breast is best…

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Anyone who has has a baby in the last few years has been told all about the wonders of breastfeeding. They have been shown the evidence of the health impact that breast milk can give their children. Even with this push some mothers still choose to feed with formula. Although I am a strong supporter of breastfeeding I still feel that it is vital that it is something that the mother wants as well. Women who choose formula have many different reason for doing so. I feel that it is important breastfeeding mothers don’t make them feel guilty about this choice as I don’t think it is made without thought.

Once a week I attend a Breastfeeding Support Group. Many of the mothers there have struggled with breastfeeding and have often formula fed to ensure their babies were eating. We were having a discussion this week about what reasons many mothers might be uninterested in breastfeeding and how we as a nursing community could help those that might want to breastfeed but just not know how. Time and time again the conversation came back to the fear of being topless and what breastfeeding can do to your body. This has also been a very hot topic in the news lately. Facebook and Instagram, for example, have had to not only change their policies but greatly back peddle and apologized when it comes to their stance on breastfeeding and showing photos of mothers feeding their babies.

Sadly many new mothers have grown up in a society when bottle feeding is seen as the norm and few have ever seen a nursing mother in public. Even I myself can only remember a few time I had ever seen someone nursing in public. As young children we fed our dolls with bottles and were never told differently. New mothers at our group often talk about feeling isolated and shamed into feeding in closed rooms on their own. This is something breastfeeding mothers everywhere are trying to change. The idea that nursing is something that should be hidden and done in private is old fashioned and sad. Bit by bit we are pushing back, trying to normalize breastfeeding for our children. I can only hope that if Abby chooses to have a child that the choice to breastfeed will not seem as daunting or as isolating but normal and welcomed in everywhere.

new beginnings…

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September is fast approaching and that means not only a new job for myself, but also the beginning of daycare for Abby. As an ECE I have seen the difficulty some parents face in not only choosing a daycare for their child, but in letting go and allowing their little one to be away from them. Cutting that invisible umbilical cord can be very difficult, both physically and mentally for many parents. This idea never used to scare me. I always assumed that I would be excited for Abby to start her new journey.  It’s not to say that now I am not excited, it’s just that excitement now comes with a side of fear, apprehension and sadness…my baby is growing up. 

I now can see myself as one of those parents who puts on a brave face at the daycare, then quietly cries in the car on the way to work.  I find myself even missing Abby when she is upstairs napping, almost as though I know our days with nothing to do but spend time together are limited and I should enjoy them now while I can.  It is not just the loneliness of saying goodbye to my baby for the first time and leaving her with strangers that has me worried, it is also the fact that I myself am beginning a new journey. 

Unfortunately I was not able to return to my previous school.  It is an hours drive each way and that is just too much to do with Abby everyday.  So I instead needed to find something closer to home.  I was fortunate enough to get a job quite quickly at a beautiful school just up to road from where we are located.  I will be working in a bilingual classroom (better brush up on my French!) starting in September.  The school also offers a toddler program beginning at 18 months of age and I was fortunate enough to secure her a place.  That means that she will be in daycare for only four months, then she will come to work everyday with me.  I couldn’t be luckier or happier for that opportunity.  Not only will she be receiving a Montessori education but it will be right down stairs from where I will be working.

Although this time will be difficult and take some adjustments on both of our parts it is an exciting new journey for us and I am glad that we will be sharing most of it together.

musical mornings…

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I am very fortunate to come from a very musical family. My Dad and sister are musically gifted each playing multiple instruments.  I enjoyed singing when I was younger, belonging to both the Ottawa Children’s Choir and Ottawa Chamber Choir.  Here at our house there is always music playing in the background.  Usually the local classical station or occasionally some of my husbands music.  We often sing with Abby in hopes that she too will have a fondness for music as she grows up.  Recently a friend of ours ordered some musical instruments for her little girl and asked if we wanted to get some for Abby.  I was very excited and ordered one of each for her.  They consisted of a shaker egg (seen in the photo above) a bell in a cage (to prevent little lips or tongues from getting cut), rhythm sticks, and texture boards.  Abby was almost as excited as I was to see her new instruments.  Right away she grabbed for the shaker egg and began to shake vigorously. A large smile crossed her face as she heard the wonderful sound she was making. Success! A musical maestro in the making!

books, books and more books…

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Books have always been very important in both my life as well as my husbands.  From a very young age I can remember books playing a large role in most of my memories.  Memories of my sister reading books to me under the sheets at night, my Dad making up funny voices for the different characters and my Mom pulling out old books from her childhood and reading to me when I was sick. Books have always been there for me to take me away from my home to magical far away places.

Reading however did not always come easy for me. I often struggled when I was young with making sense of the letters. I remember how easy it was for my sister to pick up any book and become lost in the story. Although I loved to be read too, it wasn’t until I was about ten or so before I fell in love with reading to myself. Charlotte’s Web was the first book I read entirely on my own. I can clearly remember finishing the last few pages sitting in the car at the cottage, not wanting to get out to play until I was done. From then on I have been hooked.

As I got older I kept this love of reading. For more than seven years I worked at Chapters bookstore.  It was there that I began to collect my books. My library soon grew and took over my whole bedroom. We now have bookshelves full of books covering our basement walls.

This love of books was something I really wanted to pass onto Abby. When I had my baby shower I requested books instead of cards from people. I badly wanted Abby to have a library full of adventures as well. Friends and family brought in their favourite books from their childhood with messages written inside for her. These books are treasures that I hope Abby will appreciate as much as I do.

There is an old saying that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. This seems to be true with Abby and books. She has become quite the little bibliophile reading books everyday. I only hope that this love of reading last for the rest of her life.

sitting on my hands…

20140331-200148.jpgSometimes the most difficult thing to do is nothing.  Maria Montessori is quoted saying ‘Teach me to do it myself” and this concept is part of the foundation for her popular form of education for young children.  It is better to teach the child to complete the task themselves, than it is to continuously help them to do it.  As easy as this sounds it can be quite tricky.  It is faster to quickly tie up a young child’s shoe laces, for example, than it is to watch them painfully struggle to do it themselves.  We are so often in a hurry during our day that we see these interruptions and interference in their tasks as us adults being helpful.  Sadly, unbenounced to most, we are not only doing our children a disservice but we are also telling them that we don’t believe that they are capable of accomplishing these things themselves.

Although I am a trained Montessori educator I still find it difficult to allow Abby to struggle.  I often catch myself reaching my hands out to help her with a toy or to move an object out of her way while she is attempting to crawl.  I must remind myself that the more I sit on my hands the more she is able to use hers to explore her world.

baby bumpers and other dangers…

photoI have always thought of myself as a cautious and level headed individual. I like to weigh the options and all possible consequences before making a decision. Having a baby has greatly increased this cautious sense in me. I pride myself on ensuring that I am as educated as possible when it comes to the safety of Abby. I read multiple reviews online, check consumer reports for any glaring failures on the part of the manufacturer, try as much as possible to purchase items made in Canada, and of course ask everyone for their opinion (the last one is not always the best idea!)

Yesterday I was at one of my baby groups and I had one of those heart wrenching moments when you feel like a ‘bad parent’. We were talking about getting our little ones to sleep and I spoke about Abby’s new nap time routine (which is going quite well if I do say so myself). I made a joke about how she tosses and turns and chatters to herself, even pulling her bumper pads on her crib down to take a look around the room. I could feel the disapproving looks from some of the mothers, as well as the nurses who act as our facilitators. My face slowly began to get red and hot. As a natural instinct I snuggled Abby in closer, as though she would somehow protect me from their judgement. To my relief some moms also grew red and I knew they felt the same as me.

My fidgeting must have given away my thoughts and one if the nurses calmly stated that new studies have found that babies have a much higher chance of suffocation than any injury they could obtain from a limb getting caught in the bed. This had been my fear, the thought of trapped limbs had haunted me.

How had I missed this? For the last seven months I had been placing Abby in suffocation risk! I was a terrible mother! So here I sat wishing more than anything to sink into nothingness and disappear, and then from the corner if the room a voice pipped up. It was one of my friends. ‘I kept bumpers on the cribs of both my two children. No matter what you do you are endangering your baby. You just need to do the best you can.’

After these words it was as though a sudden cool breeze washed over me, all the feelings of failure were gone. I knew that I always do what I think is best for Abby. Needless to say the crib bumper pad is now bagged up in the basement!

tummy troubles…

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She snuggles her face hard into my chest, her knees tightly curled up to her stomach. I can feel her shaking and her tears rolling onto my skin. I rub her back gently and tell her that I’m sorry I can’t make her feel better and that I love her, in hopes that these words will somehow make a difference. This is the first test of my strength as a mother but sadly I know it will not be my last. My baby is in pain. The new diet of solids is taking it’s tole on her stomach.

I go through the list a suggestions my mommy-group friends have made, bicycles with her legs, belly massage, water, breast milk, back rubs, warm bath, squatting position and prunes. I wish so badly to take her pain away, why can’t I be sick instead?

After much grunting and cries the tears and shaking suddenly stop. A small smile crosses over Abby’s face and my husband and I breath a sigh of relief. Then the real test…what’s in the diaper. Sadly nothing more than a raisin. We are not through yet.

The ever present mom-guilt is there in the back of my mind of course, telling me it’s the food I’m feeding her…my fault. I take a vow to ensure that prunes are now a new daily food. I don’t want to do this again.

The smiles are now fading and I can see a pained expression slowly crossing Abby’s face. It begins again…

Never have I been so sad to see an empty diaper, and when it finally comes, a full diaper. The joys of parenting!

sleep take two…

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Abby and I have struggled greatly with sleep for last few months. This struggle has left us both exhausted most of the day. Sadly though Abby still refuses to nap during the day so the few hours we get are spastically placed throughout the night. Each evening begins well, a bath and story then a feed. Abby settles with relative easy around six o’clock. She wakes again around eight for a quick feed then is out until ten. After that Abby wakes every hour and a half for a feed, sometimes at the one thirty mark Abby seems to think its morning. She wakes up all smiles and giggles ready to start her day, blissfully unaware of the hour or my need for sleep.

We now trying everything under the sun to improve our sleep issues. We have moved Abby’s entire sleep routine to her bedroom, although this can feel quite lonely for me. This now means from 5:30 ish until sometimes well into 8:00pm I’m in Abby’s room with her alone. I know that once her routine is better this too will change as she will know what to expect from sleep time.

We have also begun to try and introduce nap times during the day as it was suggested to me that maybe Abby is over tiered, similar to her mother! At 10 am and 1 pm we are now having ‘quiet time’ and Abby lays down in her crib and rests. I find it so silly that when teaching young children I can plan out their day with naps and snacks no problem. I am also great at sticking to this schedule, yet when it comes to my own child I fall apart and have such a difficult time putting my foot down.

So far the naps and new bedtime routine have been going well. Abby’s tears are short lived as are mine.

new arrivals…

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We got the news shortly after lunch on Saturday. Our close friends have welcomed a new little boy into this world. It is always so exciting when a baby is born. My automatic desire is to rush out and purchase things for our new arrival. However I resist the urge to take home everything in the baby store and we pick up one of Abby’s favorite things she had as a baby and still enjoys to this day, her Sophie.

I also went through some of the clothing that Abby had grown out of. As we didn’t know if Abby was going to be a girl or boy before she was born, most of her outfits were in gender neutral colours. Pulling out some if her old stuff I couldn’t believe how tiny they were. It’s scary to think not long ago we were welcoming friends over to our house to meet our new family member. How quickly time flies…

When we arrived at our friends house the emotions and feeling of new motherhood came flooding back. My friend looked wonderful, yet drained and confused. I spent our visit snuggling her new little one, allowing mom to take a much needed break. I reassured her that what she was doing was the right thing for her baby and that she was a wonderful mother.

After we had stayed for a few hours it was time for us to take our leave.  On the drive home the car smelt of new baby.  I remembered holding Abby when she was that little and I found myself longing once again to feel the rush of excitement when holding your new baby for the first time.  Of course I would choose to skip the confusion and fear parts and go right for the snuggles and overwhelming sense of love at first sight.  One day perhaps my husband, Abby and I will welcome a new member into our family.  For now I will have to be satisfied with living vicariously through others…so bring on the babies!

daddy’s little girl…

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One look at a photo of my family and you can see I look different. Both my parents have brown hair and are average to tall in height. Although some say that my sister and I have very similar faces, she has dark hair, olive skin and is quite tall.  I on the other hand am short (barely 5 foot 2 inches) with red hair and freckles.  As a child growing up this was something that bothered me greatly.  Anyone who is in some way different than the crowd can attest to the pain it can cause. I hated looking different than everyone else and badly wanted brown hair and skin that didn’t glow before turning a shade of red that resembled a tomato.  I used to see being different as a curse, not something to be proud of.  It took me many years before I grew to love my Irish heritage, red hair and pale freckly skin.

This brings me to Abby.  Every parent has dreams and aspirations for their children.  I wanted above all for Abby to be happy, whatever that may entail for her.  I put very little thought into her appearance, it didn’t really matter to me.  One day, a few months into my pregnancy, a friend asked me if I wanted my baby to have red hair like me.  ‘I don’t know…’ was my reply ‘I’ve never really thought about it’. I would love to pass my roots and ancestry to her, every red head loves St. Patricks day! But do I want to also pass on the teasing and desire to look like everyone else to my child? Thank goodness this was something out if my control and there was nothing I could do but wait and see!

I can clearly remember that when Abby was born both the nurse and the doctor were shocked by her dark head of hair and dark grey eyes. This was the first, but not the last, time I would hear how different my daughter and I looked. I loved her more than anything in the world at first glance and I never even noticed what she looked like, to me she was perfect. It wasn’t until the excitement died down that I took a good look at my new baby. Looking back at me all snuggled up in her blanket was Jay, my husband.

The first few weeks were a blur and I had no time think let alone analyze Abby’s appearance. She was healthy and that’s all that matters. However I began to feel a twinge of disappointment and even sadness when I would pass my new little girl to admirers and I would hear what would become the all too familiar words…she looks just like her Daddy.

On the surface there is nothing wrong with her looking like my husband. I obviously think he is good looking so what could be the issue. It’s not that she doesn’t share my red hair and pale skin, or that she doesn’t have my funny non-existent ear lobes, it’s just that I wanted so badly to see myself in her. It sounds so strange and selfish to think that I want or even ‘need’ to see myself in my child’s reflection. I know we will have an amazing bond no matter what she looks like. I find the more I hear the comments on how much she looks like my husband and nothing like me the more it hurts. Someone said we should get a maternity test done to make sure she was mine. I know comments like this are made in fun, often said to the new father in a reassuring ‘you didn’t carry them or give birth to them…but they look just like you so you have that bond’ kind of way. However it is said it hurts.

Abby is now six months old and I have had plenty of time to come to terms with the fact that we don’t physically look alike. But these six months have also given me time to see all the things we do have in common. We both love books, of all kinds. A well timed snuggle can make everything better. We both laugh uncontrollably when our knees are tickled, even just a bit! We are both independent and although quick to get angry/sad we are even quicker to forgive. We are social butterflies who love the company of others, as well as some quiet time alone. And we also both enjoy some warm milk before bed, although I take mine in a mug with honey!

So instead of dwelling on the outside physical differences, I now focus on the inside and everything we share in common.