marnie ann joyce

Six Weeks

Sat, 26 Feb 2011 10:23:37 -0500

I've been wondering what to do to prepare clients for the six-week growth spurt. Do I warn them that they're going to enter pure, unadulterated hell? Is it wrong to scare them? Or is it worse to be unprepared?

I've been asking my clients for suggestions, once they're through it. One suggested I say nothing but miraculously call in the middle of the sixth week when I know the mom needs some comfort. I liked that idea a lot, but when I tried it with the next client, she said unequivocally, "you should have told me. You needed to warn me about that. How could you know and not warn me?"

So the next time, I did. I sat my client down when her baby was 4 weeks old. When he was nursing well, sleeping pretty well, and she was starting to feel confident. Starting to feel like, "ok, I've got this thing figured out."

I broke it to her. In about two weeks, this beautiful baby is likely to turn into a monster. Yes, now you're marveling that he's such a good sleeper. Yes, now you feel that it's amazing how he doesn't really cry but just sort of grunts when he needs something. You're congratulating yourself on picking up on his cues so quickly, and you're feeling that his peaceful nature is part luck and part nature and part your adaptability and willingness to study him and learn his needs.

And you're right. You're absolutely right. You're doing a wonderful job, you've transformed from a woman responsible for herself alone into a mother who doesn't even notice the toll the sacrifices she's making for her child are taking on her body. You grew a person inside of your body, and now you are nourishing that person with your body alone. And you're doing it on less sleep than you've ever experienced, with a rush of hormones and physical discomforts unlike any previously experienced, including throughout pregnancy.

And I'm not smirking at you when you smile and tell me how it's so much easier than you expected. And I'm not being supercilious when I tell you to enjoy it while it lasts.

Because unless you're one of the lucky few new mothers (and by few, I mean I've never ever met even one), your peaceful, sleepy, cuddly newborn will disappear in a couple of weeks and be replaced by a purple-faced, screaming, unconsolable beast.

And some of them, like my son, go right back to being that peaceful, drowsy baby who is content to snuggle and be passed around and coo at his adoring fans. And some, like my daughter, remain fussy, tyrannical creatures who are hyper-particular about every little thing in their tiny lives through toddlerhood.

But they all, all, all (except for a fabled few) become monsters for a little while.

There's a reason for this. And it's not actually just to keep you humble and knock you down a peg from feeling smug and on top of this new motherhood gig. Somewhere around six weeks of age, your baby goes through a massive growth spurt. By now she's unfurled from her time in the womb, and it's time to start developing some real muscle tone. Pushing up on elbows, elongating that (formerly absent) neck, grasping with intention instead of reflex, focusing the eyes and determining depth of field, and hand-eye coordination are just a few of the major shifts your baby is experiencing at this time. And she's also just getting bigger and bigger.

The thing about this growth spurt is that these new skills use energy. And energy, as we know, comes from being well nourished. A bigger baby needs more nourishment. A busier baby needs more nourishment.

But your baby is already eating every couple of hours – sometimes more frequently – how can you feed him MORE than that?

Well, you don't have to. And in fact, once she's through this growth spurt your baby may even begin to spread out his feedings a bit. Sleeping for longer stretches at night, going a bit longer between nursing sessions during the day. So how do we account for this need for more nourishment?

A nursing mother's milk is constantly changing, both in content and quantity. And it's the stimulus of the baby nursing and the baby's needs that makes this happen. So right before your baby is about to go through a big growth period, he'll nurse more and more frequently, to stimulate your body to produce more substantial and more plentiful milk for him when he's larger.

This is where the monster bit comes in. In order to stimulate you to produce more milk for his soon-to-be bigger-and-busier self, your baby will want to nurse more than usual. You may find that 10 minutes (5 minutes? 2?) after he's finished, he's begging for more. You may even find that he eats until milk comes out of his nose, or that he vomits after he's eaten and then wants more. This might look alarming, but these mechanisms are in place to prevent your baby from overeating. He is pushing you to produce more while protecting himself from overconsumption.

So you experience a baby who is constantly wanting to nurse. Not only is this physically exhausting (producing milk is hard work) but it's emotionally taxing. You feel like you don't have a moment's peace. You're sleeping even less than you were just a week ago (how is that even possible?) and you constantly have a scrabbling, squirming baby literally attached to you. Latched on.

Add to that cleaning up the spilled and regurgitated milk, the extra diapers from the increased output, and you feel like you're spending every second either putting milk into your baby or cleaning up the milk coming out of your baby.

And, she's screaming. All the time. She's inconsolable.

All of this is perfectly typical, and it WILL pass. It will positively pass. But it is important to remember that this is normal.

It is also normal at this time to think horrible thoughts about your baby. If you're experiencing more severe feelings of desperation and despair, consult a medical professional immediately about the possibility of post-partum depression, which is a serious and sometimes life-threatening condition.

What I'm talking about here are the angry thoughts of an overwhelmed, sleep-deprived mother. About wanting to just leave him screaming on a park bench while you go home and get a nap. About wanting to bury him in a pile of laundry to muffle his cries. This is normal. And when you have these thoughts, hand the baby off to someone else, and walk away for a minute. Take a peaceful shower. Go for a walk around the block. Do not feel guilty. The thing about inconsolable is that it means there is nothing you can do to console your baby. Nothing. It's not that you're not trying hard enough. It's that this is what she's going through this week. Leave her in someone's loving arms and let her scream while you take a break.

If you don't have anyone around, put her somewhere safe — on his back in a crib, safely secured in her car seat, buckled into a baby swing. And let her cry for a minute as you go to the bathroom and splash water on your face. Fix yourself a treat, like a nutritious smoothie (the noise of the blender will drown out her cries, an added bonus).

If you have no other options, strap your baby into a baby carrier and go out for a walk. Chances are she'll pass right out. It's certainly better for you at this time if you can get some few moments to yourself without a little person attached to you, but if you have no other option, at least you can walk around in peace for a little while. And if she still continues to wail, you can rest assured that a newborn's cries are loudest to her own mother. No one will be looking at you as if you are a neglectful, horrible mother for walking around with a crying baby.

It's also normal at this time to start to wonder if there's something wrong with your baby. You research. Does he have reflux? Colic? Maybe he's lactose intolerant, or maybe you're not producing enough milk. Many, many breastfeeding mothers begin supplementing with formula at six weeks. It's true that giving your apparently insatiable nursling a bottle of formula at this point might seem to satisfy him and so it's easy to feel that formula is what he needs.

Plus, I think we as mothers are pretty quick to think "There must be something wrong with me." Motherhood is hard, and loaded with moments of self-doubt. It's a thing we've never done before. And it's a critically important thing. We're not meeting a deadline or providing a client with a business-saving service or keeping a house clean. Motherhood is keeping a human being alive. Breastfeeding is hard. We're keeping that person alive using nothing but our bodies. What a feat. And in a world where we're so often old that our bodies aren't good enough, it's easy to fall back to scapegoating ourselves.

But remember the reason for this fussy (demonic) phase. He's trying to force your body to produce more. If you supplement at this time, your body won't catch up and you really won't be making enough milk for you baby.

If your baby isn't growing, or if he's not producing enough wet diapers, or if he's lethargic and seems despondent, consult a medical professional to ensure that there is no physiological cause.

Most babies at this phase display the symptoms of reflux or lactose intolerance, especially projectile vomiting, green and frothy stools, arching the back and screaming inconsolably.

There are reasons for this, too. The first milk that comes out of the breast (foremilk) is watery and lactose-heavy. The hindmilk which follows, is rich in fats and nutrients. When your baby is constantly asking to nurse, and is on and off the breast frequently, he is taking in foremilk over and over and never getting to the hindmilk. This causes an excess of lactose in the stomach, which ferments in the intestines, causing colicky, gassy abdominal pains and green, frothy stools.

If you're experiencing this, you can try watching the clock. Continue to feed on demand, but watch the clock anyway. In a two hour period, use only one breast. Offer it as often as your baby wants to nurse, but don't switch sides for two hours. This ensures that your baby is reaching the hindmilk and not overloading on sugary, gut-wrenching foremilk. After those two hours are up, switch to the other breast for two hours.

Make sure your baby is burping. Bounce on an exercise ball with your baby over your shoulder. Pat his back or his rump. When he begins to squirm and struggle as if he's asking you to cut it out and leave him alone, keep going. The burp is near. A baby who doesn't need to be burped will be limp and relaxed. Often we feel "ooh, he doesn't like this..." and so we stop. But the discomfort right before the belch is released makes a baby arch and kick and show his discomfort. It's natural to want to stop torturing him. But getting out the gas will help relieve the colicky cries sure to come.

You might ask your pediatrician if you think there's something wrong with the baby or your OB if you think there's something wrong with your milk production. And if you're seriously concerned, by all means, consult your medical team. That's what they're there for. Doctors and nurses are in the business of saving lives. And we are fortunate to have them around, and to be able to rely on their years of study and expertise.

But don't don't think that just because you made it to six weeks you no longer need a lactation consultant. If I were building a house, I would absolutely take the advice from the architect on where to place the electrical outlets. But if there were a problem with the current, I would want no one but an electrician to resolve it.

And don't forget your partner, and your doula, and your friends and family. You're not a failure if you're overwhelmed. You're not letting your baby down if you need to just walk away. This is hard stuff. And the six-week growth spurt is by far the hardest part. For now.

C.O.W.

Fri, 29 Oct 2010 11:19:41 -0400

My daughter's school has Community Organized Work (C.O.W.) time each week. Parents or other community members come to the school for an hour and assist with an activity. The point is it wrangle in community members to expose kids to various skills and hobbies.

Mother's Day

Sun, 9 May 2010 15:25:39 -0400

In 1870 Julia Ward Howe called on the women of the world as pacifists, feminists, mothers, to grab hold of responsibility and shape their own world. Eventually the concept of Julia's Mother's Day for Peace married with the Pagan Mothering Day and like all stolen holidays, became a watered-down celebration.

Yes, it is enough to celebrate mothers for being mothers. But it is important to remember "mother" is more than birth-giver or life-giver or nursemaid. All of these things are important, no matter how your child comes into your life. Important, too, are the hands held, the noses wiped, the scrapes kissed, the heads caressed, the lessons taught, the freedoms given. but as Julia called to us in 1870, we must remember that it is up to us, the women, the mothers of this world, to create not just any life for our children, but a better life for all people who share the world our children live in.

Mother's Day Proclamation
Julia Ward Howe, 1870

Arise, then, women of this day!
Arise, all women who have hearts,
Whether our baptism be of water or of tears!
Say firmly:
"We will not have great questions decided by irrelevant agencies,
Our husbands will not come to us, reeking with carnage, for caresses and applause.
Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn
All that we have been able to teach them of charity, mercy and patience.
We, the women of one country, will be too tender of those of another country
To allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs."
From the bosom of the devastated Earth a voice goes up with our own.
It says: "Disarm! Disarm! The sword of murder is not the balance of justice."
Blood does not wipe out dishonor, nor violence indicate possession.
As men have often forsaken the plough and the anvil at the summons of war,
Let women now leave all that may be left of home for a great and earnest day of counsel.
Let them meet first, as women, to bewail and commemorate the dead.
Let them solemnly take counsel with each other as to the means
Whereby the great human family can live in peace,
Each bearing after his own time the sacred impress, not of Caesar,
But of God.
In the name of womanhood and humanity, I earnestly ask
That a general congress of women without limit of nationality
May be appointed and held at someplace deemed most convenient
And at the earliest period consistent with its objects,
To promote the alliance of the different nationalities,
The amicable settlement of international questions,
The great and general interests of peace.

Life, naturallly

Thu, 4 Mar 2010 13:04:42 -0500

I'm bouncing back (and i use the term bouncing very, very loosely....) from a very rewarding, very exhausting couple of days as a birth doula. I am happy to say that mom and baby are well despite minor setback after minor setback. But the mom was a rockstar (as are all birthing women!) and the experience of witnessing a whole, new, real, live person show up and join the party was just - as it always is - mindbending and fulfilling. And exhausting. Emotionally, mentally, and physically.

Something that is really odd about it - I get a call and I go to someone's house. In most cases we're nearly strangers, having met at most 2 or 3 times before. At a very pivotal point of their lives I slide into their environment fully. I, and my life, cease to exist except where I fit, in that moment, into their world. Very quickly we move past the awkward conversation and politenesses generally exchanged when a stranger visits your home, or you enter as a stranger into someone else's space. Over the next few hours we become intimate. We share stories, we share experiences not often shared among even siblings.

Sometimes we then go together into yet another environment with a new cast - a hospital room becomes our next reality, with the various nurses and doctors and midwives and support staff that become such fixtures in that event. If you've ever been in a hospital or supported a loved one through a hospital stay you'll know what I mean. You get to know the nurse and are disappointed when her shift ends and she goes home. When she comes back the next day, for her next shift, and you're still there - you're overjoyed to see her again, this old friend. And you mourn the departure of the one you've come to rely on in the meantime.

Then this amazing thing happens. This birth happens. And it's huge and tremendous. And we weep together. Marvel together at the strength of mothers, the miracle of birth. I witness women at their most vulnerable - which, remarkably, is also their most power filled - and I weep with joy, with pride. I am moved by these women, every time. Whatever differences we had when we met as strangers now forgotten. And then I go home, and leave them to their new families.

I arrive home, my kids energetic and loving me. I realize how I'd missed them, how I'd relived each moment of their coming. How I experienced again the joy of transformation from woman into mother. How I experienced again the pleasure of changing baby into sibling. I am exhausted. And happy. I shower, if I'm lucky, I catch a nap, and when I awake, it's all gone, like a dream. My life is mine again, and really, that lifetime that just occurred was a flash - a day or two, that's all - in the timeline of my family, my household.

It never ceases to amaze me, how my life waits for me. How comfortable it is to reenter it. How naturally it fits.

Other Stwipey Bwanket

Tue, 2 Mar 2010 09:52:01 -0500

Years ago, when my monkey was a mere parasite, I made him this basketweave blanket. Which he, of course, being a wise and compliant boy, loves. And inexplicable calls his Stwipey Bwanket, despite the fact that it's, you know, not striped. It is a blanket, though. Anyway, many things have changed since I made that blanket. One of the things which has changed is that the monkey was born. And now he has two houses. He and his gigantic sister travel a few blocks each week to spend a few nights at his dad's house. And while so far there have been no major losses transporting Stwipey Bwanket to and fro, it's a fear that haunts us all. So we talked it over and it was determined that a second Stwipey Bwanket must be made.

I decided to make it <span style="font-style:italic;">actually</span> striped this time, and in my infinite wisdom used two yarns so close in color (Henry's Attic Inca Cotton in Sage and Oz) that you can't tell that it's striped at all. So again we have a non-striped Stwipey Bwanket. But this one is nice and big and cushy and crochet - so it was finished in about the time it would take Apollo Ohno to build a castle out of legos.

New Pattern, New Site

Mon, 1 Mar 2010 10:15:15 -0500

I've been working away at all of the different little facets of my life. For one thing, I've been going on a lot of interviews lately. I'm a birth doula and there's a lot of chatting that goes on when you meet a potential client for the first time. I mean, you kinda want to know a little something about the person who will be in the room when you push a person out of you. Anyway. I go on a lot of these interviews. And I end up talking about knitting. It confuses people. But it reminds me how much I love knitting. I feel like I don't have enough time any more. I'm stretched so thin. So many things going on. I need to remember to keep on knitting. Because when I don't? I miss it so.

So anyway, in this working away at the different facets of my life thing, I've updated my knitting website, and published a new pattern. An old pattern, really. The first thing I ever designed (though it's been tweaked beyond recognition from the first version, which I now affectionately call "Alien Bear" because it was so weird looking). My bear pattern. I'm going to be "cleaning house" and trying to get a bunch of my older patterns out there, starting with the animals. That's the plan, anyway. Let's see what happens with that, shall we?

So take a look at the new site at curlypurly.com and let me know what you think. I made it using iWeb from Apple in pretty much no time at all. Web design sure has changed since I started this thing.