"How long are you nursing?"

I have recently read a lot of posts about how people want to nurse until their baby is 3 or higher...and reading about how judgmental other people are when it comes to this. I get it! I'm judgmental by nature. I judge these people too (in my mind). As someone who has body issues from childhood traumas, it is something I have struggled with.

My heart, on the other hand, is with them. I recently read an article about a woman who was still nursing her daughter at 4 years old. She had just undergone surgery and nursing was the only way she was comforted, not to mention that her mother was the only one who could comfort her in this way. I found myself thinking, "Why wouldn't I do this for my child? Why should I force my wild thing to stop nursing when I am the only one who possesses this special comforting power?" and, "Do I want to give that up because of what other people think?" The answer is wholeheartedly, "No." My mind, on the other hand, feels weird about it.

I know my child will not still be nursing in kindergarten. I know he won't be nursing as he graduates high school or on his wedding day. I don't even know that I will have those days with him; that I will meet those milestones. I was robbed of so many of those future milestones with my cowboy, the don't really exist for me with my wild thing. I won't be able to think about the possibility of them until they are here.

I have made it to and past my six month goal that hubs and I agreed on. At this point, I plan on nursing until I don't. I have no idea when that will be. I have no idea when we will decide that part of our journey is over. I do hope that the decision will be made because he feels secure in the knowledge that I will still be a warm, comforting presence even without nursing.

Disagreements

My hubby and I have been going at it for about a week now. (And not in a good way.) We don't fight much,  but it gets very quiet in the house. I don't want to fight. I don't know how to fight. I get so angry, embarrassed, and frustrated. I can't even get out a complete, coherent sentence. It hurts my heart. It makes me question our relationship. Why should it be so easy to call it quits? There was a blog post today that spoke to me. She said it better than I could.

http://nurshable.com/2013/11/25/the-fight

I hope it speaks to your heart.

Cowboy

Today is my cowboy's death day.  It's been 7 years since we lost him. (That makes him sound like a misplaced toy. And I start to cry thinking about it.) It's so much more than that... he's so much more than that. I have no words to explain this loss has done to me...to my family. It has changed us all.

It's interesting how today creeps in on me now, after 7 years. I always think I'm fine. I keep busy and then I have moments like this where it hits me.

My top 10 favorite things about my cowboy, in no particular order:
1. He was.
2. He was so easy to love.
3. Just by being,  he changed people's lives.
4. He loved strongly. (Horses, Bear, Pa-paw, Grammy, westerns... there's too many things to list)
5. He was mine.
6. All he went through didn't steal his joy.
7. His favorite thing to do when we got home was kick dust in his boots.
8. He loved the color green but not green food.
9. He was fast like a cheetah.
10. Toward the end,  when he was still practically paralyzed on one side of his body, he would crawl through the house to find me just duo he could tell me he loved me. I must've heard it a thousand times.
11. He loved Santa Claus. (Obsessively watched the movies and found him in Ralph's one day.)

I know that's 11. There are so many more. Yes, I'm crying. Yes, I will always miss him this way.

Got milk?

Recently, I've been following lots of breastfeeding and natural parenting advocacy pages on the internet. I'm interested in what they all have to say. I'm astounded at the people who are angry at people who do things differently. Do you seriously need to get angry at me because I don't think we should spank our kids? Do you need to judge because I'm breastfeeding as long as it works for us? I'm off on a tangent now. Yesterday, the hubs and I were in the drive-thru at Taco Bell (totally healthy, I know). The vehicle in front of us had a "Got Milk?" sticker on their window. I was not offended by the slogan. I was offended by the picture next to it. It showed Betty Boop with HUGE boobies. She wasn't nursing. They were just hanging out for the world to see. It was porn star status. (I took a picture for those of you who can't envision it.)

The hubs said something to the effect of..."It's only offensive because of the way society views breasts." I countered with..."It's offensive because they want it to be." It's like the stupid Time magazine cover that started so much drama last year-ish. They weren't presenting a warm, comforting relationship between mother and child.

I've thought about it since last night and it really bothers me that they were sexualizing breasts in reference to breastfeeding. Does that make sense? If they had a little sketch of a woman nursing, with the catch phrase, cute...I may even chuckle. (Btw, I searched the internet. There are no breastfeeding stick figures. I'll have to work on that. Hehe!) I wonder though...how is the world's view of breastfeeding going to change if we are perpetuating the sexualization of breastfeeding?

I don't know why I'm so angry about this. Wait, I do. I didn't want to breastfeed my wild thing. I was modest and I struggled with the fact that breasts were for sexual gratification. I had a hard time separating the two functions in my mind and it bothered me. This window sticker just reinforced that to the world. I may ramble about this again soon because I'm really trying to work it out in my head. What do you think?

The Dirty Car Mommy Club

I look around at all of my friends with little ones around the same age as my wild thing. They all have dirty cars. I'm not talking about trash piled up inside. (That would be gross!) I'm talking about dirt becoming so thick that you can barely see through the windshield.

I'm embarrassed to drive around in my disgusting vehicle. Every time I get in I cringe. Do I have time to wash my car? No. Do I want to take my wild thing (who generally hates car seats) to the car wash while someone else washes it? No. Who has time for this? I'm busy taking care of my wild thing. He's clean, fed, and dressed most of the time.

It's interesting how becoming a mom changes many women. (No, not just the dirty car thing. That may have happened before the baby came along.) I watch my friends who are new moms and it's so interesting to see how they change. Some become more neurotic and panic easily. Strong, knowledgeable women begin to doubt everything they do. Others become softer. I know this last one sounds strange, but their actual personality changes. I've been told that being a mommy has this effect on me. Maybe it's the way that they light up around their baby or have opened themselves up emotionally. I was at a party a few weeks ago, and a girl I know, who has always bee nice, really opened up about her life and struggles with breastfeeding. I was amazed at how different she seemed since having her little one. Not everyone is like me, and does a complete 180 when the baby comes into the picture. I can't really pinpoint it for each and every woman, but I'm always fascinated by the women who change so dramatically when their babies come along.

For me, loving a baby is so easy. How could I not go soft with something so easy to love and so willing to love you back. Scientists talk about the fact that it is their cuteness, as infants, that draws us in and releases insane amounts of hormones. Loving is scary though; changing for my baby is scary. I'm afraid to love him and lose him. This happened with my cowboy and I swore I would never do it again. It hurt too much. Now that I have my wild thing, I can't help it. I'm head over heels and way more crazy than I was with my cowboy.

To all my friends who grow into themselves as they become mothers, really allow yourself to blossom. To all my friends who struggle and second-guess, just love them and trust your instincts. You fascinate me...all of you.

Fall Fever

When I put it that way it sounds like a super cool trend. What I'm really talking about is an actual fever. My wild thing had his sixth monthday yesterday. Yay! He also had his first fever. I wanted to panic and dope him up as soon as I took his temperature. I had to talk myself down from the ledge. Fevers, in the normal range, are no big deal, right? All people get them. There's no need to panic, right? Tell that to a mommy who's had a child with cancer. Every fever is cause for concern.

Now, after losing a child to illness, I'm a freak when it comes to health. Any "little" thing could turn into my worst nightmare. I remember talking to the urgent care doctor one night when Jason had been vomiting and spiked a fever. He rattled off a list if things it could be. He mentioned meningitis, which terrified me since I had been very ill with it (twice) as an infant. All were relatively benign compared to the diagnosis we got a few weeks later. It was a brain tumor, a serious business one. It was just a fever, right? To me, it's never just a fever.

Nevertheless, I talked myself down from the ledge of immediately resorting to meds. A fever is just your body's way of fighting off illness and should (within reason) be allowed to run it's course. (Am I letting my crunchiness show?) We started sponging him with tepid water and nursing as much as possible. It seemed to be working when, several hours in, we checked his temp and it was 102.4. Creeping toward 103 was my cut-off. We gave him acetaminophen.

Throughout the night it stayed highish, but had broken by 8:00 the next morning. I thought all was good, aside from him being a little sleepy. Then I got out of my massage and my wild thing wouldn't look at me or really focus on anything. I had a moment of panic where I thought, "OMG! Did the f***in' fever impact his vision?" I was scared. It took a little bit of trickery on my part, but he finally looked at me and smiled. He was just mad at me for leaving him alone with my hubs for a bit. Little boogie!

It's laugh-worthy now. It wasn't at the time. It makes me think of when my cowboy had his first surgery, I think. He was in ICU and the doctors are crowded around asking a hundred questions. He, all of a sudden, yells, "I can't see." They, of course, freak out and start examining him, since he did just have brain surgery. He was talking about the tv. The plethora of doctors were blocking his view. Sheesh! Kids!

Ailments and Heartache

I am blessed to have a happy, healthy little boy. I say that with a mix of happiness and sadness. I haven't always had this luxury.

What made me think about this is the plight of several of my friends with infants. When your little one is sick or not feeling 100%, it is the worst thing in the world. I wish that their babies didn't have to suffer with rashes or spit up or reflux. I feel for them; I truly do. I look at my wild thing and he is strong and healthy. It is a blessing to have this.

Not everyone does. I know that it can be taken away at any minute. I have had the sick kid and lost the battle we fought with his illness. I never want to throw this in people's faces (well, not anymore) and say, "Yeah, well, my cowboy died. That spit up problem is nothing compared to that." That would earn me the worst friend of the year award. I do, however, realize that when it is your kid, the problem that you are dealing with at the moment is the worst.

Is your baby miserable? Colicky? Suffering from reflux or a milk sensitivity? Does he have a rash? Did he bump his head? Does he have a heart condition or cancer? Is your child dying? Each of those things, when you have to deal with them, is the worst thing for your kid. Because they are suffering and they are yours.

I look at my wild thing and feel bad when he spits up or has teething pain. It hurts my heart to see him suffer.

It hurts my heart to know that his brother, my cowboy, suffered that way times a thousand. The suffering that he experienced, while I stood by, was immeasurable. My cowboy would have taken a scraped knee like a champ because it was nothing in comparison to what he dealt with on a regular basis before he died. Does that change the way I will respond to my wild thing when he scrapes his knee? No way! My heart will hurt for the pain he is enduring because he is my baby.

I hope that the worst thing we have to deal with, as mommies, is scraped knees, colic, an occasional broken bone, and sending them away to college. I hope your heartache never matches my own.