The Snarky Sign in My Body's Office

I'm sure you've seen those slightly snarky and oh-so-true signs in many offices.

They read like this:

• Fast
• Good
• Cheap

Pick two.

Well, if my body had an office, its sign would read like this:

• Run 7-12 miles per week.
• Make enough milk to breastfeed.
• Lose weight.

Pick two.

Right now I'm going with the first two.

With all of this running, I've expected this baby weight to just fall off. No such luck. I'm still holding steady at 160, about 20 pounds above my pre-baby weight. When I've both run and cut calories in an effort to lose weight, my milk supply has diminished and made breastfeeding difficult. And Peanut's too little to be dieting.

So....

I'm not complaining, really, because Hello, Heather! Your body can run 7-12 miles per week! You're successfully breastfeeding your fifth gorgeous child! Nothing to complain about there.

Mostly, I'm just finding it interesting. I've always had difficulty losing weight while breastfeeding, at least for the first year when my babies get most of their nourishment from me. This isn't new. But, the running is new and I thought it might make a difference. Nope.

And can I just say that the running is rocking? 4.31 miles today in 55 minutes.

I just love endorphins.

Rites of Passage

After almost ten years as a mother I once again feel thoroughly initiated.

This weekend I suffered through a severe bout of mastitis -- fever up to 105 degrees, uncontrollable shaking, headache, body aches, chills. Oh, and my right breast had a lump the size of a ping-pong ball and was hot, red, angry, swollen and painful.

You know the last time I had mastitis? Either it wasn't very severe or it wasn't mastitis because it most certainly wasn't this.

So, last night I went to the doctor to get antibiotics. I would have gone on Saturday in hopes of getting relief sooner, but I was too sick to go to the doctor! If it hadn't been the weekend I probably would have just called my midwives office to have them phone in a prescription. Saturday was one of those days that I wished doctors still did house calls.

So, a visit to the Instacare at 8pm Sunday was my best solution at the moment. It was rather an amusing visit. The doctor who happened to treat me seemed very embarrassed. He took my word for it and trusted from my description of the symptoms that it was, indeed, mastitis. He had a very difficult time saying the word "breast". I had a very difficult time not laughing at him. Though I did have a good laugh on the way home.

I now have a prescription ready to go, but I'm not sure if I will fill it. This morning I feel much better and after hot compresses with mullein, garlic, peppermint and goldenseal the pain in my breast has subsided almost completely. The lump is now much, much smaller. The redness is going away. So, I think I'll watch and wait for a few more hours and fill the prescription if I don't see continued improvement.

These rites of passage are an interesting thing. And I find that I learn as much or more from the difficult ones as I do from the more positive ones. If nothing else, I am always so grateful for compassion I learn for others when I go through my own sets of difficulties, no matter how small they are.

I am sensing that there is another rite of passage coming quickly for Coco and I -- weaning. Now, to the staff at the instacare last night who looked at me cock-eyed when I told them I was still nursing my 14 month old, this may not seem like anything unusual. But to me, who believes that it is perfectly normal, even desirable, to breastfeed for the first two years it feels like premature weaning. I recognize that mine is the unconventional view -- that most mothers have weaned long before now without a backward glance -- but I've always allowed my children to self-wean and I think it has turned out nicely for us.

Still I am sensing it is time for us. For many reasons breastfeeding is no longer a mutually pleasant and positive thing. I'm feeling my way through this, but think it may be time to make the break. We shall see how it goes.

Mastitis and Other Updates

Thank you all so much for your well wishes and love! Also, thanks for the advice and suggestions. I will have many more ideas to draw on next time. Hopefully there won't be a next time, but at least I'll be ready.

Thankfully it did not progress to full-blown, fevered mastitis. I had the warm, swollen, burning, painful breast. And the nausea and body aches and fatigue. But no fever.

So, Coco and I slept a lot and nursed a lot and I drank a lot of water and took lots of warm baths. By Saturday afternoon I was feeling pretty much back to normal. Thank goodness.

Again, thank you all so much.

So, Saturday afternoon I had the chance to go to my sister-in-law Jamie's surprise party. I just love this woman. She is the one on the far right of the picture above. So much of the good that I am has come from knowing her. She so effortlessly loves and lifts and blesses others. She is loyal and kind. She is so smart about so many things and knows how to work hard. Add to this the fact that she's beautiful, hilarious and just plain fun to be around. She also has such an amazing testimony of our Savior and such a graceful way of always trying to be more like him. Now don't you wish she were your sister in law?

The other woman in the picture (the one in the middle with the pigtails) is my sister-in-law Trishelle. I met Trishelle when I was fourteen years old. She is actually the one who introduced me to my husband and I would be obligated to love her if that were the only good thing she'd ever done. But, she is also just so wonderful. She is beauty and light and love. She is one of the most joyful, exuberant people I have ever known. But she is also so good to help others, mindful to their needs and always willing to do what she can. She is an amazing mother, wonderful with all children and has that rare gift of being able to see good in every person and every thing. She also is a great example of faith and helps everyone around to be a better person. Again, aren't I lucky. I've said before that marrying into JDub's family has been fun because of all the brothers I get to have. I am equally honored and grateful to have such wonderful sisters. I have two other marvelous sisters that I should blog about sometime soon also. I just had this picture...

Back to the update...

After the party, we stayed at Trish's house to watch Transformers. As we were getting kids settled down and dinner made, JDub's younger brother opened the oven with Coco right by it. Coco did what any curious, walking 10 month old would do. He walked right up to the oven and put his hand on the inside of the oven door. His poor little left hand is now covered in blisters.

He was very, very upset that night, but after we got him taken care of and calmed down he slept through the night. It hasn't seemed to bother him too much since. We are, of course, keeping a close eye on it and slathering it with aloe.

So, that was my last few days. How were yours?

P.S. Jamie, I hope you don't mind that I stole your picture and your idea. I saw your blog and just couldn't help copying you. :)

Brushes With Murphy

Murphy's Law: Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.

Murphy, you rascal, I love to hate you. You keep popping into my life lately and mixing things up. I'd punch you in the nose and kick you out the door, but then the party wouldn't be nearly as interesting. Would it?

Here are the appearances you've made in my life this week:

• On Monday night I got a call and was told that I needed to rush over and intervene in a fight between two friends. I knew it was urgent, but at that moment Coco needed to be fed. So, being the good Mommy I am, I fed him first.
• I got there in time to be somewhat helpful, but not before the police got there and charged one of the parties with a simple assault. Ironically, they chose to cite the one on crutches who could barely move. Interesting choice, but I wasn't there for the real fireworks so who am I to judge? Murphy, you must love me. My life is never this interesting.
• After getting there I listened to one person rage and yell and then sat on the bathroom floor to listen while the other person cried. And I felt awfully guilty for not getting there sooner and smoothing things out better. Then I realized that these were their choices, not mine. Whether I'd been there earlier or not, I simply did not have to feel guilty over the consequences of someone else's decisions. You almost got me there, buddy.
• Because I was away from home for the better part of Monday night, JDub was left to take care of Coco. Now, I usually nurse him to sleep (Coco, not JDub) and then bring him to bed with me. We're big cosleeping proponents around here. But, I've also been feeling that it's time for Coco to learn how to sleep in his crib. Because I was gone, JDub decided to put him in his crib and let him sleep there. He whimpered a bit, didn't cry frantically like I'd been worried he would if we didn't ease him into the crib-sleeping-gig. And he slept until 6am! On his own! Yay for Coco!
• Here's where you come in, Murph. I woke up with Triple D, rock hard breasts that were screaming in pain. I guess going from three or four night feedings to none will do that. I was very grateful to be able to feed Coco that morning. He smiled and cooed at me and ate happily.
• Then, he projectile vomited all over both of us. I guess you can get too much of a good thing.
• Oh yes, back to Monday. I paid the very last payment on our van. As soon as we get the title in the mail, it is officially ours. Hooray!
• So, on Tuesday I went on a field trip with Mashuga's preschool class. Guess what happened? Really, can you guess? We got done, got all of the kids strapped into our car and it wouldn't start. Nada. Nothin' doin'. Thankfully, though, it was just a dead battery and we were able to jump start it right up.
• Then, that afternoon I was racing out the door at 3:20 to pick up kids. I had lost track of time as I am wont to do. (I can just hear JDub in my head. "The kids get out of school at 3:15? Really? Just like yesterday? When did this happen?") I rushed to get the little boys in their car seats and guess what? Nothing. Not a beep. So, we jump started it. Again.
• We showed up at my sister-in-law's house to pick up the kids an hour late. It really wasn't a problem, especially since she's the angel woman she is. We got Kaitybean to her last soccer game. Late, but there.
• Wednesday went off pretty smoothly. Oh, wait. No it didn't. We went to the gym to workout, Coco and Mashuga and I. We got there at 10am and the Kids' Club (daycare) was full. Not a problem. We walked to a nearby grocery store and got a few things. Then, we went back at 10:30, waited in a line for about 5 people to pick up their children and FINALLY got Mashuga and Coco in.
• I went upstairs to lift weights. I hadn't been working out for more than 10 minutes when I hear over the loudspeaker: "Attention members and guests, could Heather please come to the Kids' Club?" So, I went in. Coco was crying his sweet little heart out. I took him, fed him in the locker room and then dropped him back off with the nice ladies in the Kids' Club. I finished my workout and had time for a shower, even.
  
• That afternoon, after getting kids home from school, Kaitybean to and from ballet and Scud dropped off at football practice, I got a call from JDub. He had a flat tire on his bike and could I please come get him. Of course. We drove for fifteeen minutes before we saw him (handsome as could be) walking along the side of the road with his bicycle. Loaded it in and after being yelled at and honked at several times for being audacious enough to use the shoulder of the road, headed back home. I dropped JDub, Mashuga and Coco off and turned right around to pick Scud up from football practice.
• On Wednesday night I mentioned to JDub that we needed to do something about our TV. The stand we have it on isn't very sturdy and I was worried that one of our kids might pull it down on themselves. He agreed.
  
• So, at 7:30 on Wednesday morning I was downstairs doing laundry and heard a HUGE thud. Scud ran down to me to tell me that he'd managed to pull the television down on himself. I went upstairs to pick it up and the screen was flashing all sorts of shades of yellow, red and orange. The AV cables had broken off so that the prongs were stuck inside the TV.
  
• We cleaned up the mess and still managed to get Scud to school early. (JDub and Kaitybean take the bus to school really early on Thursday mornings so that Kaitybean can go to choir at 7:20.) We then went to the gym for yoga class, something I look forward to all week. We pulled in to a spot right in the front of the gym, walked in and SURPRISE! there was room for my boys in the Kids' Club. Woohoo! So, I got right in and thoroughly enjoyed yoga until someone came in 10 minutes before the end of class and told me to come to the Kids' Club. Coco, again, was crying. So, I signed him out and brought him in to yoga with me, only to find out that babies are not allowed in class. Oops. Not a problem.
• So, that afternoon, I took Mashuga to dance class. I got his dance shoes and realized that, once again, I forgot to buy shoe glue to fix his ballet shoes. The soles are falling off. No problem. I duct taped them on for now and will get shoe glue by next week. If I remember. It was not a fun dance day. Mashuga was tired and had a very difficult time listening to his teachers and being nice to all of the little girls in their cute pink leotards.
• After dance, we picked Scud and Kaitybean up from my SIL's house again. It was a comedy of errors trying to get them all in the car. I'd just get Mashuga rounded up and Kaitybean would disappear, then vice versa. So, we got home at 5:10 and had to leave by 5:20 to get Scud to his football game in time. Needless to say, Scud was late. But, we got him there. And it was a fun game to watch. Sadly, I couldn't get in touch with JDub to have him meet us and watch the game with us. Just as I was trying to call him the third time, my phone died. Which also meant that we couldn't order pizza to pick up after the game.
  
• So, I drove home, ordered pizza. Waited for 45 minutes to go pick it up and it wasn't done when I got there. I got home at about 8:30 and we all ate pizza and went to bed.
• Then, this morning, Coco (who has continued to sleep in his crib all week, hooray!) woke up at 5am and wouldn't go back to sleep. He finally fell asleep at around 6:30 and I decided that I'd join him for a little nap before I had to wake kids up for school. The next thing I know, Kaitybean is standing at the side of my bed, fully dressed and telling me it's 7:50 already. Aaaargh! We were late for school once again.

Do you want to know the funny thing about this week, though, Murphy my friend? All of the above may sound like complaining. It has been a truly nutty week. But, I am just so grateful for the gifts this week has given me.

• I was able to learn much from Monday night's situation. I grew closer to someone I haven't had much of a chance to get to know well.
  
• I was able to realize just what a treasure I have in my husband. He is my best friend. He treats me with kindness and respect. He is patient with me. He is unselfish and always trying to do what he can to make my life easier, to make me happier. We have learned through the last decade to work together, to communicate and to put our love for one another before anything else.
• Coco learned to sleep in his crib! I have had four uninterrupted nights of sleep in a row. This morning's sleep ended earlier than I would have liked and I probably should have just stayed up, but I still got to sleep for 6 hours without being woken up.
• My body has very quickly adjusted to Coco's new eating schedule and needs. What a miracle breastfeeding is! I am so grateful that it works so perfectly to meet his needs.
• I have a vehicle that gets us all over -- school, football, dance, soccer, football. We've had it since 2002. It has driven 220 thousand miles and the only issue we have with it right now is either a dying battery or an alternator that might not be working properly. Small potatoes, don't you think?
• I'm grateful to have family close and especially thankful for angel sisters and sisters-in-law.
• I'm grateful for a cool husband who was able to take the TV apart last night and get it working again. How awesome is he? Also, so grateful that we're not all that dependent on TV. We just don't watch it that much anymore.
  
• I have four beautiful, wonderful children and the means to allow them to play sports, participate in dance and choir and such. Playing taxi is a sacrifice, but how can I pity myself when I am so very blessed by such wonderful people to play taxi for.
• Thanks to my regular yoga practice, I am feeling my body grow firmer, stronger, looser. My mind and spirit are growing along with my body. I am more joyful, more peaceful, calmer. So, I missed ten minutes of a yoga class. So, what?
• I have one of the most amazingly beautiful and wonderful babies I could even imagine. He is such a sweetheart. And if he needs his mommy right now, rather than being able to be in the gym's daycare I understand. He is doing big things right now. Learning to sleep in a crib. He just finished getting two more teeth. He is learning to walk by himself and walking 10 or more steps at a time without holding onto anything. I'm so glad that I'm the lucky mom who gets to be there as his safe haven, the comfort he needs in order to have the strength to take on the world.
  
• And I am so grateful for a gym I love, at a price I can afford and with a phenomenal daycare that I can take my children to while I take some time for me. I can wait my turn for the Kid's club.
• I told Kaitybean last night that she would need to wake up early to finish her homework. And she did, without me even needing to get out of bed. How cool is that?

So, Murphy, this is why I love to hate you. You think you're wreaking havoc in my life, but I know better. This nutsiness and difficulty is what life is all about. And if the highs are this high, I'll take any lows you want to throw at me. Bring it on.

Working Toward Beautiful

The bleach has not made it out of the closet yet, even though everyone is back to normal now. (Well, Scud's nose may still be broken, but...) As happens often, my poet self has subjected my housecleaning self to her will. If only I could spin the magic of a lovely, clean house in words. Trust me, people would be begging to tour my home at all hours. :) If I could learn to give my full attention and joy to my home the way I give it to my poetry, life would be different around here. But, alas, I must embrace the gifts I have and hope to continue developing other abilities.

The mop bucket really will find its way out of hiding today.

Promise.

For now, I want to share something I wrote today. It is long. It's rough, but it made me feel happy and wriggly and light. I hope it does the same for you.

Working Toward Beautiful

I was never that kind of pageant girl.
My mother didn't cake my face with makeup
or dress me like a Vegas show girl
at five years old.
But I do remember standing in the hall,
playing fives with Daddy
just before I pranced onto the stage
in the ballroom of the Marriott.

And I can still recall
growing up surrounded
by What gorgeous eyes she has.
and What a pretty little girl.
Thank heaven for my mother
who cocooned me in gentle reminders.
What matters it that you're beautiful inside.
What matters is how you treat people.
And my vanity was kept in check.
Until I turned fourteen
and I was very vain.

But soon I knew.

I didn't want to be a vase
beautiful to look at but mostly pointless
if not graced by flowers
of kindness, knowledge,
strength, serenity.

And so I spurn the pages of Glamour,
dismiss the beauty tips in Vogue
and look for a higher paradigm of loveliness.

Like Doris, who once told me
I am grateful for the life I've lived,
words that didn't need to be uttered.
They were written in the stillness of her blue eyes
and in the skin around them
carved through, like clay,
with rivulets of joy and pain.

And gentle Clara, crowned by snow white hair,
her blessed hands bear the spots of age.
Her fingers are bent, spindly,
a testament to tireless hours,
holding fourteen children,
kneading bread dough with love,
wisely canning peaches.
I'm sure those hands have dried a million tears.

And Linda, whose carriage calls out volumes
about loving the moment,
feeling satisfied with what is.
Her deep voice lulls and comforts,
each word singing songs
of compassion and understanding.

These women know secrets
that beauty editors will never tell.

So now I stand,
staring at my reflection in a stolen moment,
making peace
learning to love
a waist gone soft,
and hips spread wide,
stretch marks running over all
like lines of a map
showing the journey I've taken
giving life to four souls,
loving and losing an angel.
Breasts no longer firm and buoyant,
but hanging low and soft
from years of tender service
as babes grew to children.
I smile at the silver
streaking liberally
through waves of mahogany.
Squinting, I search for wrinkles
around my eyes
in my forehead.
What stories they call back to me
of care and concern, love, patience, worry.
I notice for the first time,
my eyelids are more wrinkled, sunken
than they were a decade ago
and gladly embrace the wrinkles
that form canyons on both sides of my mouth.
I love what they tell me.
I've smiled often, and generously,
laughed deep, throaty laughs
and witch-like cackles
every day.

Examining this version of me,
I silence voices of
Where have I gone?
and cocoon myself once more
in gentle reminders of what really matters.

I'm getting there.

Robert L. Jamieson Jr., may I kiss you?

My wonderful husband just forwarded this article to me. How refreshing it is to have men publicly taking up the torch in support of women doing what they feel is best for their children -- wherever and whenever they need to.

Here's a link to the article:

Nothing Shameful About Breast Intentions

Here is the full text. Couldn't have said it better myself.

Nothing Shameful About Breast Intentions

By ROBERT L. JAMIESON Jr.
SEATTLE POST-INTELLIGENCER COLUMNIST

I am a breast man. That is what my mother says.

When it came to feeding time, my baby lips steered clear from the rubber nips. No bottle-feeding for me.

Fortified by my mother's choice long ago, I now have no choice but to carry the flag in the ongoing dust-up in the mommy wars: Public breast-feeding is healthy, natural and perfectly acceptable -- or it should be.

This being America, some people become unhinged by the sight of public breast-feeding, those tender moments shared without fuss between mothers and their babies everywhere else on the planet.

A lactose-intolerant posse in the United States refuses to quietly let nature take its course.

The perfectly natural and utilitarian act of feeding makes some people uncomfortable.

Barbara Walters, the queenly television commentator on ABC, recently said on network television that seeing a woman breast-feeding on a plane wigged her out.

Her comments got the less regal but equally shrill Ken Schram of KOMO/4 in a royal froth. He opined about how squeamish folks can get when a woman "pops it out" and starts suckling little Johnny.

"Yeah, I know. It's natural," Schram said. "Well, so is urinating, but most folks don't up and pee in a glass in the middle of the mall."

He added: "For guys, it is nigh on impossible to switch from breasts as something sexual to breasts as takeout food."
Schram ought to stop watching titillating tapes from Blue Video and start taking a refresher course -- Breast-feeding 101.

He would learn urination is not on par with providing a basic human need. He would come to appreciate that anyone whose brain screams "SEX!" when a woman uses her bosom to nurse a baby needs a serious head check.

Study after study extols the benefits of a mother's milk. The American Academy of Pediatrics encourages women to feed babies breast milk exclusively for the first six months -- and continue doing so for several months after that.

Breast-fed children tend to be healthier than kids who are not. They are less prone to some cancers and experience stronger immune systems.

Equally as significant is the emotional and psychological bond that breast-feeding forges between a mother and child.

Most important, when a child has to eat a child has to eat.

Many states allow mothers to breast-feed in any public or private place. Washington is one of 15 states with a law that exempts breast-feeding from public indecency laws. The Evergreen State is one of 10 states with "infant- friendly" laws that support breast-feeding in safe, sanitary and private areas of the workplace other than restrooms.

Seattle-based Starbucks opens its store doors to female customers with infants. "Bottom line -- nursing mothers are welcome at Starbucks," company spokeswoman Audrey Lincoff tells me.

Such progressive thinking makes sense in this day and age.

Still, a pervasive culture of shame empowers mall security guards to crack down on breast-feeding mothers, fuels restaurant owners who interrupt nursing babies and offers pundits ammo to blast away on how grossed out onlookers might feel.

The discomfort of Americans is curious because our society is a big patriarchal, puritanical hypocrisy.

We are hyper-sexualized.

We enjoy breasts -- female, supple and bared -- on the boob tube.

But heaven spare us nursing moms baring a bit for kids' sake.

No wonder women -- in private conversations and online chats -- express a reluctance to breast-feed in public. Who wants to do something that Western society deems as being downright dirty?

Most breast-feeding moms try to be modest. They try to cover up. They try to be discreet. Yet they are made to feel nasty and uncivilized for being maternal.

There is another reason for hope on the breast-feeding front, smart laws aside.

It comes from people such as Rachel Kimbro, who wrote an online tip sheet for Salon.com to help people handle breast popping-out moments:

"1. For God's sake, don't leave the room.

2. Keep the conversation going -- don't act like we've suddenly become invisible.

3. Nope, we don't need any help. But you might offer to fetch us some water or a snack.

4. Personally, I could care less if you watch or not.

5. I could also care less whether or not it excites you, nor do I think you should feel bad if it does. This reaction will fade as nursing in public becomes more normal."

"Don't worry what others are thinking," Kimbro sums up. "Your baby is hungry."

For boob-minded nincompoops who still don't get it and cannot handle the breast intentions of mothers, I offer a two-word footnote:

Look away.