about corporal punishment.

i went in to my bedroom, held my sleeping daughter, and cried. i vowed to her that i will never, ever treat her with anything less than respect and love. i will be hugely firm and consistent with her. i will do my best to teach her how to mother her own children.

i had to say something to my cousin. other people were reading what she said about the book and i had to at least try to protect the innocent children out there whose caregivers might actually read that book because of seeing it on FB. i gave examples of the abusive techniques espoused by the pearls. i called that book out as a child abuse manual and i cited references.

my words incited a FB war. i got laughed at and i was quoted-scripture-at and i was accused (most ironically) of misquoting and misinterpreting. i haven't returned to the conversation to see what else people said. it makes me feel frantic that people would beat their innocent children and babies.

and the implications about myself as a parent ... sigh. apparently i am a terrible parent because i don't believe in spanking my baby for not 'obeying' me (e.g., playing with her food, trying to get out of naps. hello, she is EIGHT MONTHS OLD!). i'm not parenting in a godly manner. and so on.

today my cousin posted more nonsense, including a video of a male preacher going on about spanking. her comment: if you don't spank your kids, you hate them.

i am so sad that anyone would think that about me because i don't believe in spanking. i cherish my precious daughter. she is my gift and my best thing. i love her so much that i'm willing to take the time to guide her with patience and creativity. i want her to grow up to become a vocal, unique, creative, smart, inquisitive, kind, powerful woman. dh and i will NOT raise her to cower in fear of authority (despite how she would have been raised in our culture in the past). and she is going to turn out great and we will be proud of her.

i've ceased to ask where the justice is in all of this. the word 'justice' can't appear logically in any conversation (or monologue, in this case) about infertility, as we all know. i've wanted a baby for a long time. my cousin has a bunch. her last baby is the one i should have had.yep, that's how i feel about it. he should have been mine. she is raising him up in The Way of the Lord. i'm afraid for him and for his siblings and for all other children who are raised to be terrified of their parents and of adults in general. because that's supposed to reflect 'fear of the Lord.' (oh, the painful literalism of the interpretation nearly kills me.)

be afraid. be very afraid.

i hold my daughter even closer and i pray she will never fall prey to the christian baby trainers.

on beating the snot out of a baby/kid

Dr Sears says, "Beware the Christian baby-trainers." Was he ever right.

There are people out there - including relatives of mine, I'm sorry to say - who still believe in beating your kids to show your dominance over them.

And they imply that I'm disobeying God for not doing the same.

I can't elaborate right now because I am too upset.

no longer keeping mum?

for a variety of reasons, i have kept mum (sorry, bad pun) about our IF situation. shame is one of them and i don't really want to get into that in this post, simply for lack of time. another compelling reason is that, in our faith-based community, we would be judged like crazy for having done IVF. another, quite frankly, is that i don't want to be asked about it every two seconds or to be considered the token IVF spokesperson (i don't know any real-life friends or family members who've needed IVF).

however, the trend in the IF blogosphere lately has been to 'come out'(for lack of a better term).

i've been trying, for a few weeks now, to write a commentary on this trend but i haven't been able to get around to it. however, i wanted to share the links on this topic that caught my interest (sadly, this blog appears to have been deleted):

I AM THE FACE movement

What IF?: A portrait of infertility (this is a moving video)

This Woman has a Secret

people with infertility are being IGNORED (a message from RESOLVE)

what we have here is a failure to communicate (great last sentence)

i won't stay silent forever. to me, this is Ninja's story now. when she is old enough, i will tell her everything. she can choose to keep mum or to tell. by then, i will be old enough that perhaps people's opinions won't matter so much to me anymore.

dear baby

Dear Ninja,

I don't think I've ever taken you for granted, not when I first dreamed of you years ago, not when you were swimming in my ocean, not now when you cause me sleepless nights.

I feel cursed because I can't relive the first months I've had with you in my arms. Despite soaking in every moment, it wasn't enough.

People whose babies come along easily do not know what I mean. They look forward to reliving their experiences through the next baby. If they miss a day, it's okay, it doesn't matter because another one will come along.

There's a good chance that there will be no next baby. You are the baby. You are so wonderful, I want another one of you. But the doctor who helped us make you told me that I have only a 15-25% chance with a double transfer.

"Could be 15, could be 25. It's hard to say. It's a crapshoot. All the labs in the city are having problems with FETs. I don't know what our stats will be for this year," he said.

Your dad was taking care of you in the other room; you were crying because you were supposed to sleep and you didn't want to. Your dad says your problem is that we love you too much and that, as a result, you can't bear to be away from us; that's why you can't sleep.

I was shattered. I thought surely our chance would be at least 30%. Even a 'normal' couple gets a 20% chance every cycle. I must have heard wrong. I asked again and the answer stayed the same. (For even the one below-average embryo we transferred a few years ago, I heard 13%.)

Just to attempt this, I have to save at least $2000 for the procedure (plus money for a week's worth of travel for the three of us), wean you, go through more blood tests and ultrasounds, take a week off to fly to the big city, and then endure a dreaded two week wait to find out if we are successful.

The worst part is the weaning. If I were a normal person, I'd let you breastfeed until you decided to wean. I already don't know how I'm going to stop you from nursing, especially at night. And it is a special part of our relationship, no matter how hard it is. Should I stop breastfeeding for a baby who likely will not happen? I'd be short-changing you.

***

What if you ask me for a sibling and I can't give you one?

***

Being pregnant with you was so wonderful. What if it never happens again?

All my regrets from being pregnant. I didn't get maternity pictures done. I was too afraid that photos of my burgeoning belly would jinx everything.

***

Today I was wearing a maternity top I bought a few weeks ago. It works for nursing and it was on sale and so I thought, "In case I do get pregnant again, I'll pull this out in the future, as well." I can't think like that. I took the shirt off.

Went out. Reminders everywhere. Maternity clothes. Creed's song 'Arms Wide Open.'

You and I are supposed to go see my friend tomorrow who is due any day and I don't want to; I don't want to see her belly and hear her complain about her discomfort.

I held you and kissed you at every opportunity. That's nothing new. I do that every day. I tried to be even more conscious about it, though: holding you, kissing you, and knowing that every day with you might be the last one.

Every day is the last, in a sense. Today, for instance, was the only September 15th 2010 in my life that I will ever hold my seven-month-old baby in my arms.

Love,

Mama

writing, birthing, infertility...woman's work

Mel over at the Stirrup Queens wrote a great post comparing infertility to writing/publishing.

To paraphrase: the author John le Carre compares writing to childbirth and, because I'm too tired to elaborate (but I'm sure you can imagine), there are many problems with doing so. Mel ties it up nicely at the end of the post by saying: "Perhaps I am simply bitter because in his analogy, it sounds like having a child is just something you decide to do (such as … oh, writing a book) and we all know that it isn’t quite that simple. Nor is the loss of life quite akin to a few deleted paragraphs." Hear, hear!

By the way: I, being a nerd, had to comment that "it is typical of male writers to compare writing to childbirth. (E.g., Philip Sydney, Shakespeare, Alexander Pope.) Historically, this is a common analogy for men to use even though they have no first-hand experience in the matter." I did graduate work on this topic and, I tell ya, was I ever thrilled to be able to pull out what I learned and apply it to 'the real world.' heehee

Back to the topic at hand. Mel's words resounded in my head. I spent a year of my life writing a thesis on a topic near and dear to my heart. I was pregnant for the last push of writing/defence and it was odd and wonderful to live out the centuries-old analogy between writing/creating and gestation/childbirth.

Everyone says my thesis is immediately publishable (there is nothing out there like it and I know it is good) – and I’m too afraid to do anything with it.

What if 'everyone' is wrong and I fail? A sound rejection would be a BFN, of sorts, and although that would be crushing, at least it wouldn't be as soul-destroying (to me, anyway) as a post-IVF miscarriage.

Plus, time is an issue. My manuscript, while perfectly fine as a thesis, needs major renovations to turn it into a publishable book. That requires blocks of time. On deck is the perennial question: when would I, a woman and a mother, find time to write? (Enter the chorus: commenters such as Christine de Pisan, Virgina Woolf, Tillie Olsen, and millions of other women who have longed to write and create yet are bound to housework and jobs and social obligations.)

I wanted this binding, no pun intended. I knew that having a baby would banish my free time. That came true and I am not sorry. I worked hard to get to where I am and I cherish every day I have with my child. Right now, she is my main act of creation.

Yet, to be pragmatic, I ask myself: when can I get this done? Perhaps I need to wait. But I can't wait too long otherwise my document will have to be overhauled to include new research out there on my topic. I spent so much time on my book. Everything I had went into those words and into getting pregnant. It really is now or never.

When to do this? One of my sisters-in-law said: NAPTIME!

Ha ha ha. Ninja does not do this thing called naps. The most I can get out of her is a 40-minute snooze. By the time I wait 5 minutes to see if she is really asleep, get something to eat, answer the phone, etc., she is awake and she requires my full attention.

Working into the night: also not an option (at least, not yet). Ninja is up often to nurse and it takes hours to get her into bed in the first place.

Baby-sitters are also out of the question, at this point. Ninja is still almost exclusively breastfed and she will not take a bottle. (She is intrigued by the sippy cup but she loses patience with it.)

It is important that I make the effort to publish - my academic work is very important to me. I see I will have to be creative with making time for my project. It's true: a woman's work is never done.

hearing the word 'mom'

Yesterday my baby started calling me Mom. Well, it was more like mahm-mahm-mahm-mahm.

She has been able to say the 'ma' syllable for some time but yesterday was the first time I knew she was connecting it with my body.

Big smile on both our faces. :) I cried a little bit and told her I'd waited a long time for that moment.

update

I haven't updated in a while, for reasons about which I'm still musing.

My daughter is doing well. She is sitting, crawling, and she has even pulled herself up to standing. She is cutting four teeth at once. Her hair needs its first trim. She can hardly bear to be away from me. She hears thunder and thinks it's her daddy walking around in the other room.

To any other (fertile) person, I think she'd be a cross to bear. Does that sound harsh? I don't see her that way but I think a 'fertile' parent would. Her sleep issues are beyond ridiculous (e.g., today she had one 45-minute nap - that's it - and it takes hours to put her to bed, plus she is up at least 5 times/night to nurse). I think she is a lucky little lady to be born to me because, with all I've gone through to get her, I dwell only on her comically beautiful smile.

further proof that the world is unfair

Around 10 years ago, my cousin and her husband were expecting their first child but he was lost - stillborn at 6 months - and my cousin had to have a hysterectomy, to boot. They are living childfree.

Couple of days ago, cousin's husband is in a parking lot and he helps deliver a stranger's baby in the backseat of a car.

Cosmically unfunny. People are writing funny comments all over his Facebook and I just cringed.

maybe if you just relax ... reading this post won't give you high blood pressure

The Stirrup Queen, Mel, posted re: a new study in Fertility and Sterility that seems to suggest that relaxing=pregnancy. Go over to her blog and read it: she comments on the study and on its subsequent media coverage better than I could!

status of the embryos

as i've been saying, dh and i are tentatively planning to try an FET cycle. possibly this april, depending on whether or not i have a job at that point.

a month ago or so, i dug out our infertility medical records (at least 3 inches thick, no joke). i wanted to see how our four frosties had been graded. i didn't look at the time because i was so elated that i had any blasts, let alone six, that asking too many questions seemed to be calling for a rainstorm of jinxes.

but now i need to know.

and they aren't that great.

interestingly - and i wasn't told this at the time - our RE didn't transfer the best two embryos. he transferred the best one (a 4AB, from what I recall, which is really good) and the third-best one (an average one). although we'll never know for sure, it seems clear to me that the best one resulted in my little Ninja.

out of the four sibling-embies, one is a 3BB and the rest are 2CC (I think - don't remember for sure). (here's a web site that shows pics of the various grades.) the RE said they looked good so i thought the grades would be better than that.

huh.

i have an appointment next month with the RE and i'm guessing he'll peg the next cycle's chance for success at 30-40%. which is still a damn sight better than any chance we'd have without it. but it's far from the 80% chance we had last time.

don't get me wrong - i'm eternally grateful to have had one chance that worked. and that i have four blasts, still. i'm not complaining. just wishing i didn't have to think about this. i just talked to a former colleague who did nothing but complain about her 2-year-old daughter. her baby was a "failure of birth control," as she termed it. she'll never understand what a gift she has.

infertility and emotional resilience

oh gosh. i'm glad it's so easy.

kthxbi!

infertility: genes into which i hope my daughter never fits

Great post by Mel over at Stirrup Queens about the first American baby, Elizabeth Carr, who was born via IVF. Elizabeth just gave birth to her first child - a 'natural' conception - and she wrote an article about it for the Boston Globe. Mel points out issues for the rest of us, such as fears of passing on our infertility. This particular paragraph grabbed me:

my biggest fear, as a woman with high FSH, clotting factors, and a LPD, is that I will pass along these conditions to my daughter. And it is not because it is a pain-in-the-ass to engage in assisted conception –that is the smallest part of the matter — but the emotions that accompany needing assisted conception. I know that for some, they are simply amazed and grateful that this science exists and they can utilize it. But I experienced a very different emotional landscape, and I’d rather my daughter never curl up on the bathroom floor and sob as her period begins.

The last sentence made me cry for my daughter.

Back when I thought Ninja was a boy, I was paranoid that he'd 'get' whatever ails DH in the reproductive department. I did whatever I could to ensure health for my baby boy. I even bought organic cotton diapers with wool covers to ensure that nothing would harm his genitalia. I wanted him to avoid the heartache that my DH had on the road to conceive him.

And it turned out to be a girl. A beautiful, funny, bright, loving daughter.

Will I give her my borderline PCOS? Will DH's reproductive woes get passed on to her potential son(s)?

I think I'd rather die than know that my daughter is lying on the floor and crying because she is bleeding again. I'm crying again now just thinking about it.

All I can do is try to keep her healthy and happy. I will monitor her as she hits puberty and, if I see that her cycles are not regulating, I will bring her to a doctor ASAP (which my parents did not do) and I WILL NOT let doctors do to them what they did to me: stick me on the pill and refuse to do any testing. For so long doctors called me 'the problem' and I had to advocate for myself. My daughter, if she has anything similar the matter with her, will have me fighting for her.

And when she is old enough, I will let her read this blog and she'll know to watch for the same things in her children, if she has them.

in honour of world breastfeeding week (please avoid if feeing sensitive)

my breastfeeding story

a tale in progress.

i've been nursing since ninja was born. i have not purchased one container of formula. i don't even know how formula works. i'm glad. there are many mothers out there who long to be in my position. it is working for me because i am working for it.* my body happens to make milk - a huge blessing - and i don't have to have a job right now - another huge blessing - and so i'm able to feed my daughter this way.

although i dislike breastfeeding - i don't care for being leaky and smelly and engorged - i do it anyway and i do not take for granted my ability to lactate.

while i was pregnant, the idea of breastfeeding terrified me. i didn't grow up with anyone i knew who breastfed (or else they did it very discreetly) because it wasn't fashionable at the time. my mother did nurse me, though, until i was 3 months old. i never saw anyone nurse until i was in my early 20s, at least, and the view was still obscured by a prominent nursing cover.

plus i was scared about nursing my own baby because of the PCOS. what if my hormones interfered with everything? (my fears about this were alleviated somewhat when i started secreting colostrum at around the 5-months-pregnant mark.)

i prepared by reading a lot. after all, there was no one to ask for help. my grandmothers, who would have breastfed extensively, are dead. my mom has experience nursing a few of her kids (she didn't bf all of us) for a few months each (i'm beyond this point and she has no experience bf'ing an older baby). most of the women a generation older than me used formula because it was the cool thing to do. and so i relied on books. Bestfeeding was great because it was written simply and had lots of pictures of the Right ways and the Wrong ways to position baby. the La Leche League's book was good, too, but it drives home the mommy-guilt and i didn't appreciate that but that's another topic.

also, my midwife helped me by suggesting that, after she caught the baby, i drink mother's milk tea and some Guiness. done. dh smuggled beer into the hospital, much to my midwife's delight! (i tell ya, i sure didn't mind a cold one the day after ninja arrived.) she cautioned me, though, not to let the nurses see. funny enough, one of the nurses - while the medical team was scaring me about my seeming lack of production - recommended a dark stout, as well! my midwife thought that was great. she wanted to know which nurse it was, actually, but i couldn't remember.

as it turns out, i had nothing to worry about. ninja latched herself on within an hour or two of delivery. little baby was cradled in my right arm. i was talking to dh, my midwife, and my doula when suddenly i felt a pinching at my right nipple.

"whoaaaa, what's that?" i exclaimed. i thought some rude nurse was poking at me. i looked down. there was my tiny nursling sucking away. she looked at me calmly.

"neat-o!" i thought. it was true. newborns come with wisdom into the world.

ninja nursed for the next 4 or 5 hours straight. dh lounged in a portable bed underneath the window. when the sun peeked into the room, she let go and fell asleep nestled into my side. that was when my mind determined that co-sleeping was the only way. the clear plastic bassinet was in the room just to get in people's way. nurses tried, occasionally, to put her in there but she just screamed until either dh or i was holding her again. and i knew that was normal and good. she looked funny in there, anyway, like a big fish who'd outgrown her aquarium. and, besides, nursing is so much easier when you don't have to get up (or even wake up).

my milk came in at the end of the third day. i sensed it was coming because my breasts were becoming big and firm, my nipples were developing brown rings, and i could feel the small round milk ducts blossoming.

the nurses scared me, though. ninja dropped about 1.5 pounds during her first 4 days outside of my body and the nurses put the fear into me. i wouldn't have worried, otherwise, because ninja's colour was good, she was alert, and she nursed every 2 hours. i sensed that they thought i wasn't really feeding her. i resented being made to feel afraid. (i also disliked all the contradictory advice i was given about breastfeeding. i stuck to what i learned from Bestfeeding and from The Womanly Art of Breastfeeding and that turned out to be the right thing to do. if i had done what my nurses told me firmly to do, my baby would not have thrived and i probably would have developed breast infections.)

finally one good nurse told me not to worry; she saw evidence of dried milk on ninja's cheek and that meant all was well. another great nurse checked ninja's latch and he praised me for it. i said that i had just done what i saw in the Bestfeeding book and he said it was great that i had prepared myself so well.

(i don't understand people who don't prepare themselves for breastfeeding. so many women seem to think that breastfeeding is natural. IT ISN'T. milk is natural; feeding is not! both the mother and the nursling must learn the dance. and it helps if the mother knows in advance how to position herself and her baby. it's good to know tips, as well, for trouble-shooting. i know too many women who did nothing to prepare themselves and who thought it was all going to be a breeze and, when the time came, had huge problems with latch, milk production, timing, etc.

we did have a few troubles for the next few weeks. nothing serious. ninja preferred the left side and it was hard to get her latched on to the right. with time and practice she overcame that problem.

my husband was truly the most helpful lactation consultant i could ever have imagined. he was committed to encouraging me and ninja to learn how become an effective nursing pair. he generated the idea of using my bedside table (because you can crank it higher or lower) as a positioner for ninja so that she could get a better latch on the right side. he was also my dedicated procurer of water because the prelude of every nursing session involved me nearly dying of thirst.

ninja settled into a routine of nursing every 2 or 3 hours for 45 to 55 minutes. sometimes she tried to go for 4 hours during the day but i put a stop to that because i wanted her to eat more during the day and less at night (we're still plugging away at that issue).

more bf'ing problems appeared along the way. i realized, finally, after three months that the reason ninja vomited so much and choked so often, especially at her bedtime feeding, was because i was overproducing and i had an overly enthusiastic letdown reflex. this problem wasn't addressed in any book i'd seen. i phoned a La Leche League leader who also didn't know what to do. i figured it all out, finally, and i learned that i needed to pump myself dry before ninja's bedtime and wake-up feedings. problem solved. i ended up dumping a lot of milk which made me feel guilty. i tried to donate the excess (to my SIL and to a few friends) but the plans consistently fell through. i bought a few milk trays and started freezing it but, wouldn't you know it, my supply just dropped by about 40%. at 6 months, it finally evened out. it still means lots of milk for the baby but i don't leak nearly as much anymore, i'm not engorged all the time, and i don't have to pump.

after the fact, i read about this very problem in Jack Newman's guide to breastfeeding (which is a terrific resource - he is a Toronto-based doctor who specializes in breastfeeding - and is he ever committed to the cause!). he doesn't offer any solutions and so i e-mailed him to say what i had done, in case it could help anyone else out there. he responded to thank me which was cool, considering how busy he is.

about, oh i don't know, 2 or 3 months into nursing i developed blocked ducts and then i got mastitis. the side of my left breast was engorged and hot and i felt as though i had the worst flu of my life. of course, i was alone with little ninja. that was terrible. i had to take a course of antibiotics and she and i stayed in bed for a few days so i could nurse frequently (to get rid of the blockages). both my family and dh's family have a dairy background and so they all felt sorry for me because they knew how miserable cows get when they have mastitis.

and, yes, i did feel like a miserable cow!

i seem to be prone to blocked ducts so i'm careful when i get them to apply heat and massage them because mastitis is not something i want to get again.

another problem has been ninja's nursing strikes. her longest one lasted a few months. she just doesn't want to be bothered to eat. she'd rather do it all night long. and she is easily distracted. my solution has been to nurse her in my ring sling. then she has to focus. no baby gymnastics, twisting and turning to look at the clock, playing with mommy's clothes, etc. just eating.

she won't nurse in public, though. it's too distracting for her. and so for now i am tied to the house. i would like to nurse in public, though, as a political statement. yes, i'm one of those. i've started working up the nerve. i did have to nurse publicly a few weekends ago at my dh's family camp. it was too hot to use a cover and ninja just bats it away, anyway. i nursed in the open, although you really had to look hard to see any lady bits. interestingly, my 10-year-old niece came to watch, as did my 5-year-old nephew. i hope from what they saw that they remember that breastfeeding is normal.

now i'm at the point of starting to think about weaning. i had wanted to breastfeed until at least a year. then, with the inspiration of my lactivist cousin, i thought of going longer. but because i want to do an FET in spring, my RE says i have to wean in advance. i'm guessing 2 or 3 months in advance, to allow the prolactin level to fall, but i don't know for sure.

i have mixed feelings about weaning. i don't like breastfeeding so i should be relieved at the idea of quitting but i'm not. it is a special time for my daughter and me. i do like the health benefits of extended nursing (both for her and me). i like not getting my period.

i don't like the idea of weaning for the sake of a baby who may not even come into existence. if i knew i'd get pregnant, stopping bf'ing wouldn't bother me as much, i don't think. but i don't know that. if the FET fails, i weaned for no reason. (oh, and for a few different reasons, postponing the FET isn't really an option.) and when i think, down the road, about our very last nursing session, i feel like crying.

i'm doing baby-led weaning to introduce foods. it's going well. i offer ninja spears of vegetables and chunks of fruit. she's learning what to do with it all. i eat the same things in front of her because that seems to convince her that she likes it all, too.

for now, i breastfeed my daughter 3 or 4 times during the day and 3 or 4 times at night. the process involves a sling and a pillow, cajoling, vomiting, quiet time, a copious number of towels and washcloths and nursing pads, broken sleep, and lots of dropped milk on my lap when my daughter takes a deep breath and gives me a wide grin.




*i do not in any way mean to imply that all women can nurse if they just work hard enough; i know too many mothers who poured their lives into making breastfeeding work and it just couldn't, for a variety of reasons

points about ninja to remember her by when i'm old and grey

-she growls at me when i don't do what she wants fast enough and/or to her liking. i do not respond to growls! so i ignore her or laugh at her. she gets the hint eventually - hello, growing awareness of social cues! - and then she laughs and gives me a softer edge to her voice

-during the last few months she has become very shy unless she's in my ring sling. she especially despises my dad (and he loves her so very much!). i do not pass her to people if it upsets her. i've found that if i keep her in my sling and then, over the course of an hour or two, loosen it until it falls around us, she warms up to present company and won't cry. then, people offer their arms to her; she is hesitant at first but when i feel her tip herself in their directions, i know she's ok and i pass her on to the others in her life who love her so much.

-on a related note, she thinks strollers are so last year.

-she is still impossible to put to bed. this is not new. today i spent a total of 6 hours trying to get her to sleep. oy.

-she loves to grip my hands and swing herself from side to side on my lap. to her, it's really the happiest thing in the world.

-she also loves it when i: sing to her, dance with her, put on makeup in front of her.

-when i change her diaper, she chases my shadow on the wall.

-she is so close to crawling; when i put her on the floor she is already motoring around

-she loves Sophie the Giraffe (dumb looking toy!) and her handmade sock monkey (another goofy toy)

-she can't be bothered to nurse during the day, preferring still to snack every 2 hours at night although we had gotten her to go for 4-hour stretches

-she is obsessed with the TV. i don't let her watch anything and so when it is on, in odd moments, i can't possibly get her attention on anything else

-she despises her car seat and so i can't leave our town. she also as a rule won't nurse in public or nap outside of the house. i'm bound to our home. i am mostly ok with this but others in my life are not.

-nothing excites her more than having a bath

-she thinks clothes are dumb and that i'm a Mean Mommy for making her wear anything

-she is terrified of my elliptical trainer and so i can't exercise

-she has the best smile in the world. i asked dh where he thinks she gets her sparkly grin from - me? him? a grandparent? - and he said, "from herself."

oh yes, there will be tutus

a party with family and friends, presents, fondant cake (with an accompanying smash cake!), professional photographer, flowers, a tutu ...


yes, i've been dreaming of ninja's birthday. this started a month or so ago.

we've got half a year until the ninja's first birthday but, hey, who cares? i'm going to do what i want to celebrate her life.

i've already bought two of her presents. well, i picked them up at garage sales. that sounds terrible but i don't care. i got great stuff (a brand-new playskool scooter-type-thing and beautiful gymboree clothes with the tags still attached) that didn't cost the earth, both in terms of $ and carbon footprints and all that. i'm excited when people get me stuff they found while thrifting so it's all fine by me.

good thing i was already thinking about n's birthday because the cake designer and the photographer i wanted are already booking into november! i sent off e-mails today to put in a request for my baby's special day. :)

i told dh today over the phone about this and, instead of laughing at me or grumbling about the price (he's not tight-fisted but his business is tentative right now), he said it was good.

now, for cake:



i was thinking something like this. except a little baby bird between the 2 big birds. the four eggs in the nest represent n's frostie siblings.

yes, i'm an english major, dammit. everything has to represent something! even on my baby's birthday cake!

just say no to mush!

good thing i'm trying baby-led weaning. ninja hates all forms of mush and so i'm sure that if i'd started her on purees, she would have disliked everything. NO to squash, sweet potatoes, oatmeal, bananas, etc. YES to hard things that she can chew on, like asparagus, carrots, and broccoli.

yesterday i tried offering butternut squash. she gave me her worst look.

i tried again this morning and ninja remembered it: wouldn't even look at it or touch it. i did touch some of the squash inside her mouth - just because i want to her to have some exposure so that i can tell if she's allergic or not - and she made a huge show out of coughing and gagging and pretending she couldn't breathe. (i knew she was fine.)

funny gal.

Infertility Contest!

The Misfit over at Just Being is having an Infertility Contest. This idea makes me laugh like mad because there's nothing like infertility to bring out the hahas in all of us!

Here are the details:

The Contest

(1) The contest would be open for a whole month - say, until August 16. That way people who are traveling or only check blogs occasionally could play if they like.

(2) The contest would be for the worst infertility-related experience of its type. There would be several categories:

-most outrageous statement about infertility/children/parenting that has been made to you personally
-craziest infertility remedy suggested to you personally
-most outlandish infertility or TTC treatment/remedy/good luck charm you have actually done or used (must include results)
-most outrageous public backlash or spectacle you've ever engaged in regarding IF/TTC
-please suggest others I've missed!

(3) "To you personally" will also include to your spouse.

(4) You must be infertile/secondarily infertile/RPL to play, whether you have kids or not, and whether you are still TTC or not.

(5) I'd have to judge subjectively, so I can't compete. I'd award some sort of silly prize - suggestions welcome.

(6) You can "enter" the contest by submitting your entry in a comment on this post, or commenting with a link to a blog post where you've discussed the occurrence you're using as an entry.

(7) Everyone is welcome to lobby for or against others' submissions!

See you over at Just Being for some crazy stories. I'm not sure if I'll enter - just because I don't think I have anything that unusual to share - but I want to read the entries.

a captive audience

Ninja thinks I'm The Most Wonderful Thing Ever and that is the #1 reason why she won't ever go to sleep.

I'm a very ordinary person. Reserved, nerdy, semi-crunchy. I think I have a decent sense of humour and I do like to be the instigator of pranks. (I whisper ideas and then others do my dirty work. I look innocent and so I get off scot-free!)

But my dear child considers me the be-all and end-all. Which is very flattering. It's a new experience to me: having a captive audience. She laughs at all my jokes.

She thinks almost everything is a hoot, really.

Two weekends ago she laughed in the crying face of her cousin, a four-month-old baby.

Last week she laughed at two ladies in the thrift store who, most unfortunately, were at the receiving end of a crashingly broken full rack of clothes. (And then she tutted at the ladies, presumably to guide them to the best way of remedying their problem. I giggled so hard I had to leave the store.)

Schadenfreude much? ;)

Her laugh isn't that loud yet. Occasionally she manages to actually make 'laughter' sounds - especially when I tickle her, which occurs at least every 2 minutes - but usually her giggles are more physical (shaking body and smiling face) than aural.

Today the Ninja was babbling away and I was imitating her. She stopped chatting and laughed out loud. That was the first time that she communicated to me her understanding of what was happening when I make the same sounds that she does.

Ah, baby giggles. There's nothing better. Except maybe the experience of watching this little person learn to listen and to talk.

catching up to do

Expect a number of posts from me in the next few days because I have lots of catching up to do. Not so much about Ninja - although lots is always going on with her - but about infertility in general, my musings about FET, and other people's IF blogs.

First. The Misfit over at Just Being wrote an amazing (and I'm not taking that word lightly) post about the mental ramblings of an infertile woman who can't shake that b!tch named Hope.

This part got to me:

And you feel a hundred. And a part of you has died. You never cry when you get your period, you never talk about how exciting it would be if it were "this month," you eventually stopped throwing baby showers (people stopped asking you to, eventually), and finally you basically stopped attending them, but you know what the strange thing is? The hope isn't quite dead yet. It's the most horrible thing in your life. It won't let you have any peace, not even for a moment. You make career plans and financial plans and savings plans and you bravely compute futures that include no children, and buy plane tickets for nine months from now, and live in a house in the city, and spend your vacation time at work on actual vacations, rather than saving it all up for that extended maternity leave you always wanted.


And you never tell your husband, but every month, a tiny, horrible, un-killable shred of you believes against the weight of all past experience that it could be this month. And when people ask you, or say, "When you have children," you bravely say, "Well, if," or "We'll see." But you don't tell them the name you're saving for your first girl, in case they take it.


Hope is the worst thing in the world.


No, no, infertility is the worst thing in the world. Hope is second.


Misfit, that was powerful stuff and I'm deeply sorry that it had to be written. A million women have felt these words but you said them with earth-shattering style. I even had to e-mail Mel at Stirrup Queens, which I've never done before, to ask her to read it. When I finally out myself about my reproductive history - because it will happen one day and I'm going to post about that soon - I will ask anyone who cares to read your words. Maybe then they'll try to attempt to maybe empathize with what DH and I endured to bring our beloved Ninja into our lives.

*le sigh*

we're on to solids.

i'm proud of my girl for doing a great job of growing but what happened to my little baby?

mother-sighs aside, i wanted to write about what dh and i are doing with Ninja re: solids because it's sure not what we're used to. we're trying baby-led weaning.

we grew up thinking that purees were a must. apparently, for healthy and ready 6-month-olds, not so.

so far i've given Ninja tastes of avocado, sweet potatoes, carrots, and bananas. mainly, i brushed her lips with morsels. no go to most of it. she thought bananas, especially, were a terrible idea. at the taste of sweet potatoes, she gave me her worst look: mommy, how could you betray me like this? and then when she nursed, she made a loud production of going "nom, nom, nom." so yummy, mummy! this is what i wanted!

today, we started BWL in earnest. i got her ready in her chair (to which she was already accustomed because i wanted her to be used to sitting in it). and then i gave her a stick of steamed broccoli.

she went crazy for it! nom nom nom! she gnawed away happily for almost half an hour. the spear remained but most of the florets were gone. no choking, no gagging. she knew what to do with it. good job, kiddo!

btw: i am still nursing. i am not a fan of breastfeeding - i'm constantly engorged, dripping wet, smelling like sour cottage cheese - but i believe militantly in its importance. i plan to continue until Ninja is a year old. i'd probably go longer - up to two years or more - but in spring i want to do a frozen cycle and the IVF nurse says i have to wean first.

*****************

just now, i'm trying to put Ninja to bed and i've noticed that she is mastering the art of manipulation. her normal desperate cries for me to come save her (and i always do) sounded different to me. canned or something. instead of picking her up, i waited and watched. suddenly she stopped her odd shrieks and groans and looked up at me. and grinned.

little bugger!