7/23/12

Why Women Still Can't Have It All, etc.

Photo taken from first article. Image credit: Phillip Toledano
I read two interesting articles today I thought were worthy of sharing. The first one is called "Why Women Still Can't Have It All" and has become a very popular and widely read article in the last month or so. It is written by Anne-Marie Slaughter who "describes her own experience of stepping down from a high-level State Department position to teach at Princeton and spend more time with her children. In the process, she came to an uncomfortable realization: No matter what well-meaning feminists might say, women really can't have it all. 'Not today,' she writes, 'not with the way America's economy and society are currently structured.'" The article is *super* long, but a good read nevertheless: http://m.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2012/07/why-women-still-can-8217-t-have-it-all/9020/1/

The second one is entitled "Why There's No Such Thing as 'Having It All' - and There Never Will Be" and is a (much shorter) response to the first article:
http://www.theatlantic.com/business/archive/2012/06/why-theres-no-such-thing-as-having-it-all-and-there-never-will-be/258928/ If you don't have time to read the first article, you could probably just read this one and get a fairly good gist of what the first article is about.

If you are further interested in the subject of mothers balancing careers and family from a Christian/biblical perspective, my friend Sarah did a blog series entitled "passionate, joyful homemaking," in which she writes on such topics as "should moms pursue a career?" and "God's creation of a mother's role." I've read the whole series and while I don't necessarily agree with everything she wrote, she does have great insight and I found the posts thought provoking.

This subject is certainly one worth discussing and I'd love to get feedback on any or all of the above material...

7/20/12

Caleb's Afterbirth - the Neighbs

In case you missed it: Caleb's Afterbirth - the Hospital

What more could possibly be said about Caleb's 'afterbirth,' you ask? Well, our hospital experience in the days following Caleb's birth was rough, but it was just the beginning of the most difficult month of our lives to date - no contest. Even now I wonder how we ever made it out alive, and I am certain it was purely by the grace of God. (In fact, it amazes me how anyone who has had a newborn lives to tell about it...yet I guess we continue on with only minimal brain damage. Though that is highly subjective...the minimal part).

Upon discharging from the hospital and arriving at our apartment, we were so thrilled to be in the comfort of our own home. Sean and I immediately laid down to catch some desperately needed sleep. SLAM! Shake. SLAM! SLAM! My eyes popped open but my body was unable to move. What was that!? Still in a daze, my mind sluggishly searched for an answer to the rude awakening.

Then it all came flooding back - the neighbors. As good fortune would have it, our apartment shared a landing with another apartment that housed six of the rowdiest college students at Long Beach State University who were fraught with boredom if they weren't hosting beer pong tournaments on their patio Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights between the hours of 8 pm and 5 am. As a result, broken bottles and vomit were a staple of our stairwell (and no, not my vomit).

Even with all their higher education, they also didn't seem to understand the concept of shutting a door quietly or climbing stairs without stomping. I never did grasp why all SIX of them found it necessary to do these things, which inevitably shook and reverberated throughout our apartment, jolting us to consciousness each time they occurred (which was often - there were six of them)! As if Caleb wasn't already pushing us to our sleep deprivation limit. We tried talking to them about it but found more action was required, which resulted in this:



Believe me, sign making was not on the list of things I thought I'd be doing on Caleb's fourth day of life.

Caleb's Afterbirth - Breastfeeding Blues


Ok, first things first, if the term "breastfeed" makes you uncomfortable and you can't believe I used the word in a public forum, I am shaking my head and rolling my eyes right now. In fact, if you're squirming at this point, you would probably benefit from reading this article by Tim Challies: "Exchanging the Natural for the Unnatural" (thanks for the article, Sarah).

Here's the bottom line - God used my experience with breastfeeding to refine my character and teach me about life in general - but before I flesh that out, I'll continue Caleb's afterbirth story where I left off:

Regrettably, Caleb's difficulties with breastfeeding did not end at the hospital - in truth, breastfeeding didn't start going "well" until Caleb was five months old. And then, well, he went through a "fun" biting stage at 10 months and bit me so hard - breaking skin - that I was forced to completely wean him off that side due to unbearable pain, and the wound's inability to heal with constant irritation. (Biting...possibly the reason God invented two breasts??) I continued nursing for 4 months after that, and learned to embrace my lopsidedness for those remaining months :)

For the first 4 months, Caleb's biggest problem was staying awake, and despite our best team effort (undressing him every time, blowing on him, tickling his toes/face, dripping cold water on him, etc.), we just could not keep him awake for the life of us (I suppose that shouldn't have come as a shock since he peacefully slept through labor of all things!) Because of this, each nursing session was an event and took about an hour to complete (of which he actually fed for maybe 20 minutes). In the beginning, this added up to a whopping 8-10 hours a day - excluding pumping time.

20 minutes may actually be an overestimate, because on day 5, we had to call his doctor because he hadn't peed in 16 hours, and we feared he was dehydrated (a very serious issue)! A piece of advice for all you 5-day-olds out there - if you want to really put your parents in a panic and take a few years off their life, just stop urinating...that simple. Ugh, talk about freaked out! Just barely keeping it together at that point, we immediately ran out to grab formula to supplement my breast milk. We then had to feed it to him through a syringe (think baby bird), in order to avoid "nipple confusion" (is this even real?? who knows). Do you see what I mean when I said in my earlier hospital post that breastfeeding is not as simple as you'd think!?

Now, I do not consider myself a crunchy mama, but I have done quite a bit of research on the myriad benefits of breastfeeding* and am a big advocate for breastfeeding children during their first year of life, if at all possible (I do realize, however, it is not always possible, and I do not mean to condemn anyone in this post). I was really committed to making it work, but when we were forced to supplement with formula, I began doubting if I would be able to. I was giving it all I had in me and my heart sunk at the possibility of not being able to give Caleb the best I could offer. During Caleb's entire first week home, I sobbed every night in the shower, pleading with God to help Caleb start eating. I was so scared that he was failing to thrive and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. I have never felt more helpless or utterly reliant on God in my life. Caleb needed to eat, and I could not force him to do it. God had to intervene.


From there on out, it got (slightly) better. I say better because I was no longer concerned that Caleb was going to die (I know that sounds ridiculously dramatic, but that is sincerely how my sleep deprived self felt at the time). For Caleb's first three weeks of life, we supplemented him with pumped breast milk via a syringe, to ensure he was not dehydrated. I also began attending a breastfeeding clinic to get assistance, and to weigh Caleb weekly for two months (which was debatably helpful). I was told by Caleb's doctor and the lactation consultant at the clinic that Caleb needed to be gaining an ounce a day, and he simply wasn't achieving that (or even coming close...he was gaining maybe half an ounce per day). I was repeatedly told I needed to "push" Caleb harder and that he was not gaining enough weight. Beyond a doubt, no other event has ever come close to generating the overwhelming amount of anxiety and self pressure caused by fearing for Caleb's health.

I know my next comment will put me in the direct line of fire of all the die hard breastfeeding fanatics, but truthfully, I did not enjoy breastfeeding whatsoever. I did not feel a "special bond" through it any more than I would have had I given him a bottle, and forget nursing Caleb until he's 4 years old. 
For the first three months, there was not one day I did not consider quitting. Perhaps the difficulty of my experience taints my feelings, but I found breastfeeding to be highly stressful, demanding, and inconvenient. Even at one year old, I was still breastfeeding Caleb five times a day in accordance with the Dr.'s orders (due to his small size), and was unable to be away from him for more than three consecutive hours that entire year (six if I pumped). Furthermore, it was painful in the beginning, it hurt my back, it drained my energy, it made participating in two weddings extremely complicated, I hated pumping, nipple shields were a nuisance, I developed two breast infections, it was inconvenient when out and about (particularly when Caleb figured out how to remove the nursing cover and expose me to the entire world), he bit me on numerous occasions to varying degrees, and I was lopsided at the end. 

My purpose in sharing all that is not to whine, to scare anyone, or to demonstrate how 'awesome' I am for pushing through, but actually, to encourage. Those are my candid thoughts, and I know I am not the only one who struggled or is struggling with breastfeeding. Breastfeeding
 can seriously suck (no pun intended, hehe), and there's no doubt that it requires an enormous amount of sacrifice. Sacrifice of your body, your privacy, your comfort, and your freedom. Those were not easy things for me to give up, and I think I grew a lot as a person and in my faith through my many struggles with breastfeeding. 

For those of you who have struggled, are struggling, or will struggle with breastfeeding, my suggestion is this: rely on God, persevere, and remind yourself that part of love is sacrifice, and it comes at a price. John 15:13 says "greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends." Breastfeeding, however random, has taught me more than anything else what it means to deny myself and lay down my life (particularly in those first few months). Before I finish, I want to make it abundantly clear that I do NOT look down on you if you did not breastfeed your child(ren). As much as my prideful self wants to take full credit for this accomplishment, I am completely aware that God intervened and it was His grace and strength that saw me through. 


Caleb, if you read this one day, (and are super awkwarded out...sorry), I just want you to know that I love you very much and I was happy to do it for you even though it was hard for me. I am so thankful God carried me through the difficulties and matured me in the process. I'd do it all over again in a heartbeat son. 

4/4/12

10 Ways Pregnancy Crushed My Dignity: Parts 2 & 3 - Appetite and Weight Gain

If you haven't yet read the intro to this series, you should do so before reading on for some context.

Before continuing, I'd like to reemphasize that my pregnancy was particularly difficult. Every woman's pregnancy is different; I am just sharing my personal experience. I thought I'd reiterate that point because my mom read my first two posts and is fearful that by my 10th post, all procreation will cease and the human race will die out :) Moving along...

2. Appetite. Most people have heard the stereotype of pregnant women craving pickles in their ice cream. While it's true some women crave strange combinations, my experience was a complete loss of appetite altogether during the first half of pregnancy - I actually lost weight during my first trimester. Even the smell of most foods/perfumes was enough to get me gagging. Poor Sean, the only food we ate for four months was muffins, pop 'ems, mac 'n cheese, soup, and rice - a most random combination! I am seriously not exaggerating; we literally rotated between these five items and Sean couldn't eat much else because I could not stand the smell. This one wasn't as much a dignity crusher as just straight up frustrating and a little depressing :/

My appetite got better after the first four months (although I continued to experience severe nausea). At that point, I had an onset of very specific, intense cravings that required immediate satisfaction by sending Sean out on midnight runs to the grocery store (which was conveniently located across the street). On one such occasion, I became insatiably thirsty and craved milk. Sean knew the drill and fetched a gallon of milk - and I kid you not - I drank more than 3/4 of it in a matter of a few hours...it was truly remarkable. Other midnight runs included: hot cheetoes, cheese popcorn, funyuns, blueberry bagels/cream cheese, and cake batter ice cream. Obviously eating nutritious food was of top priority to me during my pregnancy. Oh and Sean very kindly gained some sympathy pounds for me...what a sacrificial husband :) Which leads me right into the next subject...

3. Weight gain. Some of the worst (and most common) advice I received while pregnant was: "you should eat whatever you want, you deserve it!" Unfortunately, I took this advice to heart and at each meal/snacking session I emphatically thought to myself: "girl, you are awesome, you've earned this!" One particular night I felt especially fond of this deceitful slogan, and by the end of a two-hour TV show, I was appalled to realize I had just consumed an entire bag of funyuns, half a box of cheez-its, a pint of ice cream, three see's candies, and a snickers. Even Takeru Kobayashi would have been impressed.

The lack of appetite during my first half of pregnancy had limited my weight gain, but let's just say I more than made up for it during the second half. I had practically been starving the first half, so when I finally got my appetite back, my food intake rivaled that of Michael Phelps and his 12,000 calorie diet. I began eating in this manner partly because I had been deprived of most foods for four months, but also because my body was not responding well to being pregnant, and the reality of feeling like absolute crap 24-7 was leaving me depressed. So with habits like those mentioned in the previous paragraph, I averaged close to 10 lbs. per month (for a total of 45 lbs.)! When I went in for check-ups, my doctor didn't seem concerned, so I continued to live it up.

What a mistake! News flash - you really don't need that many extra calories for the baby while pregnant, and the extra weight doesn't magically disappear once you give birth. You may think this is obvious (I should have too), but one of my less intelligent moments in life occurred six weeks after giving birth at my follow-up Dr.'s appointment. After facing the scale and feeling less than pleased with the result, I asked my doctor in all seriousness: "so, have I already lost all the pregnancy-specific weight I'm going to lose (extra fluids, blood volume, etc.)? like, is that really it??" She of course said yes, and I followed that up with my next brilliant question: "so you mean...I'm actually going to have to work to lose the rest of it???" She looked at me a little funny, again said yes, and I sat there frantically adding numbers in my head with the result leaving me slightly pale - haha! Luckily I've been able to lose all the weight (plus some due to nursing), but it took me four months of an agonizingly strict diet and exercise to accomplish. During my next pregnancy (Lord willing), I will most certainly eat very differently! 

Even so, I promise you will never catch me in a two-piece bathing suit ever again. Bless his heart, my husband tries to convince me that the plethora of stretch marks I have acquired look like cool fire tattoos on my stomach, (legs, butt, name your body part), but no matter how hard I try, I just can't seem to adopt that perspective. The best I can do is consider them well-earned battle scars :) For the record though, I definitely would have developed stretch marks whether I had gained 20 or 60 lbs...it's just another fun/typical side effect of pregnancy!

Other unfortunate aspects of gaining so much weight during pregnancy included finding myself at Kohl's twice a week searching for the next clothing size up - even the stretchy maternity clothes were no match for my impressive weight gain marathon. Additionally, each time I asked Sean to help me put on/tie my shoes or hand me my drink while immobilized on my corner of the couch (while ironically watching episodes of the Biggest Loser), my pride was squashed just a little...bit...more.

These two challenges were not of the same "dignity crushing" magnitude as most the others, but I thought I'd give you a break after the last post about constipation ;) 

2/19/12

Part 1 - Constipation
10 Ways Pregnancy Crushed My Dignity:

If you haven't yet read the intro to this series, you should do so first before reading on for some context. Please click on this link to read the intro.... Introduction to this series...


Constipation is one of those less talked about, lovely side effects of pregnancy. Due to loss of appetite and nausea, I was very limited on the foods I could handle in the beginning of my pregnancy, so I wasn't getting nearly as much fiber as I needed. Despite my best efforts to eat a LOT of fiber, going five days without a bowel movement was not unusual. Even with a fiber supplement, two fiber one bars per day, AND trying to eat foods high in fiber, I STILL found myself unbearably constipated for the entire 9 months.

About halfway through my pregnancy, my constipation reached its peak one night after I had gone without a bowel movement for a record breaking seven consecutive days. Sean was on campus that night with students, and I was at home retching on the couch in an incredible amount of pain - my inners felt like they wanted to explode but couldn't. I finally reached the point of desperation and knew I had to embrace the unthinkable - yes, it is what you are thinking - my very last resort. There is nothing quite as dignity crushing as calling your husband to please come home from work early so he can run to the store and pick up a suppository...and proceed to insert it up your butt. Let's just say, we got a little bit closer that night :) After a few minutes I felt like I had to poop, and I hurried excitedly into the bathroom. I heard one small bloop, and realized it was just the suppository. Dejectedly, I called again for Sean to reinsert a fresh one, and this time I resolved to wait a little longer. If this doesn't earn Sean best-husband-of-the-century award, I don't know what will. 

30 minutes elapsed and I was hit by a sudden, intense and overwhelming feeling that made it clear to me the suppository had worked. I had mere moments to respond, so I jumped up from the couch, ran towards the bathroom, and collided at full speed with the bathroom's door frame which sent me back a good two feet. (Hey - don't judge; I never could get used to my rapidly growing body). Realizing I had no time to react to the pain of body slamming myself into a wall, I made it to the toilet with no time to spare. I was literally milliseconds from pooping my pants. While this may have made a better story, I'd much prefer to keep my "pooping my pants" story count at 0.

For the remainder of the night (until about 4 am), I had an explosive case of the runs every half hour in which I, once again, found myself running off to the toilet. After the second uncomfortably close call, I determined it best to ditch my pants for the night. If there was previously any doubt as to the effectiveness of suppositories, I will gladly be their poster child.

2/10/12

Introduction to this series...
10 Ways Pregnancy Crushed My Dignity

 


My pregnancy with Caleb was really hard. It certainly could have been worse, but in my mind there's no denying that the crappy-ness level of it was approximately a 8.257 out of 10. At my first appointment, the Dr. found an ovarian cyst bigger than my uterus during the ultrasound. This caused concern, because if the cyst were to grow, it could have ruptured and become a life-threatening scenario for both myself and Caleb. Fortunately, with many faithful friends and family in prayer for us, the cyst completely disappeared by my next ultrasound to the shock and amazement of my doctor. Though God miraculously healed my body (praise Him!), it was still a scary situation nonetheless, and from there on out, there seemed to be a continuous stream of challenges throughout my pregnancy.

I am grateful and feel very blessed for the life God gave us, but I don't believe in sugar coating things and the honest truth is that I was miserable throughout my entire pregnancy (though I would obviously say it was well worth it). Similar to my lack of experiential knowledge going into 
Caleb's birth, I also lacked experiential knowledge going into pregnancy. Very few of my friends took the dive into parenting before me, so I really hadn't heard many stories and wasn't sure what to expect. Looking back, I think I had a pretty idealistic, naive, and unrealistic expectation of what pregnancy would be like. Both my mother and mother-in-law had wonderful, easy pregnancies, so I just assumed mine would be just like theirs. I guess I just pictured myself as a glowing, joyful, walking among the clouds, cute, only gaining weight in the "right" places, rubbing-my-belly-in-public-all-the-time kind of pregnant woman (you know, how all the gagingly perfect pregnant celebrities look and act). Well, it didn't take long for my fantasy to get obliterated (I'm talking maybe one week in). 4 Words: Longest. Nine. Months. Ever.

The good thing about adversity is we can learn from it and grow as a person. The even better thing about adversity is we can (sometimes) laugh about it later. And the only thing that's even more fun than retrospectively laughing at your own adversity, is laughing at someone else's. That's why I decided to do a series on our blog entitled "10 Ways Pregnancy Crushed My Dignity." In no particular order, here's to crushing every romantic idea you ever had about pregnancy. Enjoy.