mamamilkandme

August came and went pretty quick.

It started with World Breastfeeding Week and a picnic to celebrate.

Then the kids and I headed south for our annual road trip to North Carolina. Along the way we drove through the Blue Ridge Mountains in Virginia.

We stayed the night in Roanoke, VA and then drove on to Forest City, NC.   The kids and I always get excited when we cross into North Carolina and we see the sign with the big red cardinal that says Welcome to North Carolina!  This time as we rolled into the Tar Heel State we were greeted with a beautiful rainstorm that cleaned the car of 600 plus miles of road smudge.

In Forest City we visited my Grandmother and lots of aunts, uncles and cousins of many generations. These visits are bittersweet. This is Mama’s family and she is no longer with us. It is wonderful to see my Grandma and all of my loving family. I love that the kids have the opportunity to see their southern roots and to feel the love. I hope that they get a sense of their Grandma K.

After a quick visit in Forest City we drive east to Raeford/Fayetteville. This is where I grew up.

Raeford is where my dad and sister, Traci Bracey, live. Traci and Glenn have four kids and I love when all the cousins get together. The reunion is also a bit of a jolt at the beginning with little sharp pricks of sadness as I walk through Mama and Daddy’s house and see Mama’s art and her touch. This house  they built  in their forties to live in into old age. It has been nearly seven years and the deep circles under Daddy’s eyes have faded but are still evidence of his grief. We can talk about Mama without crying each time. But a good cry usually happens at least a couple of times.

And, we can celebrate her. Traci and I like to tell our children Mama stories.

Finn got to ride in the back of a pick which Phoebe later got to drive under the patient direction of Uncle Glenn!

I had a gathering of old friends. My birthday is in June and I used to have friends get together for my birthday as a sort of reunion when we went to college and then moved off in various spots across the state and country. These days when I go back I try to keep that up.

Leaving is always hard. I get stressed packing up the kids and the car. As the kids get older they get more attached to their cousins and they don’t want to leave.

Finn climbed a tree with his cousin Connor avoiding getting in the car to head north on I-95.

We did leave in a relatively timely manner and drove to Baltimore. We stayed the night in the Inner Harbor area and went to Philips for the best crab cakes – er, that is what the concierge said, and I have to agree that they were pretty darn delicious..

We got back to NYC just in time to get the laundry done and pack up for Block Island.

Rob and I have been going to Block Island since 1990. It is our family’s Happy Place. It seems a bit more challenging as the kids are getting older and they want to bring along friends.   Next year may involve more people! We had amazing weather. Every morning Rob and I took a walk along the beach then jumped into the cool, refreshing water.  We rode bikes, we kayaked and we rode horses. We missed the east coast earthquake.

At weeks end we had to get off Block Island a couple hours early as Irene was heading north.  We had such a smooth ride on the ferry.

We decided to head to Saugerties as NYC was closing down and evacuating in preparation for Irene.

In Saugerties we hung out with our good friends, Rob and Sakinah, and their family as we weathered Irene. The sky was so dramatic.

We lost electric for a few days. The first night we roasted marshmallows over candles. We consider ourselves lucky as much of upstate was devastated.

We headed back to NYC.

This week the kids start school and we get back into a routine.

This year we have a Junior in high school and a 5^th grader and a 1^st grader.

Time flies  . . . .

I was talking with a mom the other day. She was talking about advocating for her son to get educational assistance and she commented how she did not realize that breastfeeding set down a foundation for her mothering that extended into that advocacy. I knew just what she meant.

Breastfeeding is not just a method of feeding your baby; rather it builds an entire relationship.  I see how my family is impacted by breastfeeding. We set down a foundation of closeness, of security, of trust.

My breastfeeding our children had a positive impact on my husband. He witnessed the closeness I had with our babies and he developed his own closeness. He saw how a baby is comforted skin to skin, in warm loving arms. Our six-year-old boy loves to cuddle in the “cozy spot” on the couch. The “cozy spot” is in the corner of the L-shaped sofa, lying on Rob.

Our daughters love to cuddle. Phoebe is three inches taller than I am at sixteen but she still loves to cuddle. Chloe, getting taller by the minute at ten loves to cuddle.

What is especially sweet is when our children cuddle together. When they were younger I could overhear Finn and Chloe ask each other to do “belly to belly,” a phrase they hear me repeat often to mothers when discussing positioning for breastfeeding.

There have been times along the way when I felt touched out by all the breastfeeding and cuddling. I recall a specific evening when Finn was about a year old and he had just fallen asleep partially draped over me. I was sandwiched between him and Rob who had fallen asleep with an entire arm and a portion of his left leg on me. I lay there feeling trapped. I thought about this scene I had created and I wanted to exit. I knew the departure would arouse the baby whose cries may awaken the girls in the other room and I would need to start over getting everyone back to sleep. I thought about the alternative – no touching, no co-sleeping, less overall intimacy in my life and the next thing I knew it was the next morning. Don’t get me wrong. I am not a martyr. There are times I have stormed from a bed or a couch with just too much. But at that moment I felt loved and powerful and sleepy.

When you have a healthy physical relationship then you have passion for that person. And that leads to the advocacy. I believe most mothers will advocate for their children passionately. The difference here, I believe, is that the tools you have are more concrete. The vision is clearer.

When you are breastfeeding you have close physical contact often. This forces a familiarity like no other. You notice tiny nuances when a baby falls asleep in your arms and you study her. You notice the faint U-shaped vein on his hand. You notice her heart beating as her peach fuzz hair gently pulses up and down ever so slightly. You see his father’s chin line as he drops off your breast.

These are the memories you carry with your to the Board of Education to fight for extra time or extra care. These are the memories you carry as you rush to the emergency room with a twisted ankle or bumped head.

I love how breastfeeding has shaped my family. I take great pleasure in witnessing the same in other families.

Dear Erica,

I read your essay in the New York Times “Is Sex Passe?”

This passage really got my ire up!

Better to give up men and sleep with one’s children. Better to wear one’s baby in a man-distancing sling and breast-feed at all hours so your mate knows your breasts don’t belong to him. Our current orgy of multiple maternity does indeed leave little room for sexuality. With children in your bed, is there any space for sexual passion? The question lingers in the air, unanswered.

Well allow me to answer!

I remember when my first child, Phoebe, was a few weeks old and we attended an afternoon barbecue at my in-laws. The topic of sleep – the ultimate new parent topic – arose I shared that we had Phoebe in our bed. Cousin Norma jumped right in, “You can’t do that! It will ruin your marriage!” I was shocked.

I kept Phoebe in our bed initially as a survival method. When I placed her in the bassinet at the end of our bed in the tiny house in the NYC suburbs she looked like she was in California. Neither Rob nor I needed to leave our bed to attend to our baby. We adored her and loved having her close to us. It also made it much easier to feed her through the night. Rob and I could cuddle and make love without disturbing her. Having a baby in bed increased our intimacy. We were more focused, more intense.

At this backyard shindig I learned that Cousin Norma had  been married and divorced three times. She was the one with marital problems.

And Erica, I know you breastfed your daughter. Did you co-sleep? Did you put Molly between you and your husband?

When you parent you have to have a sense of humor. You have to laugh if one moment you are a sexual goddess caught up in the moment and suddenly you switch gears, twist your body toward your baby, offer a breast, keep skin-to-skin contact with two people, be two at once, settle the baby down and go back to being the passionate goddess. You have to be able to laugh.

You do not have to divide yourself into sections. Similar to parenting more than one child – you meet the needs of a younger child and an older child. You can be a present wife and mother.

Oh, dear Erica, I think you feel you need to be an orange – all segmented. Me, I am a juicy peach- no segments, a complete package.

After 18 years of marriage, twelve years of breastfeeding and even more years of a family bed Rob and I are a happy couple with an enviable sex life.

As a woman who writes essays about the guilt of mothering and feminism please do not discount attachment as anti-woman. You are stoking the Mommy War fires.

Sincerely,

Leigh Anne

Rob and I have always enjoyed cooking together. We host Thanksgiving most years and cook a turkey and all the fixings.

Last night was steamy. On hot summer evenings it is nice to have a delicious and light meal. I love having a big container of baby field greens to eat all week. One of my favorite things to make is salad dressing – it is far better than processed bottled dressings. Years ago, I learned to whip up a vinaigarette from watching David Rosengarten on the Food  Network. I have a new fondness for citrus salad dressings. Here is my new recipe for you to enjoy – I had it with the greens and some raw string beans!

Enjoy!

Start with a good mustard – about 2 tablespoons

add the juice of one large lemon,

a splash of Worcestershire sauce, a dash of salt and about a half a teaspoon of herbs de provence and whisk them all together

Now here is the important part:

keep whisking and then slowly add a good quality extra virgin olive oil as you whisk – this will keep it nice and thick- you can add as much or as little as you like – taste it as you go – and keep that whisk going.

Yesterday I picked up some fresh sea scallops so Rob sliced them thin and together we added the juice of one lime, thinly sliced onion, orange pepper, fresh cilantro, ginger powder, chili powder a splash of green Tobasco and tossed it all together.

This we served atop mashed avocado and lime – not quite guacamole but close and what a nice dinner with the salad. And we had a glass of 2009 Salviano orvieto.

I have fifteen houseplants. I suppose that is not a record setter but I am pretty proud of them. Some are quite old. I just got three new plants. My mother-in-law got a new knee and along with it lots of new plants. She sent me home with three, which I transplanted today.

I love working in dirt.  It is funny for a city dweller.

This is my current outdoor space – which I share with about 30,000 other people and I do not do the gardening.

My dream is to have a terrace

but for now I have little plants all over my window sills.

This is a dish garden from Rob’s aunt Marie – she sent it when my mom died. I think of her – I think of both Marie and Mama whenever I see it.

This Jade started out pretty small. Now it is about four times the size it was a couple of years ago when I bought it at a stoop sale at the Dias y Flores community garden on 13th Street.

I have gardening gloves, a spade, soil and a few pots that I fill and unfill with plants that have grown too big or have died. I work at my kitchen sink. I usually garden in the late afternoon before dinner – it is a good precursor to making food. I suppose it makes sense – from the earth to the table.

That is a reminder that I need to plant the herbs I got in the form of a ChiaPet – Chia Herb Garden – I will let you know how that goes.

In January of this year I realized I should not eat Gluten – I likely should never have been eating Gluten. This is not just a fad for me but I will say that I am happy that it is trendy to blame Gluten on all problems. This trend made me consider it THE Enemy.

I used to blame my insomnia on caffeine and/or stress and/or pregnancy.  Every time I was pregnant I padded around the living room stretching or doing a crossword or a sudoku puzzle. Sometimes I would watch a movie – a strange documentary or a “chick flick.”  Or I may watch Sanford and Son reruns on Nick at Nite.

I had irregular menstrual cycles that the gynecologist assured me was normal – maybe I was getting older but irregularity can be normal.

But what about my lethargy? My weekly naps that were turning into two or three naps a week? What about my swollen joints?

Aha, I decided I must be anemic. I started taking Floradix – it definitely helped increase my energy and reduce swelling in my joints but I still suffered from insomnia. I was still napping. I still had to squat slowly.

I kept hearing people talk about Gluten-free eating. How sad for them – no pizza, no bagels. I am glad I do not have to be Gluten free! But after one long cycle of no period and fears of pregnancy  (I have a teenager! Teenagers do not want their parents being pregnant!) I started looking around and listening. I looked up Gluten intolerance. I was definitely not a celiac but I had some of the symptoms. Rob told me I would have symptoms of almost anything I looked up. I suppose I could be a hypochondriac in addition to being Gluten-intolerant.

So, I started reading ingredients and I went gluten-free for a week. I felt kind of silly because my friend Jean had just written a bit of a rant about all of the dietary challenges she faces from her various friends and family and Gluten-intolerance was high on Jean’s list of intolerance. It seemed I was falling for the latest craze. Also, I am married to an Italian – think pizza, pasta, bread, bread and bread!

But I am strong, I can resist. And I did for six days. On the seventh day I had lentil soup and salad and since I did not feel any different I had a couple of bites of Rob’s gnocchi and a sliver of pizza – no problem  . . . until that night. I could not sleep – I tossed, I turned, I suffered. So, I really went Gluten-free.

I love making pancakes on the weekend. I ground up some pecans, I sifted in some corn meal and some rolled oats and added melted butter, brown sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, baking powder and fresh raspberries. They were delicious and my family ate them up. They did not miss the Gluten.

It has been nearly six months and I have conquered that beast. I have more energy, I sleep deeper and longer and my knees move with ease. My bodily functions are regulating and I have dropped a couple of extra pounds.

Every once in a while Gluten teases me, like, when the family gets bagels on Sunday morning and I can smell them.  Finn and I often stop at 11B on the way home from school and he gets a slice of hot out of the oven pizza – he offers me a thread of melted mozzarella – sans Gluten!

I am now the proud owner of Gluten-Free Cooking for Dummies and I experiment. I just made a batch of baking flour using various flours and xantham gum.

The other day I made quinoa salad and Rob loved it. It is faster than making pasta salad. I cooked up some quinoa, I added grape tomatoes, garlic olives, marinated mushrooms and carrots. I dressed it with a bit of olive oil and red wine vinegar and I will make it for the next event where I would usually make pasta salad. Yes, I know, there is quinoa pasta and rice pasta and corn pasta but the world needs more quinoa.

Gluten-free does not mean taste-free. But it does mean a freer me! I move freely and I sleep freely, I cycle freely.

Last summer my husband and teenage daughter came home one evening and announced they were not alone. I had just gotten ready for bed and did not want a guest to see me in my nightgown.

“Who is it?” I called from the bathroom.

“Don’t worry,” they said. “It is not human.”

They had a shoebox and a mysterious small animal inside.

“We are not sure but we think it is a baby squirrel.”

They were both so excited. Apparently they found the little creature screaming at the base of one of the elm trees outside and they were worried that a dog might get attack it.

We googled “baby squirrels” and found a few websites that showed squirrels of varying ages. We had in our home a three-week-old orphaned baby squirrel.

Rob said to me, “you are the lactation consultant, you have to feed it.”

Now this is the part that amazed me.

All of the sites I found on how to feed this baby squirrel were very specific about how to handle the squirrel and how to handle the flow of rehydration solution. They were very clear about being respectful to the squirrel, not scaring the squirrel, keep the squirrel upright. Handle with care.

And it made me think of all the baby humans I see. It is so nice for a human baby to snuggle in with mama and nurse at her breast and get warm milk.

Like this baby squirrel that is not always the scenario for many human babies. We have separation of moms and babies and we have breastfeeding issues. We have the need for supplementation. There are times when a mom just cannot or will not breastfeed her baby.

I see so many gadgets to make feedings easier for parents as opposed to respectful for the baby. There are faster flowing nipples to pound the food into the baby faster. There are devices where a mom or caregiver does not even have to hold the baby.

I searched on the Internet to see if there were similar instructions for humans. There was plenty on how much to feed a baby but nothing about respecting the baby and being sensitive to the flow of liquid and keeping the baby in a safe and comfortable position.

I made up a solution of salt, sugar and water. I found a medicine dropper and cleaned it. I carefully held the baby; I spoke softly to her as I slowly rehydrated her.

It was late so we all went to bed. The baby squirrel lay in her box with pieces of the elm and a soft towel.

In the morning Rob went out to find the local “Squirrel Lady.” Rob leaves early and he has become friendly with Stella, who feeds the squirrels in our neighborhood.  Stella knew a squirrel rescuer who could come and get the baby in the afternoon but she thought we should try to reunite the baby with her mother.

I had to go see a human mom and baby and help them to get breastfeeding going in a smoother direction so Phoebe had a date to meet Stella at the elm tree outside our building.

Phoebe set the box down, slowly lifted the baby out and set her down. Almost immediately the mama squirrel ran down to get her baby. Stella and Phoebe were so excited.

I want to end the story there but I cannot.

In the fury to get her baby back up to the nest the mama squirrel made a leap from the high braches to a close by tree and Phoebe and Stella watched in horror as the baby dropped to the ground. Stella even tried mouth too mouth resuscitation on the baby.

We all learned something. We got to experience a different kind of nurturing. We got to consider the fragility of life. We witnessed our connection to another mammal. This experience made me even more thoughtful about working with babies.

I noticed in the last couple of weeks that many of the moms I have been working with have been calling a bit more, seeming a bit needier. Most of the time when I see a mom and baby I see them one time and then after we figure out their breastfeeding challenges we create a plan and I allow for follow-up via phone, e-mail, texting and by support groups. But recently it has been different. I have gotten  requests for more visits. I try to tease out what is the issue that cannot be resolved over the phone. I pride myself on my “good phone” techniques, my good listening skills.

No, they need another home visit. So, I go, I show up. And I see them nursing their babies. Things are better than when I first saw them. The woman looks more put together, her home a bit neater. Why am I here? I wonder.

Today, the sun came out.

And so I realized – it has been so rainy and gray. These moms can’t get out to a group or to the store or for a walk around the block with their new babies.

And I remember, in 1993, when Rob and I were newlyweds. Rob came home from work and there I stood in the kitchen, putting away groceries, weeping. The tears streamed down my cheeks as I placed the eggs in the refrigerator and the cereal on the shelf in the cabinet. We had a lovely apartment on Irving Place with a window box that bloomed with purple and pink petunias for six months out of the year. This rainbow of flowers out my living room window made me so happy. But this was winter and it was gray and cloudy. Gray and cloudy for nine days in a row.

When Rob and I married I finally had health insurance.   Rob did what any caring husband would do: he went to the book shelf that housed our catalog of health providers – this was before you needed to look online – he flipped through to the psychiatrist section.

“I am going to find you help,” he said.

“Oh, no, I will be fine when the sun comes out.” And so I was. And I forget how affected I am by the sky, by the clouds, by the sun.

As I had my children they so occupied me with their own needs that the gray days were overshadowed by the needs of my babies and toddlers. They verbalize their dislike of walking to school in the rain or in the snow or in the freezing cold. And so I have to help them, I have to cheerlead them into their snow pants and rain slickers. My needs are last on the list. My need to wallow in the sadness of gray skies gets shuffled under the snowdrifts or into the rain puddles.

My children are growing old enough to know that the seasons change and the sun comes out and that they can deal with gray skies and cold weather. My rain boots sprung a leak and so I had to find a new pair. My umbrella fell apart one recent rainy day and I had to buy a new one. I have been growing weary of all this rain and the seeming delay of spring warmth.

These women who had me come and keep them company – well they kept me company. They gave me a gift of sharing their lives, their babies with me and kept me from focusing on the gray sky. They gave me the gift my children have given me. They gave me a focus when I could have sat and cried and wondered if I should go online and look up mood disorders.

And today, the day the sun came out and the rain finally took a break. All of the calls I have gotten are from moms and dads with true breastfeeding challenges: sore nipples, low milk supply and non-latching baby. They did not call to have me come and listen and see them doing well despite the weather. They did not call for me to keep them company.

I am happy for all the families who call on me to guide them, to listen to them no matter what the weather.