This is Your Brain on New Motherhood

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Published 11.03.2009 | Permanent Link | Comments (48)

Photo by James Jordan

One of my absolutely favorite not-about-me stories is this one, from Ezra's two-month appointment with our pediatrician. She was very late getting to our appointment, thanks to a very brand-new mother who had an appointment ahead of us. And was very, very late for it.

Summary: Very Brand-New Mother drives to doctor's office with Very Brand-New Baby. She doesn't know how to get her baby's infant seat out of the car. She fights with it for awhile, gets (apparently) a little hysterical because OMG HER BABY IS TRAPPED IN THE CAR. She doesn't have the doctor's phone number, does not want to leave her infant unattended in the car...so she calls her mother to drive over from God-knows-where and help her. She finally arrives at the office completely rattled and tear-stained and shaken, well after her appointment time, but our doctor sympathetically squeezes her in, because the front desk staff misunderstand the story and thought that the baby was locked in the car. Very Brand-New Mother relates her horrific encounter with the Graco latching mechanism to our doctor, who gets confused and asks her why the HELL she didn't just unbuckle the baby from the car seat and carry him inside?

Very Brand-New Mother: Oh. I never thought of that.

And oh, how I laughed, when the doctor related this little comedy of errors -- even though this dingbat was the reason I had just spent upwards of 20 minutes waiting in a boring-ass exam room with my two-month-old AND my preschooler and very few entertainment options -- but how do you not laugh about that? I mean, dude. Your baby is not welded to his car seat. That's an accessory. It's sold separately.

But I also totally understood the misfiring thought process that must have been happening out in the parking lot. Because I've been there, done that, gotten the sarcastic standing ovation for doing it in front of a crowded room. Behold, some of the Really Dumb Things I have done (or my husband has done) in the first few days, weeks and months of my new babies' lives, thanks to hormonal paranoia and sleep deprivation and general postpartum brain fog:

1) Shown up to a non-existent doctor's appointment because I neglected to notice that I was looking at an appointment card from six months earlier, and for the wrong child.

2) Driven Noah to school on a major holiday, stood at the locked front door for 10 minutes before wondering why there weren't any other cars in the parking lot.

3) Held up the line at the grocery store because I forgot my bonus card and flubbed no less than four attempts to give the cashier my home phone number before calling my husband to ask him what our home phone number was. (Yes, I had my cell phone with me. Yes, I have our home phone number on my cell phone. What's your point?)

4) Pulled over to the side of the road to double-check that I remembered to put Ezra in his car seat because he was being too quiet and I suddenly couldn't quite guarantee that I hadn't accidentally driven off with the baby on the roof of the car like a forgotten grande latte.

5) Left the stove on, left the iron on, ironed clothing while the iron wasn't even plugged in, burned soup, lost my keys, left the house wearing two different shoes, left the house with my nursing bra unhooked, misspelled my last name on an insurance form, forgot to let the dog in, forgot to let the dog out, and once hysterically demanded a $20 tip back from a very happy cabbie in exchange for a $1.

HUSBAND BONUS: Jason once dropped me off at a restaurant, drove a couple blocks to find parking, then walked in and sat down at our table...without the baby. Who was in his car seat, in the car, two blocks away. When he ran out and returned with Noah, all the tables around us (who heard me shriek about the OMG BAYBEEEE) stood up and applauded.

Your turn! What's the stupidest, most-embarrassing lapse of all common sense and problem-solving skills you've ever done as a Very Brand-New (and Very Sleep-Deprived) Mom?

Postpartum, Posteverything Boobs

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Published 10.27.2009 | Permanent Link | Comments (22)

Photo by Emmaline

Okay. Let's talk about boobs some more.

Specifically, I've had more than several moms ask me about post-breastfeeding boobs. Do they...you know...bounce back? Will they be like they were before? Will they be different? Droopy? Saggy?

Behold! My magnificent answer: IT DEPENDS.

And it depends on a LOT. Genetics. Your age. Your cup size. How long you breastfed for. Number of children. Whether you previously had a lift, a reduction, or implants. For some women, just the pregnancy alone wreaks havoc, while others can birth and breastfeed multiple children and see absolutely no breast changes.

Basically, it's a total freaking wild card.

Personally, I saw NO changes after nursing one baby. I was in my 20s, I was a 32A, I breastfed for five months but never really exclusively, as I was plagued with supply problems, my boobs never really changed much during that time -- I think I was about a B cup. And after I stopped for good, everything was fine. I could still buy bras in the junior department, I could still skip wearing bras all together if I wanted to.

Then came baby number two. The clock had clicked past the 30 mark. I nursed exclusively for a good number of months (and spent several of them wearing 34D bras, yowzah). He weaned at 10 months. I never bothered with any creams or miracle serums, though I did wear bras or supportive tanks 24 hours a day for several weeks post-weaning. And honestly, things are just fine.

My boobs are DEFINITELY softer and probably not quite as (god I hate this description) "perky," but really, they're fine. Same size, no stretch marks, still nothing that could be described as saggy or deflated or tubesock-like. I am happy with them. My husband is very happy with them, oddly enough, and swears he prefers them now. (Hi honey! Thanks for never reading this column.) Since I got the short end of the Stretch Mark/Belly Pooch Stick, I am grateful for this small blessing of good post-pregnancy boobs.

But WHO KNOWS how I managed to luck out. Genetics? A benefit of being flat-chested? (SUCK THAT, everybody who teased me in high school.) Not nursing beyond a year? Not being past 35? Some combination of all of the above? Would another round of pregnancy and nursing completely change them all over again? Is it all just total ridiculous flat-out luck?

(And could I USE any more question marks today? Goodness. Back away from the rhetoricals, self!)

So...yeah. That's all I can say about my boobs. Which have absolutely no bearing on your boobs, and offer no clues about what will happen to them after you birth and/or breastfeed a baby. Or multiple babies. I don't think there's any way to know for sure (although talking to your mother and grandmother might give you a basic idea of what to expect). The good news is that breastfeeding reduces your risk of certain kinds of breast cancer. Even if you're not completely thrilled with the look and feel of your postpartum boobs, it's definitely preferable to not having them around at all.

And now it's your turn. Tell the nice Internet all about your boobs.

Postpartum Belly Binding?

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Published 10.20.2009 | Permanent Link | Comments (11)

Photo of a Belly Bandit

Okay, so this question was originally intended for the Advice Smackdown, but the topic seems much more suited for over here. But because I probably never would have come up with this topic on my own, I'm keeping the Q&A format to give credit where credit is due to the original question-asker, and no, I don't know why I felt the need to explain this in such excruciating detail, or why I am still talking at all. Moving on!

Dear Amalah:

I am 7+ months pregnant, and now that I see my days of unfettered gluttony and laziness starting to wane, I’ve begun to do some research regarding how to shape back up after baby comes. I know all about diet, exercise, taking advantage of breastfeeding metabolism, blah, blah, blah. What I’m looking for is some advice about shortcuts. Or one in particular. Belly binding.

Truthfully, the practice sounds horrific. I can’t really imagine squishing my traumatized belly into a glorified ace bandage with Velcro for 40 days and nights. What about sitting? Or laying down? Or itchiness? If it's anything like the agony and gastrointestinal distress caused by a too-tight pair of Spanx, I can’t help but think the entire practice would be excruciatingly uncomfortable.

On the other hand, I’ve read glowing reports about how new moms can be back in their pre-pregnancy jeans in 2 weeks! Have a flat as an pancake belly in 4 weeks! All because of belly binding! Yay! So, of course, I’m intrigued. I mean, I suppose I could put up with it for a while if the results are that good.

What do you think? Did you belly bind? If not, do you know anyone who did? Would you recommend it? If so, what belly binder brand(s) would you recommend?

Thanks,
Fearful of Flab

No, I did not belly bind, nor do I personally know anyone who did -- or at least anyone who copped to it publicly. All my knowledge about the practice and its many promises comes from super-scientific Internet research.

Most of that research, unfortunately, is still limited to anecdotes on various message boards and the products' own web sites -- there aren't too many big official medical research papers or independent clinical trials out there on belly binding. Or any, in fact. Most doctors will shrug if you ask them about it, or tell you to go for it if you're into it, rarely actually falling into real pro/con positions about it. Others might recommend it on the basis that it's really popular and traditional in other cultures, but then again...there are plenty of traditional things related to pregnancy and childbirth from other cultures that I have NO interest in trying. Others will sniff dismissively and tell you that exercise is really the only way back to your pre-pregnancy shape.

For those of you who are scratching your heads here: belly binding is pretty much exactly what it sounds like. Starting almost immediately postpartum, you wrap your belly up as tightly as possible -- women have used everything from Ace Bandages to girdles to corsets, but of course now there are all sorts of specialty products you can buy. The Belly Bandit is the most popular, but one of the most expensive (especially since you need to bind EVERY DAY, you'll need more than one). Medela makes one, and some of them are no-frills, downright orthopedic-looking things.

The main promise is simple: A flatter tummy faster. Some of the products hedge this promise ("mom's tummy FEELS flatter and smoother") or focus on the fuzzy idea of "support", and some of them amp up the promises to almost laughable levels ("be back in your pre-pregnancy jeans by two weeks!") There is no doubt in my mind after reading the anecdotal evidence on blogs and message boards that for some women, the binding really did help that squashy postpartum belly go down faster. And that's no small thing: It took a good four weeks before I felt like I no longer looked pregnant, and even that felt like an ETERNITY, complete with days where I all but cried in the mirror because I couldn't fit into anything but sweatpants.

But...here's the thing with binding: we're not talking weight loss here. If your butt went up a pants size or two during pregnancy, binding isn't going to make your jeans look any better. We're talking uterine contractions only, and I admit I'm pretty fuzzy (and a tad skeptical) on the science of how a tight girdle can really have that much of an impact on uterine contractions, which are for the most part, hormonal. Breastfeeding causes your uterus to contract back to size, for example. As does skin-to-skin contact with your newborn. But again: the anecdotes that I've read are almost universally positive that the binding has a real, measurable impact on the postpartum pooch. Does the binding actually make the pooch go down MORE than it would on its own, or is it just getting to the same point a little FASTER? I have no idea, and you could probably listen to a hundred more women talk about their binded and bindless recovery periods and still not know for sure.

There are two other factors that get mentioned a lot when the binding topic comes up: separated ab muscles and c-sections. Separated ab muscles (Diastasis Recti) are really common, and can really impact the shape of your stomach and your bounce-back time. Specific kinds of exercises are generally recommended (and a lot are contraindicated), and many women think it's a permanent thing, only correctable via surgery, it's not. It just requires a good exercise regimen. If you think this is happened to you or aren't sure, this site is a good place to start. (It's happened to me, both times. I'm still working on it, but I fully blame my own half-assedness when it comes to exercising.)

I've read a lot of stuff about belly-binding helping to "knit" abdominal muscles back together -- as if the simple act of squishing them close to each other will speed healing. Other sites admit that no, that's just going to take the time it takes, but binding can act as a splint and support and make your exercises more effective. Most postpartum exercise specialists strongly disagree, and even float out the theory that external splinting can slow the healing, because the girdle is doing the work for your deep abdominals.

As for c-sections, here's where I actually think I could get seriously on-board with the postpartum support: when you have a c-section, anything that requires the use of your ab muscles is TERRIFYING. Sneezing, coughing, laughing, getting up and out of bed. IT HURTS. SO BAD. My hospital recommended using a pillow as a splint -- something to provide just enough gentle pressure on my stomach to keep it from working too hard while I performed the extremely advanced abdominal move known as the "allergy sneezing fit." I can really see how binding the belly would cut down on all that discomfort. Though...from looking at a lot of the product options, I'd have some problems choosing one, since some of them look like they would dig into an incision if you sat at a bad angle. But just mulling over the concept makes me wonder if a decent pair of high-waisted granny girdle panties wouldn't have made my post-c-section life a little easier.

So...yay or nay on the belly-binding? From an immediate postpartum perspective, I'd say it most likely falls in the "can't hurt, might help" category. Women swear that the bands really aren't that uncomfortable (though once upon a time I would have said the same thing about my 4-inch stilettos), and I can see the appeal of feeling a bit more tucked in and held together as opposed a lumpy blob of bread dough. If you try it and can't stand it, stop. (I'm sure a maternity consignment store would be happy to buy your expensive designer elastic doohickey.) If you try it and love it and have a nice flat tummy within a month, awesome. But I would also advise not getting too dependent on it -- at some point, you will need to step away from the girdle and start exercising and using your core muscles sans external support. Let your abs actually do the job they're intended to do, sooner rather than later.

Bladder Bounce Back

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Published 10.13.2009 | Permanent Link | Comments (19)

Photo by helgasms!

Nobody tells you about peeing, postpartum. The leaking. The "bladder control issues." The straight-up, unsexy, embarrassing incontinence.

It's in all the PREGNANCY books -- first it's the hormones ratcheting up the urgency, then it's an expanding uterus pressing on your bladder, and finally it's a full-term baby's head and judo chops. All things that would lead you to believe that everything goes back to normal after you have the baby.

I had some problems, particularly during my first pregnancy. Chronic urinary tract infections, an already-jumpy bladder, a job that often interfered with regular bathroom breaks, and a very large baby. Laughing or sneezing soon became an exercise in terror. But I was prepared for that. I crossed my legs and did my Kegels. The symptoms vanished after the birth, just like I assumed they would.

My second pregnancy was a breeze, in that regard, and with a scheduled c-section on the calendar I never really gave much thought to the state of my pelvic floor. I'd be fine, just like the first time.

HA. HAAAAAA. Lordy, I'm doing Kegels right now.

So there are varying degrees of awfulness here: there's the occasional leaking when you sneeze or laugh, which is annoying but generally tolerable. Then there's the crazy urgency, making every time you have to pee a race to the bathroom and oh God your belt your zipper your pants hurry. And for some women we're talking honest-to-God zero-control adult-diaper-level incontinence.

If you had problems during your pregnancy, you are MUCH more likely to suffer after the birth, as well. Same goes if you're overweight or a smoker. Vaginal births (and forceps, and bigger babies) also up your chances, though a c-section is no guarantee, particularly if you labored and pushed for awhile before getting the surgery. And then there's me, who had more problems after a labor-free scheduled c-section. Sometimes it's just the stress of pregnancy itself, and nothing to do with the birth.

So what should you do, if it happens to you? First, relax. It's normal. It's not permanent. It will get better. It might take awhile, but it will get better. Even if you're dealing with the worst-case scenario, where you can't stand up and walk across the room without peeing yourself, it doesn't mean it's an obstetric fistula and surgery or a life doomed to Depends.

The problem will USUALLY be at its worst during the first two weeks postpartum, while your uterus is still contracting back to its normal size and position off your bladder. Everything I've read about postpartum incontinence (that I had to SEEK OUT SPECIFICALLY, because it sure as hell wasn't in any of those new baby books), mentions a range of "three to six months" before you regain "complete" control. (To which I snort dismissively at, because while I didn't have any super severe problems, I'm a full year postpartum and still wouldn't consider my bladder to be in its original factory-new condition.)

THINGS THAT HELP:

1) Kegels. Yeah. Those things. I vaguely remember having trouble doing Kegels right away -- too much pain, feeling generally kind of obliterated DOWN THERE -- so do your best and start small, just like ramping up any kind of exercise routine. (Teh Innernet says 30 a day is ideal. If you can do five at first, I declare you Pelvic Floor Champion.)

2) Empty your bladder every 30 minutes, rain or shine, urge or no urge. Then gradually increase the time between bathroom trips each day. (This is pretty much how I potty-trained my 2.5 year old, by the way. The more you know!)

3) Pads. Big ones. Look, you're wearing those ginormous pads anyway, at first. Ask for extras from the hospital.

4) Colace. Again, something you'll be taking post-birth anyway, but constipation puts even more pressure on your bladder.

5) Crossing your legs and clenching, pre-sneeze or laugh. It's stupid but it works.

THINGS THAT DON'T HELP:

1) Alcohol, caffeine, soda, citrus, acidic foods.

2) Urinary tract infections. If you think you have one (i.e., there's burning in addition to the urgency), get it treated ASAP. Drink cranberry juice or take those cranberry tablets.

3) Dehydration. Don't do the "I'll drink less/pee less" thing. Not only is dehydration just a terrible postpartum idea in general, you're actually just upping your chances of a UTI.

And finally, yes: there is a surgical procedure to correct stress incontinence. If months go by and you are still having problems despite daily Kegels and test negative for UTIs, then talk to your doctor or midwife. Don't let them tell you it's "normal" if you believe you're struggling with something that's out of the realm of "normal." You can also contact a physical therapist, as incontinence is actually something that many of them can treat. (Think post-injury or illness -- it's so very common.)

Ah, the indignities of motherhood. You have to laugh about this stuff...just make sure you cross your legs first.

Postpartum Hair

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Published 10.06.2009 | Permanent Link | Comments (19)

It's a particularly cruel twist of fate: After you have a baby, you have less time than ever to fuss over yourself. Your beauty routine gets downsized to ponytails and chapstick, on a good day. So OBVIOUSLY, this would be a FANTASTIC time for your hair and skin to go absolutely off the rails.

Yes, it's true. Your hair falls out. I've written about it already, over at Ye Olde Advice Smackdown. Here, I shall excerpt a bit:

Most women actually lose, on average, about 100 hairs a day, usually when showering or brushing it out. This is hair that is no longer actively growing, and the non-growing hairs make up about 5 to 15 percent of what's on your head. So it's not really a big deal when you see them end up on your hairbrush in the morning.

During pregnancy, your wackaloon hormones keep your hair growing and growing. And growing. That 5 to 15 percent number plummets. So you shed less hair. Sometimes (and this was probably true for you) you shed a lot less, so your hair gets thicker and lovelier and pregnancy-glowier.

But then you pay for this postpartum. Usually around three to four months after you give birth, your hormones go wackaloon in the other direction, and your plummeting estrogen levels slow your hair growth once more. And alllll the hair you didn't shed during pregnancy starts coming out in clumps. It's...not fun, and it has happened to me both times, and I'm currently in the thick (thin?) of it right now.

Despite writing about the topic for an ADVICE column, I do not really have that much ADVICE about dealing with the hair loss. I do have a lot of sympathy for anyone currently experiencing it, but I found that it was one of those "only way through it is through it" sort of things. You will shed a lot of hair for awhile, and then you won't anymore. You can certainly try different shampoos and products, but honestly, by the time you're likely to have worked out the right combination, the problem will stop and your hair may require a completely different line-up of products.

I had the double whammy of my scalp deciding to go haywire around the exact same time. I've always had an oily scalp (except during pregnancy, when it because downright normal), but starting around two or three months postpartum my scalp became RIDICULOUSLY oily. My hair would not come clean, product build-up galore, greased up like a 90s grunge rocker, etc. This was another thing that sort of vanished after awhile, though only after I temporarily switched to some cheap drugstore shampoo -- basically the harshest, unpronounceable-chemical-laden stuff I could find, which at least solved the build-up problem that my fancy salon shampoo did nothing for.

So if shedding is your only hair complaint, go ahead and consider yourself lucky, as other women develop all kinds of other weirdness, from dandruff to cowlicks to grays.

And then! AND THEN! I actually completely forgot about the other stage of postpartum hair bonkerness until a couple people suggested it as a topic on Twitter this week -- you get these..things? Little weird clumps of wispy flyaway hair along your hairline? Forehead, temples, around your ears, nape of your neck? And they stick out and curl funny and won't. Lie. Flat. What. The. Hell.

For me, they strike right as the shedding stops: a combination of broken, poorly nourished hair alongside regrowth of new (yet pre-pregnancy fine) hair that manage to ruin the look of even the most basic ponytail. They are really, really annoying. A few ideas for dealing with them and/or preventing more of them:

1) DON'T WRAP YOUR HAIR IN A TOWEL. Another broken record from the Advice Smackdown files, but FOR REAL. Wrapping wet hair in a towel is TERRIBLE for your hairline. If your hair is weakened for any reason -- hormones, nutrition getting rerouted to breastmilk, stress, etc. -- the towel will cause a LOT more breaking. (Those little shammy turbans aren't much better. While they don't have the weight of a towel, you generally wrap them tighter so there's still a lot of pulling.) The best thing for fragile hair? Gently comb it out ASAP after the shower, while it's sopping wet. Use a detangler if you have to, and then clip a towel around your shoulders until you can blow dry or it air dries enough to stop dripping. (I found squeezing the ends with a cotton t-shirt absorbs the excess a little faster.)

2) Don't overdo the ponytails. Don't brush and pull your hair back too tightly, either for ponytails or braids, and try try try to leave your hair down sometimes. Use claw clips, barrettes, fabric headbands instead of the elastics. If you do use an elastic, pull your hair into a ponytail with your hands instead of a brush. (Brushing hair into a ponytail is especially hard on your nape and temples.) And don't EVER sleep with your hair in a ponytail.

3) Keep your ends trimmed. Hair damage start at the ends, typically, so regularly cutting off the split ends keeps the rest of the shaft healthy. Ask for a deep conditioning treatment if you notice a lot of breakage or the wispy flyaways. And talk to your stylist about a good at-home conditioner. Getting to the salon might not seem like a very high priority in between all the well-baby visits and such, but trying to go too long between trims makes the problem worse.

4) Tame them with products...carefully. The crazy flyaways are often on the fine side, even if the rest of your hair is not. So using products that promise a lot of hold can end up looking oily and heavy. Not really a good look for around your face. Personally, I had the most luck with spraying light hold or shine products (regular ol' hair spray or BedHead Head Rush) into my palms and then smoothing the cowlicky-curl-things down really quickly. No creams or serums or pomades or anything that could give my scalp the chance to play oil slick once again.

5) And remember, this too shall pass. Probably. While my hair will likely never achieve the natural-born wonderfulness it had during my pregnancy (or when I was on Clomid. I may have gone completely crazy on that stuff but damn, my hair looked AMAZING.), it is definitely what I would now call back to normal. Maybe a little bit more of a natural wave than I had before, but still nice and predictably MY HAIR once again. Normal shedding, normal hairline, normal ratio of good-to-bad hair days.

Photo by ClickFlashPhotos

The Neverending Scream

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Published 09.29.2009 | Permanent Link | Comments (21)

Photo by sawamur

If you asked me -- the pregnant me -- what my single-biggest parenting fear was, I probably would have said something about making some kind of huge mistake and raising poorly-adjusted children into dysfunctional adults who never called their mother and you know, I don't care about anything, I just want them to be HAPPY.

That would have been a big fat lie. I was mostly scared of getting a baby with colic.

We had a few bleak days with Noah, right at first, when he would go on extended nursing strikes and scream and scream and scream because he was hungry, but he wouldn't nurse, so eventually I would cave and offer him some formula, usually in the middle of the night, while crying, feeling guilty and hurt and rejected but also thinking: oh, please please please just shut up.

It's a weird place to be, resenting the very thing you wanted more than anything else in the world. You love your baby more than you've ever loved anyone...but in those dark, frustrating hours where the screams go on and on and on, you may not really like him very much.

But that was nothing -- NOTHING -- compared to what Jonna from Jonniker went through with her daughter Sam. We're talking colic. REAL colic. And reflux. Basically my handful of bad nights times FOUR BAJILLION AND TWELVE. Luckily, she lived to tell the tale and has some advice and sympathy to help you live through it too:

Amalah: SO! I hear that you just had a totally fine and dandy time with your daughter. Like every moment was a magical ray of unicorn-y sunshine and soft-focus photography. Please, tell the nice people about how wonderful new motherhood can be!

Jonna: Well, part of the problem was that it WAS spectacular and magical and wondrous ... for the first three or four weeks. Yes, I was one of those new mothers who was so impressed with how well her newborn slept! And how she never cried unless she was hungry! And how this was So! Much! Easier! than everyone warned me it would be! I HAD BIRTHED MIRACLE BABY, EASIEST OF THE EASY NEWBORNS. BEHOLD.

Yesssss. That was me, and I have the idiotic blog archives to prove it. And then, somewhere between weeks four and six ... all hell broke loose. My daughter -- my delightful, beautiful, much-wanted daughter -- turned into the world's tiniest hellbeast. I don't remember how it started, exactly, but what I do know is that very quickly, things devolved into a life where we had a screaming, inconsolable child who did nothing but scream, scream and did I mention SCREAM? for upwards of eight to ten hours a day. Yes, really, EIGHT TO TEN HOURS A DAY, no exaggeration. And not exactly during convenient times, either. No, no -- she usually got going somewhere between 10 and 11 p.m., and finished between 3 a.m. and ... well, I believe the latest she went is 9 a.m. the next day, but really, does it matter? The point is, it would go, quite literally, all night long. Nothing worked, at least at first. Nothing. She just screamed. And screamed. And screamed. We tried holding her, feeding her, shushing her, walking her around in the stroller, wearing her in the Bjorn or mei tai, bathing her, putting her down, etc. I will never forget the day my husband walked into the kitchen to find me wearing a giant blanket around my shoulders and pushing our screaming child around in the stroller in never-ending circles around the island with tears streaming down my face. I think by that time I'd been at it for ... two? Three hours? Of nothing but pushing the kid in circle after circle after circle. Oh, God.

For a little while, I was convinced it was a food intolerance (I was nursing), so I gave up ... everything. I went cold turkey on dairy, tomatoes, caffeine and wheat. For a two-week period there (a very DARK, two-week period), I subsisted on vegan gluten-free bagels with fake peanut butter and low-acid jelly. If I so much as GLANCED at a tomato, my husband came undone.

In other words, we tried EVERYTHING. OVER AND OVER AGAIN. And still: she screamed until she didn't feel like screaming anymore or just passed out from exhaustion -- honestly, we never knew what it was that made her stop. And if she had a "good" night -- meaning, anything less than five hours of screaming, and nope, I'm not kidding, that was a GOOD NIGHT -- we tried to recreate the entire scene the next day, right down to what we had for dinner, what I ate, and what we watched on television. Everything. Spoiler alert: it didn't work that way.

We were all exhausted, miserable and frankly, it was one of the darkest times of my entire life. Or, more specifically, I didn't have a life, but it was dark nonetheless. I was merely coping. My marriage was strained, for we were both so completely consumed with the incredibly daunting task of enduring a full day's worth of screaming, not to mention the fact that we were beyond sleep-deprived, and for a little while there, I thought we'd never recover. I considered giving away our beloved dog, because I didn't see how we would ever be able to have the time to feed her, much less pay attention to her. I cried a lot. I blamed myself. I blamed my husband. He blamed me. He blamed himself.

This was ... about as much fun as it sounds. And also, I was SHOCKED by this turn of events. Where was my easy baby? Who was this child? What had gone wrong? What had *I* done wrong? What had I DONE TO MY LIFE?

Did you know that things were like, NOT supposed to be like that? Did you know something was wrong, hellbent on getting someone to help you...or did you immediately go to that Bad Place of "I'm doing something wrong, I'm terrible at this and this is my life now forever and ever AMEN"?

A little of both, I think. At first, I was convinced that it was just how things were -- after all, everyone spent my entire pregnancy telling me how HAAAARD babies were and how I'd NEVER SLEEP AGAIN and oh, look! They were right. I really didn't sleep. At all. And oh yes, I assumed that this was what parenting was like, and that I just wasn't strong enough to hack it. People kept telling me that the first three months were the hardest, but I couldn't believe they were ever THIS hard, you know? And yet ... people had more than one child, didn't they? So what the heck was wrong with ME and MY baby? I honestly couldn't see a way out of the tunnel.

The worst part, I think, was that conceiving her wasn't the easiest task, and I had a rough pregnancy (think 7+ months of puking). And I just felt so GUILTY. Like, I wanted this SO BADLY, and spent so much time trying for it, and then spent so much of my pregnancy feeling guilty because I wasn't this glowing earth mother-type and, in fact, hated every second of it. And now, here I was with this baby that I loved unconditionally -- no question about that -- but who, let's be honest, I didn't even LIKE. I HATED feeling that way. I hated myself, and I most definitely had moments of -- well, not hating her, exactly, but perhaps resenting her for being the exact opposite of what I expected, and for not being able to communicate what was bothering her.

And when I admitted that -- when I admitted I was wishing this very difficult part of her infanthood away -- I felt guilty. Like I didn't deserve to have a baby in the first place, if this was how I was going to feel, and thinking that one day I would look back on this time and wish I'd cherished it more. Which, today, makes me laugh so hard, because seriously? WHO WOULD CHERISH THAT? God, I just want to go back in time and SMACK myself for feeling any of that, because SERIOUSLY. IT WAS BAD. AND THOSE FEELINGS WERE OKAY. And it had absolutely no bearing on what kind of mother I was, or would be. Truly -- my life today, just a few short months later, is NOTHING like it was back then. Nothing.

And then, somewhere along the line, I started noticing other symptoms beyond the epic screaming. She was throwing up a lot, and by "a lot," I mean two or three times after every meal, though it is important to note that some kids also have "silent" reflux, which involves little to no spitting up. She couldn't lie flat on her back without gurgling and gagging. She had a headcold that seemed to never, ever end. I noticed that the screaming almost always began after a feeding and/or after she threw up. And one day, she threw up what smelled like pure stomach acid -- I remember being shocked that it didn't burn a hole through the fabric on her bouncy seat, it was that potent. And of course, immediately afterwards, she started screaming for hours. Turning to Dr. Google, I thought maybe -- MAYBE -- some of this could be attributed to infant reflux. I hightailed our asses to the pediatrician, and later, to a pediatric GI specialist. And I got the tiniest glimmer of hope that maybe we didn't have to live like this forever. If we were very, very lucky.

And were you very, very lucky? Was it reflux? Was it colic? Can you have one without the other?

Well ... yes, to sort of everything. After several trips to the pediatrician and later, a specialist, some time to find the right medicine, etc., (I'm making it sound SO EASY, when really, it wasn't, but who cares right now), we learned that it was definitely reflux. But they also determined that colic was likely a factor. Colic, as you know, is sort of this nebulous, catch-all term for Screaming of Mystery, no matter what the origin or how it really manifests itself. So on the one hand, hooray! We had a diagnosis! And a plan of action! On the other hand, oh CRAP! One of the diagnoses was something that has no cure! And ends like, ELEVENTY MILLION WEEKS FROM NOW. (Note: it's not really eleventy million. More like at 12-14 weeks old. But try telling that to people who don't sleep. Ever.)

Tell me about the End of the Screaming and how it happened. Because it did end. (Do you hear that, Terrified Readers? IT DID END.) Gradual? Sudden?

The medicine helped. A lot. And although it didn't stop the screaming altogether, after a few weeks on the right medicine at the right dose (for reflux), the screaming sort of ... abated a little. And that's when it turned from VOLUME ELEVEN to ... something more manageable, which turned out to be the colic portion of our show. And colic alone was a piece of cake compared to what we were used to. For starters, it was only for two to three hours a day, max, which sounds like a lot, but compared to eight to 10 hours a day, we took it happily. The tone of it was also different -- yes, it was inconsolable, yes, it was frustrating, but it no longer felt like she was screaming in utter agony, the way she was with the reflux. The spitting-up also slowed down a bit, and I felt like we were getting somewhere. Eventually, a few carefully cultivated (yet still ridiculous in hindsight) soothing techniques started to work.

I remember really noticing that things had improved around 10 or 11 weeks of age. By then, we'd had at least a week or two of solid improvement, and I remember thinking that maybe life wouldn't be so stifling forever. And by 16 weeks, the screaming was gone altogether. In fact, it was at 16 weeks that she had an EXPLOSIVE scream-fest one evening that was so sudden and so unexpected that we called the pediatrician right away -- a sign that we no longer took the screaming as something she just DID, and saw it as an actual problem. And lo and behold, her medicine had to be adjusted, and all was well.

Okay, let's circle back to your emotions. How did you cope? How did you not snap, physically, mentally? Because that situation honestly sounds like a breeding ground for PPD.

Well, as I'm retelling it, it sounds so much worse AND so much better than it actually was. The dark bits weren't all-consuming, all the time -- the days were quite lovely, and she could be a cheerful baby (provided it was DAYLIGHT), and remember, for a while there, I had no idea it wasn't supposed to be this way. As the weeks wore on, however, things got ... pretty bleak. For a few weeks, she wouldn't (nay, COULDN'T) sleep anywhere but my chest. For every nap. For every night. For every. time. she. slept. Those weeks were the worst. I had to schedule my pee breaks for when my husband would be home, and I found myself scurrying madly away from her the second she woke up, depositing her in the bouncy seat and RUNNING FOR MY LIFE.

I'm not even sure how I got through it, to be honest. Surprisingly, I didn't get PPD -- I think I took on a weird sort of soldier's mentality, and I'd begun preparing for each evening the way one prepares for battle. By day, I was okay -- functioning, even, though I'm not sure how -- but when evening rolled around, I just sort of...girded my loins for the worst, and was usually rewarded with exactly that, but at least I wasn't disappointed, you know?

Talking to other people who'd been through it REALLY helped -- The New Girl, one of my best Internet friends, had almost the exact same baby, and hearing her stories of coming out of it alive and thriving, with a baby she loved and a husband she enjoyed spending time with, made me feel like I'd get through this alive. And just having someone there to say, "I KNOW. I KNOW!" who really DID know, was encouraging.

Plus -- and this is as twisted as it gets -- there was this strange sense of accomplishment at the end of a rough night. I felt ... strangely empowered, like I could survive anything. And you know, I think that's true now. I think, in a creepy way, it made me a stronger, more patient person. A better parent, even. My threshold and tolerance for discomfort when it comes to parenting is higher than I ever imagined.

If you could go back and talk to that version of yourself, the one still mired in the worst of it, what would you say? How would you try to help her?

It ends. It's impossible to believe that while you're in it, but it does end, and it ends faster than you can imagine, even though it feels like it will go on forever. But don't worry about when it ends: Take it one day -- ONE DAY -- at a time. Don't think about the coming days/weeks/months. Focus on getting through today and today only. Before you know it, your last today will be behind you, and you'll look down at your amazing, happy, non-screaming baby of your dreams and almost -- ALMOST! -- forget this ever happened. I promise.

And you know, what you're going through IS exceptionally hard and it's NOT normal, and all those people who tell you in a condescending tone that being a parent is hard, and that babies just cry? Feel free to roll your eyes directly in their face. You're not a bad mom. You ARE doing a great job, and this is as hard as it gets, and don't let anyone tell you any differently.

Put the baby down once in a while. Yes, even while she screams. Put her down in her crib or her bouncy seat, walk away and take five minutes to just breathe. She'll survive unscathed, and those five minutes will recharge you like nothing else in the world. And then? Put her in the mei tai and put in earplugs or crank up your iPod and walk around the house or bounce her on the yoga ball or hell, put your laptop on the kitchen counter and check your e-mail and just ... breathe.

Let your husband or partner take a turn and go take a bath without feeling the slightest bit of guilt. No, seriously. You don't have to do this by yourself. I don't care if he has to go to work. You have to stay out of a mental institution, and doing it alone is the quickest ticket into one.

Oh, and don't try to solve it with products. My God. We bought every bed under the sun -- the Amby! Two bassinets! A co-sleeper! A SnuggleNest! ANYTHING to get this kid to feel better and get some sleep. ANYTHING. And you know, none of them worked, and none of them were worth it. The exception: a good bouncy seat, which is a GODSEND to reflux babies, as the angle is just right for them -- a tip I learned from the beloved Alexa, another reflux mom. So keep your wallet in your pants, sister.

Finally, did I tell you that you're doing a great job, and that this isn't your fault? Well, you are. You are also a badass, because this is some seriously tough stuff -- the stuff of torturous NIGHTMARES -- and look at you! You're doing great. And when this is over, you're going to be able to handle anything. Oh, and your baby is going to be so, so happy and wonderful. And super-mellow! And you know what else? YOU ARE GOING TO WANT ANOTHER BABY. AND SO IS YOUR HUSBAND. BECAUSE LIFE IS JUST THAT AWESOME. I know! I never saw that one coming, either!

Breastfeeding: Accessories & Accoutrements

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Published 09.22.2009 | Permanent Link | Comments (38)

Jim from Sweet Juniper has a theory on newborn babies. He calls it the Sacajawea Theory. All they need is boobs. Everything else is marketing.

It's a darn fine theory, until you realize that Target now has an entire aisle dedicated to boobs and boob-related accessories. After Ezra weaned, I found that I had enough breastfeeding paraphernalia to fill an entire storage bin. Once you start thinking about the breast pumps and the spare tubing and the milk containers and nursing bras and nursing tanks and nursing pajamas and pads, creams, shields, soothing gel thingies...it's easy for breastfeeding to not really be the cheaper, simpler option.

I remember standing in that aisle at Target, fruitlessly searching through DOZENS of different Medela breast pump parts for the ONE PART I needed -- the ONE PART my dog had chewed up -- and noticing that there are now specially-formulated wipes for breastfed babies. Designed to be more extra sensitive than...extra sensitive wipes, except that they really are exactly the same, with the Vitamin E and the aloe and fragrance-free, except that they cost a little more and say the word "BREASTFED" on them, that's me! That's meeee! I'm breastfeeding! My baby's poops are SOEXTRA SPESHUL!

Oh my God, they are just pre-moistened towelettes, you guys. You are seriously allowed to just use water, if you want.

So I didn't fall prey to the wipes, but I still ended up with a TON of breastfeeding accessories. Let's do a quick inventory of some of the crap I bought:

1) Nursing pads. I grabbed the disposable Avent ones because I had a coupon and was unsure if I'd really need them. (I never leaked while nursing my first baby.) I really needed them. Or...well, I needed something better than them, something that didn't bunch up and move around and itch like crazy. Next time (HA. HAHAHAHA.), I'd pick something reusable like Lily Padzor Itzy Ritzy.

2) Nursing bras and tanks. Nursing tanks are GREAT for those very first days postpartum. I didn't have to predict a bra size, expose my stomach, OR really feel like I had to wear anything else while padding around the house. (Those stretchy sleep bras are awesome too, for nights you get engorged and need to hold nursing pads in place.) Now, of course, I'm wondering why I felt compelled to buy SO MANY of them. Same with the nursing bras. Sometime around month four or five, it finally occurred to me that I didn't HAVE to wear special bras. The baby and I had the motions down pat, my wardrobe had naturally gravitated towards nursing-friendly tops, my boobs were no longer giant engorged gazongas...I could just yank a regular bra up or down and finally ditch the full coverage bras with all the hooks and wide straps.

3) Nursing pajamas. Totally, completely unnecessary. A gimmick if I've ever seen one, as finding regular stretchy v-neck gowns and PJ tops is not that difficult, and yet I will buy a pair of soft, comfy nursing pajamas for every pregnant friend for the rest of my life. I loved, loved, LOVED them. Both babies, the first thing I did after coming home was pull on a fresh, new gown or jammie set -- supportive in the bust! forgiving in the midsection! -- and curl up in bed with my newborn. (These also have the perk of not being *just* for nursing. I still wear mine all the time, since even though they are stretchy enough to accommodate a newly-postpartum tummy, there's nothing about them that screams "maternity.") (Mine were all from Aimee, by the way.)

4) Nursing clothing. Oh, those tricky maternity stores, they don't want you to ever leave! Had the baby? No problem! Come back for your bras, your pajamas, your specially-designed clothing with hidden panels and holes and complicated wraps! I picked up a couple of shirts here and there and...eh. Good loungewear, not exactly High Fashion Central. There are gorgeous designer brands that produce some nursing pieces, but I personally never had an occasion worth the splurge -- any time I got dressed up usually involved expressed breastmilk and a babysitter. (If you DO need *nice* nursing-friendly clothing, check out Isabella Oliver.) Now, of course, this stuff is all boxed up alongside the maternity clothing.

5) Nipple care, various and sundry. So you plan to breastfeed, so you buy some Lansinoh breast cream, as is apparently required by pregnancy shopping law. Nothing against the lanolin creams -- I certainly used them by the bucketful -- but if things get bad, ditch it and get a prescription for All Purpose Nipple Ointment. Lanolin won't help heal sores and scabs, it won't provide any pain relief or protect you from infection or yeast. The APNO does, and it's worth the hassle of a pharmacy trip. Also, swap out your regular nursing pads for Soothies or another gel insert. Keep 'em in the fridge and oh, you will be so happy. (I cut the Soothies in half, since they are pricey and the disks were four times the size of my nipples. (OH HAI OVERSHARE.)

6) Nursing covers. Okay, so I didn't realize that the topic of nursing covers is actually a little controversial, with breastfeeding rights advocates bristling at the idea that we should cover up in public. I can see where they are coming from, but there's a difference between feeling like you *must* cover up...and maybe just wanting to cover up, sometimes. I didn't have a cover with Noah and he was a terribly distracted nurser and prone to nursing strikes and so I just never nursed him in public. I bought a bebe au lait cover for Ezra and I used it a lot, especially at first, while I built my confidence and got the hang of things. Pretty soon, I didn't need the cover any more, and then there came a point where using the cover seemed to draw MORE attention to us, what with his thrashing and kicking like a stuck pig underneath it. But for a few months, I was a big fan of the cover, and I kind of hate that women are made to feel like we're chickening out for using one.

7) Breast pump. I rented a hospital-grade Medela both times to help establish and boost my supply. With Noah, I kept the rental until he weaned (five months or so) because my boobs would NOT respond to anything else -- particularly not the laughable Avent Isis hand pump I'd inexplicably registered for. With Ezra, I returned the rental after a month and bought a Pump-in-Style from my lactation consultant, once it was clear that things were going a little better for me the second time around. No revolutionary insights from me: It is indeed a fine little electric pump. Served its duties well. Perhaps I shall use it again some day.

8) Breastmilk storage. Besides the plastic containers that came with the pump, I bought some Medela freezer bags. They were cheap (though hardly environmentally friendly) and stored nice and flat and were easy to label. I can't entirely rave about them because Ezra frequently turned up his nose at thawed breastmilk. Was it lipase? Our freezer? The bags? Not sure. I was *THISCLOSE* to buying the MilkBank Vacuum system when my supply regulated to such a degree that I couldn't pump much extra milk at all -- whatever I did pump either ended up mixed in with his cereal or given to him before it hit the freezer. So I'd be interested in hearing about other people's experiences with different storage systems.

When You're Not Going Back

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Published 09.14.2009 | Permanent Link | Comments (17)

Okay. So I've been reading up on this topic for a couple weeks now. It's an annoying topic to read up on, by the way, because there are no super-handy definitive how-to guides or even just a general consensus. There's a lot of bad advice and bad behavior and sweeping generalized vitriol being slung at innocent pregnant bystanders BECAUSE of that bad behavior. Mostly, though, it's a lot of families grappling with a complicated financial AND ethical AND personal issue: When do I tell my boss I'm not coming back to work? When do I make the decision not to go back to work? HOW do I make the decision not to go back to work?

PERFECT WORLD OPTION: You tell them as soon as you know you plan to stay home, with as much advance notice as possible. Because of course you just *know* that staying home is the right decision, probably right as your pregnancy tips into third trimester, leaving your employer with the perfect three-month window to hire and train your replacement.

Pros: Definitely the option that leaves your professional reputation most intact, since you will not be one of "those" pregnant women who take advantage of the company's leave benefits. And also, OH YEAH, you're not actually taking advantage of the company's leave benefits.

Cons: You may lose out on ANY paid maternity leave benefits, as your baby's birth would likely officially be your last day of employment, unless you arrange some part-time/freelance work afterward to tie up loose ends. You also run the risk of losing your health insurance, if the company decides to let you go ahead of time. (They can't fire you for being pregnant, but they CAN lay you off once you've announced your intention to leave.) That can leave you shelling out a fortune for COBRA or having to change plans and providers in the middle of a very medical-claim intensive time. This could cause some premature financial hardship, or the fear that you're burning your bridges BEFORE you cross them, especially if your situation changes after the baby is born (i.e. your partner loses their job and/or health insurance or some other financial crisis). And also, OH YEAH, not every woman can honestly make the decision "for sure" before the baby arrives.

Is It For You? If you have already made up your mind 100% to stay home, then legally and ethically, this is your option. Anything else veers into a muddy gray area of insurance scamming -- not to mention mega-unprofessional behavior. If you KNOW, your job should should know too. (And if you're hoping to keep the door open for freelance work or a return to the workforce some day, this is the best way to keep your company's trust.)

At my office, my boss asked for a meeting about two months before I was due to "discuss my plans." While I was planning to return to work, this would have been the perfect time to volunteer any plans to stay home (or desire to drop to part-time). Then I could have laid out some major projects and goals from my to-do list that I would like to finish, and offered to interview and train a replacement, positioning myself as a valuable team member for the next few months, greatly reducing the chances that they would have preemptively laid me off right then and there.

NOT-SO-PERFECT-WORLD OPTION: Tell them while you're still on leave that you won't be coming back as planned.

Pros: Benefits! Paid time off! No disruption in your health care through the birth and multiple well-baby visits! A chance to actually live the life of a SAHM before committing to it full-time! Plus, if you really hadn't made up your mind, you're not REALLY leaving them in the lurch and defrauding the system, right? Right?

Cons: Professional ire, disbelief at your claim that you simply changed your mind. Adding to the crap about pregnant women gaming the system and raising benefit premiums and no respect for their bosses and coworkers grumble grumble. Possibility of having to pay benefits back or even legal action, if your company is litigious or extremely strict about their leave policies.

Is It For You? Have you made up your mind for sure? Then: No. Maternity leave is, really, more of a retention benefit. It's not something they owe you, like a bank of unused vacation days. It's designed for women who DO plan to return to the workplace (however crappy of a design it is in this country).

But if you haven't made up your mind, you're not a terrible person for keeping the option of returning around. It's a HUGE decision -- life-changing, with life-long repercussions for your career and earnings power and retirement -- and I'm not sure the third trimester, before the reality of motherhood really hits you, is a fair time to expect every woman to know for sure. Plenty of women change their minds during maternity leave.

However, this is still different than say...waiting until week 11-and-a-half to tell them you aren't coming back. You should always, ALWAYS try to give them as much notice as you possibly can. Otherwise you're veering into a moral, ethical and legal gray area. It's also short-sighted to assume that you will be a SAHM forever and ever AMEN, and will never regret robbing your bridges at gunpoint before setting them on fire.

Internet message boards are full of people figuring out how to squeeze every last paid option before quitting, while others argue that hey, that's really not cool. Any discussion of a maternity leave overhaul in this country -- having companies provide longer leave, more generous leave times in hopes of upping retention -- brings out the folk who have a bitter story to tell about how a woman totally screwed their office over with her sneaky leave-taking when she clearly never had any intention of returning. Hey, I've got one of those stories too: A friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend of mine worked for a particularly troubled company that shuddered through round after round of layoffs. Late in her pregnancy, she was offered a severance package in order to save someone else's job, on the off chance she was planning to quit anyway. She turned it down, kept her job, went on leave...and then quit right before her scheduled return, as was her plan all along.

HOWEVER, of course, real life rarely sticks to schedule. If your baby was a preemie, or has health problems, or you were on bedrest and it all mucked with your leave time and nothing is what you expected it to be like six to 12 weeks later, then you may not have a choice. Similarly if your daycare falls through or your baby still won't take a bottle or your office announces it's moving four exits up your area's most congested highway.

If you do decide to stay home AFTER your baby is born: quit in person, with your HR person and your boss present. Offer to do WHATEVER YOU CAN to help with the transition -- working from home, coming in for interviews and meetings, organizing your files and to-do lists and job description. Anything to offset the perception of being all, "Thanks for the money, suckers!" before flouncing out the door.

I probably promised a good 25 different people on a good 25 different occasions that yes, I would be coming back to work after my leave. I don't think they believed me. So it was tempting to assume that quitting as soon as the short-term disability payments dried up was an okay option, because it's just "what everybody did." And despite all my promises, I WAS unsure about the decision. We were waitlisted at half a dozen daycares with no sure-fire spot in sight. I didn't know whether my salary would be worth the expense of childcare and commuting and even whether I was honestly all that interested in my job anymore, as freelance writing opportunities seemed like something possibly within my grasp. But I also didn't know if I'd like being home with a newborn day in and day out, whether I'd be breastfeeding or bottlefeeding or suffering from PPD or so madly in love with motherhood that I was willing to do whatever it took to soak up every second of it. I just wasn't ready to make the decision before the baby was born or even during my leave -- so I went back. Because I'd promised, and because I wasn't sure. A few months in and suddenly I was sure. Luckily, by that point, maternity leave benefits were a thing of the past, and I was able to quit like any other employee: two weeks' notice, letter of resignation, a contract arrangement to continue a slew of my duties from home until a replacement could be found and/or I was no longer interested in the work.

It remains the best -- and BY FAR, the toughest -- decision I've ever made.

Those of you who genuinely grappled with the decision of whether or not to return: What were the details behind YOUR decision, when and how did you tell your job, and how did it go? Any regrets? Anybody do anything as remotely awesome as this?

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Who Needs Sleep?

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Published 09.08.2009 | Permanent Link | Comments (21)

Photo by vmiramontes

Sleep deprivation. The granddaddy of postpartum horror stories. The stuff of third-trimester nightmares. Nightmares you had AT NIGHT, WHILE YOU WERE SLEEPING. YOU LUCKY, LUCKY WOMAN. How bad will it be? How long will it last? How will you cope?

I get asked these questions a lot. And sometimes I've shrugged them off as One Of Those Things. You just get through it however you get through it. You just do it because you have to do it.

That isn't really the right answer. I blame the sleep deprivation!

All jokes and knowing nods aside, a new mother's lack of sleep is serious business. It's not just learning the ropes and a rite of passage into motherhood, an introduction to the new normal: your needs are demoted to second- or third-place forever and ever, suck it up, amen.

So sleep experts have this theory about a "sleep debt." You have one bad night of restless sleep or a car alarm goes off at 5 am. You either make up for the lost sleep with a nap or by going to bed early, or you add those missing hours to your sleep debt, carrying it (and possibly adding to it) night after night. If you fail to make up for the sleep or your sleep debt gets too big after too many bad nights or late bedtimes, you get rundown and sick.

So that whole annoying thing people do to you during pregnancy? Saying crap like "oh, ho ho ho, get your sleep now while you still can!" Right before you ran them over with your car because you were bloated and cranky and couldn't sleep because you had to pee four times a night and your sciatica and your heartburn and THANKS FOR THE TIP, MORON. Yeah, technically, sleep experts do recommend that expectant parents get extra sleep to bank against the coming sleep debt. I had no idea that was even possible -- it's like saving up for a down payment before taking on a mortgage. I still think it sounds fishy -- I got a decent amount of sleep before Ezra was born, but OH MY LANDS, the sleep deprivation still hit me plenty hard. (I was writing POETRY about it, people. Using train metaphors. Clearly, I was really freaking tired.) I also came down with every preschool or workplace bug that Noah and Jason brought home. Colds, sinus infections, ear infections, double-ear-infections-that-leaked-out-my-eyeballs, one right after another.

Two reasons: I did not take naps, and I did not let anyone else feed the baby.

The nap thing, well, that was just stupid. My mother-in-law constantly told me to go take a nap. She had the baby, Noah was fine, GO NAP. And I would nod and go upstairs...with my laptop. I would blog, email, organize photos, check in on work-related stuff even though I was technically on leave (Shout-out thanks to all the wonderful bloggers who filled-in during maternity leave). I would play a casual web game and congratulate myself on taking a break.

What I should have done: closed the blinds and the door, tossed a t-shirt over the clock and taken a lousy nap. They're not really my thing -- 30 minutes here and there will sometimes leave me bleary and grumpy afterward, but if I was going to insist on being the sole on-call night-feeding parent at night, I should have made more of an effort to get just a little extra sleep during the day.

By the time I realized this, that the nights were getting shorter and more broken up and Ezra was sleeping in tiny, unpredictable fits pretty much round the clock, my in-laws were gone and I had no one urging me to take a nap.

(By the way: Look. Not to be mean and bitter here, but. Brand-new newborns sleep a LOT. Hours and hours, even! Many of them will even sleep "through the night." You'll feel all kinds of smug about how much they sleep -- it's amazing! we're getting so much more sleep than we thought! we're the greatest new parents in the world! It's not going to last. Do you hear me? IT'S NOT GOING TO LAST. At some point they sort of realize they're alive and there's stuff too look at and mmm, where's that milk stuff I was drinking? That was good. I think I would like some more. RAWWRRRSQUAWK EH EH EH. In other words, don't stay up late watching some Amazing Race marathon on cable because your baby slept until 9 am the previous morning and you think he'll do it again. Go to bed, get your rest.)

As for the nighttime feedings, co-sleeping and side-nursing helped. (Ezra was too small, or something, for me to nurse while on my side for the first couple weeks, but after that we got the hang of it, so keep trying, even if it doesn't seem to work at first.) I know I would have gotten a LOT less sleep if he was in his crib down the hall (the retrieval process would have woken me up more fully than simply reaching down to shove a boob in his mouth), or even in a bassinet in our room (I would have jerked awake at every sigh and snuffle, anticipating his waking -- knowing he was RIGHT THERE actually helped me sleep through the noises and squirming). But it's not for everybody, I know. Make sure your partner helps you at night. If Ezra wasn't in our bed, Jason was in charge of retrieving him. After I would nurse I would often hand him over for Jason to burp and change his diaper. Invest in a really comfortable reclining rocker for the nursery -- something you can sleep in, if you have to. Drag a twin mattress in there, keep measured-out formula and filtered water on your nightstand, whatever you need to do to cram in even 20 minutes of semi-half-sleep.

And look: breastfeeding is awesome. Breastfeeding exclusively is a lofty, ambitious goal. It can be done, of course, and the benefits are fantastic. But there are costs, and you're the only one who will pay them, unfortunately. Don't get too far into debt, particularly for sleep. If you need a break, if you need one feeding, one night, one uninterrupted chunk of sleep, let the baby take a bottle. I repeat: it is not the end of the world if you let the baby take a bottle.

You. Need. Sleep. And we're all different, with our different tolerances for sleep deprivation and just how many hours we need. My husband can operate on a crazy-low number of hours and always has. I'm an 8-hour person. I consistently get less than that, I get foggy, irritable, absent-minded. I get headaches and forget important details. Like, you know, buckling the baby's carseat, or locking myself out of the house with my preschooler inside. It's not good. It's not safe. It's not taking the best care of my children.

Sleep deprivation in new mothers has a HUGE impact on potential postpartum depression. The higher your sleep debt, the higher your risk for PPD or postpartum psychosis. (And also, weirdly, it can determine whether you shed or retain the pregnancy weight. Women who sleep less than five hours a day for the first six months will generally be 11 pounds heavier by the baby's first birthday than women who sleep seven hours a day.) It's serious, okay? You aren't being selfish or whiny or failing at motherhood. It doesn't matter if three hours a night doesn't bother some mothers who are gunning for some non-existent Motherhood Martyrdom Award. If you feel yourself plummeting into a Bad Dark Tired Place, ask for help. Ask for sleep.

And know that it won't always be like this. It will get better. Every baby is different, of course, but you'll find something that works. A good bedtime routine, a sleep-training approach, a magical musical box that does the trick, or even just a set nap time every day for both of you. And when your friends send you desperate-sounding emails asking you how you coped with the sleep thing, hopefully it will all be such a distant, fuzzy memory that you will shrug and tell them that you just get through it when you get through it, because hey, you did.

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The End of a (Maternity Leave) Era

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Published 09.01.2009 | Permanent Link | Comments (15)

At some point after your baby was born -- you don't remember exactly when, it was hazy -- you called or emailed somebody at work to let them know the details, and along with their congratulations you also received a date. A return date. Six, eight, twelve weeks in the future, maybe more, if you're lucky (please don't rub it in, CANADA). You probably didn't even think much about the date at the time -- oh God, who could possibly think about going back to work while stitches are healing and boobs are leaking and at best you have only a vague-ish sense of what day it is.

And then. The date creeps closer and closer. Until it's uncomfortably close. Maybe you're excited to return to your old life, outside of burp rags and bathrobes. Maybe you're upset but don't see that you have much of a choice. Maybe you're conflicted and unsure about how you really feel.

The whole end-of-maternity-leave topic has so many sub-topics that I highly doubt this will be my only column on the issue, but for today let's stick to the simplest (haaaa! ha ha haaaaaaaa!) scenario: maternity leave is up, you go back to work, the end.

I went back to work when Noah was 12 weeks old. On my birthday, and I felt incredibly sorry for myself about that, but I was out of vacation and personal days so I didn't even mention it to anyone. My "easing in" plan involved a couple half-days before New Year's Day, and then boom. Back at full-time right after that. And let me tell you: I did not want to go back. Like, my objections to the whole thing were violent. I was jealous of anyone who didn't have to go back to work AND of anyone who truly wanted to go back to work, because either option sounded a hell of a lot better than crying in the daycare parking lot every morning because I couldn't bear to leave mah baaaayyybeeeee.

But you know what? I'm so glad I had to do that. I'm gladder that I didn't have to KEEP doing that, don't get me wrong, but still. I think I always would have wondered, if I'd just quit my job while still on maternity leave and never at least tried the work-outside-the-home thing. You ladies have my utmost admiration, because that is HARD. Not just on the heart and baaaayyybeeeeee hysterics, but just...fundamentally, logistically hard. I mean, I think every option (SAHM, WAHM, etc.) is hard, and we're all probably better suited to one option than another. I was a lousy WOHM. Someday I'm sure I'll do it again and probably be thrilled about it (look at meeee! I'm leaving the house! I'm talking to other grown-ups! I'm valued for skills beyond my ability to portray myself as a jackass on the Internet!), but at the time, it was not a good fit. I'm still glad I tried it on, though, for a little while.

A few things I learned and/or would do differently, if I had to go back and do it again:

1. Revisit all the daycare centers you're considering before making your final decision. We got on a slew of waitlists while I was pregnant, and while I called them all after Noah was born to find out our chances of getting a spot, I basically picked the first one that said they had a definite opening and handed over a non-refundable deposit before really thinking about it. This was a panicked move, and I later regretted it. The center was fine and all, but it wasn't ideal for a lot of reasons and I think if we'd taken the time to revisit a few of the centers AFTER Noah was born, we would have seen those reasons. Three months' pregnant vs. actual three-month-old baby. Our perspective and priorities changed a lot.

2. Speaking of daycare, pick one that is central for both you AND your partner. We made the huge mistake of going with a center close to my job (i.e. nowhere close to our house or Jason's job). I wanted to be close enough to nurse him during the day. Of course, I barely had time to pump at work, much less get in the car and drive even 10 minutes down the road to nurse and then drive back. And then Noah weaned a month later anyway. But I was stuck being the sole parent who could drop him off and pick him up. If he was sick, I lost the time at work. If I was sick, I either had to drive 20 minutes up and 20 minutes back just to have a couple hours of a sick day to myself (still a luxury, of course, considering I get zero sick hours while working at home). But I think the geographical mistake of our daycare contributed heavily to my stress and dissatisfaction levels.

3. Treat yourself to some nice work clothes that FIT. Look, if you're going back at 12 weeks or earlier, your old wardrobe might not fit. (My wardrobe consisted of tailored suits -- not very forgiving to a little post-baby paunch or even a couple extra pounds.) I didn't spend a fortune on "fat clothes" or anything, but I did hit up a suiting event at a local store and bought some nice well-fitting clothes for my first days back. Hearing my coworkers compliment me -- even on something silly like a new blazer -- was a huge confidence booster. I didn't exactly feel like the pulled-together businesswoman at the time, but dammit, I was going to dress the part.

4. Know your pumping rights and options. It's a good idea to talk to your job BEFORE you go back to make sure that you will indeed be provided with a place to pump (that is NOT the bathroom, no thank you), and that your boss is aware (and comfortable) with your pumping schedule. I was lucky -- I had a private office. But two weeks before I went back I called our operations manager and asked him to install a lock on my door. Then I called back to ensure that it had been done. The pumping schedule thing can be tricky if you're hourly (non-exempt), but you are entitled to breaks. Either way, it's also a good idea to investigate the laws of your state -- if there are special provisions for pumping mothers, or other rules governing breaks -- in case you are met with complaints or resistance or roadblocks from a jerkwad boss. (Your lactation consultant, LLL chapter or Department of Labor's website are good places to start.) See more below.

5. Ease in, if at all possible. My two or three half-days? Before starting back full-time, 40+ hours a week? So not enough. I should have spoken up and tried to negotiate something a little gentler -- working from home, coming back part-time, even if it meant a little less money. I was just not up to it, physically (so. very. tired.) or emotionally (that pesky little undiagnosed postpartum anxiety disorder was RAGING right around 12 weeks). For some reason I thought that because other women came back to work full-time at 12 weeks just fine, there was no reason why I would have a problem with it. Not only did I need time to just get accustomed to the craziness of getting up and out of the house on time WITH AN INFANT, OH MY GOD, I just wasn't firing on all cylinders. My job wasn't quite like riding a bike, it turned out.

Oh, and let's call this an unofficial number six (my numbered-list OCD won't let me actually post six items): ignore anybody and everybody who doesn't agree with your decision to go back to work. (It can be hard, I know. I...uh...got a lot of this, from family and anonymous Internet people and even my coworkers.) In fact, that's all I'm even going to say about it. Mommy War Peace Zone, RIGHT HERE.

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Amalah is currently on vacation and this article was written before news of the Totes/Isotoner Pumping case-- where a pumping mom was fired for pumping breaks (for shame!)-- hit the wires on Friday.

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Special Contest: Our friends at bTrendie, the sales event site (selling some of our fave brands like Ed Hardy, CloudB, Morgan & Milo shoes, and Tea at up to a 60% DISCOUNT), are giving one lucky reader a chance to win a Caden Lane nursery gift package (crib bedding, diaper bag & burp cloths... perfect for an expecting or new parent) worth over $500. Enter to win through this link until October 1.