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My Resolution– Get Organized

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Home, Sweet, Home. Sometimes, it’s messy. Somtimes it’s clean.
If, for instance, you showed up unannounced at 4:00 p.m., here’s what you would find in our apartment. A pile of laundry, cleaned, but unfolded. A hurricane of toys in The Bortski’s bedroom. A tangle of strollers, coats and shoes in the hallway. A “fort” constructed out of blankets, draped over the sofa and coffee table. A semi-circle of pillows around The Bear and his toys, just in case he topples over while playing. A fine layer of crumbs in the kitchen.
On the other hand, if you stopped by about four hours later, you would find the toys stuffed into bins. The living room returned to a semblance of sophistication. The dishwasher and washing machine humming in harmony. Shoes in the shoe rack. Newspapers and magazines neatly stacked. Strollers all in a row.
It’s an ongoing battle, this fight against the natural chaos of daily life. It’s kind of like trying to prevent the incoming tide from destroying a sandcastle. I know it’s futile. And yet, I persist.
I find disorganization distracting. Clutter makes me cranky. Before I sit down to write, I have to spend at least 15 minutes loading and unloading the dishwasher, washing the high chair tray and clearing the path to my desk.
Each day I face-off against rogue sneakers, two overflowing Diaper Dekors, and a migrating Aeron chair.
So I find myself at odds with the “anti- anticlutter” movement described recently in The New York Times article, Saying Yes To Mess.
An anti-anticlutter movement is afoot, one that says yes to mess and urges you to embrace your disorder. Studies are piling up that show that messy desks are the vivid signatures of people with creative, limber minds (who reap higher salaries than those with neat “office landscapes”) and that messy closet owners are probably better parents and nicer and cooler than their tidier counterparts. It’s a movement that confirms what you have known, deep down, all along: really neat people are not avatars of the good life; they are humorless and inflexible prigs, and have way too much time on their hands.
For the record, I’m not one of those “really neat people,” and that’s why my New Year’s resolution is to get organized and de-clutter. And it appears I’m not alone. Getting organized is a pretty common New Year’s resolution. In fact, according to The New York Times article, The National Association of Professional Organizers says January is Get Organized Month.
Here’s my plan. Not only will I continue to beat back the daily mess in our apartment, I’m actually going to take care of the other messes, the ones you can’t see. The ones I never let anyone see because I can hide them behind a door, under a bed or in a drawer.
Here are my top ten missions:
1. Organize my sock drawer. Throw out pre-pregnancy bras that don’t fit.
2. Clean my purse. Throw out old lipsticks, ancient receipts, empty Purell bottle and crumpled nursing pads.
3. Donate unused kids’ toys and clothes to Baby Buggy.
4. Organize the stack of research papers for my book, “Mama Knows Breast” (Quirk Books 2007). Prevent future pile-up of papers by following the OHIO principle– “only handle it once.”
5. Put stack of photographs in an album.
6. Edit together two years worth of family videos. Step one, buy new computer. Step two, learn video editing software.
7. Organize kitchen junk drawer. In other words, move the matches and batteries so The Bortski can’t reach them.
8. Collect stray change and take it to the Coinstar at the supermarket. Donate said change. Bring The Bortski so he can see how the machine works.
9. Figure out a way to curb the sprawl of keys, cell phones, iPod and Blackberry.
10. Do SOMETHING, in fact, DO ANYTHING, about the coat closet.
Now, in the interest of full disclosure, I have to admit that my husband pitches in. He’s great with trash, recycling, folding laundry and putting things on the top shelf of a closet. I also have a cleaning lady who does the real dirty work once a week.
So why am I setting my sights higher than keeping after the daily mess? Perhaps because I pine for the perfection you find in magazines like Real Simple. I yearn for a Zen like calm even when I open closet doors. I don’t want to have to literally shut out the mess.
But is this really possible? In all honesty, I’m terrible at keeping resolutions. I always seem to be able to stick to my plan for a month or two. But then, things start to slide. Stuff happens to get in the way. There’s a deadline for work. Someone gets sick. I “mess up” and we’re back to square one.
So perhaps, the so called “anti-anticlutter” people don’t have this so wrong after all. What’s so bad about a little mess? I’m busy! Maybe I’ll get my sock drawer organized once, but I’d rather “play trains” than match mismatched socks. Maybe I’ll clean my purse tonight, but I’ll always be too rushed to do anything more than shove a receipt in my bag and push the stroller out of the store before the screaming escalates. Maybe I’ll file my papers this month, but I’d rather sit on the sofa with my husband than take care of this each night.
In fact, if I let some of the daily mess slide, I’d be free work on some other resolutions. I could go to bed at 10:30. Exercise at least three times a week. Start my next book. Have a weekly “date night” with my husband and read more books to The Bortski and Bear.
You know, maybe I should have a new mantra for 2007. “Mess, Sweet, Mess.”
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Drinking Alcohol and Breast Feeding

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We actually have a babysitter for New Year’s Eve. Yes, believe it or not, we have found the holy grail of sitters. Someone who actually wants to work on New Year’s Eve. Now, truth be told, we don’t have any plans. But we do have a few days to scare something up. And at a minimum, we have a bottle of champagne in the refrigerator we could take with us on a walk in Central Park.
If that’s what it comes to, we’ll probably have trouble finishing the bottle. You see, I have zero tolerance for alcohol. One glass of red wine and I get sleepy. One beer makes me full. A good mojito and I’m giddy. Two Tanqueray and Tonics and I’m apt to spill State secrets. Anything more and it’s lights out.
So for me, I’ve never worried too much about whether it was ok to drink while I was breast feeding. I knew I would never drink so much that it would be an issue.
Nevertheless, I have been wondering about the official take on alcohol and breast feeding. So after a bit of research, I’ve found that as with anything mommy related, there are differing, and sometimes conflicting, opinions.
But from numerous reputable sources, it seems that bottom line, alcohol in small amounts is ok. One to two drinks per week is fine. You might want to feed your baby before you have a drink, and then wait 2 to 3 hours after drinking before feeding again. Also, there’s no need to “pump and dump.” As the alcohol leaves your bloodstream, it also leaves your breast milk. So sober up, and your boobs will be set to go. If it makes you feel better, give your baby a bottle of expressed milk in the meantime.
Here’s a bit of information from Kellymom.com:
In general, if you are sober enough to drive, you are sober enough to breastfeed. Less than 2% of the alcohol consumed by the mother reaches her blood and milk. Alcohol peaks in mom’s blood and milk approximately 1/2-1 hour after drinking (but there is considerable variation from person to person, depending upon how much food was eaten in the same time period, mom’s body weight and percentage of body fat, etc.). Alcohol does not accumulate in breastmilk, but leaves the milk as it leaves the blood; so when your blood alcohol levels are back down, so are your milk alcohol levels.
Always keep in mind the baby’s age when considering the effect of alcohol. A newborn has a very immature liver, so minute amounts of alcohol would be more of a burden. Up until around 3 months of age, infants detoxify alcohol at around half the rate of an adult. An older baby or toddler can metabolize the alcohol more quickly.

La Leche League also says that the occasional drink is ok, but excessive drinking is not.
Alcohol abuse (excessive drinking) by the mother can result in slow weight gain or failure to thrive in her baby. The let-down of a mother who abuses alcohol may be affected by her alcohol consumption, and she may not breastfeed enough. The baby may sleep through breastfeedings, or may not suck effectively leading to decreased milk intake. The baby may even suffer from delayed motor development. If you are concerned that you or someone you know is drinking alcohol excessively, call your doctor.
At least one organization, the March of Dimes says you should avoid alcohol while breast feeding.
Small amounts of alcohol do get into breast milk and are passed on to the baby. One study found that the breastfed babies of women who had one or more drinks a day were a little slower in acquiring motor skills (such as crawling and walking) than babies who had not been exposed to alcohol. Large amounts of alcohol may also interfere with ejection of milk from the breast. For these reasons, the March of Dimes recommends that women abstain from alcohol while they are nursing.
So, what’s a mom to do? Use caution if you plan to get your party on this New Year’s Eve. If you want a drink or two, it seems you can go for it. You deserve to celebrate your parenting successes of the past year. Just remember, you may still have to get up in the middle of the night to feed your baby. So make sure you’ll be sober enough to safely care for her. And don’t forget, if you have an early bird, she’s not going to give you the day off from work.
Come to think of it, maybe I should book that sitter for January 1st. Cheers!!!
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“‘Twas The Night Before Christmas” Parody for New Moms

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I don’t celebrate Christmas…instead we have a Chinese food/movies tradition. Even so, it’s hard to resist the spirit of the season. And so, I bring you, once again…
‘TWAS THE BREASTFEEDER’S NIGHTTIME
By Andi Silverman, www.mamaknowsbreast.com

‘Twas a holiday eve and the babe was asleep,
Swaddled tight in his crib he made not a peep.
My boobs were depleted from feeding all day.
“Please don’t wake. Sleep all night,” to the babe I did pray.
But his lips, how they moved, as he lay in his bed.
Visions of milky breasts danced in his head.
Dad in his boxers and I in my sweats,
Could we get some shuteye? Go ahead, place your bets.
The moon on the breast of my t-shirt did glow,
Gave a luster to leaking spots set to grow.
My nursing pads were soaked, they fell out of place.
My bra had unsnapped. How I missed sexy lace.
For months I’d been feeding our babe everywhere.
Coffee shop, park bench, museum, movie chair.
All my modesty gone, nothing shy anymore.
If the kiddo was crying, I knew how to score.
And now with the holidays, things often got dire.
While out buying gifts, I sometimes drew ire.
I breastfed in clothing stores. Changing rooms rock.
I breastfed in bookstores. To the stacks I did flock.
When from the babe’s room there arose such a clatter.
We sprang from our bed to see what was the matter.
Away to his room we flew with a flash,
Threw open the door, in the dark I did crash.
What a klutz I can be, ‘twas those bags made me fall.
Sacks for our trip, all arranged in the hall.
We were going to Grandma’s, a five hour drive.
Holiday time—Will I make it alive?
One big huge duffle held all the babe’s stuff.
Diapers, wipes, onesies. Did I bring enough?
Now don’t forget burp cloths, crib sheets and toys.
Books and Bjorn, we’ll exhibit such poise.
On breast pump, on bottles, on stroller and boppy.
On car seat, on cradle, on blanket and binky.
Fill the back of the car, fill the trunk with our haul.
And we’ll drive away, drive away, drive away all.
Now don’t forget stopping to feed long the way.
Gas stations, McDonalds and rest stops, oy vey.
Of course there’ll be lots of those diapers to do.
Get out the Purell, you’ll be covered in poo.
When we finally arrive, now what will await?
Lots of food and embraces, it’ll be really great.
No, no one will not fight. I will not shed a tear.
Ok, a white lie— but rejoice in who’s here.
And what about wine or a champagne or two?
Will it make my milk bad? Old wives tale or true?
And will anyone say, “Can he now take a bottle?”
“How long will you breastfeed?” How these questions can throttle.
Now back to that “clatter,” the babe and that noise.
We had rushed right on in, leaping over the toys.
When what to our wondering eyes did appear,
Our babe still asleep, oh how sweet, oh how dear.
His cheeks, how they glistened, his hair soft and furry.
And I smiled when I saw him, despite all my worry.
How delicious, his belly, moving in and then out.
How precious, his lips in a sweet little pout.
He had not woken up! He did not need to eat.
He had had quite enough, his day quite complete.
And so back to our bed we did quietly crawl.
Happy Holidays to one, happy sleeping to all.
© 2006, Andi Silverman, www.mamaknowsbreast.com

Brooke Shields, Gwen Stefani and Other Celebrities on Breast Feeding

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Gwen Stefani tells USA Today “I’m still nursing, and I think it gives you superhuman powers.” Brooke Shields sings the praises of a nursing shawl, L’ovedBaby. Heidi Klum is breastfeeding her third child. Jennifer Garner says it helped her lose weight. Former Spice Girl Gerri Halliwell says pregnancy made her breasts look like a porn star’s. Britney Spears wants new boobs.
You can find all of this and more on the Celebrity Baby Blog, and its page specifically devoted to breast feeding.
But these stories beg the question…why do we (ok, why do I) love hearing about celebrities, their babes and their boobs? Perhaps because motherhood levels the playing field somewhat. No matter how perfect Gwyneth Paltrow looks with her kids in tow, we know she, too, has had some pretty horrific nights trying to console a screaming infant. She may have an Oscar, but she’s still a mom, and unless she’s outsourcing the entire thing, she’s definitely had leaking boobs, spit-up on her new sweater and poop under her finger nails.
We can’t all be superstars with our phalanx of nannies, stylists and trainers to help us. But seriously, would you want the paparazzi just waiting to catch you trying to nurse your kid at the playground? And in any case, at least in our kids’ eyes, we’re all superhuman.

FDA Warns Nestle Over Baby Formula

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If you’ve been using Nestle’s Good Start Infant Formula with Iron to feed your baby, you may want to think twice.
The U.S. Food and Drug Administration issued Nestle a warning letter on November 27th after a sample failed to meet proper nutrient levels. It seems the sample, collected in May, did not meet minimum requirements for calcium and phosphorus.
Nestle has said that its tests found that its product is fine. Here is a quote from a Reuters news story:
“We are working with FDA to better understand how issues relating to analytical testing methods might explain the differences noted in these two nutrients,” the company said.
The Dairy Reporter.com reported that Nestle stands by its product.
“We have had two independent tests done by absolutely top quality laboratories and we have not been able to confirm the findings of the FDA,” said a Nestlé spokesperson. “There is no question of a recall. We are in contact with the FDA and discussions are in progress.”
Nestle has had problems with its formula in the past. It was first accused, in the 1970′s, of unethically pushing formula on women in developing countries and thus discouraging them from breast feeding. Check out Breastfeeding.com for background on the boycott. This will lead you to Baby Milk Action, a group devoted to boycotting Nestle.
Nestle has 15 working days from receipt of the letter to respond. So that brings us to some time this week. Let’s see what happens. I have calls in to both the FDA and Nestle to see what’s happening. I’ll keep you posted.
And PS…thanks to Micky at Mocha Milk for first pointing out this story.

Breast Pumping Video– Can Men Pump and Breast Feed?

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Did you ever find yourself thinking, “I wish, just for one minute, he knew what this felt like”? Maybe you were referring to trying to sleep when you’re 8 months pregnant, or perhaps pitocin-induced contractions.
If so, I’ve found the men for you. Some adventurous dads decided to test drive a breast pump. And that, my friends, is this week’s YouBoob video. It’s coming to you courtesy of the guys at Dad Labs. I found it through one of the bloggers, Dad Gone Mad, on the new site Babble.
Women often pump for ten or twenty minutes a pop. Personally, I’ve had my ups and downs with my pump. So how long do you think this guy lasted? Click here to find out.
dads.jpg
So fellas…anyone else up to taking this one step further and trying to breast feed? So men claim they can actually do it!
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Come As You Are Blog Party

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I was teaching The Bortski (age 2) to play tag recently. He got it, sort of. He ran back and forth yelling, “Tag-er-it!”
Well now I’ve been tagged and invited to a “Come As You Are Blog Party.” This thing has been making it’s way around the blogosphere, and after watching it percolate for a few days, it finally got me. More specifically, Tanya at The Motherwear Breastfeeding Blog tagged me.
I did a little research of my own, tracing back how I got tagged. And then I did a Google search, to find the rules of the game:
1. As soon as you’re tagged, take a picture of yourself and post it on your site.
2. Explain why you look the way you do at that moment.
3. Tag four other bloggers that you want to see “as is.”
Now, I got lucky with this one. Normally I would be in sweatpants and one of my husband’s running shirts. But in this case, I had just come in from the Holiday party in our apartment building’s lobby. My husband was a gem and stayed in to do the full-combat-bedtime-battle with The Bortski.
photo1.jpg photo2.jpg
So here I am, collapsed on the floor. Note the multiple strollers. The Maclaren Quest that The Bortski rocks. The Inglesina Zippy that has been passed down to The Bear (age 8 months)– this stroller is a work horse! We use those two rides when the kids have to be in different places at the same time. And then, when I’m flying solo, we have the Jane Powertwin. I jumped through some might large hurdles to get my hands on one of these before they were available in the States. I bought it on line from a place in the UK. Then it got stuck in customs in Alaska.
One more thing, I’m very lucky I got tagged at night and my husband is home. He just got a new camera, Canon PowerShot SD800 IS. (The last one got crushed under mysterious circumstances). And I still haven’t learned how to upload photos to our computer.
So who do I want to see come to the party, I tag Haiku of The Day, The bOOb Lady’s Blog, Baby Talkers and Everyday I Write The Book Blog.
Hey guys, “tag-er-it!”

Babble– A New Website for Moms and Dads

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“Gee” is the The Bear’s latest babbling sound. My husband thought that perhaps he was “Gee,” that The Bear had spoken his first word and picked his Dad as the object of his affection. I hated to tell him that “Gee” was used to comment on diaper changes, a jar of carrot mush and a cell phone that was out of reach. Bottom line, it’s the babble of an 8 month old and we’re mighty proud.
If you’re looking for babble of another sort, check out a new parenting website that launched late last night. Babble is brought to you by the folks who are behind Nerve, an off-beat sex magazine. Here’s how they’re selling themselves.
Babble will be every bit as disruptive to the status quo as Nerve was when it started. It will be a revolution in parenting magazines: a publication that talks to parents not just as caregivers, but as fun, smart, intellectually curious people. It will apply Nerve’s tradition of irreverent honesty to the experience of parenting without the infantilizing, hyper-judgmental tone or acquisitive baby-as-accessory bent of so much of today’s parenting fare.
The subject of parenting needs a bold new voice because people lie about it so often. The topic is plagued by politically correct clichés and generic sentimentality. This is just what we said about sex nine years ago. Today there are more taboos and more social pressures around parenting than there are around sex. We will cover the most controversial topics in parenting via personal essays, our exhaustive info center, and witty, original columns like “Bad Parent” and “Notes from a Non-Breeder.”

I’ve been checking out the site for the past hour or so and it’s pretty endless. I could spend a few more hours here reading all the columns, essays and blogs. But we’re on day 4 of sleep training here with The Bear, and I fear another long night. I could also spend a while watching the videos they’ve got on the site, but I’m trying to keep the volume low on the computer for fear of stirring the sleeping beast– The Bortski (age 2). I could also jump into the discussion forums, but my log-in isn’t working and I can’t find the paper where I scribbled my user name and password.
In a quick overview, I did find some interesting breast feeding items. For starters, they’re hyping a piece titled “The Breast Feeding Conspiracy: Believe it or Not, Formula Isn’t Poison.” Given the headline, I expected something pretty sarcastic. Instead, I found a fairly level-headed piece. The author writes:
Let’s agree that breastfeeding is ideal. Let’s agree that public policies and workplaces should support it better. But let’s also acknowledge that bottle-feeding moms need encouragement too. Cruelty helps no one — not babies, not moms.
In the breast feeding arena, there is also a beautiful essay, Succor, about nursing a baby boy.
He spits up milk. Runs down his cheek. And onto my blouses that now smell rotten. My tits have worry lines. I’ve got nipples for days. And then the breast pump from hell.
Under the heading of Extreme Parenting (slight bias there), you’ll also find “Milking It,” an essay written by a woman who nursed her daughter until she was almost four years old.
When I told my sister I didn’t know how long I planned to nurse, she said that a child who could ask for the breast was likely too old for it. I threw my head back and laughed. Indeed. Who nurses a kid capable of reciting his phone number or knock-knock jokes? That’s creepy. But then there I was, years after giving birth, hoisting my shirt and lowering my bra cup for the budding comedian in my lap.
Finally, under the Health & Development heading, you’ll find information on a range of topics, including breast feeding. Within each topic, the editors have created a spectrum that shows how different groups come down on a given topic. For instance, my blogging friend The Lactivist is at one end of the spectrum on the topic of Breast Milk: Sharing vs. Banking.
Overall, I like what I see. But the site does feel a bit like the popular kids’ table in the school cafeteria. Only this time, the gossip isn’t about the latest hook-up or break-up. Instead, everyone seems to be trying to one-up each other with their parenting coolness quotient. As for this household…the real cool kids are both still in diapers and they’ve got a posse of pals just waiting to exchange true baby babble.

Breast Feeding Quotes

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The Bortski (27 months) seems to have a new found interest in my breasts. His fascination is different from that of The Bear (8 months). And it’s certainly different from that of his father (444 months). It seems, purely and simply, that he has taken a scientific approach to my chest. Here are a few scenes from the theater of the absurd here in our apartment.
SCENE 1:
I am rushing to get dressed. We have a birthday party to get to on the other side of the city and it’s raining. Dada is changing The Bear’s diaper. I have to corral the Bortski to change his diaper. I’m half dressed. Can’t put on my clothes until the last possible moment in case of sweating, baby spit up, and misfired pee. The Bortski runs into the room and runs out while making this pronouncement:
Bortski: “Mommy, I found your boobies.”
Dada: (from the other room) “How’d they look?”
Bortski: “Pretty.”
Me: (stunned silence).
Dada: “Did you hear that? I think you’ve got your quote of the week.”
SCENE 2:
The Bortski: “Mama, can I touch your boobies?”
Me: “Um, ok.”
The Bortski: “Ok.”
Thankfully, he turns to run away and does a flying leap, head first onto the sofa. “Super Bortski!”
SCENE 3:
The Bortski has figured out how to open the drawers on our dresser. This requires a bit of skill since there aren’t any handles. He reaches into one and pulls out Dada’s jock strap.
Bortski: “Mommy, I found the thing that holds your boobies.”
Me: “Oh, thanks so much. Can I have that, sweetie? Thanks!”
SCENE 4:
Bortski: “Mommy, your nipples are next to your boobies.”
Me: “Yes, that’s right.”
Bortski: “I have nipples.”
Me: “Yes, you do.”
Borstki: “I don’t have boobies.”
SCENE 5:
I’m changing The Bortski’s diaper. He reaches down to touch himself.
Bortski: “What’s in my diaper?”
Me: “That’s your penis.”
Bortski: “It’s on me. Like your boobies on you.”
Me: “Um, yes, that’s right.”
SCENE 6:
Bortski: “Mommy, what’s your Boobies name is?”
Me: “They don’t really have a name.”
Bortski: “Call them Mr. Booby.”
Do your kids have any zingers you’d like to share? Do tell.
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Epidurals and Breast Feeding

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I wrote thank you notes to the anesthesiologists who gave me my epidurals. Seriously. After both kids were born, I sent the doctors birth announcements and thanked them profusely for making my labor more comfortable. I’m a wimp, and there was no way I was going to “just say no” to drugs. I am the total opposite of my friend who had three babies at home, on the sofa and in an inflatable swimming pool.
So, I took particular interest in the results of a new study which says that women who have epidurals have more trouble breast feeding. Here’s a section from the study’s Abstract published in The International Breastfeeding Journal:
Background
Anecdotal reports suggest that the addition of fentanyl (an opioid) to epidural analgesia for women during childbirth results in difficulty establishing breastfeeding. The aim of this paper is to determine any association between epidural analgesia and 1) breastfeeding in the first week postpartum and 2) breastfeeding cessation during the first 24 weeks postpartum.

Conclusions
Women in this cohort who had epidurals were less likely to fully breastfeed their infant in the few days after birth and more likely to stop breastfeeding in the first 24 weeks. Although this relationship may not be causal, it is important that women at higher risk of breastfeeding cessation are provided with adequate breastfeeding assistance and support.

Note the use of the word “opioid” above. The researchers were basically investigating whether the epidural made the babies so sleepy that they had trouble eating. (This is something I had heard about anecdotally before I had our kids). The researchers conclude that this is a possibility. But that it’s also likely that there could be a link between the choices women make about pain management and breast feeding.
As for me, I had epidurals and I breast fed. I was fortunate that both of my kids picked up on the boob thing pretty quickly. I breast fed The Bortski for eleven months, and The Bear and I are now going strong on our eighth month of boob milk.
Why was I able to succeed and some people have trouble? Quite honestly I have no idea. Maybe it’s just been just good luck. Or maybe it was my obsessive nature, which made me religiously feed the babies every two hours for a couple of weeks after birth. I remember doing everything within my power to wake The Bear when he was sleepy. I stripped him down to his diaper. I tickled his nose and lips. I pinched– or more accurately– dug my fingernail into the heel of his foot. I remember feeling like I had reached a milestone when he ate for more than 5 minutes without falling back asleep.
Perhaps these researchers are onto something that OB’s and anesthesiologists need to investigate further. Quite honestly, I don’t know anything about the medical aspects of epidurals. All I know is that without one, I might have bit my husband’s head off (oh, actually I did that when he was chewing nuts while I was having a contraction). I also threw up all over him before I got my epidural.
So, I really hope this study doesn’t deter women who plan to breast feed from getting pain relief if they really want it. There’s no medal for being a tough guy during labor. If you need help, get it. And as I tell all my friends who are about to have a baby, if you want an epidural, ask for it “early and often.” There’s no telling how long it will take for the doctor to show up once you request the epidural. So repeat after me…”early and often.”
And for goodness sake, if you have to have pitocin to get your labor going, get the epidural before the pitocin. With The Bortski, I had the pitocin first, epidural second. The pitocin made the contractions so unbearable I had a hard time staying still when they were trying to insert the epidural needle. With The Bear, I got the epidural first, pitocin second. Now that, was sheer bliss. And if you’re wondering about– or maybe passing judgment on– my decisions, please note that I had preeclampsia so my doctors had to induce me both times.
One more thing… send a Holiday card to your doctors…they’d probably be happy to hear from you.
Plus, to hear what other bloggers have to say about this study, check out The Lactivist and Breastfeeding123.
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