Project 365 - May 9th-13th

We are going to take this week's pics a few steps at a time. The week was kind of quiet, but I've taken oodles of pics this weekend, so brace yourself for multiple posts.
Here are Monday through Friday's pictures:

On Monday, I had PD and Orin and I each had a doctor's appointment. Below is a summary of his measurements. We are SO pleased he is doing well at maintaining weight. Also, take note at where the discrepancy in proportions lies with this child as well....hats will never be popular in this house.


Orin has been making leaps and bounds in his communication lately. When the doctor asked on Monday if he is talking, he was impressed by my claim that Orin has 5-10 words. I wondered if I was exaggerating, so I've been counting them and I realised I actually underestimated. At last count, he regularly uses 12 words and 3 signs (he recently added "done" to this repertoire) and he learns new multiple new things daily now. It is amazing. Anyway, below, Isabel is teaching him an alternative meaning for "cheese".


On Wednesday, I had the absolute pleasure of seeing Bill Clinton speak. I really wasn't sure what I was in for and tried to keep my expectations low. Well, I am SO glad I went; I had a really great time and found him really inspiring.


Orin (don't worry...Isabel will show up soon...it has just been a big week for this guy) has been using soft-spouted sippy cups for a while now. We transitioned him relatively easily from bottles (which leaked like sieves) to these in order to keep his bed from getting so wet. Well, we've hit the same problem with these because he is damaging them by using them the way he does (biting) and I can't find the spouts ANYWHERE in Fredericton...as a matter of fact, the stores that carry the bottles themselves are phasing them out. So we've realised we need to work on moving him to the hard-spouted sippies that we have around. He's been a bit stubborn about it, so the fact that he started using it on his own this week was a big deal. We are going to start phasing the hard sippies into daytime use over the next couple of weeks and hopefully take the leap to using them at night too in June. Wish us luck.


Friday was kijiji day! Well, one purchase was made Thursday night and then two were made on Friday. Here is the loot.

Catelogue of Izzy #4

For the second time, when we drove past Christ Church Cathedral, Isabel has said, "look at that castle." Not surprising, if you look at it. She followed that up with, "there's a dragon in there!"

Here be dragons, indeed.

1972 called and they'd like their debate back

When both a District Attorney and Justin Bieber are in the news discussing abortion, you know it is going to be quite a week for women's issues.
I stumbled upon the horrific story of the "abortion clinic" (I use quotation marks for a reason) in Philadelphia purely by accident when I was Googling for something entirely different. I started reading about the doctor involved and the crimes committed and, as though it were the proverbial train wreck, I couldn't look away. I was shocked at what I was reading.
When I got to the end of the articles though, my shock turned from the story itself to the commentary made by other readers. Please don't think me naive; I am aware that, to use the terminology coined by a friend of mine, commentators tend to be "the underbelly of the internet" (™Jennifer Richard). However, the discussion was not one of fury over the issues that allowed this "doctor" to commit the crimes that he had: poverty, poor healthcare, poor treatment of immigrants, neglect in the department that was supposed to be monitoring this clinic, etc. or even despair over the crimes themselves. No, the shallow and dichotomous discourse was over abortion and the laws regulating it.
Don't get me wrong - I am disturbed by the crimes of Dr. Gosnell and his staff, but the fact that people can't see the forest for the trees is incredibly disappointing. What this clinic was doing were not legal abortions, but rather reminiscent of the backroom procedures done before Roe-vs-Wade. The only part that abortion laws play in this situation is that they were not being enforced and the responsible parties didn't protect women who needed it.
Just to throw some fuel on the fire though, Justin Bieber, idol of millions of girls between the ages of nine and twenty-five, was quoted in Rolling Stone as having said that he believes abortion is "like killing a baby" and that everything, including rape, "happens for a reason." Ugh.

Project 365 - January 31st & Attn: Fredericton Drivers

Another combo post!! Aren't you lucky!!

So with my being on maternity leave for a year, very seldom did I have to drive during peak hours, so I didn't deal with other drivers in nearly the quantity I do while working. Remembering the joy of dealing with other drivers was an unexpected "perk" of my return to work today. As a direct result of my recent dealings with my fellow motorists, I have developed this far-from-exhaustive list of requests and suggestions for my friends behind their respective wheels.

• You see that little stick jutting out from the left side of your steering column? When you flick it up or down, lights on the front and back of your vehicle flash, indicating that you will be turning. I know that you've been advised of this little tidbit before, because, as a child, I heard my mother teach a similar lesson, using somewhat more colourful language.
  
  
• Right-of-way is your friend. It prevents accidents and keeps traffic flowing. Learn it, love it. By the way, just because you are turning left does not mean you have to wait for all of the other traffic at the four-way stop to clear out before going. Just sayin'.
  
  
• And while I appreciate your attempts to recreate your childhood dream of joining the circus as a tight-rope walker, I would appreciate it if you didn't straddle the white line into my lane while living out your imaginings. You use your lane; I'll use mine and we'll all get where we are going without my needing to hire the team from CSI to hunt you down through analysis of the paint transfer left behind after you side-swipe me in your ugly taupe car.
  
  
• If you can't park, you can't drive. I think this is reasonable. No matter how amazing you are at conducting your vehicle, if you can't manage to leave it somewhere in a sensible and respectful fashion, the fact that you can get it there is a moot point. I'm talking to you Mr.I-drive-a-GIANT-Hemi-powered-pickup-so-I-can-park-across-as-many-parking-spots-as-I-want. Those of us who had to drive around for approximately ten minutes in order to find a spot in the movie theatre parking lot salute you and your douchebaggery.
  
  
• Finally, you may be following too close if I can't see your headlights in my rearview mirror, but I can see you picking your nose, despite it being dark out.

Truer words haven't been spoken...

"The longer I live, the more I realize the impact of attitude on life. Attitude, to me, is more important than facts. It is more important than the past, the education, the money, than circumstances, than failure, than successes, than what others think or say or do. It is more important than appearance, giftedness or skill. It will make or break a company...a church...a home. The remarkable thing is we have a choice everyday regarding the attitude we will embrace for that day. We cannot change our past...we cannot change the fact that people will act in a certain way. We cannot change the inevitable. The only thing we can do is play on the one string we have, and that is our attitude. I am convinced that life is 10% what happens to me and 90% of how I react to it. And so it is with you...we are in charge of our attitudes."

~ Charles R. Swindoll

It Takes a Village to Raise a Child

Since the family left and after reading this article (about an experience I would give me left arm to have), I have had a few opportunities to ponder the truth in that statement.
As I've grown up, my thoughts on the definition of family have evolved. As a result of my parents divorce, I had a much different family than many of my peers. The nice thing about this was that I had more people to "choose from" for lack of a better term. I was a very sensitive kid and needed to be treated gently and with support - tough love didn't do a damn thing, but develop within me a sense of mistrust. Having some really great friends in my mom's circle and an aunt and uncle and cousin who took us in as though we were their own whenever necessary really benefited me at the time and long term, helped me to feel okay surrounding myself with supportive, kind people who genuinely care about me, rather than a huge group of fluff friends and acquaintances. This is how my village helped me.
The village that took up residence in my own home over the last month benefited my children as well. They are still quite small, so the benefit was less specific, but their needs were better fulfilled than I could ever manage on my own. They had lots of playmates, reading companions, cuddle-givers and general supervisors. The house was kept more orderly than it has been in months, despite the fact that logic dictates more people equals more mess. Most significant though was the fact that the children saw different people - different personalities, different problem-solving styles, different mannerisms. They heard conversation and jokes and human interaction which, with a small household, isn't in as great a supply and isn't nearly as dynamic. They heard stories and learned their family's history. I could go on and on, but suffice to say that I am now a firm believer in this philosophy and look forward to the next insurgence of villagers.

"the law that muzzles the press"

I found out about this when I puttered over to piratebay.org and then read more about it in European newspapers. Apparently, Hungarian law-makers passed some pretty harsh legislature just before Christmas that intends to regulate everything from TV and print news to blogs. It sounds like something straight out of the Soviet Union that they defended so voraciously against in the Cold War years, so it is a little surprising and upsetting. Therefore:


Add it to your site:

<a href="http://blackout4hungary.net/" title="we support the blackout 4 hungary.net campaign for a free internet"><img src="http://blackout4hungary.net/en/blackout-052x052.gif" alt="we support the blackout 4 hungary.net campaign for a free internet" /></a><br/>

Santa Claus on the Brain

I'll be honest, I've been thinking a lot about a man other than my husband lately. A man who finds me funny (or at the very least, he belly laughs at nearly everything), has good taste in colours (red and green are my second favourite colours) and has a sweet tooth nearly as large as mine - as evidenced by all the cookies he eats over the course of Christmas Eve.
Yes, I am talking about Santa. Isabel is at the age where she is really starting to "get" Christmas and Santa and is developing that sense of wonder that encapsulates childhood as we all remember it. She is not keen to sit on the knee of a stranger - no matter how jovial or how many treats he is willing to hand over. But she understands that a magical man will be coming on Christmas Eve while she is sleeping and will be leaving us all gifts. She knows about Santa's reindeer and his elves. She knows that he likes cookies and that his deer like carrots. She's got the gist of it. As a result, we've decided to go whole hog with the Santa gig this year. We have seen Santa at the mall. We've written him and received a letter back. We've received a video email from him. We will be following him via NORAD on Christmas Eve and we will be leaving the requisite treats by the tree before going to bed.
After the children have gone to bed, the real magic will happen. Isabel has asked for such simple gifts - a pair of pyjama pants because the ones she loves are too small and an electric toothbrush (which she calls a "big toothbrush") because hers broke. She will be getting both of these items and I've put the bug in her ear that she might like a Jessie costume so that the chest of costumes will be absolutely amazing in her mind. We will be leaving a trail of sparkles throughout the house and yard where Santa will have walked. We are making sled tracks in the snow in the front yard and her stocking will be moved from the spot it is hanging on the bookshelf to her doorknob. I've no doubt that this will 100% solidify in her mind that Santa is indeed real and did, in fact, visit our home. My hope is that it will ignite a spark in her imagination so strong that it will take years of non-believers to squelch it.
Why, then, do I still have Santa on the brain, you ask? Because I have begun noticing that around every corner there are people either actively or inadvertently doing things to foil my plan. Why, in heavens name, do companies feel the need to allude or flat out state Santa's being a myth in their advertisements? Why do shows, aimed at children, talk about Santa in such a grown up way (the fact that he is the spirit of giving in all of us, for example)? And why do parents who choose not to practice "Santa" not also teach their children tact and respect for the beliefs of others, thus keeping them from unceremoniously taking away a beautiful part of childhood that other parents have created for their children?
This blog post actually angered me with its condescending tone and disrespect for the innocence and wonder of childhood. He makes a lot of assumptions too (like the emotions he attributes to every child who learns the truth about Santa - smugness and superiority) and sweeping generalizations never sit well with me. He lost me entirely though when he scoffed so entirely at "invocations of magic or mystery." Yet another conceited, middle-aged man who thinks that because he cannot sense it, it obviously isn't real and is therefore worthless. I think this, in a nutshell, is why I can never identify as an atheist. While I don't believe in anything in particular, I certainly can't say that I believe in nothingness either. I can't say that his theories are all bad because I do appreciate the value in teaching children problem solving skills and honing their questioning by turning their questions about Santa Claus back on them, but to say that belief in Santa is just evidence as to "how completely we all can snow ourselves if the enticements are attractive enough" suggests to me that he and I see Santa VERY differently. With that in mind, I am going to close the tab containing this man's blog and tell you about my Santa.
I was a full-on believer in Santa until the ripe old age of 8, if I had to estimate. It was around then that I either started to question myself or could no longer ignore the signs around me that suggested there may be more to the story.
For lack of a better description, I stored away Santa-related information until I was about 10, gradually realising that there may not have been a dude in a red suit sliding down my chimney, but still not willing to let go of the magic yet. Unfortunately, Santa as I knew him ceased to exist rather suddenly around this time and it was entirely of my own doing. (Mom: Turn away now if you don't want to learn that I was, in fact, not perfect ;) )
All of my peers snooped and bragged about their finds. They had for a couple of years at this point, but I had steadfastly refused, partially because I didn't want to get into trouble, partially because I didn't want to ruin surprises and partially because I was afraid of what I might discover. Well, in a moment of weakness, I rummaged lightly in my mother's closet, making a half-hearted attempt at snooping, sure she had hidden things well. With a light tossing of some clothes, I found a Wheel of Fortune board game. I was IMMEDIATELY remorseful and regretful and disappointed in myself. I covered it back up and bolted. For the weeks leading up to Christmas, I prayed to whatever deity would listen that the game not be from Santa, but it was not meant to be. On Christmas morning, the game was labeled from Santa and the whole thing was shattered. You may think that I would be angry at my parents or feel betrayed, but mostly I was just disappointed in myself. I had ruined Santa for myself.
The next Christmas, I held my breath for what was sure to be the worst Christmas possible - a Santa-less Christmas. To my surprise though, the disappearance of Santa didn't ruin Christmas at all. As a matter of fact, Santa was still there, in my heart. He was made up of all of the things I loved about Christmas - the tree, the music, the baking, the family - the magic. This new Santa warmed my heart just as much as the old Santa had, so it was easy to keep believing for the sake of my little sister and my family and even myself.
Since then, Santa has grown to include the joy of giving and the compassion and goodwill toward others that come with maturity. There is a little bit of Santa in all of us. I am hoping that we, as a society, don't forget, or heaven forbid, become scornful or dismissive of it.

A Childhood Memory - Shattered.

I've been on a kick over the last week. I've been downloading all of my favourite Christmas specials and movies. Izzy and I have been watching them together. Today's lineup - ALF Christmas special, The Peanuts and A Very Brady Christmas. I remembered that ALF had a penchant for cats as cuisine and the running "meat" jokes with regard to Alice on the Brady Bunch, but I figured both would go over Isabel's head.
With no obvious need to sensor, I plunked us both down after Orin went for his nap. The Brady Bunch was up first. In the first 5 minutes, Mrs. Brady's behaviour kind of made me a little embarrassed as she chased Mr. Brady around the house begging and sulking like a small child because he wouldn't tell her about his gift to her. After Alice arrived (having been dumped by her beau - the butcher), there was a conversation with regard to Mr. Brady's desired breakfast. Mrs. Brady chastized Alice for offering to make it because she didn't work for them anymore and bragged about how she'd taken over all of Alice's duties when she left. Then the Mrs proceeded to make an elaborate bacon and eggs breakfast, while Mr sat on his duff and then bustled out the door with no more than a glass of orange juice in her so she wasn't late for work. I knew that this was all stuff that Isabel was missing, but the red flags were up. And good thing they were. Fast forward a bit and we find Peter chatting with his boss about his holiday plans. We come to understand that they are dating and he is unhappy with the fact that she is higher up in the company than him. When asked "would you be happier if I had a desk out there and you had one in here?", Peter responded with an earnest "yes", not because he wanted to be the boss, but evidently because he was uncomfortable with his girlfriend having a higher up job than him. I started to outwardly scowl at this point, but actually shut off the TV when she seductively plunked herself on his lap and told him, "Nine to five, I'm the boss, but five to nine..." and he perked up, "I am." I nearly barfed. Now, I am just sad that something I remembered so fondly has been marred by the grossness my grown-up-self recognizes in it.

The quest for lower-sodium foods

It is not a mystery that the dependency of North Americans on sodium for flavouring has gotten way out of hand. You can find lots of low-sodium versions of products that people know to have high levels of sodium (i.e. soy sauce, condensed soup). The problem comes in the form of foods that aren't known to have high levels of sodium, but are sneaking it in there all the same and the items which have dramatically varied levels of sodium, depending upon the brand. My trips to the grocery store are entirely different than they were about 5-years ago and even differ from what they were a year ago. I spend half my trip reading labels and what I have discovered is shocking.
In the deli department, I was looking at cheese. It is "common knowledge" that cheese is high in sodium (my husband has a clip of Mike Rowe, of Dirty Jobs fame, sprinkling a huge quantity of salt into a vat in which he was making cheese). My comparison revealed that the sodium content in cheese (I looked at feta, cheddar and gouda) can range between 140mg and 650mg per 30g serving. One might assume that the lower number is a "low-sodium" product. Not so. Baby Bel Gouda rounds (the ones wrapped in the red wax) have 135mg/20g serving. The feta was where I found the most variation - 290mg/30g serving and 650mg/30g serving.
On to the bakery where bread truly boggled my mind. I have never tasted a "salty" piece of bread and yet many of the commercially produced loaves of bread had more sodium that one of the pieces of cheese listed above. We buy whole wheat bread, which, ironic as it sounds, has higher sodium content on average than white bread. The "low-sodium", "healthy" bread contained 165mg of sodium/slice (note that this more than one whole Baby Bel). The bread we used to buy all the time has 450mg/slice!! I was blown away. How had I not noticed this. How had I been feeding my daughter 900mg of sodium (for a child her age, nearly 100% of her recommend daily sodium intake!) at one meal? And that doesn't even include the sandwich filling.
From here, we move to the cereal aisle. I spent a lot of time in this aisle because Orin's favourite food is Cheerios. He would eat an entire bowlful if given the opportunity. I was hoping to find something with no sodium at all (I mean, who has ever had salty cereal, so it must be possible, right?) or at least something lower in sodium than the 210mg/cup in Cheerios. Much to my surprise, this was one of the better options overall with regard to both sodium and sugar content - it beat out both the store brand and the "organic" brand for lower sodium. The moment you could have knocked me over with a feather though was when I read the Shreddies box. The summary - you would be better off eating frosted Mini-Wheats than Shreddies! I am sure you are surprised - I can tell you that I was. Take a look:

In a larger serving size, Mini-Wheats (on the right) has 10 more calories, the same amount of fat and a smigeon more carbs (made up in the extra 2g of sugar, I suspect). The sodium is where the rubber hits the road for us, of course, and the difference blew me away - Shreddies: 310mg and Mini-Wheats: 0mg. Shreddies has the most sodium by far than anything else in our cupboard (6 different types of cereal). When you consider the fact that I put brown sugar on Shreddies when I eat them, I am sure that makes up the difference in the carbs, meaning that it is likely better for me to consume Mini-Wheats at brekkie than Shreddies. I would never have guessed that. The more you know...

"...a society in which there will be no roles other than those chosen or those earned..."

"That's for boys." These three words have created a lump in throat and a fire in my heart. Why, you ask? Because they came from my 3-year old daughter's mouth with regard to toy dinosaurs. Still seems pretty benign, right? Not to me. To me, it represents a huge problem with the beliefs with which we are allowing our daughters to grow up. It represents something I have and will continue to fight tooth and nail against because my daughter deserves better. Allow me to explain.
Isabel loved her dinosaur flashlight and to talk about dinosaurs (even though she also claimed they were scaring her as she fell asleep in her dark room). On her Thanksgiving project from school was written "I am thankful for dinosaurs." She seemed to really enjoy playing with the dinosaurs at her school. The few times we've watched Dinosaur Train, she was enthralled by it and talked endlessly about it for days afterward. So for Isabel to tell me, "I no like dinosaurs. That's for boys." breaks my heart. When I asked Isabel why she thought that, she told me that one of the little girls at her preschool told her that she wouldn't play with the dinosaurs with Isabel because dinosaurs are for boys. This little girl didn't just come up with that rule, so she must have heard it somewhere. Not surprising since there are no shortage of widely perpetuated, unfounded and pigeon-holing gender-biased rules out there. I've described just a few below.
Purple - it's (not) just for girls anymore: Orin has a hand-me-down generic fleece sleeper that is various shades of purple and adorned with snowmen. I can't tell you how many times I've heard, "Look honey, the baby's wearing purple so you can tell she's a girl." Not to mention today, a mom flat out told her daughter that the reason one of the boys wasn't wearing purple today (that was the colour of the day) was because "purple is more of a girl colour." Seriously? WTF? Is it not enough that we've made camps of pink and blue, but now we are segregating purple too?
99 Princesses in Pink on the Floor, 99 Princesses in Pink...: At the school's Halloween party, in a class containing 9 girls, all but 2 were princesses (except one who was a "witch princess..."). Isabel was a dragon (see the photos of Halloween to see our AWESOME family costume) and another little girl was a cowgirl (she loves Jessie too, as it turns out). Now, I don't care what other people do with their kids, but my problem came in that when photos were taken, the two odd-girls-out were grouped with the boys and the "princesses" all had their photo taken together. Talk about setting the kids up to see what those two girls SHOULD have dressed as in order to be "girls."
"I'm sorry ma'am...we no longer carry the original red Etch-a-Sketch because we felt it was outdated and too gender neutral.": Alright, you got me. The Toys R Us employee didn't actually say that, but the gist of the statement is accurate. When I went looking for a regular ol' Etch-a-Sketch, all I could find was the pink and blue versions and the mini-version. There wasn't even a home for the original red one. When I asked the employee if they had it somewhere in the store, he said that they hadn't had it in the store in quite a while, "but here's a pink one for her" (pointing at Orin in his purple sleeper *palmface*).
I could go on, but long story short, I feel strongly that we are doing our children (boys and girls, alike) a disservice by sending and perpetuating these messages. Today, it is just nonsense about colours and Halloween costumes, but I worry that tomorrow, it will mean that Isabel will choose to be a teacher (if you know me, you know I have nothing against teachers ;), but fully admit that it is a role typically thought of as female) instead of a paleontologist because that is what she thinks/thought was expected of her. I worry my son will choose hockey instead of ballet because "dance is for girls" and most of all, I worry that my kids will somehow come to feel inadequate or weird because they don't fit the norm. Our kids deserve better.

Another label for my side bar? I think so.

This blog got me thinking about my own beliefs. I have become a lactivist and really didn't see it coming, mostly because, until I was really in the thick of it, I didn't realize there was a need for such a thing.
See, where I come from, breastfeeding is normal. My mom nursed us, my aunts nursed their children, my cousin nursed her little ones when I was a teenager and lived with them. It was talked about as commonplace. I remember one particular conversation where my uncle spoke scathingly about our neighbour, who sent his wife down the hall to the bathroom when she had to nurse their children while visiting our house. Casting my mind back there, I don't really remember giving a thought to the existence of formula. The only instances in which I knew it was used were instances where I was babysitting, so it made sense that I was given a bottle of something to give to the baby.
My first encounter with the breastfeeding vs formula controversy was when the aforementioned cousin put me on the spot, asking why a family friend with a baby the same age as hers wasn't breastfeeding. I remember having that deer-in-the-headlights feeling. I had no idea why she wasn't. I hadn't given it a thought. I got the distinct tone of disdain in her voice though and muttered something about her breasts being too small. It was the best I could come up with at 15, not having a sweet clue about any of this, knowing it was none of my or her damn business, but feeling like I had to defend someone I cared about. She told me that this wasn't possible and that EVERYONE can breastfeed. I changed the subject.
When I joined my online community and we started having children, I started noticing threads popping up where claws were bared by defensive formula-feeders and high-horses were ridden by self-righteous breastfeeders. It was also at this time that I first heard the motto "breast is best", which has always sounded weird to me. You see, to me, breastfeeding was normal, the way things were - there was no need for it to be best. I guess, as a young adult, I still didn't see formula as an option, but rather a back-up plan.
When I was pregnant the first time, I had my first run-in with someone who was anti-breastfeeding. My mother's neighbour made a snide comment about not allowing my mother the opportunity to bond with her granddaughter. When I asked my mother about it, she explained that her friend felt breastfeeding was a selfish choice on the part of the mother that disallowed the rest of the family from bonding with the baby. I knew this was nonsense, but I wasn't confident enough to speak up, so I just rolled my eyes and moved on. The same neighbour also made a nasty comment at my baby shower for Orin when I unwrapped a breastfeeding pillow. I didn't respond this time because I knew it wasn't worth it.
Luckily, as the women in my online community became more mature and better debaters, I learned a lot more about the overall cultural situation with regard to breastfeeding and realised really quickly that what I knew was not normal. Culturally, what I grew up with - many women in my immediate circle who breastfed, public breastfeeding being commonplace, men who are incredibly comfortable with breastfeeding and may be considered lactivists themselves today - is not what most people grow up with. I also learned of the many factors that sabotage women in breastfeeding - formula companies making false claims about their products, workplaces not allowing women the opportunity to pump (not to mention the whole maternity leave system in the US), the discomfort of the general public, the belief that not being able to breastfeed is common, etc.
I have, over the course of being a parent, become more vocal in favour of breastfeeding. I have encountered many people on both sides of the debate - some very vocal (I will never forget the crazy parents in Florida who stalked off angrily because they obviously felt I was trying to scar their toddler by sharing googly faces with her while nursing Isabel in a courtyard). Through these experiences in particular, I have grown more confident in my beliefs. What I have been careful not to do though is demonize formula or women who formula-feed - this is neither productive nor kind. What I do firmly believe is that breatfeeding needs to become normal for others the way it was for me because breastmilk is the most complete and appropriate food for human babies - just like cows milk is compete and appropriate for baby cows. For this reason, I make a point of breastfeeding in public with no cover on a regular basis. I talk openly about it and support others in their endeavours to breastfeed their babies - I do for others what my friends and family did for me.

Happy Belated World Breastfeeding Week!

We were on holiday during Breastfeeding Week. I had every intention of blogging a little something about it, but vacation fun got in the way.

I thought I might talk about the fight I fought in order to breastfeed my son.

There was no doubt in my mind that I would nurse my daughter and I did and loved every minute of it.

When I became pregnant again (a mere 4 months after I stopped nursing Isabel, it dawned on me one day), there was no doubt I would nurse that baby too. When we found out it was a boy, dramatically increasing the concerns with regard to NDI, my determination didn't waver. I read various places that there was no reason that a baby with NDI couldn't be exclusively breastfed (while being supplemented with water).

My boy was born and within less than a day, it was determined that he was dehydrating and there was little doubt that he had NDI and wasn't getting enough fluid from breastfeeding. This was the first blow to my self-esteem and determination.

He had an IV put in and then a central line, still breastfeeding on demand the entire time. Once he was hydrated enough, the medical intervention was gradually removed and we tried giving him water in bottles. For another two weeks, we tried a multitude of different solutions for getting Orin eating, drinking and, most of all, healthy. When things were at their worst, Orin wasn't really getting enough water from the bottles, preferred the flowrate of the bottle to that of the breast, so he fussed at the breast every time I tried to feed him, meaning he wasn't eating either. Neither of us was sleeping because, as he dehydrated again, he became fussier and fussier - I slept a grand total of 1.5 hours one day. I was slowly losing my mind. I was losing confidence in myself and my ability to take care of my baby.

At this point, the paediatrician suggested we may need to start giving him formula. The first time it was suggested, I couldn't speak. I burst into tears - I knew that they were suggesting it because they wanted to get him healthy and get us home, but this was not how it was supposed to be. I asked the doctor if I could have some time to think about it. I thought long and hard. I spoke to my husband. I spoke to friends. I fielded a phone call from a well-meaning family member, encouraging me to use formula because "it worked for her kids." I took about a day to clear away all of the fog - the mess of opinions, the worries that others would think I was putting an agenda before the needs of my child, the guilt and fear.

The next day, I gathered myself up and waited by Orin's bedside for rounds. I knew what I wanted to happen and I was going to make it clear to all parties involved so we were all on the same page. When the doctor came around, I told her that breastfeeding my child was incredibly important to me. It was what he needed (both as a human infant in general and as a child with a sodium sensitivity - breastmilk is surprisingly low in sodium). I told her about the bottle preference and that I wanted the breast to be offered to him first at all times - every time he woke, fussed, seemed remotely hungry/thisty. I wanted to get rid of the bottles altogether for a while. I had seen many babies in the NICU with NG tubes because they were unable to eat themselves for whatever reason (usually because they were premature and were still too weak and small to nurse). I suggested we put in an NG tube for water in order to keep him hydrated and redevelop the nursing relationship. Once breastfeeding was well-established, we could attempt bottles again. I stood next to my baby, stone-faced, wearing messy gym clothes (my uniform while in the hospital) and generally looking disheveled, but serious. Much to my surprise, she said yes. As it turns out, the specialist in Halifax had suggested the same thing quite early on, but the local docs wanted to try more home-friendly options first

I couldn't pump (just as I couldn't with Isabel), so to feed him through the night, I had to be accessible. For five weeks, I lived at the hospital, sleeping in a 5'x 10' room when it was available and a leather couch in a TV lounge when it wasn't. I missed my family more than I can tell you. I lost the trust of my daughter temporarily. I didn't eat, sleep or maintain myself in anyway for five weeks. I dedicated myself to breastfeeding my son and helping him become healthy enough to come home.

He was released for good on March 16th at 5 weeks 4 days old. He will be six months old tomorrow and is still exclusively breastfed. Every doctor who has seen him (and there've been a bunch) have exclaimed over how healthy he is and how good he looks and how big he has gotten. One joked that whatever I have on tap is exactly what he needs - I couldn't have said it better.

Review of Cloth Diapers v. 2.0 - I think we have a winner!

Things are improving. We are now using cloth diapers at all times when at home between 7-8am (waking for the day) and 11pm (after dream feed when mommy goes to bed). I have stopped putting pressure on myself to use cloth exclusively or while out because it is just not going to work for us. There've been times when he's saturated/leaked through disposables onto the Piddle Pad (thank god for these things is all I have to say...we have one for each kid), so using cloth is just not an option. Letting go of the pressure I was putting on myself and focusing more on making it work as much as possible has definitely helped.
I am still preferring the pockets without question. They just work better for us, providing the versatility in absorption that we need. The best part is that I am THRILLED with the WAHM pockets that I bought recently. Let me tell you about them.
Cloth-by-Tel is the company. She makes products other than diapers too and runs sales regularly. We bought two animal print minky pockets.
To start with, the minky material is SO soft and adorable. The diapers are well-sewn; you can see the high quality workmanship. The placement of the stuffing hole is more comfortable than it is in the BumGenius and the elastic is nice and springy (I am sure that there is some deterioration of the elastic in the BumGenius from wear and tear, but I didn't realise just how much better it could be). The snaps are so much nicer to use than velcro and I find they fit Orin better than the other pockets, even with the extra stuffing we need.
They came with inserts that, again, were well-made, thick and soft.
We have had no problem with leaking, fit, wicking, absorption, rashes, staining, wash-wear (yet). In short, I love these diapers - especially for the price of $10-12 per diaper (insert included), which you absolutely can't beat! I will be getting more, without question!

A photo op:

Review of Cloth Diapers

All cloth diaper users have preferences as to what works for their family - pocket, AIO, fitted, prefold, hemp, bamboo, cotton, snaps, velcro....I could go on forever. Well, throw a kidney disorder into the mix and things get a little more complicated. If I am being honest, we are struggling. Below, I will elaborate on pros and cons of the various types of dipes and accessories we are using.

Bumbooo size 2 Fitted - I was really excited about these diapers. I had heard so much about the absorbency of bamboo and absorbent is what we need. As fitted diapers, they need covers. We are using some that we got with a used lot that I bought on kijiji. They are simple kushies pull-on covers made of rubbery/plastic material (I can't find them on the net). I need to find some wrap-type covers for these, but these will do for now.
Look & Material - These diapers are cute, no question. They are soft and fuzzy and they look like the stereotypical, adorable cloth diaper of old. The elastic is strong, but not too tight. Unfortunately, they have to be covered with our crappy (PINK!!!) covers.
Fasteners - Snaps...loving this. Total snap convert and I will not be buying any new dipes with velcro.
Absorbency - Keeping in mind that I am dealing with a very specific situation (the kid is now drinking 760-800ml of water/day on top of nursing every 2-3 hours), I am a little disappointed with the absorbency. These diapers provide the opportunity to have 2 layers between bum and the cover for someone Orin's size. They also came with what they describe as a night time insert. In order to give Orin about an hour in these diapersr, I double layer the diaper right at the front (where he, as a boy, wets most) and then use the insert to double layer toward the back and put a third layer in the front (laying it flat in the diaper) OR quadruple layer the front. When I change him, he has almost inevitably soaked all the way through and the entire front of the diaper is soaked (waist to midway between his legs and hip to hip). This is not practical for any time other than those days spent hanging around the house.

BumGenius 3.0 OS pockets - I bought these as part of a used lot on kijiji. I was pretty keen to try these because I had a number of friends who had recommended them to me. They can be stuffed with whatever I inserts I want.
Look & Material - These basically look like disposables, but much cuter. They are the slimmest (depending upon how I stuff them) of the diapers we are using. I much prefer the PUL outside to the plastic material of the covers I am using with the fitted diapers.
Fasteners - Not a fan of the velcro. It doesn't hold the diaper closed as tightly as the snaps - it slips. I am sure that this is partially due to age and washing. Speaking of which, the laundry tabs basically don't hold the tabs in place anymore, so the tabs themselves are taking more abuse as a result.
Absorbency - the absorbency of these diapers is dictated by the inserts. I can stuff these well enough to last about 2 hours, as a rule. The night thing is that the fleece layer against his skin keeps him very dry, despite how much he has wet the diaper. I will discuss inserts below.

Chinese Prefolds - the other diaper included in the kijiji lot I purchased. I had no idea what to expect.
Look & Material - These are simply flat layers of cotton (extra layers in the middle where most wetting would happen). These are the old school diapers that people used to use pins to fasten (I am sure some people still do, but there is now a slightly less dangerous product called Snappis that do the same thing). They need covers. They are pretty cute ;)
Fasteners - As I mentioned, I use Snappis. They work surprisingly well, but require a little practice.
Absorbency - This is where the rubber hits the road and, in our house, these are a joke. Orin peed while I was fastening one of these on him and there was pee dripping out of the outside of the diaper before I got the fastener done :P I am using them as stuffing for the pocket diapers.

Inserts
Bamboo - Thin, but absorbent. They surprised me.
Hemp - These are dense and soak up everything. I put one of these in every diaper I stuff.
Cotton (including prefold diapers) - least absorbent and must always be supported by something else.

Claudia's Choices soap - I like it so far. I am not running into any problems with residue and it gets the diapers super clean almost every time (and a few hours out in the sun will get any stains out of diapers).

What works for us?
~vinegar in the wash...a tip I was given by a few cloth-using friends and I will never go back.
~stuffing pockets with fitted. If I really worry about him (his bum is rashy or I figure he is going to fall asleep or he has just drunk a lot of water), I will stuff a fitted diaper and an insert into the pocket diaper. This gives him extra absorbency and the fleece between him and the wetness. It gives him a giant bum, but it does the job.

If I am being honest, I am still using disposables a lot more than I want to. I am still trying to figure out how to make these work for us consistently during awake times. I don't expect to be able to use cloth at night - the boy soaks through disposables on a nightly basis (yes, I do a lot of laundry....thanks for noticing ;) ), so cloth is not an option, but I think we can do it throughout the day and even during naps. Keep your fingers crossed for us and if you have any advice, feel free to dole it out.