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June 19, 2018

Good Fences make Good Relatives

A friend of mine is having her first baby. I was inquiring about what she wanted for shower gifts and I made a joke that a roll of fencing would make the best present, because good fences make good neighbors and relatives. And although I’m not planning to give her a 30’ roll of 12-gauge welded wire mesh fencing as a shower gift, I do think that creating and maintaining firm personal boundaries is one of the keys to a restorative and fulfilling postpartum period.

We spend so much money, time and attention on buying stuff prior to the arrival of a baby. I found out when I had my first baby that I didn’t need that much stuff. What I did need was time to sit, reflect, and form intentions and guidelines (a.k.a boundaries) to serve me in birth, postpartum and throughout my journey as a parent. I spent time setting up a registry, painting and assembling cribs, but I didn’t realize there was a whole other side to preparing for a baby – a side that doesn’t lead to ‘ooohs’ and ‘aaaahs’ at showers; a side that makes you take a hard look at yourself, your relationships and decide what will best serve you in this phase. Who and what is nourishing and affirming? What do I need to put aside or keep away right now?

Having a baby is like putting a magnifying glass up to yourself, every hang-up, bad habit, piece of emotional baggage, every fear, every bad relationship from the past can come roaring up to the surface during what may be the most vulnerable point in your life. Yes, vulnerable – because no matter how your baby enters your world (via your vagina, an incision in your uterus or via an airplane from China), it rips you in two. It’s like an explosion that rips open your heart, your body and spills the contents of your brain out onto the floor (you get to collect that in 2 years or so).

So along with onesies, swaddles and swings, start to look at what you want and what you need. Where do you want to be? What place feels safe and nurturing? Who will care for you? Who is a nurturing presence in your life? Who sucks your energy like a vampire? Do you thrive on company or solitude? Do you get cabin fever easily or is it scary to go out? Who can you call for help?

When you have some answers, write them down. Discuss them with your family. And then start to set up some guidelines for yourself and your family around visiting, meals, sleeping and events that help you feel comfortable, protected and ready to welcome your baby. Set your boundary and then learn to say ‘no’ with clarity, kindness, and firmness. When you get off track, go back to your intentions and adjust your plan so that you can rest, heal, and nurture yourself and your baby. What you want and what you need to make it through the biggest transition of your life is important because you, mama, matter.

April 19, 2018

Why I Hate Baby Showers

When I had my first baby, I had three baby showers. Yes, three. I should have felt like the luckiest woman alive, but instead those showers felt like an obligation. I felt happy that everyone wanted to celebrate my baby, but something in these exquisite lunches with beautiful cakes, fancy decorations and generous gifts felt false.

At the time, I didn’t know why, but now I realize that a modern baby shower is just part of the way we lie to pregnant moms. We don’t mean to lie, but we don’t want to scare her. We don’t mean to lie, but being honest, being real about motherhood is too gritty, too invasive for living rooms filled with daisies and lemonade. The modern baby shower with candy baby booties, pink and blue balloons and games with diapers and nursery rhymes is cute, but it feels like a façade masking what we really need to be doing.

New moms don’t need specialty onesies, expensive strollers and unsolicited advice on their birth choices. They don’t need a barrage of trite and potentially damaging phrases like, “Enjoy every minute,” “you’re going to love being a mom,” “It’s the best job ever,” “you’ll be so in love the minute you meet your baby.” What they really need is support. Empathetic, compassionate and honest support that makes space for both the new baby and the new mother that will emerge from the birth. For me, the ‘guess the size of the belly’ game did not feel like loving, non-judgmental support.

When I had my second and third babies, I had baby showers, but they were different. They were gatherings of very small groups of friends and family, they were opportunities for my tribe to surround me and say, ‘we will support you’. And at those gatherings, my friends agreed to provide support in ways that were meaningful to me, not by purchasing smocked rompers and deliciously soft stuffed animals, but by promising to call and listen, to stop by and rock my baby so that I could get a shower, to force me to go on a walk, to bring me a hot meal.

They were gatherings where each woman could share her thoughts and prayers for me as I embarked on the next phase in my journey as a mother. We didn’t play games, we joined hands and worked to strengthen our connections as women, mothers and friends.

So, now when I go to a baby shower, I think about the mom. What will serve her best. What does she really need? Diapers? A fancy stroller? A hot meal? New pajamas? I attend with the express purpose of lifting her up, of saying, “I support you.” And if I have to sit through ooohhing and aaawing over tiny little clothes, I remember that I can provide real, honest support just by being there. Even if it’s not my thing, I go and I say, “I will support you.”

On Saturday, I’m going to the ‘Baby Shower’ for The Birth Center (but it’s really a Community Gathering). Yes, there is a need for stuff, but there is also an opportunity to lift up this amazing organization as they move into their next phase. The Birth Center has been at the forefront of creating a space for real, honest and non-judgmental conversation about pregnancy and birth for over 35 years. Thankfully, I will not be subjected to the dramatic opening of a Sophie the Giraffe, but I will be there saying, “I will support you.” Come out and join me!

The Birth Center Baby Shower and Family Fair

Saturday, April 21st 9 am to 1 pm

Hockessin Montessori School

February 12, 2018

Working Moms Group

For so many of us, when we have our first baby, we leave the support network we have at work. We leave the people that see us every day, that know what we like to eat for lunch and which co-workers annoy the hell out of us. We leave friends that may have seen us through break-ups and marriages, who have seen us fail miserably and come back in the next day to pick up the pieces. And we leave them to be home, mostly, home alone – with a non-verbal, eating, pooping, puking machine.

And then, if you are lucky again, you meet some mom friends. As you slog through this new and unknown realm of being a mom, you find support and community. Most of the time it looks really different than what you may have found at work. No one is gunning for your position – bleeding nipples – no thanks!. The women in your group are all fighting their own unique and hard battles. Mom friends are a new thing. They are different from work friends. You talk about poop and then you talk about sex. You are all struggling to find your way on this very new path and the bonds can form quickly and tightly.

And then it’s over. Then you are going back to work. Back to a place where Susie might just want your corner office and Joe is nice, but he’s more interested in your next monthly report than how sleeping training is going. And just like when you left, when you come back to work, it can feel like you are cast adrift again.
And that’s why Working Moms Group is important. It’s a chance to reconnect and recharge. To be back in that place of moms and babies, where we don’t always have black and white answers and an quantitative goal to achieve. This is a place where all we really want to do is to build you up, so that you can leave and know that you can go out there and do it again this week.

Working Moms Group is a continuation of the same community and support that you relied on during maternity leave. It’s a continuation of the same concepts that Katie Madden developed for Pumpin’ Mama’s Blueprint (take that class). Moms returning to work already have so many hurdles to jump. Use your weekend to build back your reserves. Fill up your cup with support, community and laughter. See you on Saturday, mamas.

October 29, 2017

10 Reasons why you should not come to class at The Space

It’s 9:30 on Tuesday, you have been planning to come to class for three weeks, your diaper bag is packed, you got the baby in the seat and then…..

You are hungry. Most days we have some snacks in the space. We also welcome you to bring your own food and eat it. In the studio room, in the kitchen, in the sitting area. Mi casa es su casa and no new mom should go more than about an hour without food.
Your baby is fussy. We love fussy. No, actually, we do. We love giving you a break from fussy. We love holding your baby and bouncing him while you get coffee, go to the bathroom and just feel what it is like to have two hands again.
You are using a nipple shield or struggling with breastfeeding. We have struggled to breastfeed and we know that it can be awkward and stressful. That you need space, with your pillow and your water and that your baby is going to scream. Come sit on the couch, and we will get you your water and give you some space to let your shoulders relax.
You are formula feeding. We welcome formula feeders. You can come here and feed you baby without an explanation. How we feed our babies is so fraught with baggage and judgment. You’ve got this and we support you.
Your baby is a puker. Yes. we know about those. We have paper towels, burp cloths, extra clothes, etc. Pretty much everything you might need. Bring your puker – we can handle it.
Your baby had a blowout. Right. Before. You. Walked. Out. The. Door. Yes, you have been planning on this class all week. Leave that baby in the carseat and come on over. We have wipes, new clothes and everything else you need to get cleaned up.
You are running late. Of course you are. You are a new mom. Don’t worry, you will get this down and be 5 minutes early to everything again. Right now, don’t worry. When we say 9, we mean 9-ish.
It doesn’t fit your baby’s feeding pattern. Come early. Come late. Sit on the couch. Feed your baby. Have a snack. Have some coffee (or tea if that’s how you roll).
You didn’t shower. We should have a sign, “no shoes, no shirt, no shower, no problem.” We welcome you however you are. We are just happy that you are here, that you made it out. If you are in your jammies, we might give you a sticker – no really, we might.
You are tired. Not tired like you pulled an all night-er in college. Tired like you have never imagined. Tired like you are not sure how you are alive. You need to nap, but you also need to get out of house,talk with adults, maybe have a laugh, maybe have a cry. Only you can decide what will be best for you, but if you decide to come out, we promise to make it worth your while and give you a tip for getting a great nap when you get home. And sometimes, nothing is more important than sleep and that’s okay too.

October 1, 2017

When Trauma Has a Happy Ending

Originally published by Petit Yogi

The vision of the stark white room with what felt like 400 hundred doctors surrounding the hospital gurney haunted me. The gurney that held my 12 lb infant, I couldn’t see him through the crowd but I could hear his cries from the corner where I sat, sobbing. I can still feel the pads of my fingers running over my eyebrows because there was nothing else for me to do. The sound of doctors hustling, paging seasoned doctors into the room to help. A doctor came to my side and told me they may have to shock his heart if he didn’t get his heart rate down. For 25 minutes I sat and prayed to all that was holy to help my sweet baby.

“Keep going, Courtney. Tell me the rest of the story.” My therapist looked at me, with her eyes glazed over with tears herself, ready to hold space for me. I took a deep breath, “He got his heart rate down on his own. We spent 2 nights in the hospital and he recovered much quicker than the doctors or I had anticipated. He is doing really well.” She reminded me that when we experience trauma we get stuck at the hardest part of the story, that it’s important to keep the story going. She’s so great like that.

For the few weeks that followed my son’s emergency I walked around in a fog. I would start sobbing out of nowhere and the images from that day haunted me. Instead of forcing myself to get my act together, I allowed myself to break down, making space to begin to process what had happened. When people asked how the baby was doing I would tell them that he was doing really well but that I was still processing the events from that day.

This statement made it okay for me to not be okay. It also decreased the chances that someone would say “well at least he’s healthy now” or some other phrase meant to make me feel better but in actuality discounted my experience.

This experience made me think about when birth plans go awry and the things we say like, “You have a healthy baby and a healthy mom and that’s all that matters.” This common expression meant to help a new mother unfortunately dismisses the story. Her story, her trauma that will forever be a part of her.

So what do we say when someone has experienced trauma with a happy ending? Ask them what happened next. Tell them they can tell you the story as many times as they want to, from beginning to end. Ask them what they are doing to process what happened. Remind them that although it ended well, it’s okay to not be okay.

September 26, 2017

The Five Stages of Grief When Your Child Will Not Nap

It’s 2:00. I have just put him down. I close the door and hear the first shriek. I hold my breath. I tiptoe away and go into my bedroom and grab the baby-monitor. Its little lights are blinking furiously as I pick it up and carry it to my ‘office.’ I sit down and turn on the volume. More shrieks, wails.

How could this be? He was so tired. He had such a good lunch. We were so active this morning. I have so much to do. He’s going to fall asleep. He’s going to just wear himself out. He just needs to calm down and then he will fall asleep. We are going to have a nap today. I did the naptime routine perfectly, I even emphasized the word, “sleep” each time it came up. I rocked, I sang, he will sleep. (This is Denial)

It’s 2:07, he pulls the handle on the little musical animal in his crib. A wonderfully saccharine version of “Hush Little Baby” reaches me over the monitor.

2:11, the thudding starts. He is banging on the sides of his crib. He’s throwing himself around. More crying. My nerves are frying. (Anger) I debate going in to soothe him to rock him again. My hope of getting something done is being crushed with each wail and note of the song from the music box, that is on round seven now.

2:14 I turn the sound off on the monitor. The rage subsides for a moment. I take a deep breath. I can do this. I will go in and rock him and sing to him. If I go in, he will sleep. We just got a bad start, I will be patient and kind and loving and I will rock him for as long as it takes, then he will nap. (Bargaining)

2:16 I take a deep breath and enter the room. He stops crying immediately and wiggles up the rail of his crib where I can reach him more easily. I pick him up and hold him against my chest. His face sticky and wet from his tears. I feel crappy, how could I let my baby cry. I snuggle him into my chest and start to rock in our chair. I remember the work I need to get done and a flush of anger runs through me. I remind myself to be patient, that I agreed not to hurry this phase of going to sleep.

2:19 I rock. I sing. I look down at him as he closes his eyes. I breathe. Ahhh. This is working. I feel his weight in my arms and the fuzzy warmth of his sleep sack against my hands. His breath deepens and evens out. Just a few more breaths and he will be gone, 1.. 2…3… 4…

2:28 I look down. His eyes are open. His beautiful, amazing, little eyes are f-ing open!

His eyes catch mine. He smiles. I can’t help but laugh, it’s part love, part defeat. He just needs a few more minutes. I look away. I rock, I pat.

2:35 I dare to look down again. He looks up. I am seething. I need to get stuff done. This is my time. I waited until the perfect time. He was sleepy, but not too sleepy. I did the routine. He doesn’t have a poop – I confirm again. How can this be happening? I agree to rock for two more minutes. His eyes close.

2:43 I look down. They stay closed. I can do this. I take some deep breaths and remind myself not to hurry. I walk him over to his crib and gently place him down. He starts to fuss. I make for a quick getaway, but I am losing hope fast (Depression).

2:45 I’m back at my desk. I look at the monitor. Flashing lights. I consider that the work in front of me is not going to get done. Sadness. Despair. What can I do with a cranky, tired baby until dinner time tonight? I’ll put him to bed early. The afternoon still does not seem very attractive. We could go in the car? He won’t want to go to bed early. I want to curl up in a ball. I am defeated.

2:46 I raise my head off my desk. I look at the monitor. The lights flash. I dash off one quick e-mail. I stand up and do a big stretch. I walk to his room, slowly, deliberately. (Acceptance)

2:49 I pick him up. He stops crying. I pat him and cuddle him and I turn on the light. He smiles. He has won. I am angry, I am frustrated, I am sad and my heart melts. I wipe a tear off his cheek as he babbles to me. I unzip the sleep sack. I take another breath and begin to imagine the afternoon. Perhaps a short drive is in the cards. I will have the cutest and most charming driving companion this side of the Mississippi.

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