Some of my favorite moments hiking in Mt. Rainier National Park two years ago were nodding hello to fellow hikers on the trail, passing them and then hearing a surprised squeal of, "Look, a baby!" When approaching me from the front, unless passersby notice baby dangling by my hips, they assumed the shoulder and chest straps attached to a backpack, not an Ergo carrying a baby. At barely 11 months old and months away from walking, Oliver saw most of the park while riding piggy back on Mom and Dad's backs. He gazed at the scenery and took his afternoon naps while we hiked up the mountainside, trekked across fields of snow and very, very carefully traversed a mountain stream.
The last time I may have carried Oliver in the Ergo was on a hike in New Mexico when I was 12 weeks pregnant. The trail was too narrow and steep to let him try to walk it on his own, so Chris and I took turns carrying him through the thin New Mexico air. By the time of that trip, Oliver had become adept at walking (and running) and I was becoming too pregnant, so after we returned home, the Ergo hung on our coat rack up until we had a new baby.
I loved having Soren snuggled up against my chest, his warm cheek resting against my bare skin and his peach fuzz hair nuzzling my chin. I would wrap my arms around him in a protective embrace and sway or bounce gently as I tried to lull him to sleep. He provided me just as much a sense of security as I did him, because I knew he was safe and happy.
Sadly Soren is too heavy to comfortably carry on my front anymore, and he'd rather be able to see the world around him, anyhow. I wasn't sure how Soren would like riding in the Ergo on my back the first time I tested the new carrying position out, but just like Oliver he knew to hold on and stay still as I slid him onto my back and hoisted the pouch of the Ergo up and around his body to secure him. Unfortunately, when you're carrying someone on your back, you can't see how he's doing, but Chris assured me he was perfectly content, so off we went with Soren gently bouncing along on my back.
I still enjoy the comments of surprise when people notice I'm carrying a baby on my back. Soren provided the entertainment for a long line full of people as we waited to check out of a very crowded store last weekend. He has started cocking his head to the side when he looks at people, and although I couldn't see him, I knew he had managed to command everyone's attention, because when I craned my neck to see what was going on, I noticed a bunch of people looking our way with their heads bent sideways.
Kiera, Matteo, Oliver and Soren
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Thursday, May 24, 2012
Support for Breastfeeding from the Medical Community
Breastfeeding has been heavily promoted in the medical community for years now, yet we haven't figured out how to eliminate the barriers nursing moms or prospective nursing moms face. My friend's recent experience with insufficient support from her baby's pediatrician and a runaround from her insurance company makes me want to bang my head against this keyboard.
She had brought her second child in for a routine weigh-in at two weeks old and was surprised to learn that he hadn't regained his birth weight. She was told to supplement with formula because her baby wasn't getting enough to eat. When she relayed the story of the visit to the pediatrician, the diagnosis didn't make sense to me, because she had not had any problems with supply during the 18 months she breastfed her first child.
Many moms, especially first-time moms, would have stopped with this one pediatrician's diagnosis. They would have believed they can't make enough milk and either would have endured the cumbersome process of nursing and then supplementing with a bottle, or they may have given up all together. If you're already preparing a two-ounce bottle, why not make a full bottle and let your partner get up in the middle of the night? I know that's the path I would have taken.
Even if a doctor's recommendation doesn't sit right with a mom, she may not have available or know about additional resources. Luckily my friend has a whole network of mom friends whose varied experiences with breastfeeding she could draw upon and she knew about a lactation consultant group at one of the local hospitals. She made an appointment with a lactation consultant and before she took her son back for another weigh-in, she requested an appointment with a pediatrician who supported breastfeeding. The second doctor still recommended supplementing with formula, but only until the reason for the lack of milk could be identified and addressed.
Since my friend had never been to a lactation consultant before, she called her insurance company to see who was "in-network" and was told that lactation consulting wasn't covered because it was a "convenience." She called the lactation consultant back and was instructed that if she told the insurance company it's a "facility fee" the appointment would be covered. First of all, what the heck does that mean? And second, has health insurance coverage gotten to the point that we need to know the super secret code word in order to be covered?
If the medical community agrees that breastmilk is healthiest for baby, (and breastfeeding is healthiest for mom) why won't insurance companies willingly cover this type of health issue? And why aren't pediatricians referring more moms to lactation consultants? When I went to my family doctor because my knee was continuing to bother me when I ran or played soccer, he referred me to a sports medicine specialist, who was better able to diagnose the problem, and who referred me to a physical therapist. All this was covered under my health insurance plan. The second pediatrician my friend saw didn't know any more than the first why her baby wasn't getting enough milk. Pediatricians are generalists when it comes down to it, so they shouldn't be expected to know how to solve every breastfeeding challenge. But she listened to my friend's concerns and what she wanted, and she referred her to a lactation consultant.
At least my friend's breastfeeding story ended on a positive note. The lactation consultant noticed her baby wasn't latching properly, which means he wasn't able to get enough milk, and because lactating womens' bodies produce milk based on supply and demand, her body wasn't getting the signal that it needed to make more. My friend was shown how to help the baby get a better latch and was advised to pump after each feeding to stimulate supply. And while having to pump adds one more cumbersome step to each feeding, she now has breastmilk she can offer him for the next bottle, and she feels better that she's actively doing something to return to exclusive (and bottle-less) breastfeeding.
She had brought her second child in for a routine weigh-in at two weeks old and was surprised to learn that he hadn't regained his birth weight. She was told to supplement with formula because her baby wasn't getting enough to eat. When she relayed the story of the visit to the pediatrician, the diagnosis didn't make sense to me, because she had not had any problems with supply during the 18 months she breastfed her first child.
Many moms, especially first-time moms, would have stopped with this one pediatrician's diagnosis. They would have believed they can't make enough milk and either would have endured the cumbersome process of nursing and then supplementing with a bottle, or they may have given up all together. If you're already preparing a two-ounce bottle, why not make a full bottle and let your partner get up in the middle of the night? I know that's the path I would have taken.
Even if a doctor's recommendation doesn't sit right with a mom, she may not have available or know about additional resources. Luckily my friend has a whole network of mom friends whose varied experiences with breastfeeding she could draw upon and she knew about a lactation consultant group at one of the local hospitals. She made an appointment with a lactation consultant and before she took her son back for another weigh-in, she requested an appointment with a pediatrician who supported breastfeeding. The second doctor still recommended supplementing with formula, but only until the reason for the lack of milk could be identified and addressed.
Since my friend had never been to a lactation consultant before, she called her insurance company to see who was "in-network" and was told that lactation consulting wasn't covered because it was a "convenience." She called the lactation consultant back and was instructed that if she told the insurance company it's a "facility fee" the appointment would be covered. First of all, what the heck does that mean? And second, has health insurance coverage gotten to the point that we need to know the super secret code word in order to be covered?
If the medical community agrees that breastmilk is healthiest for baby, (and breastfeeding is healthiest for mom) why won't insurance companies willingly cover this type of health issue? And why aren't pediatricians referring more moms to lactation consultants? When I went to my family doctor because my knee was continuing to bother me when I ran or played soccer, he referred me to a sports medicine specialist, who was better able to diagnose the problem, and who referred me to a physical therapist. All this was covered under my health insurance plan. The second pediatrician my friend saw didn't know any more than the first why her baby wasn't getting enough milk. Pediatricians are generalists when it comes down to it, so they shouldn't be expected to know how to solve every breastfeeding challenge. But she listened to my friend's concerns and what she wanted, and she referred her to a lactation consultant.
At least my friend's breastfeeding story ended on a positive note. The lactation consultant noticed her baby wasn't latching properly, which means he wasn't able to get enough milk, and because lactating womens' bodies produce milk based on supply and demand, her body wasn't getting the signal that it needed to make more. My friend was shown how to help the baby get a better latch and was advised to pump after each feeding to stimulate supply. And while having to pump adds one more cumbersome step to each feeding, she now has breastmilk she can offer him for the next bottle, and she feels better that she's actively doing something to return to exclusive (and bottle-less) breastfeeding.
Friday, May 18, 2012
My neighborhood is quiet. Even with a bar down the street, it's very quiet. Our real estate agent had encouraged us to talk to neighbors back when we were looking at prospective houses and one of our future neighbors said he liked the neighborhood because it's in the middle of everything, yet still quiet, because no one knows about it, so people only come here if they live here.
After my kids, I'm the biggest defender of my neighborhood. We try to be good neighbors. We clear the lawn of the kids' toys after the day is done, try to keep the grass mowed, chicken sit for our neighbors and bring over cookies at Christmas. We're pleasant to each other. We wave to each other as we come and go and chat with each other over the fence.
I have zero tolerance for bad behavior, the kind of behavior that affects quality of life. When I heard an altercation between acquaintances of a neighbor across the street, an altercation that involved more profanity than not, I went outside to see what was going on. When I feared the instigator of the yelling match was going to punch the woman he was verbally abusing, I ran inside to find my cell phone to call the police. And then when the man left the group and headed towards the corner, stopped, turned around, dropped his pants and continued his profanity-laden tirade while making obscene gestures with his bare mid-section, I stormed across the street and confronted him.
Loud enough for probably the whole neighborhood to hear, I yelled at him to pull his pants up. Although I was livid, the comical part of the whole incident is that as the words flowed out of my mouth about pulling his pants up, how his behavior is unacceptable and so on, I remembered I was not talking to my toddler, but an adult. So I followed up with an exacerbated, "And I shouldn't have to tell you this! You should know better!"
I pointed to my house and glared back at him and said that was my home and this is my neighborhood and his behavior wasn't allowed where I live. He interjected some sheepish repeats of "I'm sorry," but I left him with a hopefully very believable threat that if I ever hear him yelling at someone else, or even look like he was going to hit someone or expose himself, I'd call the cops.
When I told Chris the story later, I don't think he was surprised that I had confronted the guy given that I feel passionate about a lot of things, including when people misbehave. But it wasn't just the offensiveness of the man's actions that got my so riled up, it was the worry about the affect of his actions on my neighborhood. I had to intervene, because I wasn't going to let my neighborhood become a place where people think they can act like that. I wasn't going to let that become the new normal, which leads to apathy from neighbors who don't step in or don't call the police because, well, that kind of stuff happens a lot around here.
It's remained quiet since that incident. Oliver plays at his water table in the front yard and pushes himself on his tricycle up and down the sidewalk in front of our house. Soren sits on a blanket and plays with his toys and Chris and I are out doing yard work or watering the plants. We remain a presence in the neighborhood.
After my kids, I'm the biggest defender of my neighborhood. We try to be good neighbors. We clear the lawn of the kids' toys after the day is done, try to keep the grass mowed, chicken sit for our neighbors and bring over cookies at Christmas. We're pleasant to each other. We wave to each other as we come and go and chat with each other over the fence.
I have zero tolerance for bad behavior, the kind of behavior that affects quality of life. When I heard an altercation between acquaintances of a neighbor across the street, an altercation that involved more profanity than not, I went outside to see what was going on. When I feared the instigator of the yelling match was going to punch the woman he was verbally abusing, I ran inside to find my cell phone to call the police. And then when the man left the group and headed towards the corner, stopped, turned around, dropped his pants and continued his profanity-laden tirade while making obscene gestures with his bare mid-section, I stormed across the street and confronted him.
Loud enough for probably the whole neighborhood to hear, I yelled at him to pull his pants up. Although I was livid, the comical part of the whole incident is that as the words flowed out of my mouth about pulling his pants up, how his behavior is unacceptable and so on, I remembered I was not talking to my toddler, but an adult. So I followed up with an exacerbated, "And I shouldn't have to tell you this! You should know better!"
I pointed to my house and glared back at him and said that was my home and this is my neighborhood and his behavior wasn't allowed where I live. He interjected some sheepish repeats of "I'm sorry," but I left him with a hopefully very believable threat that if I ever hear him yelling at someone else, or even look like he was going to hit someone or expose himself, I'd call the cops.
When I told Chris the story later, I don't think he was surprised that I had confronted the guy given that I feel passionate about a lot of things, including when people misbehave. But it wasn't just the offensiveness of the man's actions that got my so riled up, it was the worry about the affect of his actions on my neighborhood. I had to intervene, because I wasn't going to let my neighborhood become a place where people think they can act like that. I wasn't going to let that become the new normal, which leads to apathy from neighbors who don't step in or don't call the police because, well, that kind of stuff happens a lot around here.
It's remained quiet since that incident. Oliver plays at his water table in the front yard and pushes himself on his tricycle up and down the sidewalk in front of our house. Soren sits on a blanket and plays with his toys and Chris and I are out doing yard work or watering the plants. We remain a presence in the neighborhood.
Friday, May 11, 2012
Soren Update: 7 Month Update
Chris thinks Soren has gotta be getting close to crawling, but all the "carpet swimming" makes me wonder. But maybe it is just a matter of time before he stops trying to do the breast stroke and plants his limbs on the carpet and props himself up onto his hands and knees. If you give him something to press his legs into, he's starting to be able to get himself up into a crawling position. He pauses just long enough for me to think he's going to take off crawling before he plops back onto his stomach.
He does sit up really well now and I have confidence to leave him unspotted and know there's a good chance he's going to stay upright for a good chunk of time. He also doesn't slump over in his booster seat anymore.
After a slow start, Soren is really interested in food. We're still only giving him solids at dinner time, mostly because I'm letting myself ease back into the labor-intensive process of cleaning up after a child who drops all his leftover food on the floor and smears the rest all over himself. Other than clean-up, dining with Soren has been a pleasant experience. We leave him be to happily gnaw on his food while we enjoy our dinner. I'm impressed by what he's able to get in his mouth even though he hasn't mastered the pincer grip.
Soren enjoys music and likes when you sing to him, which poses a challenge for me there are very few songs I know the words to. The more animated you are, the better. He gets a kick out of watching you dance and you know he's really happy when he starts giggling. Random things will send him on a giggling rampage, like when Oliver stomped his foot pretending to squash a bug. And it's easier to make him laugh when he's tired, because he's punchy. Just like Oliver does laps around the first level of our house before bedtime, Soren has bouts of giggling, like he's trying to get that last bit of energy out before retiring to his crib.
He's starting to notice other babies. Of course Soren's interested in watching kids who are interacting with him, but if I prop him up next to a friend's baby, he wants to reach out and touch him. Then again, he reaches out and tries to grab everything now. If I sit him on my lap at the table, anything in front of my ends up being pushed to the middle of the table and out of his reach. He's turned the Sunday paper into a slobbery mess.
Overall, Soren is still a mellow and happy baby. He loves to be held and cuddled and loves to watch his big brother play and his dad sing and dance for him. His happy-go-lucky and lovable demeanor make up for his early-morning wakings. We've momentarily given up on sleep training simply because we're out of energy. I'm back to feeding him at four or five in the morning just because it's easier, even if it's not what I want to be doing long-term. Soren's sleep patterns have made for a lot of tiring days at work, because often it's not worth it to try to go back to sleep, so instead of "sleeping in" until 6:15 a.m., I'll just start my morning routine at whatever time I get Soren back to sleep. But before I lay him back in his crib, I tell him I love him and that he's lucky he's so stinkin' cute.
He does sit up really well now and I have confidence to leave him unspotted and know there's a good chance he's going to stay upright for a good chunk of time. He also doesn't slump over in his booster seat anymore.
After a slow start, Soren is really interested in food. We're still only giving him solids at dinner time, mostly because I'm letting myself ease back into the labor-intensive process of cleaning up after a child who drops all his leftover food on the floor and smears the rest all over himself. Other than clean-up, dining with Soren has been a pleasant experience. We leave him be to happily gnaw on his food while we enjoy our dinner. I'm impressed by what he's able to get in his mouth even though he hasn't mastered the pincer grip.
Soren enjoys music and likes when you sing to him, which poses a challenge for me there are very few songs I know the words to. The more animated you are, the better. He gets a kick out of watching you dance and you know he's really happy when he starts giggling. Random things will send him on a giggling rampage, like when Oliver stomped his foot pretending to squash a bug. And it's easier to make him laugh when he's tired, because he's punchy. Just like Oliver does laps around the first level of our house before bedtime, Soren has bouts of giggling, like he's trying to get that last bit of energy out before retiring to his crib.
He's starting to notice other babies. Of course Soren's interested in watching kids who are interacting with him, but if I prop him up next to a friend's baby, he wants to reach out and touch him. Then again, he reaches out and tries to grab everything now. If I sit him on my lap at the table, anything in front of my ends up being pushed to the middle of the table and out of his reach. He's turned the Sunday paper into a slobbery mess.
Overall, Soren is still a mellow and happy baby. He loves to be held and cuddled and loves to watch his big brother play and his dad sing and dance for him. His happy-go-lucky and lovable demeanor make up for his early-morning wakings. We've momentarily given up on sleep training simply because we're out of energy. I'm back to feeding him at four or five in the morning just because it's easier, even if it's not what I want to be doing long-term. Soren's sleep patterns have made for a lot of tiring days at work, because often it's not worth it to try to go back to sleep, so instead of "sleeping in" until 6:15 a.m., I'll just start my morning routine at whatever time I get Soren back to sleep. But before I lay him back in his crib, I tell him I love him and that he's lucky he's so stinkin' cute.
Saturday, May 5, 2012
I was thinking about the park last night while lying in bed. We've had so much rain lately that we haven't been in awhile and I wanted to get back into our routine of meeting friends there and letting the kids play together. The last time we'd gone with any regularity was in the fall, which had been unusually warm and dry well into October. I was pregnant and anxious to give birth, especially as my due date came and went. It's odd for me to think back on a time when Soren didn't exist yet, because it's difficult now to imagine not knowing him. Now my memories of being pregnant with him are intertwined with my knowledge of who he is. When I think back on those final weeks of my pregnancy, I think of being at the park not just with Oliver, but both my kids. I remember Oliver playing in the sand, sliding down the slide and wanting to be pushed on the swing, and I imagine Soren tucked inside my womb, secure and happy. Now that I've met him, the memory of my connection to him when I was pregnant with him is even stronger than when I could only try to imagine the baby who was going to be my son.
Oliver's Hiding Spot
We've been slowly weaning Oliver from his pacifier and now he only uses it at bedtime. Although he's been napping without a pacifier for months now, every now and then he'll still ask for it, as if we'd possibly forgotten, or even throws a fit about having to nap without it. One time I left him in his room, where he spent at least 20 minutes screaming until he was suddenly quiet. I thought I'd had "won" by showing him that when I say it's time to nap and no pacifier, I mean it. When I heard him stirring two hours later and went to get him up, I was surprised to see him curled up in his bed innocently sucking on his pacifier. I was sure I had put his pacifier on the top of his bookcase like I do every morning, or had I? Two more times I discovered him napping with a contraband pacifier and never figured out where he'd gotten them.
That is until tonight when we couldn't find a single pacifier at Oliver's bedtime and after an extensive search, Chris, by chance, decided to look in Oliver's closet and found two pacifiers squirreled away. Oliver does like to hide things, so it's possible he had simply been playing hide and seek, or is he old enough to be so clever to plan ahead and stash some pacifiers in his closet so he can sneak them out at nap time?
Kids are known for hiding a lot of things from their parents, and, well, a beloved pacifier is about as inonnocent as it gets.
That is until tonight when we couldn't find a single pacifier at Oliver's bedtime and after an extensive search, Chris, by chance, decided to look in Oliver's closet and found two pacifiers squirreled away. Oliver does like to hide things, so it's possible he had simply been playing hide and seek, or is he old enough to be so clever to plan ahead and stash some pacifiers in his closet so he can sneak them out at nap time?
Kids are known for hiding a lot of things from their parents, and, well, a beloved pacifier is about as inonnocent as it gets.
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