Just Wonderful: Love and Partners and Natural Parenting

Posted on February 9, 2010 53 Comments


Welcome to the February Carnival of Natural Parenting: Love and partners!

This post was written for inclusion in the monthly Carnival of Natural Parenting hosted by Hobo Mama and Code Name: Mama. This month we’re writing about how a co-parent has or has not supported us in our dedication to natural parenting. Please read to the end to find a list of links to the other carnival participants.

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Love and partners: How has a co-parent supported your dedication to natural parenting — or not?

When Riley was born, my relationship with my husband changed. Because all of a sudden instead of one relationship, we were dealing with three. Our relationship as life partners, our relationship with our daughter, and our relationship with one another as parents.Another interesting thing happened as well. We stopped arguing, sort of. We disagree, alot. But we stopped needing to be right. I would say what I felt, he would say what he felt. And if we still disagreed, we just let it be. This is in stark contrast to previously where we would both continue to beat a dead horse until one of us admitted that the other one was right. I don’t know why, but following the birth of our daughter, both of us stopped needing to be right, we just needed to be heard, even if that meant that nothing really changed.

I did not have natural parenting ideals when I was pregnant. And in all honesty, I probably wouldn’t have even known what natural parenting or attachment parenting was. I read What to Expect When You’re Expecting in tiny little snippets so the weight of responsibility and risk didn’t totally freak me out. In the last month of my pregnancy I watched a million b-grade documentary type series on cable all about birth (most ended in c-section) and babies (mainly focussed on why won’t they sleep/eat/sleep). I found the idea of breastfeeding beyond 6 months a little bit creepy, looked down my nose at people who had babies or toddlers who wouldn’t sleep or would only sleep in their parents’ bed and couldn’t figure out why parents would walk around carrying their baby/toddler when they were pushing a perfectly serviceable stroller.

My husband had different ideas. His number one priority in our baby shopping was to get a baby carrier so he would be able to carry her around. So I bought one of those front-pack type carriers along with a sling. The sling seemed like a good way to be able to get things done with having both hands free. I didn’t really consider all the benefits of the sling in terms of bonding, comfort and closeness. Towards the end of my pregnancy we were doing some last minute baby shopping. My husband saw a co-sleeper (a little bed that sits on the main bed). It had a night light and little sides to stop you from rolling over onto her in the middle of the night. I didn’t really see the point. I mean, she was going to be in her own room from at the latest three months anyway. But, I’d done most of the shopping for the new arrival, and I wanted him to be involved so I placated him with the purchase.

There were two things that we both agreed on while I was pregnant, we would not be smackers and we would not cry it out. I felt very strongly about both of those things.

Then our beautiful baby was born, by emergency c-section. Josh kept me calm during the c-section by asking me for my rugby league tips for that week. Excellent distraction tactic. I was ill prepared for actually how violent a procedure a c-section is. Because I had skipped that chapter in the pregnancy book. I was going to have a completely natural birth, with no drugs, and there was no reason why I would need a c-section. The googy had other plans. She had one hand on her head and the other hand was hanging on to the cord. I remember seeing Josh’s face when they pulled her out and pronounced she was a girl (he has only ever wanted girls). He looked at me with more happiness and excitement than I had ever seen, and I knew she was ok. Her birth was a physical manifestation of our marriage. We had said the words, but she brought them to life and no matter what happened in the future, we were inextricably joined forever in this tiny little person.

Very quickly, all of my ‘ideas’ about parenthood and babies went out the window. Fair warning: you should never develop any firm ideas about parenthood before you actually have a baby – you’re likely to end up looking like a bit of an ass. I slept with her in the bed with me in hospital because I couldn’t bear to put her in the bassinet, just arm’s reach away, it was too far. I mainly dozed at first, because I enjoyed the feeling of her on my chest so much. I was comforted by her heart beat and her soft breath.

Breastfeeding was a challenge. I had damaged nipples and we struggled to find a good latch. I felt I was failing her at something that was so important, and was supposed to be so natural. I cried a lot. My desire to breastfeed was strong enough that I persisted through the excruciating pain and the dread of each feeding. Two things got me through it and to the other side where breastfeeding was enjoyable and painless. Josh gave me support and understanding through the hard times, allowed me the freedom to consider other options if I couldn’t get through it, acknowledged my efforts and held my hand as I bawled my eyes out through the pain. A wonderful midwife and lactation consultant also set me on the right path with the latch and spurred me on further, telling me that it was obvious how much I loved Riley, given the extent of the damage. Once in a while though, when I was up for the umpteenth time of the night breastfeeding Riley or trying to get her back to sleep and Josh was next to me snoring, I was tempted to beat him over the head with something.

I became an avid breastfeeder, and fell quickly and easily into on demand feeding, because it was so much easier than anything else. Sometimes it seemed like Riley was breastfeeding for 6 hours straight. I loved the closeness and connection of breastfeeding and often fed her to sleep, through teething pain, or whenever she needed a little bit more comfort. Josh would often stroke her head, hands or feet while I was breastfeeding, and it was a bonding time for him too. Josh used to walk past the formula in the supermarket and say ‘it’s not right, I’m so glad we didn’t have to go there.’And although we were both ready when we stopped, I missed it once it was gone.

Josh had three months paternal leave when Riley was born. And I needed him, every day. I was so grateful that we had that time together as a young family. When I was barely conscious from exhaustion he would take Riley for long walks while I either slept or just stared off into the distance, allowing myself to unplug. He fed me at all times of the day and night, quick meals that I could scoff down before catching some sleep. He proudly set up the co-sleeper in our bed at night, and on the couch during the day. He often used the night light to look at her while she slept (or check that she was breathing). Riley stayed in the co-sleeper until she was too big at around three months. At which point she moved to the bassinet (still in our room) for the first sleep of the night and then she usually slept with us after that. I mastered the art of the night-time breastfeeding and was able to sleep through most of her latching on. When she was too big for the bassinet, we moved her to the cot (in her room) at around 6 months. But it didn’t last long and she slept in our bed off-and-on until she was about 14 months. Although she’s now in a toddler bed and sleeps in her room, whenever she wakes up in the night we still enjoy co-sleeping, even look forward to it. We both wavered at times on the whole parenting to sleep thing, due to exhaustion, frustration and no prospect of change. Luckily, we never wavered at the same time. She was over a year before she started sleeping through with any reliability. And now, with hindsight, we both realise how short that time really is. When we were in it, we were so desperate for her to sleep through. But now, we both realise that the period of babydom is so much shorter than we were really ready for it to be. Parenting to sleep can be frustrating, boring and exhausting. Parenting to sleep can also be a special time for quiet connection. Josh loves it when Riley falls asleep next to him, and he sees her heavy eyes close and her body claimed by slumber.

We both preferred the sling or the carrier to the stroller. Sometimes it was a battle to decide who would do the carrying. It was a joy to have her mushy little face fall asleep against your chest. Even better was when she would wake up, slightly disoriented, and look up to realise that we were still there and she would get a happy little smile on her face. And I am one of those parents who carries her toddler around while pushing the pram. Because contrary to some of my opinions before Riley was born, babies and toddlers are actually people with emotions and needs and preferences. Riley has a preference for being held most of the time and I count myself lucky that we have such a cuddly daughter.

I happened across a natural parenting website by accident. And there it was, our parenting style, reflected back to me. None of it by design. Josh and I had floundered our way through early parenthood all through intuition and instinct, and landed somewhere that was totally comfortable for us and all three of our relationships.

The greatest difficulty Josh faced as a parent was not anything to do with sleep deprivation, or discipline, or the fact that he occasionally struggled to engage with her when she was a little baby and she didn’t really do anything other than lie there – prepared to be entertained. It was when she was really sick and she had her trip to the ICU. And it wasn’t that it was scary, or traumatic or the fact that we were completely out of control. It was after that, when she was getting better. She would cry if he came near her, and she would push him away if he came too close. She would also cry if she ever saw us hugging or kissing. And she was still hoarse from the tubes, and any cry was devastating to hear. After the trauma of her hospitalisation, all he wanted to do was hold her and cuddle her and kiss her and keep her close. And it broke his heart, over and over again. His pain was naked and raw. It was made worse by the fact that she didn’t even have the strength to crawl or sit up on her own, but she somehow found the energy reserves to make her rejection of his advances known. It took a long time, and an absolute commitment on his part to demonstrate his adoration for her, regardless. Sometimes he was frustrated, sometimes he was deflated and sometimes he was just plain hurt. And eventually, she returned to herself again, and to him. Now, you would never know it had even happened. So when the other day she crawled onto his lap for a cuddle after her nap, or when a few months ago her first clear word was “Josh”, he treasures it all the more.

Co-parenting wasn’t always easy for us. At times we were both frustrated with her clear preference for mama. I often wished that he could put her to sleep, and while this sometimes happened, more often than not, my presence was a requirement.  Because I stay at home most of the time, it is also difficult sometimes to make that transition from me doing everything all day to us both participating equally either at night or on the weekend. That is still something we are working on. Our styles are different. Not in a core way, which definitely makes things easier. But, nonetheless, there are differences. Because I’m at home all day, I tend to pick my battles. That is something that Josh is still working on. I am more permissive than he is, and that is still something we’re working out together.

Since we both want to avoid day care if we can, Josh has started taking a day off once a month where he looks after Riley and I go into work. This has been great for both of us. He gets to see how the other half lives, has one-on-one time with Riley, and all in all tends to have the time of his life. Last time he had a day off, when i got home and asked him how his day was, he replied ‘just wonderful’.

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Carnival of Natural Parenting -- Hobo Mama and Code Name: MamaVisit Hobo Mama and Code Name: Mama to find out how you can participate in the next Carnival of Natural Parenting!

Please take time to read the submissions by the other carnival participants:

(This list will be updated Feb. 9 with all the carnival links, and all links should be active by noon EST. Go to Hobo Mama and Code Name: Mama for the most recently updated list.)

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The Backslide

Posted on February 2, 2010 3 Comments


When Riley was about 14 months old she started reliably sleeping through the night and no needing my presence to get to sleep. Up until that point she was up three or more times a night and at nap time I would need to rock or stroke her to sleep.

Perhaps it was because I was no longer breastfeeding her, so there was less interest in night-time snacking, or perhaps it was that she had always hated the cot and I’d moved her to her toddler bed. Either way, I didn’t care. It was such a relief to have a break. It wasn’t just the sleep deprivation, it was the emotional pressure of being completely responsible for whether or not she slept.

Since her recent bout of teething and illness there’s been a bit of a sleep regression. More often than not I sit in her room so she can get to sleep. I talk to her really softly and slowly or massage her scalp or stroke her cheeks until she drifts off and I sneak out of the room. And more often than not she’ll wake up in the middle of the night and come into our bed.

It would be easy to become frustrated with this. Despite the fact that I think I would have really missed out if I hadn’t parented her to sleep all this time. And despite the fact that I enjoy the co-sleeping – even when I get kicked and punched occasionally.Which is why this article really struck a chord with me. It was a reminder that sometimes I can’t sleep and I stay up and watch TV, or I ask Josh to give me a massage, or I read a book, or I have something to eat. And sometimes I just can’t relax.The only difference is I’m capable of meeting my needs, vocalising them and in general helping myself. I don’t have someone telling me to get into bed when I can’t sleep. Or making sure I stay there.

It’s not always easy when all I want is some undisturbed sleep. But the next time I’m bored, frustrated or exhausted I will hold on to all of the things that make it just lovely. Like pudgy little arms wrapping around my neck in the middle of the night; or heavy eyes closing slowly to my touch, or chubby cheeks resting against my own for comfort.

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The Path More Travelled

Posted on January 25, 2010 2 Comments


When I was pregnant I thought long and hard about immunisation. I wasn’t sure if it was the right choice. So I researched, and then researched some more. My concern was for two things really. Firstly I think that there is a trend towards over-medication which can lead to an erosion of the natural immune system. And secondly, I am paranoid about autism. There’s no rhyme or reason to it. It’s just one of those things that totally terrifies me. When I see Riley line things up in a perfect row, it totally freaks me out. Even though I know it is hardly an indicator for autism.

I think the thing that scares me the most about autism is its (relatively) late onset. That you can have an engaged, happy, social, talkative little creature who slowly backslides into a shell of their former self. I saw a program on a couple who had six children and they were all autistic (at varying levels of the spectrum). I am in total awe of them. And you could see how painful it was for them to completely love and adore their children who weren’t capable of outwardly engaging with them or demonstrating any love in return.

Everyone has their inexplicable fears with their children I guess. My other half doesn’t give autism a second thought, but is completely paranoid about congenital birth defects.

But before we wander to far into the quagmire of my neurosis, I should probably get back to immunisation. In the end (based on my research) it seemed that it was more likely that autism was genetic rather than related to immunisations, or at worst immunisations may have been a trigger for a genetic tendency. And after looking at the risk factors for other complications to do with immunisations I decided to get Riley’s shots done. This was mainly because it would be impossible to put Riley in child care if she wasn’t immunised. And although I wasn’t planning on using child care, I wanted to have the option if we needed it. The other part of the decision was mostly emotional. I felt that if the worst happened I would be better able to live with my choice if she had complications associated with an immunisation as opposed to getting sick from one of the diseases that the immmunisations protect her from.

It wasn’t until her episode of epiglottitis that I really thought about it again. Although you might think that given she got something that she was immunised against, it would make me question my original choice. The opposite was true. I could see that if she hadn’t been immunised, she may have died before we’d even gotten to the hospital. Not to mention that it is my belief that while many children who are not immunised will not necessarily get sick, in large part they are protected by the majority of the population who is immunised.

Before Riley was born I had a similar attitude to antibiotics. Erode the natural immune system. Bad. But when she’s got a ludicrously high temperature, developing a bad cough and generally under the weather, I don’t hesitate to give her antibiotics anymore. Other than her hospital visit, she’s probably had two lots of antibiotics in her young life. My preference is to avoid them, but that is quickly over-ridden by wanting her to get better as soon as humanly possible.

So here I am, sucked into the medical mainstream. Because when I’m faced with my sick little munchkin, all the rationales for allowing her immune system to develop on its own go out the window, and I make emotional decisions about helping her to feel better. I don’t know if it’s good or bad. But it’s very easy to stand behind your arguments in an emotionless vacuum and something else entirely when you’re baby is crying her heart out.

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Recovery

Posted on January 24, 2010 3 Comments


The Doctor told me it was most  likely the two year molars and that the high temperaturs had triggered a reaction in her lymphatic system, causing (among other things) her glands to swell up. He prescribed antibiotics and I noticed an almost immediate improvement, particularly with her temperature wich had been pretty scary high.

Keeping the fluids up. Very important. It’s just as well, she loves her water and bottles, because her food over the last week has equated to a few handfuls of nutri grain and licking the peanut butter of her toast. Thankfully, her appetite started to return a bit today and Josh even managed to convince her to have some pasta for dinner.

It has been a gruelling week for me. She wants to be attached all the time. If I left the lounge room to go to the kitchen, she’d completely lose the plot. I went to the dentist and when I left I had to physically detach her while she was attempting to hang on to my t-shirt with her teeth. All accompanied by the real devastated crying that’s heart breaking to listen to.

For the most part, I’ve tried to give her as much comfort as I possibly can. But that’s not to say it’s not absolutely exhausting. I take comfort in that if it is her two year molars this should be the last of the teething. Please?!

Wake me when it’s over. But since that’s not possible, the next best thing is going in to work tomorrow and having a bit of a break. I feel guilty that I’m looking forward to it. But I also know I’ll be better able to meet her needs for having the break as well.

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The Good Patient

Posted on January 21, 2010 4 Comments


The little googy has not been well. We think it’s teething – there’s plenty of drooling, diarrhea and a nasty high temperature without any other symptoms of infection. Most likely it’s her two year molars. I got quite a shock yesterday when I took her temperature (under the arm) and it was 39.6 (103 F). She didn’t even seem that unwell to me. And today it’s been similar, but at least it’s responsive to panadol and goes down pretty quickly.

She’s a very easy patient though, and was in high spirits this morning. The afternoon was an entirely different story. But was content snoozing on my chest or sitting on my lap working on a puzzle. After our trip to the ICU I get a little paranoid with these episodes when they pop up. It can be hard to be entirely rational about it. But, by the same token, I don’t want to take her to the doctor or the hospital unless I’m sure that she needs it because pretty much every time we’ve gone to the doctor she’s caught something and I don’t want to expose her to that if there’s nothing they can do anyway.

But she was definitely worse today, so if it’s getting worse tomorrow I’ll get her checked out, if only for my peace of mind.

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I Survived Intensive Care

Posted on November 11, 2009 19 Comments

Ten days after Riley’s birthday I took her to the hospital. I assumed that they would tell me it was just teething and I would head back home again. The few days before had been hell. If she was awake she was either crying or screaming. I mistook it for teething initally because teething has always knocked her around and she’s often been that upset with teething before. She was drooling like a tap, drinking copious amounts of water and generally out of sorts. I was beginning to get concerned though because the teething episodes had never lasted this long.
My sister came over on a Tuesday and seeing how badly Riley was doing she offered to take us to the hospital. I am ashamed to admit that initially I refused because it got my back up. But when, about half an hour later, I put Riley in the bath and she was still crying I noticed two things. Firstly, she’d begun to lose her voice. And secondly she was crying in the bath. Both of those things scared me. I silently apologised to my sister and asked her to take us to the hospital. As we were driving to the hospital, which luckily was only 15 minutes away, I began to think that there was something really wrong because she had always been a jolly baby and a good patient when sick and this seemed out of character.

I got called in to see the triage nurse very quickly – the hospital always looks at babies immediately and gives them the once over before deciding how to proceed. The nurse asked me a couple of questions but I can’t really remember what they were. It was something to do with her symptoms and what the trigger was for me to bring her in. The nurse asked me to go wait on one of the beds for the doctor. And within 5 minutes, ten doctors had swarmed around us. We were in trouble. Really big trouble.

Riley was basically asleep on my chest at this point – she was so exhausted. They asked me to lie her on her back and when I did they could see that she began to struggle for air. So back she went onto my chest. It was then that they told me that the reason she’d been drooling like a tap was because she was having difficulty swallowing. Which was surprising to me because she had been drinking water and milk with no problems – but in hindsight she had been spluttering with the bottle from time to time. The various doctors debated what to do. They didn’t want to force her to open her mouth to look at her throat because that kind of trauma can cause the throat to seize up and she wouldn’t be able to breathe. I attempted not to react to this news. I was acutely aware of Riley on my chest and that for now at least she was calm. I just kept saying to myself that I needed to stay calm so she could be as relaxed as possible.

Eventually they decided to take her into surgery so they could anesthetise her and look at the throat. If it was compromised they could then intubate her while she was unconscious. I was told that I would be wheeled in with her and would stay there until the anesthetic had taken hold and then I would have to leave until they were finished. I tried not to panic and called Mr Goog who was at work (and over an hour away). He vented a little bit but even in the moment I knew it was just because he was scared and far away.

As we were wheeled into surgery, the bright lights had woken Riley up a bit. She popped her head up from my chest and had a bit of a look around. Her big blue eyes taking in everything. The doctors had hoped that when we got into surgery they could just hold the mask near her and she would slowly go under. Not the case for my fiesty little one. And so I was left with no other option than to basically pin her to the spot while the anesthetist jammed the mask on her face. She screamed into the mask and I could see the tendons in her neck as she strained against it. She went under, they took her away and I didn’t get to kiss her goodbye. I thought to myself as I left that I didn’t know what I would do if the last time I ever saw her I was pinning her down while she screamed into a mask.

I waited in the waiting room and drank truly awful coffee. My sister was there and we started to organise some of the practicalities. If she was intubated we wold be going to a different hospital and I would need some stuff from home. We talked about what I would need. I borrowed some cigarettes from her for later, even though I’d given up smoking. In between calls from my mum and Mr Goog a nurse came to tell me that she was fine but had been intubated and I could go down and see her on the ward while we waited for transport to a hospital with an ICU.

It seemed to take forever for them to bring her back to the ward. And then there she was, tube down her throat and still stirring a little bit even though she was sedated. The doctor told me that it was a delicate balance to give her just enough sedation to keep her under but not too much. In the end they had to give her the maximum amount because she kept trying to sit up. This made me proud for some reason.

It was only then, when I was holding her hand, that they explained to me that they were pretty sure she had Epiglottitis caused by Haemophilus Influenzae Type B. Some of the younger doctors even seemed excited by this because since it had been added to the vaccine schedule 10 years ago, this was the only case they’d seen. Riley was immunised but for some reason it just wasn’t enough. Even though she had only had 2 out of the 3 doses, apparently that should have been enough to protect her.

An ambulance team arrived to take her to a hopsital with an ICU. They had to take blood before we left and I must have watched them try to find a vein for half an hour and go through about ten needles before they finally got what they needed. My sister had come back with some supplies and I hopped in the ambulance. I dozed a little on the trip (it was about an hour away) and by the time we got there Mr Goog was already there, waiting for us.

We got her settled into the ICU, which was a combined child and adult ICU so most of the other patients were adults. I decided to sleep over, but they asked us to leave briefly so they could change the throat tube to a nose tube that she would be more comfortable with.ICU

When we came back, she did look more comfortable, but I just wished she wasn’t connected to so many tubes and cords so I could cuddle her and pick her up. She stayed sedated for the next two days. She was tenacious though, and fought the sedation every step of the way. She was constantly trying to sit up or roll over and kept the staff on their feet. It was a waiting game. They wanted to make sure she was responding to the antibiotics before they took the tubes out.

I’m glad I didn’t go home. I’m glad I didn’t have internet on my phone. I would have completely freaked myself out. I would not have wanted to know that HiB could also cause pneumonia, meningitis and brain swelling.

Every now and then the social worker would drop by and ask me if I wanted to make use of accommodation that was near the hospital. Every time I’d tell her that no, I wanted to stay in the hospital room. She’d make comments that in another day or so I might trust the staff enough to leave at night. I attempted not to scoff in her face. I did believe and still do that Riley sensed my presence and was calmer because of it.

Eventually, they decided that they could take the tubes out. But first she had to wake up. And for someone who had been fighting sedation for days, she sure took her time. They took her off sedation in the morning and it wasn’t until 5am the following morning that she was awake enough to have the tubes taken out. She’d drifted in and out the night before, and I’d felt ten times better when she’d opened her eyes, but she soon fell back to sleep again.

So finally, I was able to take her out of the bed and give her a cuddle. She was very hoarse and she whimpered alot and she refused to let anyone touch her except me. It was at this point that the infectious disease doctors began to suggest that it wasn’t HiB, but that perhaps she had some kind of immune problem. I kept repeating that she’d always been really healthy but they couldn’t quite wrap their head around the idea that she was immunised and still got Epiglottitis. I agreed to do follow up tests, but more to placate them than anything else.

When she was breathing on her own, they moved us down to the kids ward. She was still on a drip and so it was impossible to get her to have any decent sleep because she woke herself up every time the tubes moved. There was a pull out bed that I was sleeping on and despite being told that they ‘didn’t recommend co-sleeping, but it was ok if she couldn’t sleep’ I moved everything around so she could sleep with me. She got a great night sleep. I on the other hand found it hard, because I was too concerned about rolling on to her drip.

I was so relieved when we got to go home. It was hard to see her that weak. When we got home she didn’t even have the strength to crawl – let alone walk. But slowly as she got more milk and more food she got her strength back. She was pretty much attached to me 24/7 which, after everything we’d been through I didn’t mind one bit. I only started to relax again after we’d been home for a few days and she had her first smile and giggle and I could see she was getting back to herself again.

Even now I’m hyper-sensitive when she has a cough or anything throat related. A couple of months after the ICU she lost her voice again and I took her to the hospital – they said it was just an infection and nothing to worry about – so I took her to hospital again the next day. This time they decided to give her some steroids. And even though it seemed like Epiglottitis all over again, it wasn’t.

Through the whole experience I didn’t think too far ahead. I put one foot in front of the other because I knew I needed to function and that I couldn’t think about all the what ifs that would drive anyone crazy. So I stayed calm and focused on what was happening that second and I never went any further than that. I didn’t cry. Not even when we came home – at that stage I was just so grateful that we survived and I was too busy cuddling to cry.

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