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Moment of Doubt

Hello All!

I'm looking for words of encouragement, support, and to feel like attachment parenting is worth it.  I've been subject to a few weeks of "noise" of people questioning my decision to cosleep, and it's starting to make me waver/doubt myself.  I know I'm doing the right thing, and I need my AP community to cheer me on!

Penguin is 6 1/2 months old. He's teething.  I'm recovering from gallbladder surgery.  I had to spend two weeks out at my parents' house because I couldn't lift Penguin, so I couldn't care for him when Mr C was at work.  During my stay with my parents, my mom gave me an nearly unending barrage of commentary against my cosleeping.  I coslept anyway, once the stitches were healed enough for it to be safe, and once I was off pain meds. They were good about bringing him in to me, and helping manage him since I couldn't lift him or move anything over 5 pounds.

Now that I'm finally home, I have to admit I'm tempted to try to just "put him down in the crib" but I'm not a fan of CIO or Ferberizing.  I don't think I'm "spoiling" him by nursing him to sleep, though, I would love it if I could just put him down and have him magically fall asleep on his own.  But, I'm not there yet.  I've read the No Cry Sleep Solution, and the Baby Whisperer.  I think once I'm healed enough to be able to move him by myself without fear of hurting myself I might try it.

Are any of you successfully cosleeping for extended time?  I've bedshared almost exclusively since he was born.  There have been a few weeks when I could nurse him to sleep, and then transfer him to his crib (which is up against my bed, sidecar style).  But, since he started teething, moving him just seems to wake him up.  He doesn't sleep through the whole night yet.  He wakes up to nurse usually at 10, 2, and 4 or 6.  I love nursing.  I love cosleeping. I love feeling connected and attached to my son.

I have a rough time lately when he's uncomfortable, teething, kicking in his sleep, and inconsolable.  I find it hard to believe that dumping him in a crib and letting him cry it out is going to resolve any of those issues (aside from the waking me up with the kicking.)  Nighttime is hard because I'm home alone with him at that time. Mr. C doesn't get home until after midnight, so the putting him down is my responsibility.

Any words of support? Stories of how it is all worth it?  Reassurance that I'm not crazy?

Adventures in Gallstones: Part 1

  I woke up at 3am Friday morning in excruciating pain.  I couldn't call for help. I couldn't scream. I just lay in bed, gasping in pain.  Penguin was next to me, and my cell phone was just out of reach. Mr. C was right downstairs, but I couldn't do anything.  I switched into labor pain management techniques. Breathe, breathe, breathe.  Eventually the pain lessened just enough to get movement in my body to get downstairs to get help.  I gathered up the baby, and got downstairs.  At that point, I could only manage the word "pain" "Pain...PAIN. take. baby." And ran to the bathroom.  I vomited bile. 
       I got into the shower, turned on the water, and curled in fetal position on the floor of the tub.  Rob kept asking me to describe the pain, and the animal side of my brain wouldn't let up enough to give me the words beyond a strange howling sound.  He did some massage, gave me Ginger tea, and activated a few points which brought the pain from a 9 to a 6 or a 5. Thank god he studies acupuncture.  I decided to go to the hospital, and called my dad to take me there. The hospitals near here are...questionable. I wouldn't be able to relax enough to be treated. I knew if I traveled farther away, I'd get better care.  Mr C got me to the point where I was stable, and asked me to run through my head what I would say if they told me I would have to have the gallbladder removed.  He was certain that was what they would want to do right away without asking.  Silly me, I thought doctors only made pressure moves like that during childbirth.  I said that even if the pain got really bad again, I would want to wait for emergency surgery until I had more facts, and felt comfortable with the idea of the surgery.  I wouldn't want to feel pressured or violated. 
          During admission,  I had another attack. Let me just say that I gave birth, at home, and had a second degree tear.  Gallstones are WAY more painful.  The woman at the desk was asking me my phone number, and tears are just streaming down my face.  I had to breathe, contraction like, through each number, bearing down white knuckled on the edge of the counter.  My dad rubbed my shoulder, and just tried to urge the woman through the necessary questions.  She went as fast as she could, but it still felt like days.
          I entered triage.  The pain had passed, or at least lessened its hold.  The triage nurse got through all the questions...and then her computer crashed.  Another attack started.  Again, birth prepared me for what nothing else could have.  I just had to raise above the pain, and get through it.   The ER was quiet. Empty. Almost peaceful.  The very kind doctor explained that I had classic signs of gallstones, and explained that depending on what they found would depend on the kind of treatment.  I explained that I was a nursing mom and would need a breastpump.  He congratulated me, and got me one right away -- personally making sure that it worked and that I understood how to use it.  A medical student did a "practice" ultrasound -- before pain medications were administered.  I offered up my pain to it being a "learning experience."  As he got to the areas where there was more pain, he got a better image.  I just focused on the idea that my experience would make him better able to diagnose future patients.  He was very kind, and explained that this ultrasound wouldn't count. Id still be sent up to the radiology department for an "official" scan, but that this would help him, and give an initial idea of which specialists would need to be called in for consultation.
           It was surreal to receive an ultrasound for something not prenatal related.  I joked with the doctor "so is it a boy or a girl."  He commented that I was in an amazingly pleasant mood for what must be excruciating pain.  
           When he finished, the nurse came to put in an IV.  My veins are hard to get, and the needle bounced right off, causing a huge bubble of blood to form under the skin.  Even now, 8 days later, I have a three inch by two inch bruise.  Eventually he got it, and I was given morphine.  The pain loosened its grip, and I was put in a wheelchair and wheeled away for my "official" ultrasound.
           It was surreal to be on morphine, lying on my back, again getting pushed and moved to see the gallbladder.  Apparently, my gallbladder was so inflamed it had stretched and distended far beyond its usual size.  Just by having me roll forward the technician could see stones move.  I saw the look on her face.  Knowing that she would get in trouble for giving unofficial information, I let her know what I saw on her face.  She tried to comfort me by explaining that she had her gallbladder out last year, and that after the operation, the pain was gone.  
           Wheeled back to the ER, I was informed officially that my gallbladder was filled and distended. I had stones in the common bile duct, one of which was approximated at least 5mm in diameter.  I would need to undergo two operations: a endoscopic retrograde cholangiopancreatography/ sphincterotomy. and a cholecystectomy.  My blood levels would determine the order of operations.  The fear was that if the gallbladder/bile was already infected, I could develop a systemic infection and die.  Or, the blockage to the pancreas could cause pancreatitis, and I would develop a systemic infection and die. Or...(insert variation here) and I would develop a systemic infection and die.  Bowel perforation, tearing of the duct, etc...lots of ways to go.
I know because I asked.  They wanted me to just sign off and do the surgury.  "But you'll die without it."  Urgh. It felt like the "dead baby card" women get played when in labor.  
"But you could die" is not an acceptable reason for me, at least not with out quantitating the information.  I live in NYC. I could get hit by a bus and die.  There is pollution. I could have a ticking time bomb in my brain. There a multitude of things that "could" kill me.  And I needed to be convinced before I'd let them just slice me open.  I wanted to know options, alternatives.
This frustrated the female intern consulting on my case. "But, you'll DIE. You HAVE to get this surgury."
Me: "with all due respect, it is called informed consent for a reason. I don't HAVE to do anything, I can sign myself out AMA and be done with this.  I need more information and explanation."
Her: "You. Will Die. Without this surgery. And it will be painful. If it was me, I'd get the surgery. Now. Right away. You can't wait with this. We have to do it."
Me: "How would I die? How? What is the mechanism? What are the percentages? I have to think about this.  There are often other ways around a problem. I have to know more about this."


The poor intern was just beside herself.  I imagine they don't get a lot of kick back.  They eventually brought me the head/program director of the gastrointestinal department to talk with me and answer my questions.  I felt better. Small victories.  I knew that if I could feel "good" about going into the surgery, I'd stand a better chance of recovering.  


Next, I met with the surgeon who would do the cholecystectomy.  That surgery would need to wait until my body had healed at least half a day from the first procedure.  I had time, and refused the surgery until I could get more information.  My dad said to worry about that when the time came.  One thing at a time.  Eventually, I was admitted to a bed upstairs, and an orderly came with wheelchair to gather me and my belongings to the next level.


Coming next:  Nurse Rachet and the Rachettes, Penguin Saves the Day, and Don't leave life and death paperwork to right before you get on a gurney....

Thank you Medela! (and everyone else who contributed!

I am really impressed at how a little bit of love and community can go a long way.  I've only been on Twitter for a few weeks, and have already grown into a community.  When one of my "tweeps" miscarried her son, others jumped in to find ways to help.  Read Tyrion Caelith's Story here.

Amber did a lot of the leg work for getting donations together: Read on Amber's blog
Birth Routes about the many donors.

Donations are still coming in!  Medela donated 150 breastmilk storage bags this week.

I am so grateful to be connected to such giving people & companies.

Huzzah!

The Velveteen Rabbit

I read the Velveteen Rabbit to Penguin last night. The part about becoming real first brought tears to my eyes when I read it to my stepson, Monkey, years ago. Yep. Still makes me cry.

I love being Real. The stretchmarks, the aches, the pains, the lack of sleep...it's all worth it and I'm only 3 months in.

The quote I'm thinking of

The Skin Horse had lived longer in the nursery than any of the others. He was so old that his brown coat was bald in patches and showed the seams underneath, and most of the hairs in his tail had been pulled out to string bead necklaces. He was wise, for he had seen a long succession of mechanical toys arrive to boast and swagger, and by-and-by break their mainsprings and pass away, and he knew that they were only toys, and would never turn into anything else. For nursery magic is very strange and wonderful, and only those playthings that are old and wise and experienced like the Skin Horse understand all about it.

"What is REAL?" asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"

"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."

"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.

"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."

"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?"

"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."

"I suppose you are real?" said the Rabbit. And then he wished he had not said it, for he thought the Skin Horse might be sensitive. But the Skin Horse only smiled.

"The Boy's Uncle made me Real," he said. "That was a great many years ago; but once you are Real you can't become unreal again. It lasts for always."

From  The Velveteen Rabbit by Margaret Williams

Lil' Penguin's First Wedding

             Penguin, Mr. Chakraverte, and I went to a wedding yesterday.   This wedding was a total expression how beautiful and family centered an event can be.  I hope we can have the same level of community feeling at our own wedding, one day.  (Yep, we're not yet legally hitched.)  Though it was a super fancy wedding at a posh location, the groom had specifically invited Penguin, and made sure to let us know that he wouldn't even be the youngest baby there.  Cousins were bringing their 1 month old, and noise was expected from the several toddlers invited as well.

I was touched by the beauty of the ceremony.  They found a lot of ways to weave family touches into the ceremony that felt honest and honored the connections.  Nothing felt contrived, it was just sweet.  This is only the second Jewish wedding I've ever been to; I'm really touched by the symbolism and thought that goes into the ceremony.  Since her family isn't Jewish, the couple provided beautiful explanations in the program book.  For example:

"The two parts of the wedding ceremony, erusin and nissuin, take place under the chuppah.  The chuppah symbolizes the home and family that we are building together.  Our chuppah bears an additional significance to us as the canopy includes N's. [the bride's] baby blanket, which was hand-quilted almost three decades ago by R., the brides's maternal grandmother.  Unfortunately, R is not able to attend today's celebration, N loves her Granny and took R as her Hebrew name. Though no object can replace R's real presence, we are pleaced to have a symbol of her love here with us today."

Freaking beautiful.

The whole booklet was like that. I learned a lot.

Breaking the Glass: This act, which concludes the ceremony, can be interpreted in a variety of ways.  As the glass breaks, we agree to treat our relationship with care and tenderness.  Additionally, Jewish tradition reminds us that even in the moment of our greatest joy, we must not forget that the world is broken, that many people and our planet are suffering.

The  glasses we are breaking are of particular significance to us: they belonged to E's maternal great-grandmother and N's paternal grandfather.  Each of these glasses is chipped, representing the already broken world. In the spirit of tikkun olam (repairing the world), we have decided to save the shards of these heirlooms, and fashion them into a mezuzah.  This is mean to represent our deeply held belief that the repaired world need not resemble its original form.

 As for us, we recognize that most jurisdictions in civil society, including New York City and New York State, do not make possible the legal protections of marriage to same sex couples.  We have chosen to recognize this enduring injustice by celebrating our spiritual union separately from our civil commitment, the later of which will take place outside of New York state.

The breaking of the glass reminds us that even in our most joyous moments there remains great injustice, struggle and sadness all around us.  We must wokr to better ourselves and the world. 

 I was just so struck by that.  What a beautiful way to bring together tradition, philosophy, the future.  I felt honored to be present there with my son and partner.  And boy, did they know how to party.
             We had a blast. Penguin cooperated by sleeping for the entire commute into the wedding.   As we sat down for the ceremony I got the Evil Stare from a Sourpuss.  You know the "oh heavens, a baby, he'll RUIN the ceremony" look.  Penguin woke up JUST as the ceremony began, but was starving so I  breastfed him through the ceremony.   He was happy as could be.

              It turned out we were seated next to Sourpuss for the dinner.  She complimented us on how "good" our baby was. She admitted to being concerned that he'd make noise during the ceremony.  Then, she changed her tone.  I was wearing Penguin in his wrap, and she started to talk about how she used to wear her daughter everywhere. She used to live in Montreal, and it was too cold to use a stroller.  She'd wear her daughter to classes at university, to the store.  Slowly the sourpuss cracked, and she seemed to remember just how challenging being a new mom can be.

           The bride and groom, who don't have any children, generously offered up the "green room/suite" for us to use for diaper changes, breastfeeding or when Penguin was over stimulated.  This was a special room with couches, a separate bathroom, and its own light/heat/ac controls for the bride to get ready in.  The catering hall bathroom didn't have a changing table, which I didn't notice until after I had already.  The groom made it clear that he just wanted us to be comfortable and enjoy ourselves. I wasn't to feel regulated to that room, but if it was easier on us, to go ahead and use it.  I was really touched by that level of understanding, that a groom on his wedding day, barraged by family members and photos, took time to seek me out and let me know what accommodations had been made for us! I don't know if I would have thought to do the same thing, if the situation was reversed.  He also had seated us at a table where just about everyone was older and had grown kids, so Penguin was welcomed and asked to be held -- so I got to dance with Mr. C!  Penguin was a champ -- a little overstimulated at times, but overall pretty sociable, especially considering how loud it was and that he was up past his bedtime.  A good time was had by all!  Mazel tov!

Enjoy the little things in life...you may find out they are the big things!

Today was a beautiful day.  I need to learn how to let myself enjoy more beautiful days like today.

  I've been crushed with anxiety lately.  I grew up in a cluttered house and have always been a cluttered person.  But now that I have Penguin, I'm terrified to have HIM grow up in a cluttered house. I've tried to be kind with myself. I know that you can't change clutter in ONE day...or one week...or three months. Change is hard. Being too hard on myself certainly won't help things, especially if I let the anxiety overwhelm me.  Sometimes I get so tied up in "must-get-things-done, must-get-things-done" I snap at hubby, miss out on the little things, and just get myself wound tightly.

Mr. Chakraverte is much better at balancing things lately.  He has this surfer cool, "let things roll off of his back" attitude lately, of which I am jealous.  I know that deep down he's freaked out about his upcoming finals, comprehensive exams, and money.  But in the mornings, he is just so darn good at just enjoying life.  Take this morning for example.

Penguin woke up at 6 a.m., but just burbled and babbled happily to himself until 7.  I was able to doze peacefully next to him, content to get just a few more minutes of sleep.  At seven, I went downstairs to put Penguin in his playgym, so I could pee and get some water. Mr. C was sleeping on the massage table downstairs.  Penguin saw him, and was intrigued by his snoring.  He kept staring and making noises, trying to wake his Daddy up.  Eventually, he was successful. Mr. C took it in stride, and scooped him up to snuggle.  He offered to take him back upstairs to play so I could lay out on the massage table and sleep.  I had thrown my shoulder and back out from carrying Penguin at an odd angle.   I got acupuncture and gua sha treatment yesterday, which helped a lot. But, I still need to lay flat to really get the muscles to relax.

Mr. C takes Penguin upstairs, and I caught an extra hour of sleep.  I woke up to feed Penguin, and Mr. C improv'ed some adorable songs while playing guitar.  Eventually we got dressed and went to the park.  Mr. C shot some hoops, and I got to walk around for a bit.

I have a feeling most people don't get that kind of quality time with their spouse and kids.  I'm going to miss times like this when I go back to work in a month.  I need to soak it all up now, and not worry about the day to day anxiety.  Penguin is conked out at the moment, one hand on my arm.  I love how he likes  to have some physical contact with me...a pinky, a toe, a cheek...at all times.  Of course it gets frustrating when nothing gets done, but really, do I want a perfectly clean house? or a perfectly happy son?