Tag Archives: Health

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Reading Books About Nursing: Part 1

Maybe my nesting instinct has gone into overdrive, but I realized that after all my deciding on breastfeeding I hadn’t bought any books to teach me the basics of nursing. I saw a video on my pregnancy app, and I admit I was completely repulsed and ready to stock up on formula saying “no effing way I’m doing that”. After weeks of nightmares of watching this woman “hand express” her milk, I shook it off like any other nightmare and reasserted myself back into the idea of breastfeeding. I bought some bras and pads, a pump, and I was ready for this. Then I realized I needed to buy books to read up about it, hoping to feel more knowledgeable and ready for this.

Normally, I’d just go on my Kindle and download whatever I wanted. But I was at the mall anyways, and I decided why not just stop in at Barnes and Noble. There, I stood with a few options on which book to pick. My phone’s internet wasn’t working and I was lost staring at titles. Instinctively, the first one I grabbed was the La Leche League International’s book, The Womanly Art of Breast Feeding. This is the book today’s post will be about. The other book I eventually picked, because I like second opinions, was entitled The Essential Guide to Breastfeeding. Obviously the title gives away the fact this is part of a 2 part series about books on breastfeeding. I might be inspired to get another book or 2 and if I do, I’ll share my thoughts on them as well. I might not though, because after only reading one, I might not want to read about female anatomy anymore.

I picked the La Leche League book to read first, because in every app or online site they mention this organization with breastfeeding. I figured if there was ever an informative book, those lovely women would’ve written it. However, I realized shortly after starting the book that this book wasn’t what I was hoping for. For every bit of useful information I read, I read a bunch of propaganda and patronization. For the good majority of the first part of the book, I read about how breastfeeding is the way to go and if you fail at it it’s because you didn’t try hard enough. I felt guilty after reading parts of it as if I was doing something completely wrong for questioning if I really wanted to do this or not. After the guilt, which I’ll admit passed quickly, I couldn’t help but to read the rest of the book as judgmentally as it read me.

As if that wasn’t enough, I ended up raising my eyebrows at this book. It seemed to romanticize the ideal of nursing your child. When I’m thinking about my kids, I’m not thinking of a romantic situation. The way some of the parts were written made me question if I was reading an informative how-to or pedo porn. They made it seem like the only reason someone should nurse, (and nurse for what seems like until you put your child on a bus to grade school) was to create a bond only you and your child can have. It seemed more like a sick power trip than being actually useful to your child. I’m choosing to do it because it’s the financially smartest approach and the healthiest one, not because I want a biting toddler chewing at my boobs forever. I even read parts of the story they tell in the book about a woman breastfeeding her son aloud to my husband, as if I were reciting lines from a cheesy romance novel. He thought I had exaggerated what the book said until he read it himself. Another problem I had involved the fact I was considering exclusively pumping, as the idea of a baby actually suckling from my chest and the idea my husband couldn’t bond with our child. This book gave useful information about pumping exclusively and storage, but I felt like they attacked that idea. They constantly enforced that breastfeeding is about mother/child bonding and pumping ruins this attachment and you’re an awful person for denying your child that magical love boob juice.

For every bit of good this book did informing me about different positions to feed or pumping, I felt awful after reading the book. It was like visiting an ever critical relative that made you feel like dirt afterwards because you aren’t good enough. I doubt I’m the only one who’s opting for this method of feeding for logical and financial reasons, and I doubt I’m the only one who would love to share the responsibility of feeding and would be annoyed for being made to feel like an awful mother for that. I hope the next book is less judgmental or preachy, or I may end up stock piling formula now.

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And How Was I To Know?

First item of business is about Fridays. The past few Fridays I haven’t written my normal posts, and this week will probably be no exception. I haven’t been feeling in great shape and decided that I would take Fridays off. Next Friday, as long as I’m not in the hospital I will be up with another post about single parenting and teen pregnancy. Now today’s post.

I’m 37 weeks pregnant now (well tomorrow), and I’m already coaxing the little boy to come out. I told him not too soon though, he needed to wait until his grandparents and big brother returned from the beach. I told him Saturday morning would be perfect, so let’s see if I can convince him to get out. As excited as I am to meet him, I’m more excited to just not have him in me anymore. I’ve been over this pregnancy a few months ago, I don’t think any woman really enjoys the last trimester.

Today at my appointment, the normal dip test came back positive for something I didn’t understand. The important part is the doctor comes in and he asks me, “are you having cramping and peeing more?” My response? “I’m 9 months pregnant, of course I’m having cramping and peeing more. Isn’t that what happens?” He chuckled at me, acknowledging that I was right but that he thought I may have an infection. So I end up at the lab to again pee in a cup, which bothers me on so many levels especially since I’m absolutely terrible at this. (I don’t care if I hit a TMI moment, just saying.) Now I still wait to see the results, jumping every time my email alert pops up on my phone.

This moment brings me back to when I had my 3 hour glucose test done. I looked up the symptoms of gestational diabetes, and wondered “how am I supposed to know I need to worry about this, the symptoms are the same ones of just being pregnant.” In fact, most problems that are mostly minor have the same symptoms. Are you feeling tired, sore, increased appetite? Maybe you’re pregnant… but maybe you have ____. No wonder there are a lot of hypochondriac people out there, they read something about their symptoms and think they have cancer when they have the flu.

That makes me wonder though, if that’s what makes people who under react more susceptible to not treating infections soon enough or why they make you pee in a cup every prenatal appointment. I wouldn’t have thought there was anything wrong with me, I just assumed I was an uncomfortable pregnant woman with a bowling ball sitting on my bladder. This is why we keep up with our scheduled appointments and get checked out regularly. We’re not supposed to know, that’s what we overpay doctors for.

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You Can Hit Rock Bottom…

Tomorrow marks 36 weeks of the pregnancy. The time flies no matter how much we like to think it moves so slowly. It only physically feels like it moves so slowly. Everything starts getting more complicated now. A few months ago the ability of sitting at a computer to play games became very difficult, recently putting shoes became difficult. Now even sitting here typing out a blog is becoming difficult, but we can move on anyways.

Sitting down isn’t easy anymore. You can’t get into a comfortable position, and if you can it’s impossible to stand up on your own from that position. Laying down to sleep or nap is awful because you can’t sleep and it’s difficult to get up or even something as simple as tossing and turning to get comfortable. I should be thankful I can still see over my growing stomach. Then you try to stand up and walk around because sitting is so miserable feeling, but you waddle for a minute before your legs and feet swell up beyond recognition. Then it becomes to uncomfortable to stay standing. There’s really no winning.

The biggest downside is now the obsessively hungry. More hungry than I have ever been in my life. I think if I really sat down to it, instead of the one jar of pickles, I could probably devour 2 or 3 jars. As if last night wasn’t bad enough that I devoured half a watermelon that my husband cut up for me, I notice the other uncut half is on my lap and I’ve resorted to eating it like a bowl of cereal. It’s an attractively hilarious sight. Just a pregnant woman with her half of a watermelon and a spoon. I think this is my rock bottom moment of pregnancy. It could be worse.

At this point in the pregnancy, I’m sure I’m not alone in any of these thoughts. Though I’m definitely hoping that I’m the only one who has resorted to eating a whole watermelon half uncut with a spoon, so glad I’m home alone so no one could see it. Somehow the visualization of it seems worse than making readers have the image of it. We have a bowling ball sized stomach that barely fits in anything and makes you look like someone who isn’t you. When we’re at this point, I think that we realize that we don’t care anymore. Nothing is going to make us feel less huge or more comfortable or more appealing to look at. So we should make the best of it and make ourselves happy by eating all the watermelon and pickles we want.

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Deep Breathing Isn’t Just For Labor

Eventually growing up you hear “the first reaction is generally the best one”. I’ve basically applied that principle every time I face something and wonder “did I overreact?” Though I think I usually under-react, at least I walk away feeling like I handled it appropriately. At least in my adult life, I wouldn’t think half my teenage years I handled anything as appropriately as I could have but really what teenager does? The excuse of out of control teenage hormones are generally used at the excuse for that.

Hormones are the answer then. Or the excuse. Or the excuse to not take someone seriously. I suppose when it comes down to it, hormones are offered up as a blame, the scapegoat. You thought it was bad as a teenager, it apparently gets worse as an adult female. Then it gets worse when you’re pregnant. How many times do we have to listen to “must be that time of the month” when we get mad? Can’t we just be pissed because someone was an idiot without having to be accused of it just being biology. I admit though, I’ve definitely told a female or two… dozen… to “take a Midol and go away”. Mostly because when they were annoying me, I knew exactly what to say to get them angry enough to not argue with me and leave. The worst part is when you’re pregnant. You can’t cry at anything without someone comforting you and saying “don’t worry, it’s just the hormones”. Maybe I’ve just been upset and needed to vent, not working off whatever hormonal trick you think the hormones are playing on you this time.

The main point of this isn’t to say “stop accusing us of acting out because we can’t control ourselves”, I can control myself just fine pregnant and normally. My problem isn’t I think hormones are taking over my life, my problem is worrying that every emotion I may or may not feel could be passed off as nothing important just because I’m pregnant. It’s annoying when you don’t have to second guess whether you’re being rational, you have to second guess if people will act like you are irrational because they just assume being pregnant means you’re not actually feeling that way. You just think you are. I think the way people patronize you for being upset is far worse than actually being upset because you realize they aren’t being supportive, they are placating you until they think your next mood will come. I don’t like that I should feel bad because something bothered me, but luckily I’m good at keeping things quiet in my head so I can just shrug it off until it passes. Unhealthy? Yes, but I suppose I’ll take unhealthy over ending up punching someone square in the face. Which I’ll assure you has nothing to do with hormones, I’d end up punching them in the face over it either way.

Think of that next time you pretend there are eggshells on the ground when you walk around your pregnant relative or friend. If you keep pretending it’s a passing moment, beware for the glass you might have to walk on afterwards. Sure, hormones can make people a little crazy, but the idea that you treat every emotion someone has as merely a hormonal imagination makes us a little crazier. It’s more healthy to let us say what we want without judgement than make us feel like we have to keep our mouths shut so we don’t feel like a china doll about to break when we’re really stronger than that. Take a deep breath and don’t stress, it really does help. You’ll have enough to stress about soon.

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The Breast Thing To Do?

Admittedly, I giggled writing the title. Some days I think I’ve never matured from high school. Back to the topic at hand: breasts, well in this case breast-feeding. With my first son I didn’t breast feed. The idea of having someone attached to my nipple several times a day actually disturbed me, plus I worked way to many hours to even consider breast-feeding as an option. This time around I’ve decided to give it a try, despite the idea of it still disturbing me. Before I get an applause from those fanatics of lactation, the sole reason for this decision comes down to the fact that I’m cheap and this is the cheapest way to feed a child. It just so happens it’s incredibly healthy for them.

I have problems with breast-feeding more than just the idea of it making me cringe. The idea that my husband can’t be hands on in the most bonding experience of a newborn upsets me. It doesn’t upset me enough to want to become a cow that solely attaches to a machine to make milk, but enough that I consider it. There was two of us that created a child, why shouldn’t both of us be able to adequately bond with it. Plus, that means I’m the only one crawling out of bed every two hours to make sure he’s fed. I like the shared duty idea.. because I’ve grown fond of sleep lately and would like to be able to enjoy at least four hours of it.

I also don’t think that there’s anything wrong with formula feeding your child. My first-born was formula fed and outside of bad genetics, grew up just fine. I don’t think that there’s really much of a difference nutritionally between the two. I understand how breast-feeding provides for immunities and such, but when you get down to the real vitamin and mineral content is there really a difference? Obviously not really, as like I said my first-born grew up just fine and I know more people who formula fed than breast-fed and their kids are perfectly fine too.

In my lovely state of Massachusetts, they have recently banned the formula give-aways you would get in the hospital after giving birth to your child. Sorry, they didn’t legally ban it. It just so happens that all the hospitals mutually agreed to voluntarily stop providing this to patients to force.. sorry, encourage breast-feeding to new mothers. They say these freebies encourage mothers to skip breast-feeding and formula feed their children. I’d hate to break it to the world, but news flash: if a mother doesn’t want to breast feed, she’s not going to do it. In fact, forcing her into something that’s uncomfortable for her is probably worse for them and pushes them more towards formula feeding. We also can’t forget that, and I know that this might be a complete shock, that some women actually can’t physically breast feed. There are some mothers that adopt their kids, use surrogates or just have various other medical complications with breast feeding. So let’s have the great idea of making them feel less like a real mother. Because only real women breast feed right?

I don’t like being pressured into anything. Ever. It doesn’t work for me. I don’t want to fail at breast-feeding and have swarms of lactation crazy women saying “I didn’t try hard enough.” Yeah, that’s going to do wonders for my self-esteem. This idea that a group of people can come together and tell me, “yeah, I know if you work this might be hard for you. And there are places online where you can buy other people’s breast milk if you can’t offer your own.” Thanks guys! I love the idea that my only options are my breast milk or some stranger I don’t even know’s breast milk. This idea actually disgusts the tiny bit of feminist in me. Next all women will be forced out of work because them being home is the best thing for their child. I heard the 50’s were such a great time for women. I like advice on how to raise a healthy child. Advise me to breast feed all you want, but my boobs are my business.

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The Advantages the Second Time Around

I’ve decided my midwife doesn’t lie to me. She told me “you’re going to show sooner, you’re going to be bigger, and it’s not going to be like your first pregnancy at all”. She was right, and I appreciated her honesty and not making me think that I was just getting really fat too soon. She tries not to laugh at my husband, who is guilty of being neurotically overprotective normally and more now that he’s responsible for keeping me extra safe to keep his 2nd child perfectly safe. I have to admit it’s a bit endearing when before I ingest anything, he goes on Google to “make sure” everything’s safe. I won’t complain, it’s this sort of neurosis that keeps me in massages and homemade fruit salad.

Lucky for me, I’m told the second time labor is generally much easier. I like the phrase “generally”. It gives me hope that maybe, just maybe, I can sneeze and there he is. My midwife informed me that if I could do it once without an epidural, the second time I won’t likely need one either. No, I don’t have a moral reason for not wanting one nor do I think anyone who has one is less of a woman or a baby when it comes to pain. My reason is more childish: I hate needles. The fact that I hate needles is only worsened by a lack of faith in a medical professional to be that close to my spine without either killing me or paralyzing me or some other unpleasant side effect because I happened to have the doctor who’s working off a hangover. Yes, I’m aware of how irrational and crazy this sounds, but you won’t convince me to change my mind. The unfortunate side of me being irrational and crazy is that I’m also incredibly stubborn.

The biggest advantage is that you know what you’re walking into. You know that your plan doesn’t always pan out the way you planned it, and you lack that anxiety of “what do I do now?” Even better, you don’t have that anxiety of “will I be a good parent?” If you didn’t kill the first one and they ended up basically decent, you’re in good shape this time around. That’s what I keep telling myself anyways. It comes back to you, every part of the labor and first year of being a parent though it sometimes comes back slowly. My midwife informed me when I told her I was afraid I’d forgotten the pain, that I never really forgot and it’ll come back to me quick. I hope she’s wrong on that front though, I would like to never remember how painful it was. If Michelle Duggar is still in pain with the amount of children she popped out, I don’t think there’s any hope for the rest of us.

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Maybe I Can Convince You Now Is A Good Time

I sympathize with people who don’t feel like the process of pregnancy is a blessing. The child is a blessing and worth it, however the process to get there is always less than ideal for most women. I repeat this a lot, and today will be no exception, but people who think pregnancy is a cake walk either is incredibly lucky or lying to themselves. Even the easiest pregnancy has issues, I saw this with my first pregnancy. It wasn’t too miserable, I felt mostly good, and aside from usual aches and pains I had no real complaints how it progressed. It wasn’t flawless, but it was easy enough where when my husband finally convinced me it was time to expand our family I hoped things would be just as fine.

Then it happened, and it wasn’t like the first time at all. The first trimester I’m pretty sure I just slept through, because I remember being that tired. The second trimester hit me, and it was a tease. I felt full of energy and things were good. I slept fine through the night, I kept up with my son’s baseball games and practices fine and things seemed pretty well. I think the second trimester only exists to give you a false sense of relief, only to smack you in the face the minute you enter into the home stretch. Then the third trimester hits and you’re big and only getting bigger. You can’t sleep, because who can really sleep well with a 20 lb. stomach that encases a child that thinks midnight to 4 a.m is the perfect time to kick you all night long. If you sit or lay down too long, every joint in your body feels like you’re 80 years old with arthritis. If you spend too much time walking around, your feet swell up so much you can’t even take off your shoes, and your knees and ankles feel like you’re 80 years old with arthritis. In fact, I’m pretty sure I constantly feel like an 80-year-old with arthritis lately. Also don’t discount how miserable those contractions are, and remember them because when you’re actually in labor they are a million times worse.

I understand the people who don’t quite feel the joys of pregnancy, because sometimes the pregnancy is more tiring than raising a child. Don’t feel bad for feeling miserable or feeling anger towards all your pregnancy books/websites for lying to you about how amazing pregnancy is. Don’t feel like you’re somehow ungrateful for the miracle growing inside your or that you don’t deserve it. Going through it is worth it, and sometimes it helps to remind yourself of that every time you wish that your child would just come now. That doesn’t mean you can’t try to convince your child now is a good time, I know I’m not giving up hope he’ll decide he’s ready or that the doctor was off by a month so I can get back to feeling like me.

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From Behind Those Thin Walls

I remember having problems growing up with my “lady week”. Finally during a doctor’s appointment with my pediatrician, my mother asked her about it. Rather than referring me to the OB/GYN office, I remember the doctor saying “no need, she’ll never have kids anyways”. It didn’t shatter me as much as I’ve seen people on TV shows when they are told this. I never dreamed of being identified by who I was associated with. I wasn’t “_____’s girlfriend”, I was Brianne. So the idea of not having to be defined by who my children were or who my husband was, actually relieved me. Marriage and children weren’t a priority in life, it wasn’t something I aspired for. I aspired to be a writer, write some short stories and plays. If I got married and had kids, then fine. If not, I didn’t think it would be something earth-shattering to me.

Then, I had my first son and that changed. I realized my problem wasn’t with having kids; my problem seemed to be getting along with kids that weren’t mine. It does give a certain purpose, even if you’re 19 and a single mom. He was a blessing, and I treated him as a miracle because he was never supposed to have existed. Even though the doctor was obviously wrong, when my husband and I started talking about having kids I began to worry that maybe she was right and my son was just a miracle child. I made sure he knew that it might not happen for us, and 2 months after stopping the pill we were excited to announce that we were expecting.

Since then whenever I come across a show where people are having fertility problems or other complications with their pregnancy, I get sad and feel guilty. I wasn’t even supposed to have one, and now I’m on my second perfectly easy and healthy pregnancy. I’m reminded of this when I overhear things in the doctor’s office. When I see tears on a woman’s face because she was just told that he baby was either going to be born with problems or not even make it that far. Or the idea of having to terminate a pregnancy because of complications. This makes me feel guilty too, and I know it’s nothing I can control. But it doesn’t make me feel less guilty about the idea of “what makes me more worthy to have an easy time with it, when these nice seeming people have all these complications”.

I usually take a deep breath and decide not to question the good things. Every pregnant woman or mother or especially a combination of both has enough to worry about. Feeling guilty for things that are beyond  your control just adds stress to one of the most stressful times of your life. Plus, I’m sure they would rather not have “pity” for their situation either. We should just be thankful for the good things in our life, because it could always be worse.

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Spending Nights on the Bathroom Floor as Parents

I’m sure we’ve all had those nights after staying out late where you made your bed on the bathroom floor so your evening’s mistakes would end up in the toilet and not your bedroom floor. Eventually we grow into parenting, and these days we spend our time sitting on the floor while our child vomits away a fever. It’s heartbreaking watching them moan and shake while getting sick, but it’s good to know that they can curl up in our arms afterwards to comfort them. It doesn’t make you feel any better though, and I think all parents hate it when they watch their child feeling miserable.

Once my son, then around 1 1/2 or 2, had a fever during a weekend he was away from me. I received a call at work telling me he had a high fever and wasn’t feeling well. I heard myself repeating “take him to the doctor’s” and restating the doctor’s information. He was never taken to the doctors and when I had gotten him back, his eyes were sunken in and he was lethargic.  He wasn’t my son, he was a zombie form of my child. I was scared, and luckily my doctor’s office had a nurse that was able to calm me down and told me to head to the emergency room.

I’ll remember that trip forever I think. The nurses were urgent with him, and hurried him into a hospital gown. I remember the look of terror in his eyes when they put in the I.V. and taped it to his arm and splint, and pumped him full of fluids. They took vials of blood and I sat and watched helplessly while this happened. He was sick and needed me to comfort him, but I couldn’t. They wanted us to walk around with him to make him thirsty enough to drink and my now husband got him a snack to coax him into drinking enough to get discharged. Several hours later he was released, diagnosed with a rhinovirus and severe dehydration. Ever since then, I’ve been neurotically overprotective every fever he’s had since then.

Mothers have this natural ability to tell when they’re kids are seriously sick or not. From the phone call, I knew instantly he needed to be seen by the doctor. Other times, I knew he had an ear infection and while the doctor’s argued with me, they checked and discovered I was right. We have this child inside of us for 9 months, and that gives us the ability to sense something wrong with them. This isn’t just true for the child being sick; I find that it applies to knowing when he’s had a bad day at school or similar situations like that. It’s hard to explain until you’ve experienced it.

Sometimes we are irrational and overprotective, but sometimes you need to trust our maternal instincts. It might not make sense, but there’s usually a reason for it and it pays off when you listen. It still bothers me today when I sit there with the doctor and they don’t listen to me until they see that I’m right. “No, there’s nothing wrong he’s just small because that’s the way he’s supposed to be. That and he didn’t exactly hit the genetic lottery in the height pot.” The worst thing we can do is let our kids see us buckle under the pressure, whether it’s crying with them when they get a shot or getting nervous in the hospital. Kids get sick, everybody does. It might be heartbreaking, but as the parent it’s your job to make them feel as awesome as possible.

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Vaccines? What Vaccines?

I keep seeing the debates on “to vaccinate or not to vaccinate”. I despise needles; I hate the way I feel after I get a shot. I hate watching kids get shots, and I hate when they cry because the doctor said they needed the vaccines and I agree with them, making me feel guilty for the decision that was supposed to be right. It was supposed to be the right and mature call that most parents make. After all that, I realized I’d rather get a shot and be miserable for a day today, then down the line die. That’s the decision I made and I’m sticking to it.

I watch crime shows, I love them. However, in one episode of one of these shows I like, the bad guy wasn’t this evil and malicious villain. The “bad guy” was a mom who refused to vaccinate her kid, and the result of that decision caused a baby too young to be vaccinated die. Was this just a scare tactic the show used to get propaganda in our heads about an issue they felt strong enough? Maybe. Did it work? Oh heck yes it did.

What was made clear to me in this episode was that this mother’s decision not only allowed her child to get sick from a disease a vaccine could’ve easily prevented, it killed another who was too young to be offered prevention. I knew every decision I made could easily  either help or harm my child, most parents know this. Now, it’s apparent to me that the decisions I make not only affect my son, it could potentially affect any one he comes in contact with. I can’t have the death of a child on my conscience, I can’t handle that.

I don’t care if I’m considered a bad mother for this, I will vaccinate my children. I realize it’s a personal choice, and while I consider it stupid and selfish and irresponsible to not vaccinate your children, I accept other’s refuse to. I don’t understand why not. So what, they supposedly cause seizures and allergies? Apparently the latest Twilight movie does, but you still let your kids watch that movie. (A side note, no one should watch that terrible movie let alone your kids. Again, totally my opinion.) I’d rather chances of things that could be caused by hundreds of different other things than  killing my kid or someone else’s.

I’m not saying everyone should run out and get every vaccination ever created and dose up on antibacterial stuff. I’m saying that I believe that guidelines are there for a reason. Thanks to a lot of these vaccines, we’re protected from illness that could kill us or bring us very close to death. Because of a lot of these “harmful” vaccinations, we’re free and clear of several very deadly and miserable diseases. I’ll take that, even if it makes me have a bad reaction to a strobe light.