Featured Book: Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter (series)

I have decided to do a featured book once a week. What does that mean? Well, it means that I'm going to tell you about books that I've read, kind of like a book club. You can feel free to strike up a conversation about the book right here!

This week, I'm going to start with my all time favorite book series (yes, a whole series for my first book--honestly, you'll find I tend to read series more than individual books): Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter. Now, I'm going to specify that the following post is about books 1-10, because I feel that starting with book 11 and the new genre, it became a new series after that (some might say even sooner).

The beginning of an entire Genre

17 years ago, for my birthday, my best friend gave me a book for my 15th birthday (well, 17 years as of June 17th, 2012). She had been talking up this series for two years, since it had first come out when we were in junior high school. Book in hand was the best way to get me to read something and read I did...

Sneaky girl had given me the second book in the series!

Discovering that I had been tricked into reading out of order, I immediately sought out the first book to remedy the situation and devoured it. I finished with Circus of the Damned and eagerly awaited The Lunatic Cafe, putting in a call to our newly opened Barnes and Noble Booksellers that I wanted to be alerted the moment they hit the shelves.

When Laurell K. Hamilton initially pitched this series, she hit a brick wall. No one had any idea where to pigeonhole it. It wasn't proper horror and it wasn't fantasy or proper crime/mystery. It was all of the above and this was a stumbling block. Unwilling to let her baby go, Ms. Hamilton busted her ass getting the book out there, reading at conventions, etc. until finally, Ace Fantasy was willing to give the book a shot.

Urban Fantasy was born.

This is an 'unmasked' world, meaning that humans are aware of the supernatural/preternatural creatures inhabiting their world. A fascinating new idea, it explored the legalities of the undead, the monthly furry and many other creatures along the way, from the first person perspective of tough-as-nails Anita. Anita tried to balance her career featuring her own magical powers (the ability to raise the dead), a retainer with the local preternatural crimes division of the St. Louis Police department (RPIT, pronounced rip-it and nicknamed "the spook squad), a side job as a vampire executioner and being a feminist, Christian woman in a world that had accepted vampires as legal citizens.

Anita had this tendency to say exactly what I wanted her to say. The humor was there, the mystery, the sexiness and the drama. What's more, there were vampires and this was something that my 15 year old self was severely "into" (a good 10 years before they were popular). The first big vampire-werewolf-human love triangle popped up and copious usage of one of my favorite words: "fuck" was an intoxicating combination for me.

Click here to read an excerpt (pdf warning!) from Guilty Pleasures, the first book in the series. Click here to buy it.

Over the next several years, my best friend and I would await that call from Barnes and Noble each time a new book came out, drop everything and pester the adults in our lives to drive us there and I'd usually wave to her as she came out and I went in to get my copy. The phone would ring as she reached a part she just had to talk about and I would agree to call back as soon as I reached it. This would go on until we finished the book around 3am, even though it was a school night.

I've followed the series and Anita as she fell in love, had her heart ripped out of her chest (not literally, which is an important note in a series like this). I laughed with her, cried with her, got horny with her... this series was huge for me. I watched her grow and change and meet characters that spoke to me on deep levels to things that were broken inside of me and helped me understand what I was looking for and what was wrong with me.

 

Then Obsidian Butterfly came out. Everything was wrong. It was the first hardback, celebrating Ms. Hamilton's major success with the series (so it cost me way more than any other and screwed up my whole collection!). The status quo for the books was severely disrupted. It was pulling away from the sex that was starting to suck the series under and focused on the police work again (which was good!) while destroying most of the mystery of a character that relied on that mystery to be... that character.

My interest in the series waned a bit. I no longer ran out to buy every copy. Maybe it was partly that I was entering adulthood, but it was also definitely partly that I just wasn't crazy about this book. It remains one of my least favorite in the series. Now, as a mother, this book is gut-wrenching in several places. It marks the last book of Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter, in my mind. What follows is Anita Blake: Vampire Fucker. (spoilers under the black--highlight to read) I still enjoy the series, but it's not what it was. Anita is not who she was. Honestly, Anita from Guilty Pleasures would hunt Anita from books 11+ down and put a bullet in her head.

That's why my husband stopped reading. Me, I don't think it's as unrealistic a change as he did and I still enjoy it... mostly. I do wish that she would get some variety for her language in the sex scenes and frankly: cut them down or out. Some tasteful fade to black scenes for anything other than something new and interesting at this point. I'm tired of reading how men have to comment on how wet she is. And she can't keep up with character development--they have all started to sound the same, spouting the same lines as one another and there are a lot of repetitive moments (this is still a problem in the newest book that just came out). This is incredibly disappointing and a departure from the first half of the series. I get that it's been a lot of books, but I think some more effort could be put out. Maybe LKH is putting all she has into the books and I'd hate for the series to end, but I know it's approaching that time. It can't be easy keeping 21 books in your head as you write! And I love her writing, but I will warn you that she uses sentence fragments like crazy. I happen to like that--it feels more natural to the character's head space.

In all, I do highly recommend at least the first five books. Starting with book 11, I would strongly recommend against anyone under 17 reading them. Normally, I would not censor a book (my kids can read all the romance they like), especially over sex, but the sex gets very, very out there. It makes 50 Shades of Grey look tame, I'm sure..

And, if you're interested in my fanart (which is really crappy), I have two pieces. Asher and Nathaniel.


Have you read the series? Who are your favorite characters? Warning, I am not responsible for the comments and they may contain major spoilers, read at your own risk! I would love to hear from anyone who wants to talk about the books!

Body Shaming

Inspired by a friend's question/rant in a local parenting circle: 

Every time you shame someone for dressing in a comfortable way because you don't like the way they look: you are shaming our daughters. You are teaching them that they will never be enough, their bodies are not good enough. Every woman out there is a daughter. She was a child once. I say, if a woman has the confidence in herself to wear a bikini, then she damn well has not only every right, but should have every blessing to do so as well. I don't care how you feel about yourself or what your idea of beauty is--she has the right to be happy with HERSELF, confident and comfortable. For the sake of our daughters: STOP JUDGING WOMEN ON THEIR APPEARANCES. Stop the body shaming. Stop the propaganda.

Just because you don't like it: that means nothing. My husband thinks I'm beautiful. Many men and women do. I don't, because of all the people who told me I shouldn't. Every one who said, "That person is okay to wear that, but not HER, because she's too fat/bony/paunchy/square/round/curvy/small/flat/tan/pale/dark/busty/sexy/old/ugly." Every time you shame someone in this way, you are shaming me, yourself, every elder woman, every mother, maiden and child.

Don't justify your behavior with, "Well, I agree that I shouldn't wear [whatever]." That is YOUR problem, just as my feelings that I should not be seen are MINE. Stop perpetuating it. Let our daughters grow to be beautiful, regardless of how this person or that feels about them. Everyone is beautiful to someone. Even someone you would pull out to express what you consider hideous: there is someone who finds her beautiful.

And, because they are so often forgotten in the body image concerns: the same is all true of men and boys. Boys suffer from body image issues and anorexia, too--but it's not considered "okay" or understood. Forced to suffer in silence, expected to just tolerate the slurs about their physical appearances, boys and men are victimized by this unacceptable prejudice as well.

And for all that is good in the world, stop looking at it through the lens of Hollywood standards. And stop hurting yourself by applying those same standards to you. Be healthy. Be happy. And don't let anyone tell you that you don't deserve to be, just because you don't fit into their narrow mold of beauty.

Musing on Birth Plans

The following views are expressed on the American maternity system, which is the only one I have personal experience with.

Birth Plans get better known each year, by both moms-to-be and care providers. Pregnant mamas view them as a way to express their desires for the minutiae of birth (getting all those questions we're bombarded with when we're there out of the way early) and care providers see them in a mixed light.

A midwife typically sees them as either quite welcome (as she wants to make her client's birth as easy and comfortable as possible, so knowing what she wants is essential) or unnecessary in a different way than the OB does. Midwives offer natural care in general, so they figure if you're going to choose one, that is the sort of birth you'll want. They tend to ask about vaccination, birth tests, eye goop, etc. beforehand.

OBs tend to see them as either unnecessary (because they have no intention of following them) or dangerous (as this is a woman who is not going to submit to every procedure s/he suggests unquestioningly) because few mothers desiring a medicalized birth submit one. Also, OBs are not involved in birth the way that midwives are, so most of the information is useless to them. A midwife sits through the birth and needs to know that her client wants to be checked only rarely or wants to use a certain type of natural pain relief. In a hospital, the nurses deal with all of this information. Things like pitocin, etc. are like asking a baker not to use a certain spice that they typically overuse. They've learned to work that way and they don't want to deviate.

I had the standard form Birth Plans (my second was never submitted, but to take the 'you can't plan a birth' argument away, I had renamed it "Birth Preferences") for my first two births. In my first, it was partly respected. They did not reduce the number of vaginal checks at all and I was told I could not refuse, that I had no right of consent. So, against my will, basically anyone who walked in the room was allowed to stick their hand inside me (or that's how it felt). I ended up with a cesarean that had none of the elements I had requested (other than photos being taken and my arms were free because I made it clear there would be a fight even if my body was like a dead fish if they tried to strap me down) in my birth plan.

It was so defeating, I never submitted to my second OB (though he was nothing like my first). My VBAC was nothing like I had hoped, other than the end (the baby care was quite well done) in that she came out vaginally and I got to catch her (I had to negotiate for this while pushing). It would have been thrown out due to unforeseen complications, so it wasn't a big deal.

With my third baby, I was seeing a midwife and one day, the subject of birth plans came up. I asked her if she wanted me to give her one, though I wasn't sure what I would put in it since her standard birth policies were all in line with my wishes. She said that she liked birth plans and then, remembering that I fancy myself a writer, she asked for me to deviate from the standard form. She wanted me to write my birth story in advance. My ideal birth story. I joked that there would be little story to that, since I'd just wake up pushing and pop the baby out in bed. We laughed, talking about precipitous birth and I agreed to write one based on my personal birth history. So what followed was a realistic, but desirable birth for me and I'm going to finally share it here.

Beautiful henna art by my friend Nikol on my 9 month belly

My Realistic Ideal Birth Plan for my Third Baby

On October twenty-second, I wake up around 10am, unable to ignore the contraction urging me to adjust myself in bed. I roll onto all fours to stretch out my stiff back and breathe through the pressure, trying to ignore it. When it passes, I check the time and groan. I'm still tired, but 10 is a good time to get up. I roll over and snuggle Naomi and kiss her cheek, then reach over and rub Lilly's fuzzy head.

Naomi peeks open her eyes and grins at me, whispering, "Time to get up! It's morning." I smile at her and nod. She rolls over and snuggles up onto my shoulder, grinning and sighing happily. I'm about to tell Lilly that it's time to wake up when I feel the beginning of tightening and close my eyes, feeling myself breathe in and out as it comes. Naomi is saying happy little things and snuggling me, but I don't really notice much. I'm too busy cursing prodromal labor.

It passes and I tell Lilly it's time to wake up, squishing Naomi a little as I reach past her. She giggles and clings to my arm. Lilly groans at me and I rub her head again. She grabs my hand and opens her eyes to grin at me. I smile at her and she asks Naomi to move so she can cuddle me. Naomi stands up and dances in place while Lilly scoots over and tucks up against me.

After we cuddle, I turn on the television and sit up as another contraction comes. Grumpily, I look at the clock to see they've been coming every three minutes, as I suspected. When it's over, I get up to pee and go out to the computer to complain about how my body likes its little games and catch up with friends on facebook. A few contractions later and I don't want to be at the computer anymore, so I go over and lie on the couch and turn on the living room television.

I turn on the XBox and go to Netflix to see what looks good. I pick a romantic comedy or something equally mindless and absently write down my contractions as they happen. Lilly interrupts me a few minutes into the movie asking for breakfast and I know I don't feel up to cooking with how I'm contracting, so I tell her to go make some cereal and find out if her sister wants some, too.

Realizing that I should probably eat, too, just in case this isn't a fake-out, I follow her into the kitchen and en up having to lean on the counter through a contraction, glad that we have a bigger kitchen than we had in the old house. Our old one made me claustrophobic (no small feat for someone who likes safe little enclosed spaces). When it's over, I poke through the freezer and realize that I want a burger, but we don't have one, so I settle for a turkey and cheddar bratwurst, hoping I won't regret it.

Naomi informs me loudly that she wants a sausage, too, so I grab one for her and toss it on the plate to heat them up while getting out the bread and ketchup. I sway through yet another contraction and then make us our breakfast. I grab my water cup from the fridge, glad that Lilly put it in there the night before. I had been too grumpy from a few hours of contractions to want to do my night time ritual.

I go back out and eat my breakfast and enjoy my movie. The kids don't pester me after I tell them that I need to relax and watch a movie, so no, they can't take over the XBox today. When the movie is over, I get up and restlessly walk around, wondering when it's going to die down and give me a break. I roll over the yoga ball and bounce on that for a while while getting back on the computer.

I post on [my parenting forum] about what's going on in the pregnant chatting thread and make another whiny status update on facebook. I read the replies to my last one and smile at the people sending me labor vibes and laugh at the ones who wonder why I'm not rushing to the hospital over a few contractions. I growl at my mom's usual well-meaning "Is there anything I can do?" I know she just enjoys being a part of my life, but it still irritates me.

I realize I'm getting irritable with the contractions and they're starting to hurt more, so I call a friend to come over and hang out and let our kids play. I text Brandon to let him know how long I've been contracting and how often. He texts back asking if he needs to come home and I text back with "Not yet. I'll call when it's time." I add that my friend is coming over and then she knocks on the door. I toss on some clothes as I let her in. We chat and the kids play and I feel better.

When the contractions continue to build, she smiles at me knowingly and doesn't say anything about it. After a while, she casually asks me how long it's been going on and I realize it's been five hours. She gives me that look that people get when you tell them you've been contracting for five hours and I roll my eyes. "Oh, I've had prodromal labor longer than this," I assure her. "I had it for seven hours the day before Naomi was born. Five hours wasn't too unusual with Lilly. For. Four. Freaking. Weeks."

She tells me that she hopes that I don't have to do this for the next four weeks and I readily agree. Things are starting to get really intense and I tell her that I think I want to take a bath to help and we say good-bye while I go in to draw a bath, hoping it will stop things if it's not real and give me that blessed water relief if it is.

Before I get in, I take a few belly pictures and the kids join in, so I have some cute ones. Then I tell them they can have the XBox while Mommy takes a bath, grab my phone and set it in reach, but far enough away to stay dry, on a little folding stool and refill my water cup before getting into the warm water.

The next contraction is much more manageable and I relax and just enjoy the waves rippling out from my belly as they happen. I can breathe and think again and know that I can do this, be it real or practice, and it will be fine. I just let my mind drift and roll around in the water like a great whale trying to stay comfortable in the too-shallow-for-a-person-my-size tub.

I fold my arms against the side and lie my head in my hands while the contractions continue without slowing down. I have to pee and carefully crawl out of the tub over to the toilet. While I'm peeing, I feel a pop and gush. I freeze. I know what I just felt. Nervously, I wipe and check the paper--it's clear. No meconium!

I stand up and water gushes down my leg, so I climb back into the water and wash my leg off, then stick a towel between them while I go to grab a pair of poise underwear to catch the gushes. I debate what to do while checking the clock. It's 5:30pm and I know I won't be done before Brandon gets off work, but I am still tempted to call him.

I call Brandon and tell him that my water broke and that I'm sure he can finish his shift if he wants, but it's up to him. He decides he'll come home and we say "I love you" and hang up. I call Tara and let her know that it's baby day, then I call Rachel to let her know, too. I assure her that it's still too early to go in, but that my water is broken, so it's going to be soon regardless.

I go out to the living room and pace about for a while, grabbing things to sway through contractions. I'm hungry and still want that burger, so I call Brandon quickly and ask him to grab me one on the way home. No, I don't want fries, just the burger. McDonald's, of course. It's got to be that terrible-for-you-greasy-goodness. Yes, a double, I agree as I pull on a tank top and a skirt.

I turn on Deftones and start dancing around to 'Digital Bath.' Since it's just me and the kids, I am utterly unrestricted and I sing loudly and emotionally with what I've always considered a song about birth, from making the water warm to the cord breaking away. I want things I can dance to, sing to, be loud to, so I cue my sansa playlist and tell Lilly to unlock the door for Tara. I belt out with Seether and Three Day's Grace and grumble about never getting around to making my birth mix, but I don't really care as long as I can sing.

I'm not sure when Tara got there, I'm so lost in the music, but when I look over at the chair, she's sitting there, smiling and Brandon's on the couch. They wave at me and I say hi, feeling a little self-conscious, since I always hide when I sing and dance anymore. They tell me not to let them bother me, but I want to eat the food that's smelling up the room and had permeated my music fugue state.

I ask Tara if she wants anything, but she's already had dinner and Brandon goes to feed the kids, who are delighted to see him home early. Lilly tells him that I'm having a baby, which is what I told her for why I was wearing a "diaper" when Naomi demanded that I explain. Naomi asks me where the baby is and I remind her that the baby hasn't come out yet.

I'm not comfortable sitting on the couch, so I stretch out on it instead and put on Food Network as something easy to watch and either talk through or zone out to. I end up adjusting with every contraction until I end up with my labor ball on the floor. Tara sits near me and is just a comforting presence, since there's not a lot to do except keep me company at this stage. When some of the contractions get more intense, she applies counter pressure and I feel better.

I get to the point where I need to start visualizing to get away from the soreness building from all this work and when the next contraction comes, I'm in mind, floating above an ocean that is the pain and discomfort. I leave the water and float above it. Some pain breaks through and it's a wave lashing against my ankle, but I just breathe and it falls away, not hard to leave behind in the surging ocean.

This has always been my meditation technique for escaping negative feelings and pain in particular. It's effective and has very nerdy roots, which are comforting to me. I'm so worn out and want to take a nap, so I move to the bedroom to try to do just that. Tara brings a chair in and the door to the hall is left open to provide her some light to read or knit or however she usually passes the time in a birth while mama naps.

I lie there in the quiet dark, unable to sleep, as usual, but slowly drift between contractions for a while. When I open my eyes, the kids are sleeping next to me and so is Brandon. Everything is dark and the contraction that woke me up is so intense that I was vocalizing before I even woke up. I need to pee and I roll out of bed, grabbing another pair of poise panties to change into on the way to the toilet.

Sitting on the toilet is very uncomfortable and I find myself whining through it until I'm done, wipe and crawl onto the floor to get away from it. I rock on my hands and knees and moan loudly. The contraction passes and I go to the kids' room, where Tara is sleeping on the spare bed and let her know that I need her.

She stays a calm, comforting presence and helps me get back from the intensity of what labor is becoming. She rubs my back and encourages me while I moan and breathe and occasionally curse my contractions. She asks if I think I need to go in, because it's clear that things are picking up strongly. I ask her what time it is and she tells me that it's 2am. I tell her that I want to let everyone sleep a while longer. She asks me if I want to listen to music again. That sounds good and I tell her so, so we go back out and I cue up my playlist again.

I get up and dance the baby down a bit, feeling intense pressure against my cervix and some rolling around that I interpret as the baby getting into position. My singing woke up Brandon and he comes out to make sure everything's okay. Tara assures him that it is and he sits down and reads on his Nook while I dance and sing.

By 4, I know it's time to go in. I'm having visions of the lovely, big, blue birthing pool at the birth center and I call Rachel, hating to wake her up, but knowing that she was probably expecting it anyway. Brandon gets the kids and puts them in the van while I eat some soup and post on facebook and twitter before we go. Tara grabs the infant bucket for me and my bag and we go out to our vans. She tosses my stuff in ours and follows after us to the birth center.

The drive in the night is intense for me, but I relish the dark, peaceful streets. I love being on a drive at night, even though I'm moaning and whining as quietly as I can through the strong surges pushing the baby further into this world and getting her ready to meet it.

Brandon pulls up to the door without stairs and lets me out while Tara parks. I hobble over to the door and Rachel lets me in. No way I can climb stairs in labor. I have never been a fan of stairs anyway. I see the tub is filling up and I sigh gratefully. I have to go to the bathroom again, so I do and whine through it again. I put on another clean poise panty and am happy to see my water is still clear, even if it's gushing as usual.

I come out and plug the laptop into the speakers I brought from home to play some music. I don't feel like singing right now, so I put in the classical/instrumental/foreign playlist. Brandon and Tara come in, each carrying a sleeping child and put them on the bed in the other room, where they continue to sleep, uninterrupted.

I end up on the floor, leaning against the bed as the next contraction comes on intensely and I moan, wanting very much to get into the water. Sheena listens to the baby briefly with the doppler while I rest on the floor and checks my blood pressure. Everything's fine, of course.

Before too long, the pool is full and I take off the poise underwear and climb in, feeling instant relief. I float a little bit and then roll over to just relax in the water with my cheek lying on the edge of the pool and my arms draped over it. Brandon takes some pictures and then sits by the pool, holding my hand.

I'm able to just meditate through the contractions now, lost in the instrumental music. They're coming fast and strong, but not painful, between the music, water and how relaxed I am. I drink ice water and just feel my baby and body working to bring her into the world.

After an hour or so, I need to pee, so I get out and walk around a little, then I want to nap again, so I change into something dry and lay down in the bed and rest while the contractions take a break for a while. When I wake up, the sun is filtering through the window and the contractions are back, having only let up to let me get the sleep I needed to be ready for the last part of labor and birth.

I have someone turn the music back on and relax to Origa's 'Kawa yo, Watashi no Kawa yo.' Then 'Fukai Mori' comes on and I sing with the Japanese that I know. I cue up 'Ningyo Hime' by Rie Tanaka and then I want Yoko Kanno, so on goes Origa's 'Inner Universe' and then 'Rise' as I get more into singing.

I want back in the water, so I go back in the pool and have the music go back to stuff in English so I can sing more mindlessly. Back to Deftones and 'Digital Bath' again and so forth. The kids wake up and come in to see why they woke up in the birth center. They want to listen to my heart, etc. and then go get some toys to play with while things really pick up for me.

I'm using the singing in place of moaning, so my voice is strained through contractions, but it feels good to get through them that way. But it's getting harder and harder and I am uncomfortable, moving into moaning instead, moving around and trying to get comfortable. Things are getting intense and I'm getting negative, but Tara and Rachel assure me that I'm doing well, it's okay, I can do it, because I am doing it.

I realize I must be in transition and I try to concentrate on breathing and relaxing, but it's hard and I turn the music to something darker that has me use my diaphragm more. Still, during contractions, which are coming fast and furious now, I have trouble keeping it up. I throw up water and feel better, then the urge to push comes over me.

I tell everyone what I'm feeling and Rachel tells me to go ahead if I feel like it, so I do. I get up on my knees and hold onto the side of the tub, one leg up and press my belly against the wall of the pool from the top and let my body do what it wants. Brandon takes pictures and goes around behind me to see if he can see anything and Tara changes the music back to something brighter, turning it down to just be background sound. Brandon tells the girls that the baby's coming and they can come in, but need to be quiet. They come in and watch.

I push and it feels good to work with my body. My abdomen feels better, but I feel increasing pressure in the birth canal and each contraction, I'm able to press lower on my belly. I switch legs and there's a burning feeling, so I reach down and feel the baby's head crowning. Brandon has switched to video and I gush happily and say silly things that I know I'll mute out of the video later.

I push for a little while longer and baby's head comes out. I rest between contractions as Rachel watches and checks, making certain everything looks good. Another contraction comes and I push with it and feel the baby's shoulders slip out, then she's pouring into my hands and I guide her out a bit and move so that I can sit back and pull her up to my chest.

Someone hands me a towel and I wrap the back of her in it and turn her over to look into her face and see her wrinkly, beautiful little self look up at me, a little cheesy with vernix that I wipe off her face a little. I'm laughing and the girls are cheering and wanting to touch the baby. Brandon hands Tara the camera so he can touch his new baby and she switches it to still images and takes pictures.

The cord stops pulsing and Rachel clamps it and asks Lilly if she wants to cut it as I stroke it in amazement, as I love how umbilical cords feel and it shows how we've been connected these last several months. Lilly does and cuts her sister free and beams in delight. Naomi coos over the baby, saying "She's so cute!" over and over. 

I hand her to Brandon and move out of the tub onto the bed, changing into a dry shirt and getting under the blanket as I don't like being wet on land and he hands her back to me. I offer her the breast and she latches on, watching my face as she nurses for the first time on instinct. She pauses and her eyes widen as the colostrum obliges her efforts and she continues to nurse with that new baby amazement over everything.

I push out the placenta and Rachel shows me the mother side and the baby side and explains what I'm looking at, pointing out anything interesting about it and then off it goes. Since I am in a rental property, I can't plant a tree with it and I'm not interested in placentophagy, so it can be disposed of however. Tara gets pictures for me while it's explained, since Brandon doesn't even want to see it. He's not a fan of blood or organs, while I'm fascinated by them.

Baby and I cuddle, nurse and rest while Rachel checks to make sure I haven't torn (which I haven't, just a few skid marks, as I'm not very stretchy, but the water helped prevent tearing like I'd hoped it would) and I still stick an ice pack down there to feel better. I hand baby off to be weighed and measured as someone tells me what time she was born and I relax and watch everyone while Brandon resumes taking pictures of everything for me.

The girls climb up on the bed and hold their baby sister carefully. When it's time to hand her back, Brandon gives them the 'congratulations, big sister' presents from their sister to them that we had prepared ahead of time. Everyone gets a chance to hold the baby and coo as I make phone calls and take a cell phone picture to post on Facebook. I post the baby's stats and name (assuming we've come to an agreement by now) and that we're doing well.

Someone brings me the sandwich I've been waiting 9 flipping months for--turkey with miracle whip and I eat it while looking down at my beautiful little girl and Brandon goes and feeds the kids the breakfast they're whining for. Whenever she feels it's time, Tara goes back home to her family while we rest and recuperate with my new family of five.

And here is my actual birth story to compare: http://musing-mommy.blogspot.com/2011/11/katarinas-birth-story.html

This post was written for inclusion in the Preparation for Birth series at A Little Bit of All of It

Nursing Naomi

originally published Jul 17, 2009 at 12:49 AM on Cafemom. 

I just wanted to get down the story, it was bouncing around my head as I was nursing her a little bit earlier....

So, nursing Lilly was/is pretty much a breeze. Sure, I had difficulties with pain, frustration, etc. until I was just about crazy with it all and only my determination kept me going, but I never once regretted nursing, not even when I was exhausted and in pain and afraid she wouldn't sleep and would wake me up and want to nurse on my sore side. I knew I was doing the best for both of us and just like I was promised, it got better. One day, it was like some magical switch flipped and the bad parts were just a fuzzy memory. But with all the issues, they complimented each other. She had a terrible latch, which should have made her not get milk, but her suck was so strong and my breasts were so eager to release their milk that she never wanted for any.

So, when I got pregnant again, I was confident with experience under my belt that I could face all the challenges coming my way. I had talked to moms with horrible nursing stories that ended poorly and thanked my lucky stars I hadn't had those problems.

Then I had Naomi. She was so sleepy that it was hard to get her to stay awake long enough to try to nurse. When she did finally nurse, it was weak and with a bad latch. Since I have large breasts, I can't feel letdown, so I had no idea if she was even getting milk. She tried to nurse maybe five times while we were at the hospital and lost less than her sister (who was in the hospital for three days instead of the one Naomi was there). The nurses knew I'd done well with Lilly and never brought up formula, even though I hadn't had a chance to tell them not to.

When I got home, I started getting worried... and then my husband went back to work only a few days post-partum. I was alone, tandem nursing my babies and getting worried about my little sleepy baby with the weak suck. She started arching, screaming and getting so upset she couldn't nurse at all.

Well, I was determined, so I broke down the problems into smaller problems. First, she needed to eat. She couldn't do that if she was screaming, so I went with Dr. Karp's 5 Baby S's before each feeding. I'd shush very loudly when she was crying at my breast and it would stop the crying instantly, she'd find the nipple and try to nurse.

Her mouth was so small and my breast was so big! I used the C-hold to overcome this, as it had taken me a long time that it was okay to do with Lilly. It is how I'm used to nursing. Those big boobs needed to be manageable for us both. Hands-free nursing is for side-lying an older baby or toddler at my size and I'm fine with that! The people teaching you to nurse make it sound like a rolled towel/blanket will solve everything when it does nothing but add an unnecessary, obnoxious step in the nursing process (at least, for me).

I worked on her latch/suck by having her suck on my finger, which she had no issue with (and which told me that bottles would be deadly to our nursing relationship, because they would be so much easier for her and she needed to learn to nurse what she had) and then quickly pull my finger out and offer the nipple. It took a week of doing this before I was able to stop, but it was successful in improving her latch and suck and she was growing strong and healthy, though it was her diapers I had to rely on to tell me that she was getting enough--she had about 12 wets a day, I knew she was doing good!

Nursing hurt my baby, because of my letdown. It was too hard for her. I tried having my toddler take the brunt of the first letdown, but that didn't help (it did, however, make it easier for baby to stimulate letdown in the early days when she was having trouble with her suck, to have her sister get it going first--I suppose I'd have hand-expressed, since a pump doesn't work for me, if I hadn't had Lilly to get things going... DH also volunteered, lol, bless him, he never got that opportunity ;) I needed time to heal!). She was textbook colicky, but I don't believe in untreatable colic.

Since the Baby S's couldn't work this problem out, I decided to assume it was gas and treat it accordingly. But when looking for the baby Gas-X, I found Hyland's Colic Tablets. They said that they were also helpful in relieving the pain from overactive letdown. I decided to give them a try.

It was like a miracle. The baby who had started arching and screaming at the sight of my breast was given two tablets and a few moments later, after I shushed her calm to latch, she was sucking--and all signs of pain vanished! Within a week, the arching/screaming cycle stopped! I forgot about the tablets and it resumed. I resumed them and it was gone. I would need them until she was about 3 1/2 months, but by then, all the other issues were long resolved.

My magic switch actually happened earlier with Naomi than it did with Lilly, at 6 weeks (Lilly's was 7 weeks). But I never would have made it if I hadn't been determined and believed in my body's ability to nourish my baby. There is little more heartbreaking than your baby screaming in fear at the sight of your breast, like you're trying to hurt her. I know that with her delicate stomach, anything else would have been even worse.

If I hadn't had the support and research I'd had for the past two and a half years, I don't know that I could have made it. Not knowing if my baby was getting enough and it looking like she couldn't possibly be getting any--but there were the diapers. There, I was reassured. Having my baby not know how to latch instinctively--that was terrifying and I was so depressed, I couldn't even bring myself to ask for help. I just kept going, doing what I'd been told should work and believing in it. Having her scream and arch--if I hadn't had the Happiest Baby techniques, I couldn't have got her semi-calmly to eat. The obvious signs of pain? I had to go with my gut and try something new (the Colic Tablets) and I was validated.

It was a hard start and with the depression, I also had serious bonding issues with my baby. But we persevered. We did it and I'm so proud to still be nursing Naomi. I wish I hadn't been so depressed I couldn't bring myself to call my friends for help when I desperately needed it, but I still did it because I believed. And I have no regrets and a good bond with my baby, as delayed as it was in coming. I'm so grateful for the friends I've had and the support I've had and the resources available to me.

Addendum: Naomi self-weaned at 2.5 years old in July of 2011. It may have been partly influenced by pregnancy, but I offered and she refused for about a week or two before I stopped offering and realized that she was done. I am happy with our nursing relationship and the natural end it found. I am sad that I have no pictures of her nursing after she turned 2.

"I Want My Body Back"

"I want my body back."

Those words have been spoken by more pregnant and/or nursing mothers than I think anyone can ever count. I don't understand it.

If I say those words, I'm going to be talking about my body from February, 2007, when I was the thinnest I've been in decades. Although, sans the faulty gallbladder, thanks. At that time, I was exclusively nursing my firstborn.

Why wouldn't I want to look like this again?

Now, I know what is meant by those words, but for me, I suppose, it's either not an issue or I just disagree that cessation of nursing and/or pregnancy will provide that. I've been pregnant and/or nursing for over 6 years. I've been postdates twice. Neither of those babies caused me a great deal of anxiety to hasten their arrival. With my first, I wanted to stop being pressured into induction and I wanted to meet my baby. I did not want her to come before she was ready, however. With my third, I just wanted a break from prodromal labor and symphysis pubis dysfunction. I actually wanted her to stick around long enough to be a Sagittarius (not that I don't totally love my little Scorpio).

10 months: Lillyanna

Nursing Lilly

But once they were out, that didn't mean that I would magically stop nurturing my baby. Even if I had chosen to bottle feed, my baby still would have been dependent on me for everything for the next six months minimum (at which point, she could at least put food in her own mouth, though it wasn't for sustenance, still) and still dependent on me for the next... oh... eighteen years or so. I suppose a child becomes independent around 16, when they can get a job. Although, since they can't rent an apartment or get married without an adult, maybe not.

39 weeks, 5 days: Naomi

Nursing Naomi

Sure, my kids won't be physically dependent on me that long. They learn to wipe their own butts around 18-24 months around here and Lilly could use the toilet without my help at all when she was 2 (Naomi still likes a boost up from time to time and sometimes her clothes frustrate her when she waits too long). They could walk by a year, crawl by 8 months, no longer totally dependent on me for moving around.  Lilly has been able to make her own food and feed her sister, minimally, since she was 4. They still need me to make most food (especially anything particularly complicated) and will for quite some time. They still need hugs and affection. They need me to hold their hands in parking lots and carry them in bad weather.

10 Months: Katarina

Nursing Kat

My body has never stopped being mine. Not when I nursed or grew a child or my husband was handsy as a 15 year old boy with a hooker. Once the kids are done with them, my boobs certainly aren't going back to being ignored or simply ogled. My husband is biding his time until the day he can declare they're all his alone again. And I can't describe how much I miss the feeling of a baby poking around in my womb (though I don't miss the SPD, contractions, peeing every 15 minutes, food aversions, etc. etc. of course).

My body is mine. I'm simply sharing it. Maybe it's because I'm an extrovert, but there's a sadness, to me, at the thought of being alone in here again. This post was inspired by the one by Jessica for the Carnival of Weaning because what she said spoke volumes to me, even though I've only been nursing for half a decade. I won't necessarily be sad to be done nursing--I've been happy with both my nursing and weaning relationships thus far. But being done with pregnancy does sadden me, but more, I'll be a very sad mama the day our nest empties for good.

Musing on Baby Devices

Now, since you know I'm an attached mommy, the first thing I have to say before getting into this is that I own two double strollers, two exersaucers, a jumperoo, a baby bucket, a bouncy chair and a bassinet. So: hackles down, I'm not one of the extremists who thinks that all devices are evil detachment machines.

Exersaucers: letting moms shower and cook since... uh, whenever they were invented!

However (yes, you knew that was coming), just as there are people who are vehemently against any kind of gadget, there are, sadly, far, far more who overuse the baby gear. I read in one article that the average American baby is in arms for only 3 hours a day. This is not acceptable. Babies need to be held--that is not an opinion, nor a theory, it is a fact.

How does this happen? Well, first, the baby wakes in his crib, then is transferred to a bouncy chair after getting a clean diaper. Baby is given a bottle and often, that bottle is propped (a deadly practice). Baby is then moved to a swing while Mom catches up with the housework or desperately takes some social time on a network (as I write this, my baby is sleeping on my chest, her ear resting on my heart--keeps her asleep the longest). Then if Mom has some errands to run, baby is moved to a bucket carseat, where they will likely spend the next few hours. At the store, the bucket is placed in the cart (or, unsafely in the child seat on the cart) and then returned to the car. At friends' houses, baby stays in the seat most of the time. Then back home and either remaining in the bucket or into the bouncer, swing, pack and play, bumbo, crib (if it's nap time) or exersaucer. Older baby may spend some time in a high chair with some solid food play. Tummy time on a mat on the floor. Back to the crib for bed.

Even if mom breastfeeds, baby may only be held marginally longer if she goes from crib to device in between feedings. There is also fallout from all this time in these contraptions: plagiocephaly.

These devices were invented for our convenience, but like many tools, they are often abused. What is the solution?

Pay attention to how long baby is in the device. If you need to clean, set a timer for 15 minutes (assuming baby doesn't have his own internal timer!) and do what you can't do with baby strapped to you (laundry, picking up, etc.). Save vacuuming, sweeping and mopping for after (since you probably already logically do!) and pick a comfortable baby carrier (a wrap is my preference or a mei tai, but slings are well-loved and there are many other carriers, too!), put baby in it and sweep, mop, etc. Not only will you be giving baby valuable contact, but you'll burn more calories if you're looking to lose pregnancy weight (or, if you're like me, the extra from before pregnancy).

My second child riding in the mei tai, picture by my mom

Shopping is another time to use a baby carrier. Personally, I am uncomfortable shopping without one with my pre-mobile babies. Sometimes I want to walk five feet away from the cart without dragging it into the aisle (especially a busy one!) with me and I can't leave it behind if there's a baby in it.

Car seats are for the car. I know how tempting it is to bundle baby under a blanket into the store in a cold snap, but trust me when I say baby is warmer if you take them out of the seat in the warm car and stuff them under your jacket to get into the store. You're warmer, too, by the way! If you must use the bucket (my first loved hers and spent probably too much time in it), if your baby gets upset, take them out. Find a place to sit for a few moments and feed the baby! Yes, it drags out the trip, but it's better for you both to take those moments to reconnect. Plus, non-vehicular time in car seats is considered one of the highest risk factors for flat head syndrome.

January 2, 2009; 20-some degrees outside and we were quite toasty!

Baby swings. Why are these so popular? Because babies like to be in motion. It simulates the way they spent the first 9 months of their lives! The problem with baby swings is that it's very easy for baby to sleep in them and then not want to sleep anywhere else. Now, for some babies, that may just be what you have to do, but with most, if they want to rock, it's better to do it in your arms or in a baby carrier and then set them down on a safe sleep surface (or wear them while they sleep! I get a lot more writing in when doing that, because she will stay asleep longer). Swings are still great for getting a few minutes, but like bouncy chairs and exersaucers, they should be used a limited amount of time. Plus, the less often they are used, the more likely they are to continue entertaining baby if you have something come up that needs your attention for longer than normal.

Tummy time. Now, when baby's doing it later and trying to crawl, they'll need to be on the ground, but early on, when you're just playing anyway, you can start with baby on your tummy. The same muscles will be worked, but it could not only make it more fun, but the babies who hate tummy time might feel different when they're lying on Mommy! Breasts make a wonderful boppy substitute, but not having any is no deterrent!

Awesome dads can participate!

 
Baby holders surely have their place. I love my double stroller for safe walks or the zoo (or places that might be crowded, especially if I have a runner). My exersaucer lets me cook and take showers (well, not with my high-needs middle baby, but my third will happily play in it while I get to feel human again). Bouncy chairs are a lifesaver for babies with GERD or those who just like to sleep in a more upright position while you're doing things that you need to do with your arms and chest free.


An argument can be made that baby carriers are a device, but that's just nitpicking. You don't have to eschew all baby devices to be an attached parent and even if you're not interested in attachment parenting, there is no ethically-supportable reason for your baby to spend more than a few hours in baby devices (this does not include their sleeping areas, such as the crib or bassinet, when they are asleep).

Be mindful that baby gets enough loving physical attention. It shouldn't need to be said that this is a necessity, not a want and vital to good health. Babies who are not held are at risk for all sorts of psychological issues. In fact, it's been found that babies that are not held, snuggled and nuzzled enough can stop growing and in severe cases, even with proper nutrition, they can die. The fact that this data exists is enough of a prompt to comment that babies need to be held (though the data comes from orphanages, which are unlikely to be reading my blog).

There is also a field of study that all this time in objects may be affecting healthy developmental milestones. Some experts say that placing a baby in an object that assists them into being in a position they are not capable of getting into on their own (a newborn should not be assisted to sit, for instance and walkers are pretty well known for being dangerous now, though that is more about accidentally falling down stairs) will interfere in their normal development.

I think it's ridiculous to totally shun them. "Pushing a stroller is pushing your baby away," is, in my opinion, extremist and ridiculous. Ignoring your crying baby in the stroller is bad, but pushing a happy, safe baby around (and having a place to stick the diapers [or potty for the diaperless crowd] and purse, etc.) is not going to make your baby think that you don't love them. Sticking them in the seat of the cart once they're big enough is not rejecting them (heck, it's the only way I can nurse while walking through a store). You can follow your baby's cues and use devices responsibly.

There is a lot to think about, but I think the most important thing is to remember this: A baby is only a baby for three years, anthropologically. They are only a baby by our society's standards for about 12-18 months. That is a tiny part of our lives, but such an important one for them. Finally, it's time you can't get back. I don't think I've heard a mother say, "I wish I'd held my baby less," or "I wish I'd spent less time with my baby." Baby devices steal that time from us (unless you're a super mom who only ever uses them while actively interacting with your baby! Kudos if you are! That's certainly not what they're designed for, regardless of the images on the boxes). They should be given as little time to do that as we can manage.

I've heard so many older mothers entreat younger mothers to remember that it will be over all too soon and not to get wrapped up in everything else, because you can't get it back. We need to remember that advice. Our babies should be in our arms or against our body as much as possible and in plastic as little.

Musing on the Time Cover and Attachment Parenting

Everyone else is, so I guess it's time to blog my bit as well (Bridge? Why that one looks quite lovely to jump from!). I've been posting other bloggers' articles all day (thinking I wouldn't want/need to write this) and I think I'll start with linking to some of my favorites (just because you aren't here doesn't mean I didn't love your article--it might just mean I haven't had a chance to read it yet!):

First, the interview with the cover model

An interview with my friend, fellow (better) bloggess and one of the other mothers who was in the photo shoot

Her post on Huffpost.

Another interview with said friend:



An article by Daniél at Three House Wives


An anthropologist's take on the issue.

This article by Phil Giannotti on Attachment Parenting.

This post was originally a facebook status before being expanded, by the wonderful Lindsay!

This photo, taken by The Heady Housewife, shows that the cover image is a kind of optical illusion, making the boy look far older than he is. Her son in this picture is younger than two years old:

Tales From A Kitchen Witch shows that Time perpetuates a sizist notion of beauty:

A response to the title by hobomama.

What about the Daddy Wars? Charlie (awesome lady I'm proud to know) writes.

Interview with Mayim Bialik, one of my favorite attached celebrity moms:



And a response on FB via photos that I enjoyed (which is where the cat picture at the top came from as well):

 

Now, the article was supposedly on Attachment Parenting. I don't know, as due to their tactics, I have no interest in buying the magazine and supporting the fuel they've added to the "Mommy Wars" that simply should not exist. Instead, it's all become about breastfeeding and specifically, full-term (also known as 'extended', but I don't like that term as it implies that it is abnormal when it is the biological norm) nursing because of the cover.

So, people are talking. Some of it is good, honest curiosity. Like the majority of moms, I had no intention of nursing a three year old, much less a four year old! My initial plan was to nurse for a year or so, then give my toddler pumped milk in a sippy until she was two. Ha! First, I don't respond well to the pump, so it's from the tap or almost none at all. I thought it would be weird to nurse someone who could talk about it. Then I got the first, "Mmm, ice cream!" and all of that went away (I was eventually informed that the other produced fruity milk while the ice cream breast tasted like various confections).

Like Dionna said (and I've said and many other mothers have said), you don't wake up one day and have a two year old (well, you do, but that kidlet doesn't look any different than she did the day before or the week or month before). It seems strange, looking down at a twelve month old and knowing that some people think that's too old to nurse. That's a baby! I didn't even notice a difference in nursing a one year old versus a six month old, or an eighteen month old versus an eight month old.

My opinions slowly changed as my baby aged and I became more comfortable with nursing (I once thought I wouldn't be able to bear to do it at all), being a mother and the biology and science of it all. As I became better educated, was more exposed to other nursing mothers and watched my children grow, I knew that all that I thought I'd 'known' before just wasn't so. At least, not for me and my family.

We practice child-led weaning. From solid introduction (where the baby feeds herself based on signs of readiness) to the end of nursing, I follow many cues. With Lilly, the final indication that our relationship was ending was her losing her latch. She couldn't get milk and I had an aversion to nursing her. We talked about it and she stopped. It was more mutual than child-led (Naomi weaned on her own a few months later--I kept offering and she just slowly stopped). 

From baby

to toddler

to our last nursing photo, when she was 4

(Sadly, I don't have any photos of Naomi nursing after she turned two--I had camera issues during that time and was busy writing a book and gestating Katarina)

What are the benefits of nursing a toddler or preschooler? Much the same as nursing a baby, only to different degrees. Nutrients in milk becomes more concentrated as Mom's body senses the child's increasing needs and becomes extra loaded during natural weaning, preparing the child to be on his own, immunologically and nutritionally. It's not full nutrition anymore, but more like a dose of vitamins with immunity information in the stem cells. It's still comforting, reconnecting and contrary to popular old wives' tales of the day: it encourages healthy independence. There has been no upper age limit found on the benefits of nursing--they continue stacking. You can read more here.

The age children reach independence (not true independence, of course, as for that, you have to be able to hold down a job, pay bills, etc. -- you certainly can't expect independence from someone who can't wipe their own posterior!) depends on the child. Their personality plays a lot in it, but studies have shown that nurture is also very important. A child whose needs are consistently met is more confident and secure in their independence. They also may reach it sooner (but I think that has more to do with temperament--a clingy baby is likely to be a clingier child regardless of nurturing). I have two very independent little girls and I do believe my parenting, which nurtured attachment and respect has a lot to do with that, particularly with my oldest.

As for Attachment Parenting--what is it? Well, it's about creating an environment for your baby that supports healthy attachment (hence the name). It is the 7 Baby B's, for starters. But that's just a rough guideline, not some set of rules. A mother who cannot nurse can still easily practice attachment parenting. As can parents who do not feel comfortable having baby in bed with them (cosleeping in a crib is a wonderful second choice!). Also, mothers who cannot handle the strain of babywearing on their body, for whatever reason. It's not a competition. It's not a club. It's simply based on the most natural ways to care for a baby that supports the health (physiological and psychological) of an infant, toddler, etc. 

Technically, full-term nursing is not even a part of attachment parenting! It's a part of Natural Parenting, which is complimentary, but not the same thing. Cloth diapering, elimination communication, baby led solids/weaning, etc. are all Natural Parenting and not AP--they are lumped together because they are agreeable. You can read more about what AP is not here.

I am so sad to see that people are flocking to denigrate parents who are simply trying to follow their instincts and do what they feel is right for their family. I am sad that the "Mommy Wars" even exist or that so many people seem so quick to join the ranks and take up arms. I hope that people can put aside their prejudices and try to use this as a learning experience instead of falling into cultural xenophobia.

We need our sisterhood back, as mothers. We need to remember that which connects us all as mothers: love. 

Musing on Elimination Diets

Ahh, the elimination diet. The first thing that many moms suggest when someone's baby has so much as a painful toot. We Americans are obsessed with food. Some with eating it, some with not eating it. It's become the most popular trend in 'crunchy' circles to blame everything on food and insist everything can be cured with it. A lot of people have great success and improved health discovering what they are intolerant or allergic to and removing it from their diet and that's great. Others seem to be nothing but miserable and even unhealthier while on their special diets and eventually abandon them for their sanity.

This has trickled down to babies at the breast. For some babies, an elimination diet is a lifesaver--both for the baby and his parents! However, when it's the go-to for pretty much any upset tummy or rash, are we doing more harm than good?

Courtesy stockxchng

Many studies have come out in recent years that suggest that our clean, sterile environments and avoidance of allergens may be contributing to (or causing!) our poor health here in the US. For instance, a study of babies who ate peanuts earlier in infancy vs. those who wait until after a year as guidelines have recommended showed that the babies with earlier exposure are less likely to be allergic to peanuts! Autoimmune diseases are being linked to clean (sterile) environments, calling for an end to things like Clorox wipes. Pets, once considered a cause of childhood allergies, are now suggested to actually reduce the risk by over half (and kids raised on farms have less allergies, too).

Children learn about the local diet that they are going to be eating through amniotic fluid that they sample in the womb and the milk they drink at mother's breast. It makes sense, then, that places that have diets heavy in fish, such as Japan, have nearly no fish allergies (something I envy, as salmon, tilapia, sardines and several other fish all slam my throat shut like an angry teenager's bedroom door) and announcing you have such an allergy leads the people there to wonder how you can even live, as surely, you must starve if you can't eat fish! So, what does it do to a nursling's expectation for a mother to drastically change her diet to something that does not reflect what the child will grow up eating (or eat when grown up)?

courtesy stockxchng

Now, moving past studies into my own personal experience. My first daughter, Lilly, had a lot of gas. "She could toot so loud," I joked, "that the neighbors blamed the dog." Her poop was nuclear green and on and off frothy. She spit up a lot. A lot. There were few to no signs of pain, but still, I thought that I didn't want my daughter to be ill, so I considered a dairy elimination. Then I considered all the new information about exposure being related to a reverse allergenic response and I decided to try the opposite: I increased my dairy consumption. Of all things, her symptoms disappeared.

I should note that at the same time, I also started adjusting for my overactive letdown/oversupply. Her poop remained green (I did not produce much foremilk, however, I believe due to my poor hydration habits), but she still had no signs of pain, the frothiness disappeared and the gas even took a step back. So, clearly, her problem was not dairy.

With my second, I didn't even think of food allergies when confronting her myriad of nursing problems. I got through them all without ever touching on the subject.

With my most recent, Kat, again, I was looking at a baby who had the symptoms of a dairy intolerance (these, by the way, are also the symptoms of overactive letdown, which is a known problem for me, so I took that into account). When blood appeared in her green, mucousy stool and she cried in pain at every bowel movement (and quite a few toots) while breaking out in an unexplained rash, I decided that I would try an elimination diet.

While I was doing this, I also worked on my overactive letdown and started pumping off some of my early milk to slow the flow (and noted that my foremilk/hindmilk was well balanced). I also forced her to block feed (she was quite opposed, but eventually allowed me to do this). The blood vanished from her stool and it started appearing seedy and turning butter yellow while losing the foul smell.

For the rash, I took all of her clothes and rewashed them in the detergent that I use for myself (Era). Voila, the rash disappeared (it recently reappeared and now I believe it was either a reaction to cinnamon or clove, as that was heavily present in my diet when the first rash appeared as well as the new one--but she also tried on clothes that were washed in the original rash-giving detergent, too! Oy!). Her diaper rash problem was solved by adding baby powder to our diapering routine.

My elimination diet was a failure, however, as I did not realize that my coffee creamer had dairy in it! I had switched without checking, as the other creamer I had been using was dairy free, so it didn't occur to me. None of her symptoms remained or returned when I reintroduced regular dairy back into my diet.

With Kat's symptoms, an elimination diet was even recommended by my pediatrician and was most definitely warranted. However, it turned out that it was not caused by a food allergy, but rather, my milk ejection reflex and laundry detergent. Had I only attempted the elimination diet, she would have continued suffering.

Right now, it seems that the first (and often only!) answer given to any nursing mother with a baby displaying digestive issue symptoms is to eliminate food. Dairy, soy, wheat, corn, eggs... there are lists available to check off one food after another in an attempt to find what's wrong with the baby. Personally, I think that LCs (no matter how many letters precede those two) need to remember to bring up other common problems as well. "Food sensitivities in breastfed babies are not nearly as common as many breastfeeding mothers have been led to think." -- Kellymom.

Elimination diets are a great tool for babies who truly do have sensitive systems, but more than simply gassiness or fussiness must be present before we go recommending that Mom cuts out what may be one of the primary sources of protein for her (we're talking milk, cheese, yogurt--all of that and more, for a dairy elimination). A dairy intolerance is not 'lactose intolerance,' but rather, difficulty processing cow milk protein.

First, as far as straining and pain with passing gas and stool: babies have to learn basically everything. That includes how to fart and poop. They do not know how to relax their sphincter and often get in their own way attempting to simply eliminate. This can cause pain and frustration. Typically, it's outgrown after a few weeks and they learn to relax instead of fighting to have a bowel movement or pass gas.

Green poop: This can be a sign of a lot of things, from allergy to letdown to hindmilk/foremilk imbalance. All of these should be considered. Blood in the stool can be caused by all of these problems as well. The position in the stool tells you whether it's internal (inside the poop, meaning it got there before being passed) or anal (outside the poop--caused by anal fissures from straining).

Symptoms of food intolerance include: fussiness and crying for extended periods, sudden waking accompanied by cries indicating pain, rash (particularly a red ring around the anus--how I identified a food allergy to strawberries in my first and spinach and broccoli in my second), hives, eczema, congestion, vomiting and unusual stools (green, mucousy and/or bloody). These area also all symptoms of other problems, so experimentation may be needed.

If baby displays these symptoms within four to twenty-four hours of you eating a new food, there's a good chance that baby is experiencing a reaction to the food. Usually, symptoms will pass within a few hours if it is a new food. Symptoms that are ongoing indicate a regular food in mom's diet.

In closing, my thoughts are that while elimination diets have their place, like any other treatment or tool, they can and are being abused by well-meaning mothers and their breastfeeding counselors. I think that starting an elimination diet without real symptoms (just over normal baby developmental issues) is not the best idea and may actually be doing baby a disservice when it is used as a first recourse. 


I am not calling for an end to elimination diets--far from it. Babies who are diagnosed 'lactose intolerant' (a pet peeve of mine) or 'allergic to human milk' (flat out impossible, however while galactosemia and similar conditions obviously exist, they are not an 'allergy') would definitely benefit from mom figuring out what it is in her milk that is causing the reaction. And mothers are good at identifying that something is 'wrong' (far better than society gives them credit for). These are just my observations that I wanted to share as an alternative 'food for thought.'

Did an elimination diet help your baby? Did you try one and have it fail? Did you wish that you had been given more options?