Showing posts with label breastfeeding. Show all posts
Showing posts with label breastfeeding. Show all posts

Wednesday, April 7, 2021

A Letter to My Mum

 








[Article written by yours truly :) --  originally written for and published by THAT MAMA CLUB . Reposted on my own blog with permission!]

To my dearest mother:

I am sorry that I did not understand.

When I was younger, I did not fully understand the impact of pregnancy on one’s body. I was
not aware of the ways in which your body and mind had to stretch and grow in order to
accommodate the growing child (me!) within you.

I did not understand the fatigue you felt as you recovered from your deliveries and then
comforted and fed babies all day and then overnight. I didn’t know the effort that went into
bringing me into the world and the length of time required to fully recover from that
momentous event.

I did not understand the psychological, emotional, and physical exertion involved with feeding
your littlest loves. I wasn’t aware that women struggled so much with the decision (or lack of
decision) to breastfeed or not to breastfeed. I didn’t know about the heightened sense of
responsibility you felt as you were the primary nourishment for your child.

I did not understand the tremendous amounts of energy that you poured into your daughters
every day. I didn’t realize how much effort it took to make sure your young children were well-
fed, had diapers changed, went potty, went down for naps, and stayed safe from all hazards.

I did not understand the worries you felt. You worried about whether we were happy, healthy,
eating enough, kind to other children, and grateful. Most of all, you just wanted us to know
how absolutely loved we were (and are!).

I did not understand how you could feel isolated and lonely while home with your three tiny
beings. It would not have made sense to me then; there were people around you, only these
people required your time and attention. We couldn’t give back to you as much as you were
giving to us.

I did not understand why you awakened at 5 am each day to squeeze in your prayer time and
coffee in the silence. It sounded strange to me to set an alarm so early just to have those
precious moments to yourself.

I did not understand the sacrifices you made in your own career and personal life so that you
would be as available to us as possible. I didn’t think about how, in becoming a mother, you had
to give up some components of your life before children.

I did not understand how your heart hurt when one of us was sick. I could not yet know how
one person’s body and being could be so intertwined with another’s.

I did not understand the cognitive effort that went into planning every meal, carpool, vacation,
holiday, playdate—and the list goes on and on. I saw you working, but I just didn’t comprehend
the vastness of the to-do list.

I did not understand the communication and attentiveness it required to stay on top of the
school, work, and activity schedules of our family of five. We were absolutely busy, and in my
eyes, it was easy to have it all fall right into place. It felt seamless.

I did not understand your frustration when you had to remind us over and over again to do our
chores and to participate in the family responsibilities. It didn’t seem to be a big deal to me
then.

I did not understand how hard you and dad worked to ensure your marriage remained strong
and everlasting. I didn’t know that it took a conscious effort to be sure you were not drifting
apart amid the chaos of everyday young family life.

I did not understand, but still, I was grateful. I was thankful to have you as my mom and to have
dad as my dad.

And now I am a grown woman and wife, and I have three young, vibrant daughters, myself.

And I know.

I do now understand more of how you may have been feeling.

I wish I would have been able to know it then, but that, of course, is not how life works.

So, please know how utterly grateful I am to you for the decades of your life that you’ve poured
into nourishing and loving me and my sisters.

And of course, amidst all the craziness of having little children, I do now also know the absolute,
unconditional love that I feel toward my own children. And I know, without a doubt, that you
cherished (and cherish!) that love, too. I know what an incredible impact each of my children
has had in my life and how each child allows me to love greater and greater. I know the
precious feel of their snuggles and the delicate sound of their voices. I know so intimately how
these little people are helping to fulfill my life’s mission and to make my life more full and
complete—in such a beautiful way. And I know that you know all of that, too.

I love you so much.

Aren’t we the luckiest?

Wednesday, August 5, 2020

My Breastfeeding Journey

This is my breastfeeding journey:    

June was my first baby to nurse. When she was born, we danced the breastfeeding dance so gracefully. Everything was lovely. Breastfeeding, to me, was motherhood—and motherhood was breastfeeding.

As my exhaustion caught up with me around June’s eighth week, though, my postpartum depression and anxiety began rearing its ugly head, and breastfeeding was no longer graceful, no longer lovely. I stressed about every little piece of nursing. I worried about how I would find time to pump between patients. My supply had been strong, yet I now worried about how and where I would store my frozen milk. I researched every little detail to any unhealthy degree and set standards far too high. I found—and created—any reason to worry.

When a lovely friend, colleague, and fellow mama reminded me that giving formula was a perfectly viable option, I cried my eyes out. It was true. With much deliberation and support from my husband and family, I opted to allow my supply to dry up while we transitioned to giving bottles. It was a horribly scary time. I was angry, and I was so sad. While I knew something had to give to help me become whole again after the crippling weeks of anxiety, I still felt so defeated. I feared I was no longer the mother I dreamt I would be.

And then I gave the bottles.

And my beautiful daughter ate.

And she grew.

And she was happy.

And I grew.

And I was happy.

And I could relax.

And now Baby June is three. And she’s a big sister twice-over. And I have nursed two more babies. And I have fed bottles to these babies. And we are happy. And we have learned to be flexible. And we have learned to dance our own dance.


Mama and big girl, June!
Mama & big girl, June


Nursing June in the hospital!


Nursing-- & hiking!-- Rose



Post-nursing Naomi!
Post-nurse Naomi


And we are so, so proud of who we are, where we’ve been, and where we’re going.

Own your story, give yourself (a whole HEAP of!) grace, and know that what is right for you is right for your child.

Also, June told me last night that I make her heart happy. If 8-week-old June could’ve spoken, I know she would have expressed similar sentiments. Her mama was working so hard and truly doing her best. Aren’t we all? ☺️ Keep on keepin’ on, friend. You make our hearts happy!