This composition details at the time my way of parenting and how I came to making certain choices.
My Parenting Experiences So Far
Introduction to Women-hood
Please allow me the honour to digress. When I was 16 years old I became a women, now when I say this I don’t mean that I began menstruation, but mean that I suddenly understood what I wanted as a women, mentally, sexually and spiritually. Now this was not a gradual realisation, it was quite sudden one day I went to sleep as teenager thinking things through from that perspective and the next day I woke up being able to see most things through a clearer more mature perspective. Please realise that I said some things, for this waking up into womanhood did not mean I stopped wanting things in the way most teenagers wanted things, I still had a lot of growing up to do, but this early awaking allowed me the freedom to go out into the world and not make an abundant of basically silly or immature decisions that as young people we sometimes unnecessarily make in our life travels.
You might ask, how did I know this awaking happened at this time? I’ll give you my shortened version.
I have always been able to see my future not in the clairvoyance sense, but when I close my eyes and think ahead I see myself in certain situations that help me to realise my goals and if they are the right ones for me.
I always knew that I would be a wife and a mother and other things as well, but I’ll stick to the first two things. Before my parents separated when I closed my eyes and looked to my married future I saw my self with my husband sharing tasks in the same way my parents did, with the children close by.
Following my parents separation and the beginning of my puberty and early teenage years, looking into my married future, I would see two houses side by side both furnished, etc. in front of the house I shared with my husband I could see myself my two children, my dogs, my car, my husbands car, and about ten feet away stood my husband. And basically the picture always showed the material things the kids and pets would be closer to me than the uncertain outcome of the husband, the other furnished house was mine of which I had purchased prior to marriage as a safety net in case the ‘’husband’’ turned out to not be any good.
When my awakening occurred that picture on its own simply ceased. There was now one house, there was still two children, my dogs, my car, my husbands car, but most importantly my husband now stood right next to me standing with me as I stood with him, we both visibly supporting each other.
This picture allowed me to alter my goals as I continued to grow up. For example when I became involved with my husband during our courting years, the need to achieve certain career goals weren’t as strong. I knew then that this man, now my husband fitted into the picture so easily without conscious effort, would achieve everything with me together, as the picture had always showed me we would.
This ability to trust what I see in the future in respect to my goals is the hard part if you like. For although I believe the pictures as they are and even when they change, having the courage to listen to myself and follow my instinct, is the true test.
Listening to myself and believing in my pictures are some of the tools I use in my parenting experiences.
My Pregnancy
Like I’ve said before I love to educate myself, so approximately nine months prior to the date we wanted to conceive I started gathering books and magazines that gave me information on the style of pregnancy and birth I wanted, which was basically natural and at home.
We started to try to conceive at a planned time of November 1998, but finally were successful during the first three days of January 1999. We didn’t know this till February 18th following my sisters nagging to check again, because she was tired of hearing me say ‘I feel so tired all the time’.
Well here I was finally pregnant, and was rearing to go, but the first snag so to speak hit me. It came in the form of exhaustion. I had so many plans to stay healthy, I wanted to continue my water aerobics classes, but couldn’t wake early enough to go to them, and I had all intentions to keep up my modern dance classes, but after work I was to tired after I got home to get ready and go out again. So approximately by the fourth month I stopped attending both classes, I did continue to stretch and do lots of squatting type exercises as I always envisioned myself squatting when I had to give birth.
My pregnancy was pretty uneventful actually outside of falling to sleep at the desk at work, and falling to sleep at home to wake up long after the hour I should have been at work. I had no real complaints; there was no morning sickness, no craving, no excessive weight gain, just tolerable constipation, expected hunger pangs, and the exhaustion to end all exhaustions.
I attempted to keep a journal to pass on to my baby when it was of age, but that evil exhaustion would have me asleep so often I would remember my little project weeks later and so gave up on the idea.
I didn’t get to make a plaster cast of my tummy as I wanted but did get to paint and photograph it from time to time. I did so love being pregnant and my growing tummy, I felt sexy and seductive and would expose it any chance I got.
I also took good care or myself outside of the expected ways of eating well, etc. I made a conscious effort to budget moneys for beautifying myself, and would get regular pedicures, facials, body massages, etc. these things were pre-booked into my diary and helped me to love myself even more at that time in my life.
I wanted to have a home birth but the governmental midwifes are unwilling to deliver first time babies at home so I hired a private midwife along with a gynaecologist for my antenatal and postnatal care. Everything was going along well till I lost my midwife at approximately two weeks to my due date, due to illness and as my Dr didn’t want me to deliver at home with the chance that I might have to lose him to an on-call shift at the hospital he was employed with, we chose to deliver at a private institution that he also covered when the need arouse. The choice to go private was my only option to ensuring that I would have my husband and mother with me.
At two weeks to my due date I was measured two centimetres dilated, which was fine with me, but the dates given by my Dr and ultrasound appointment, as far as I was concerned were both wrong, and so it was determined that I was over due by eleven days when I delivered.
My Labour & Birth
The day I went into labour was the same day, I was expected to go in for induction as I was considered over due. But low and behold I awoke that Sunday morning at 5:20 am with what I thought was false labour pains again. It was only on returning to bed after a toilet break and being awoken twenty minutes later with quite a severe stab of pain did I realise that this must be it. I woke Anthony, whom I must admit didn’t seem too concerned, so I proceeded to go wake my mom who returned to Trinidad to witness the birth of her first grandchild.
I got as far as the face basin and another contraction got me, I held on to the sink for support, and shouted at my husband to get up, not because the pain was bad but because I had succeeded in detaching the sink from the wall and needed him to come hold it so that the plumbing didn’t become un-attached as well (don’t laugh). Well the shout to wake Anthony, surprise, surprise, also woke my mom.
Well everyone is up and the twenty minute break between the first two contractions is the longest break I’ll experience for my entire labour. The contractions are coming two and four minutes apart and for about two hours I handle them pretty well by walking around and squatting during them helped immensely.
At approximately 8:00am I experienced my first contraction that made me vocalize with a load roar and (now my neighbours new I was in labour) the fear of birth finally kicked in. I also figured that since I was at least two centimetres dilated prior to labour and as the contractions were so close together that my labour might progress rapidly and so my mum called our ride and we informed the hospital that we were coming in.
So we arrive at the hospital, and I’m told I’m barely dilated, which is a downer for me as I would have preferred to be home during most of my labour. Anyway I get on with labouring and by 11:30 I’m 5cm dilated, and start vomiting with every contraction, a sign of transition (at the time I didn’t know this as I didn’t really understand the different stages of labour anyway). My friend and masseuse have been with us for at least two hours and helped me to relax with reflexology therapy, and by concentrating on certain points she helped the contractions to come regularly as well.
At about this time I was offered pethadine to help with the pains and though I refused at first, on the grounds that I wanted a natural birth, the fact that it was offered, had sunk into my conscious and with each contraction I thought of its expected relief. So the pethadine was administered and though it helped take the edge off my labour pains, it also made me sleepy, and I no longer had the energy to walk and squat as I was doing, and this I believed greatly lengthened my labour.
Its 6:30 pm, low and behold I’m still 5cms dilated, tired and dehydrated and naturally fed up, I’m begging for at least five minutes to sleep. The offer to burst my water bag was made with the hope that it will improve things is made. I accept. Meconiun is observed and now I’m terrified, but decide to really concentrate on getting the baby out, as I have no intention of having a caesarean section (not that it was suggested, but I knew it could crop up later on), instead I am offered a shot of pictocin to help speed things along, which because I am scared of the connotations related to meconium in my waters I accept.
Well the contractions brought on by the pictocin were absolutely unbearable, and I found that the coping skills that were working before were of no use to me again. I could not even envision getting up to squat as the duration between them are so short I could not even catch my breath, I beg for another shot of pethadine and when I got it the relief is nothing like it was before as all it did was make me sleep in between the contractions, the pains were just as intense. (I will not go down that road again, not pethadine, because though it gave relief the first time I’m convinced that it greatly slowed down my labour, by slowing me down and the second dose was not effective and no pictocin ever even though it probably sped things up it also make me lose complete control, during the later stages of my labour and during the actual birth).
Its now 9:00 pm and I’m told that I’m 9cms dilated and this makes me angry. Why? Because I want this to be over, how dare they tell me I’m 9 they should of said 8 or 7, for to accept that a measly 1 cm was in my way was irritating, and it took a while for me to calm my self down.
It is just after 10:00 pm and I can feel my baby descending and the need to push is great. I am told that I need to move to the labour room, I bluntly refuse; as I can see nothing wrong with the bed I was on. I begin pushing with my contractions, as I believe I should. (All I ever read or saw was information that said when it is time to push it is best to do so with the contractions).
The doctor is asking me to stop and to allow my body to push on its own, my mum and husband are also telling me to listen to the Dr, but the ring of fire experience is egging me on and I ignore them all till the Dr shouts at me and I finally pay attention to what he is saying, but alas, to late I have torn, not that it bothered me to be truthful. I would have been more upset if I were given an episiotomy.
At 10:21 pm my beautiful full haired baby is born and I look down and see her looking straight at me, and before anyone says anything I notice she is a girl and I am happy, as that’s what I wanted first time round. The Dr does I have instructed and waits till the cord stops pulsing and goes white before letting my husband cut it. I held her for a while as they were setting up the room for me to have my tear sutured. During the suturing procedure where I promptly fell a sleep (can you blame me), Anthony accompanied Nathifa to the nursery where she was cleaned up with olive oil and dressed. Her daddy was then given the privilege of seeing her first smile.
My Breastfeeding Experiences
It started an hour or so after birth, I certainly didn’t really know what to do, and she may have just been going with instinct. It did not hurt, and by the end of our first try she appeared happy and fell asleep. Nathifa nursed maybe twice during the night, my mum stayed with me to hand me her so I didn’t have to get out of bed. By ten o’clock the next morning I was back home in my own bed, and Nathifa was nursing approximately every two hours, usually falling to sleep at the end of each feed and so was I.
She was not a long nurser, 2 to 5 minutes maximum and one breast at a time. Trying to get her to feed from both breasts as suggested in all the literature I read, usually led to a crying and angry baby. By the third day I had sore and cracked nipples, that left me curling my toes during every feed, and I used nipple shields that were given to me while I was pregnant. Nothing I read or heard explained that it was caused by wrong positioning, and I all ways assumed that it was something that some women experienced and it came with the territory of breastfeeding. We used the shields for approximately 7 – 10 days. When I was healed I started re introducing the breast at some of the feeds without the shields increasing the times each day, till we were not using it any more. Some how we sorted out the positioning problem, and I’m afraid I still don’t know what I was doing wrong, but at least I now know how to go about it correctly next time.
I approached breastfeeding as the perfect thing to do and followed an old rule when Nathifa cried I offered her the breast first and if that did not work I would try some thing else. This helped bring my milk in by day two, which was extremely abundant in its supply (not surprising considering I had been lactating since 1993, when I first went on the pill).
Nathifa grew like a weed and by two months old weighed 15 lbs. We had very few breastfeeding problems. My first big worry, was when she was a week or so old and she was not opening her bowels daily, and the literature said she should do so at least a few time a day, one chat with a long term breastfeeding aunt let me know that breastfeeding babies don’t always go daily and that some do go only once a week. So as Nathifa did not appear to be in any discomfort and was growing well, I no longer fussed about her motions except for when they occurred. Why? Because the were loose and lots of it that would generally leave me cleaning not only Nathifa, but also myself if she was on me at the time and the floors if she was being carried when she went, which I very rarely noticed till I had finish cleaning both of us and was returning to where we were and would notice that we had left a trail. Thank god there were not smelly.
Since we are on the topic of trails and smells, we also had to deal with five months of spitting up, which also generally left trails of our passages and was only easy to bear, because it was scentless. I swear Nathifa during these months used more cloth diapers on my shoulder than on her bottom.
When Nathifa was four months old she went on the first of three nursing strikes, it lasted approximately one day. The day began with her first morning feed, which was normal in everyway, her second feed approximately two hours later was a bit fussy, but nothing seemed peculiar to me at the time. Following her morning bath at about 10:00 am I could not get Nathifa to accept the offered breast there was arching of the back, latching on and immediately coming off and flat out refusal to even open her mouth. I tried offering her the other breast without any success. I of course was getting desperate, because I could see that my daughter was not only tired but also hungry. In desperation after about an hour of trying to get her to nurse, I pumped off the full breast and fed her via a sippy cup, with success. She fell asleep by being rocked.
On waking Nathifa continued to refuse the breast and took two other feeds by the cup. I though was not looking forward to the night time feeds and so following her afternoon nap I waited till she had a calm moment and tried not really offering the breast but more just allowing the nipple to rest by her mouth, in a non invasive way and that along with lots of quiet and patience helped Nathifa to take the breast on and off during the evening and at her last feed of the day, where she finally fell asleep at the breast.
During the night she woke as normal and thank god took the breast, but I must add, that I had to be very slow in offering her, as I found that if I came at her as I normally did, she would start to arch and become agitated. The following day was fine and everything was back to normal.
When Nathifa was about 4months three weeks old she was grabbing at everything insight food wise and though I wanted to exclusively breastfeed her for the first six months at least I decided to follow this cue as a sign that she might be ready to try other foods. Her first food was banana, which she took well. There was no expected tongue thrust to expel the food, and in totalled about four spoonfuls, as I had no intentions of making her solid dependant at that early age.
The following day my baby experienced constipation for the first time, and on the advice of my aunt who also breastfed her offspring long term offered her boiled water, which did help as constipation was never an issue again. The water incident also gave me more insight into Nathifa’s readiness, and her dad and I were in attendance at the time. As she had never had any other fluid via anything other than the breast I was a little worried that she might choke on the water as it trickled into her mouth and so was being very cautious in administering it. Well Nathifa after the second sip so to speak literally grabbed the cup put it to her mouth and took two large gulps, burped and continued. Well I’m sure you could imagine the shocked looks that were on the faces of my husband and myself. My husband’s exact words were ‘she’s your greedy daughter’.
In the beginning Nathifa slept in a crib in our bedroom, and though I was aware of the sleep with your child possibility, (this did not seem weird or deviant to me, as the culture in which I grew up in generally practiced this type of co-sleeping arrangement in most families at some point during most children up bringing, with co-sleeping between siblings being the norm till the teen years). I personally did not want to practice this arrangement in my bed, plus Anthony was afraid he’d crush her though I had more faith in him. I did not mind sleeping with her, just not in my bed.
At five months old Nathifa’s crib was moved into her room, why? Because a falling sock could wake that child and it was driving us crazy. She did not last much longer in the crib though, due to the fact that she was a big baby, and basically out grew her crib. So at nine months she got her first bed, which was a double. This allowed me to sleep with her when the need arose.
For three to four months I spent the nights back and fourth between her room and my own, and felt exhausted by the ordeal. In this time I also stumbled on to the Ferbber method of getting babies to sleep which we tried for all of once, it seemed way to cruel to consider as an option for us. I in time made peace with Nathifa night feeds and would simply start the night in my bed ad end it in hers, after going to her when she woke for her night feed. And we pretty still do this to day. I am certainly more rested, Nathifa is happy and my husband, well he grumbles from time to time, but is happy to live with it for now.
(In so saying the second time around I am thinking of having both kids join us in our room but on their own bed, this is another practice I’m somewhat used to, i.e. the baby and toddler sleeping together with some sort of barrier in between them. We’ll see how it goes).
As I stated before my breastfeeding experience and the associated relationship I have with my daughter have been pretty uneventful. So I will conclude with a few of experiences that stood out and how this experience affected my parenting.
Though Nathifa started solids earlier than I would have liked. I opted to go about it slowly with only fruits that were grown by us for the first six weeks. We then started rice cereals at a week prior to her sixth month date and again went as natural as possible, forgoing the baby food manufactures brands and instead bought plain ground rice and cooked it with my breast milk. All the cereals she later tried were basically ground versions of oats, tapioca, barely, etc cooked with my milk. Which she enjoyed till she was about ten months. At about seven months she started on vegetables, which were prepared again by myself. Bit by bit I added starches and legumes. At about nine and a half months we appeared to have hit a snag and she did not seem interested in eating, but was obviously hungry as she upped her nursing. One of my aunts suggested that she may have been ready for finger food and probably wanted to feed herself. I tried this and presto it worked.
At or around nine months we also had our second nursing strike, which again lasted a day, I was better prepared this time and so did not experience the same anxiety as before.
At the time prior to her first birthday I was grappling with the decision to wean at one year, as I wanted to become pregnant the following year. I was not unduly worried about fertility issues, but more with issues surrounding feeding a baby, and thinking that the baby would not benefit if the toddler were competing for the breast and or nutrients.
I around the same time happened on to an online site that dealt with tandem nursing, I read a beautiful story that put my concerns to rest. The idea felt so comfortable, and became part of my future picture in relation to my mothering so effortlessly that I gladly gave up on the idea that I needed to wean Nathifa and looked forward to my own tandem nursing experience. (Mind you I have been trying now for nine months to conceive and though I do believe now that it is the prolonged breastfeeding that may be the culprit I have still chosen to let Nathifa self wean and let things happen when they happen).
When Nathifa was about eighteen month I also got to experience wet nursing for a friend of mine with my sixth month old godson. I was baby sitting for two days while she worked, but she was there at night. I was then able to experience on a very small level what tandem nursing may feel like.
Nathifa at this time is still very much a nursing child a lot more than the average nursing toddler with regular day feeds and at least one to three night feeds. I can ascertain a lot from her feeding patterns, I can tell whether she is happy, sad, stressed or bored. She also has expressed how happy nursing makes her feel, and I see no reason to take away happiness that is free and pure from my beautiful daughter.
Breastfeeding has certainly made me a more in tuned parent, the decision to allow her to self wean from the breast though trying at times have also allowed me to truly respect her needs for what they truly are ‘needs’. It also gave me the strength to listen to her and her cues on readiness to achieve certain milestones, such as starting solids, potty training, etc.
Breastfeeding to me in a sentence is a beautiful blessing, I enjoy having Nathifa breastfeed and I love to breastfeed.
No comments:
Post a Comment