First, thank you so much for your comments on my last two posts. Thank you for keeping everything civil and giving me so much feedback. As I wrote in an e-mail to one of my readers (hi!) this really is an issue I am still grappling with, and in the end I may just decide the risk is no greater than other risks we take every day. But thank you for letting me think out-loud here.
As for the great food dilemma, I realized (after a conversation with a blogger who I have actually met. In person. Although I was sadly not served any pina colodas ... maybe next summer) that I have transferred all of my stress about this pregnancy onto food. And that's fine, really. I just need a pro-active action plan, which now includes 2 upcoming visits with nutritionists (one free at student health without any great hopes for competence, and one 'out of network' with a really nice, friendly woman who took my entire eating medical history over the phone including repeated travel diseases/breastfeeding/keeping kosher). I have also made a list of healthy snacks and have been forcing myself to pick from the list when I am considering skipping a meal. Thus far the list is rather short: nuts, string cheese, 1/2 an apple with peanut butter, chobani Greek yogurt (great source of protein but why must it be fat free? I realized my diet is pretty low in fat at the moment). In part the list is so short because I have decided to resist the urge to start testing my blood sugars since that easily runs the potential of encouraging my obsessiveness. I have a 1-hour glucose test scheduled for 3 weeks from now, and pending those results I may start testing blood sugars (which I did up to 10 times per day last go-round). Of course, since we're going with midwives again I was given the glucose drink, told to drink it and then "come in to the office." Let alone that I'll walk almost a mile between getting to and from the subway, most likely stand in a hot subway car, and face several other likely stressors which could both work to lower my blood sugar (exercise) or up it (stress) and either way will guarantee a highly unreliable test result. Oh well.
As for the greatest challenge in my life at the moment, it is the combination of first trimester-doldrum-exhaustion and a massive 19-month sleep regression. The fusspot has gone from 10-15 minutes to fall asleep, waking up once overnight for a drink, and up for the day between 7 and 8 to taking up to 2 hours to fall asleep, waking up 4-5 times per night, and getting up for the day between 4:30 and 5:30. I really, really hope this ends soon. In desperation I took her to the doctor today where she was ruled in perfect health although she failed to gain weight again. That now puts her in the 14th percentile for weight which puzzles me endlessly because ... well ... the kid still looks chunky. She's got rolls on her wrists and ankles and a nice little potbelly which hangs out over her skirts. So either 'American normal' is truly chubby, or the doctor is ignoring that my fusspot is rather on the short side. Either way, the doctor recommended not worrying about it and weighing her again at her next appointment.
As for the fusspot, her vocabulary continues to inch up. To date (at 19.5 months) we have: hi, mama, dada, hot, up, yeah, and go-go. And thankfully that seems to be enough to keep her from falling off the charts again. Surprisingly she still can't say no, which is delightful.
We told my in-laws 'the big news' over the weekend, mostly because I didn't want them thinking that I was truly the laziest-daughter-in-law-ever. I think they were happy. The matter received very little discussion. Of course, last time JD told them over the phone and despite having both my cell and e-mail, they chose not to contact me (he had to tell them because I needed help moving stuff and our travel plans had changed because I needed to get back to the city for an appointment). The one part of the discussion which was conducted in England was a loud declaration that they would not be trading in their car, which means that we will no longer be able to take their car out to visit them. Even more long train rides, here we come. But not a big deal in the big picture.
And with that note, we're leaving on a jet plane in the morning. AND, I'm leaving my computer here in NYC. Mostly because we have a 4 hour layover in Chicago and the idea of lugging around a laptop in addition to a heavy SLR (with both lenses, we are going someplace exquisitely beautiful) and the fusspot and her toys/snacks/changes of clothes seems a bit much (needless to say my long-time readers will have gathered that JD is not joining us). So I won't be online for a week or so. Back next week.
Monday, July 26, 2010
Friday, July 23, 2010
(yet again) treading gingerly into a storm
It's 5 am, I'm lying on the hard wood floor in the fusspot's room as she twists and turns and worrying about ...vaccines. Again.
In short, we vaccinate. For many, many reasons. I certainly bought Dr. Sears Vaccine book before the fusspot was born, read widely, and understand that there are risks. I really do get it: there are risks. But part of my prior work was documenting the ravages of common childhood diseases pre-vaccines. And when you travel the world, unlike in the U.S., you meet children who were born deaf because of in utero exposure to rubella or who are crippled by easily preventable diseases. And honestly, vaccines fit into JD and my larger worldview: we are on the bone marrow donor registry, we are on the organ donor registry (with matching living wills), we take risks to help other people. I hope that in the future our house will be one where the religious kid can come over for a playdate without packing his own snack, where the mom of the kid with a severe peanut allergy can send her over for a playdate without worrying, and where the kid who is going through chemo can come over to play without having to ask questions about who else will be there (2 of my friends went through chemo in elementary school. They are both alive and well. Chemo tends to kill your full immune system and children need to avoid exposure and then get re-vaccinated afterwards). And anyway, after your beautiful, perfect baby is conceived with the help of advanced science, it gives you a good deal more trust in those who devote their lives to these issues.
I also believe that for the vast, vast majority of non-vaccinators, it is about evaluating risk. If they had to suddenly move to the slums of Mexico City or Rabat, they would decide to vaccinate because the risks of catching a disease would so far outweigh the dangers of vaccination. In that way, they rely directly on the risks that I was willing to take with myself and my fusspot and the benefits they gain from it, and that bothers me. And it's what I mean by a different worldview (and nothing more sinister or mean-spirited, but just that despite the risks I believe that the benefits accrued to society are worth it in our calculation).
Fine, I'm a self-righteous pro-vaccinator. The problem is that three of my friends have become loud anti-vaccine advocates. Complete, 100% no vaccines (I am well aware that not all vaccines are necessary for the public good, but the MMR certainly fits into that category and it's the one I worry about the most. Especially in my current 'delicate state.'). And while I get that it's their choice, and they have reasons (which are different than mine probably less because of the science than because of the worldview about risk and responsibility to others. As the book I just finished put it (paraphrased): You don't vaccinate for your health 2 year old, you vaccinate for the 4 week old pregnant woman/embryo sitting next to her.), I really do wonder what my responsibility is to the fusspot and to the mini-fusspot.
Vaccines work with herd immunity. They are not particularly effective on their own. We live in one of the most densely populated parts of the United States, rely on public transportation, and are exposed 1000 times more often than people in the suburbs/rural areas/with cars to strangers. An unvaccinated kid riding the subway in NYC and staying in my apartment is a serious risk to our health. I can't find the exact numbers, but the risk of an unvaccinated child get measles if they're on a plane with someone who is positive is well above 90%. And little incidental things start to add up:
- the immense fear I had after learning that a former roommate was TB positive, possibly contagious and refusing treatment (her right, and she wasn't an idiot. She wanted to finish the program and then return home to her native country with free healthcare for treatment). In the meantime, I slept next to her for weeks on end and have had endless TB tests (and stress) as a result. She was pissed at the program for not giving her a single, but adamant that it was well within her rights to keep her medical status confidential and delay treatment.
- the little signs on the fusspot's daycare door in a European population similar to or slightly higher than the U.S. in non-vaccination rates: 5ths Disease in Room 1, Chicken Pox in Room 2, Measles in Room 1. Speak to your doctor immediately if you are pregnant (and yes, they will recommend an abortion if they think your exposure risk was high because there is practically no way to test in utero for deafness or brain damage of the effects of these diseases during the time that abortion is still legal).
- the fact that even though I had my titers checked pre-pregnancy and was 'fully immune' on paper to chicken pox, I managed to catch it from the fusspot (who was too young to vaccinate when she caught it). Which only goes to show why herd immunity is so much more important than individual decisions. Thankfully I was not pregnant and it was just an itchy inconvenience, but if I had been ...
- the guilt when my darling fusspot became the 'typhoid mary' of our group of SAHMs in Lalaland because she picked up every known childhood disease at daycare and we then spread them around inadvertently (have you ever had to call a tell a friend you might have exposed their newborn to RSV?)
And so the question for me is where my responsibility lies to my own children. We are of course exposed to many strangers every day, and those are certainly risks worth taking rather than hibernating in a box. Is it completely artificial to say that I don't ask people about it, but that I need to keep us away from those who have made it exceedingly public that they are non-vaccinators? How in the world do you deal with that awkwardness, given that I really do feel it is one of choice and perspective, and not something that can be 'argued' on a scientific basis (meaning for me the science is 100% clear and the only question is how to evaluate the risks given that)? Or should I overlook this like I overlook so many other dangers I expose my children too (hello concrete playground and crazy public bus driver who sent me flying)? But what would I do if the fusspot got sick? Or even worse if the dream of a baby in utero were damaged in some way? Could I ever handle that guilt since this has now become a known risk?
In short, we vaccinate. For many, many reasons. I certainly bought Dr. Sears Vaccine book before the fusspot was born, read widely, and understand that there are risks. I really do get it: there are risks. But part of my prior work was documenting the ravages of common childhood diseases pre-vaccines. And when you travel the world, unlike in the U.S., you meet children who were born deaf because of in utero exposure to rubella or who are crippled by easily preventable diseases. And honestly, vaccines fit into JD and my larger worldview: we are on the bone marrow donor registry, we are on the organ donor registry (with matching living wills), we take risks to help other people. I hope that in the future our house will be one where the religious kid can come over for a playdate without packing his own snack, where the mom of the kid with a severe peanut allergy can send her over for a playdate without worrying, and where the kid who is going through chemo can come over to play without having to ask questions about who else will be there (2 of my friends went through chemo in elementary school. They are both alive and well. Chemo tends to kill your full immune system and children need to avoid exposure and then get re-vaccinated afterwards). And anyway, after your beautiful, perfect baby is conceived with the help of advanced science, it gives you a good deal more trust in those who devote their lives to these issues.
I also believe that for the vast, vast majority of non-vaccinators, it is about evaluating risk. If they had to suddenly move to the slums of Mexico City or Rabat, they would decide to vaccinate because the risks of catching a disease would so far outweigh the dangers of vaccination. In that way, they rely directly on the risks that I was willing to take with myself and my fusspot and the benefits they gain from it, and that bothers me. And it's what I mean by a different worldview (and nothing more sinister or mean-spirited, but just that despite the risks I believe that the benefits accrued to society are worth it in our calculation).
Fine, I'm a self-righteous pro-vaccinator. The problem is that three of my friends have become loud anti-vaccine advocates. Complete, 100% no vaccines (I am well aware that not all vaccines are necessary for the public good, but the MMR certainly fits into that category and it's the one I worry about the most. Especially in my current 'delicate state.'). And while I get that it's their choice, and they have reasons (which are different than mine probably less because of the science than because of the worldview about risk and responsibility to others. As the book I just finished put it (paraphrased): You don't vaccinate for your health 2 year old, you vaccinate for the 4 week old pregnant woman/embryo sitting next to her.), I really do wonder what my responsibility is to the fusspot and to the mini-fusspot.
Vaccines work with herd immunity. They are not particularly effective on their own. We live in one of the most densely populated parts of the United States, rely on public transportation, and are exposed 1000 times more often than people in the suburbs/rural areas/with cars to strangers. An unvaccinated kid riding the subway in NYC and staying in my apartment is a serious risk to our health. I can't find the exact numbers, but the risk of an unvaccinated child get measles if they're on a plane with someone who is positive is well above 90%. And little incidental things start to add up:
- the immense fear I had after learning that a former roommate was TB positive, possibly contagious and refusing treatment (her right, and she wasn't an idiot. She wanted to finish the program and then return home to her native country with free healthcare for treatment). In the meantime, I slept next to her for weeks on end and have had endless TB tests (and stress) as a result. She was pissed at the program for not giving her a single, but adamant that it was well within her rights to keep her medical status confidential and delay treatment.
- the little signs on the fusspot's daycare door in a European population similar to or slightly higher than the U.S. in non-vaccination rates: 5ths Disease in Room 1, Chicken Pox in Room 2, Measles in Room 1. Speak to your doctor immediately if you are pregnant (and yes, they will recommend an abortion if they think your exposure risk was high because there is practically no way to test in utero for deafness or brain damage of the effects of these diseases during the time that abortion is still legal).
- the fact that even though I had my titers checked pre-pregnancy and was 'fully immune' on paper to chicken pox, I managed to catch it from the fusspot (who was too young to vaccinate when she caught it). Which only goes to show why herd immunity is so much more important than individual decisions. Thankfully I was not pregnant and it was just an itchy inconvenience, but if I had been ...
- the guilt when my darling fusspot became the 'typhoid mary' of our group of SAHMs in Lalaland because she picked up every known childhood disease at daycare and we then spread them around inadvertently (have you ever had to call a tell a friend you might have exposed their newborn to RSV?)
And so the question for me is where my responsibility lies to my own children. We are of course exposed to many strangers every day, and those are certainly risks worth taking rather than hibernating in a box. Is it completely artificial to say that I don't ask people about it, but that I need to keep us away from those who have made it exceedingly public that they are non-vaccinators? How in the world do you deal with that awkwardness, given that I really do feel it is one of choice and perspective, and not something that can be 'argued' on a scientific basis (meaning for me the science is 100% clear and the only question is how to evaluate the risks given that)? Or should I overlook this like I overlook so many other dangers I expose my children too (hello concrete playground and crazy public bus driver who sent me flying)? But what would I do if the fusspot got sick? Or even worse if the dream of a baby in utero were damaged in some way? Could I ever handle that guilt since this has now become a known risk?
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Still here
and passing my time with the usual ... obsessing. About all sorts of unrelated things. But any wisdom or advice would be much appreciated.
1. The fusspot's crib. I love it. It is a hand-carved wood crib that was a gift from friends after their children were done with it. Love, love, love it. It's been in continuous use for 10 years (4 children, the oldest of whom is 10) without a problem ... but then of course it's ten years old. We did have it inspected about 2 months ago and it looked good, but recently I've been reading this awful news articles about 'banning all drop-side cribs' and horror stories (not what anyone should be reading, I know) and I've been lying awake at night worrying about it. For the record, the fusspot is less than 10 feet from our bed in her crib, and she has made zero attempt to scale said crib. So yesterday I went by our super-ritzy baby store and the manager offered to send someone over in the evening to retro-fit it into a non-drop side crib. Here's what I don't get: once it is no-longer drop side unless we also chop off the legs (losing all of our storage and the current resting place of our changing pad and diapers), I can't get the fusspot in without standing on a step-stool. Safe or not? And what about if we used this crib for a smaller baby in the future? I can quasi-drop the fusspot into the crib once I'm up high enough (for the record I am the exact height of an average American woman) but what would I do with a 6 month? Or a sleep 10 month old if we wanted to use the crib for some reason?
2. Food. Saw the midwife this week and she yet again impressed upon me that blood sugars matter from day one. We'll do our sugar test next time I see her (in 4 or so weeks), but regardless I am to watch my carb intake. And hence the biggest problem in my life: I have become obsessed/anxious about food to the point where I can't really eat. I skipped dinner the last two nights because it was just too stressful. So here was my resolution from last time: I would gain more weight so that I don't have a (full-term and otherwise healthy) underweight baby with all of her ribs showing. The reality: I'm terrified of killing this baby, and so I've been avoiding all simple carbs. I also remember having huge issues with the fusspot with not wanting to cook in the first trimester, and that was prior to any insulin issues being raised. So combine the no-cooking (thanks to total aversion to the kitchen, the heat, and a fussy toddler in the evenings) with the need to avoid carbs and you get ... hard boiled eggs, string cheese, peanut butter, occasional low-fat dairy ... It's just a really sad list. And needless to say, I'm hungry. And that is not good. So any food suggestions would be much appreciated. I am not really eating meat at the moment, so looking for low-carb vegetarian options of all sorts. Also trying to avoid artificial sweeteners so that knocks out most standard diabetes-friendly fare.
3. Chemicals. I finally picked up "Having Faith" which is an engaging account by a biologist of her experience with pregnancy and breastfeeding. It deals with infertility quite nicely I think, and despite advocating very strongly for breastfeeding, etc. (really a bit daftly I must add. ZERO recognition that thinks don't always work out despite the best intentions or that some people have real jobs), the main point of the book is that a number of biological factors (such as an fetus's fat ratio, etc.) contribute to ensure that babies in utero receive a shockingly high quantity of the chemicals built up in their mother's bodies. Some of the examples are really terrifying: women in 19th C. industrial plants working with lead reporting feeling 'much better' when they got pregnant because the placenta was actually clearing their body of lead and putting it straight into the baby. Similarly (and despite advocating clearly for breastfeeding), the book provides statistics on the amount of dangerous chemicals in a newborn's body the day after his mother's milk comes in. It talks about how all of the life-long accumulated residue of environmental toxins are transferred directly to the baby. Discussions of how dioxin leaked into grain for chickens and poisoned an entire cohort of babies in Europe when their mothers ate eggs. So yeah, chemicals. Not much to do at this point except consider giving up all fish for the next decade (lots of discussion of why fish are so much more toxic than meat) and, you know, worry about it. Even before reading the book, I had decided to give up nail polish this go-round, but then I found rather decent dangerous-chemical-free nailpolish at Sephora. It's $9 a bottle and despite the fact that my friend asked whether it wasn't basically "just finger paint" seems to work fine. So far, so good. Our bath products are all Whole Foods organic (mainly because they are cheap), and I'm way too lazy for perfume/make-up/etc. We use 7th Generation cleaning products (although I'm skeptical of how well they work given that we don't clean all that often ...) or JD does the cleaning. We don't have the option to move (we live above a major through-street for trucks and 4 floors above a bar so we both hear trucks all day and night and smell cigarette smoke in the apartment), so I can't imagine much else proactive to do at this point, but any suggestions welcome.
4. The good news: the midwife was entirely pro-breastfeeding and even said it was fine for me to pump when I go away for work. Seriously folks. Pump. She said we'd reconsider in the 3rd trimester if there's any sign of pre-term labor, but for now we're cleared to cuddle and feed as much as we want.
So one thing that mothers of breastfeeding toddlers always here, is the same 'horror story' repeated by other people about someone's cousin's friend's kid who -gasp- asked to breastfeed. And sometimes it's worse: sometimes the kid says things like "other side" or "I won't let anyone see." And over and over again you hear the trope that breastfeeding is fine as long as the kid can't talk. And all I can think is how lovely it would be if the fusspot could ask for the breast. Lovely. Of course, as we all know, she's a bit speech delayed so she can't yet. But it is with the greatest of pride that I inform you that when asked whether she'd "Like some boo.bies now?" the fusspot can finally respond "Yeah." And it is so nice.
Last week (in the heat, I must add), I had been wondering whether I'm still breastfeeding either as a type of in-your-face-I-can-do-this or as a my-body-sucks-but-at-least-the-artificially-enlarged-breasts-work. Needless to say, neither is a charming justification for a time and calorie-consuming process. But when I was reading "Having Faith" there was one little line about how breastmilk can kill 3 specific types of bacteria in the gut on contact. I.e. it's not that the milk contains the mother's antibodies which are passed to the baby, but rather that the milk directly kills this bacteria. And I literally jumped out of bed and started googling. And I was astounded.
During the great gas-baby-of-May debacle, my GI doctor told me he was 99% sure that I'd caught it from the fusspot. Said bacteria (gi.ar.di.a), for the record, is spread by direct fecal contact, meaning that I could have caught it at any of 5-6 diaper changes I did every day. And only one of us was playing on the train floors (they have squat toilets so everyone's shoes have made some type of fecal contact on the train), crawling around shop floors, sitting by the side of the road having a snack, etc. But because the fusspot was symptom-free (which babies tend to be), the pediatrician did not want to test her. But I insisted. And we tested her multiple times, it always showing negative. And I thought it totally improbable that the adult who was washing her hands with alcohol every time she ate, being careful what she touched, etc. would get sick when the baby crawling around the floor in Delhi would be fine. Except, see, breastmilk kills gi.ar.dia. On contact. In multiple studies of African babies and exposure in S. America and even U.S. babies. I wish I'd known because I would have seriously considered drinking it myself or giving it to the two other children with us (both breastfed for years, but weaned because they were on Project 3.0). And also, I picked up said infection last time we visited Ch.ina, so in case that's still in the plans for this fall, I have every intention of continuing to breastfeed through that trip.
So there you have it, we start with my trivial obsessing and end with the miraculous powers of breastmilk. And now I'm off to nap, as I do every day between 1 and 2 pm.
1. The fusspot's crib. I love it. It is a hand-carved wood crib that was a gift from friends after their children were done with it. Love, love, love it. It's been in continuous use for 10 years (4 children, the oldest of whom is 10) without a problem ... but then of course it's ten years old. We did have it inspected about 2 months ago and it looked good, but recently I've been reading this awful news articles about 'banning all drop-side cribs' and horror stories (not what anyone should be reading, I know) and I've been lying awake at night worrying about it. For the record, the fusspot is less than 10 feet from our bed in her crib, and she has made zero attempt to scale said crib. So yesterday I went by our super-ritzy baby store and the manager offered to send someone over in the evening to retro-fit it into a non-drop side crib. Here's what I don't get: once it is no-longer drop side unless we also chop off the legs (losing all of our storage and the current resting place of our changing pad and diapers), I can't get the fusspot in without standing on a step-stool. Safe or not? And what about if we used this crib for a smaller baby in the future? I can quasi-drop the fusspot into the crib once I'm up high enough (for the record I am the exact height of an average American woman) but what would I do with a 6 month? Or a sleep 10 month old if we wanted to use the crib for some reason?
2. Food. Saw the midwife this week and she yet again impressed upon me that blood sugars matter from day one. We'll do our sugar test next time I see her (in 4 or so weeks), but regardless I am to watch my carb intake. And hence the biggest problem in my life: I have become obsessed/anxious about food to the point where I can't really eat. I skipped dinner the last two nights because it was just too stressful. So here was my resolution from last time: I would gain more weight so that I don't have a (full-term and otherwise healthy) underweight baby with all of her ribs showing. The reality: I'm terrified of killing this baby, and so I've been avoiding all simple carbs. I also remember having huge issues with the fusspot with not wanting to cook in the first trimester, and that was prior to any insulin issues being raised. So combine the no-cooking (thanks to total aversion to the kitchen, the heat, and a fussy toddler in the evenings) with the need to avoid carbs and you get ... hard boiled eggs, string cheese, peanut butter, occasional low-fat dairy ... It's just a really sad list. And needless to say, I'm hungry. And that is not good. So any food suggestions would be much appreciated. I am not really eating meat at the moment, so looking for low-carb vegetarian options of all sorts. Also trying to avoid artificial sweeteners so that knocks out most standard diabetes-friendly fare.
3. Chemicals. I finally picked up "Having Faith" which is an engaging account by a biologist of her experience with pregnancy and breastfeeding. It deals with infertility quite nicely I think, and despite advocating very strongly for breastfeeding, etc. (really a bit daftly I must add. ZERO recognition that thinks don't always work out despite the best intentions or that some people have real jobs), the main point of the book is that a number of biological factors (such as an fetus's fat ratio, etc.) contribute to ensure that babies in utero receive a shockingly high quantity of the chemicals built up in their mother's bodies. Some of the examples are really terrifying: women in 19th C. industrial plants working with lead reporting feeling 'much better' when they got pregnant because the placenta was actually clearing their body of lead and putting it straight into the baby. Similarly (and despite advocating clearly for breastfeeding), the book provides statistics on the amount of dangerous chemicals in a newborn's body the day after his mother's milk comes in. It talks about how all of the life-long accumulated residue of environmental toxins are transferred directly to the baby. Discussions of how dioxin leaked into grain for chickens and poisoned an entire cohort of babies in Europe when their mothers ate eggs. So yeah, chemicals. Not much to do at this point except consider giving up all fish for the next decade (lots of discussion of why fish are so much more toxic than meat) and, you know, worry about it. Even before reading the book, I had decided to give up nail polish this go-round, but then I found rather decent dangerous-chemical-free nailpolish at Sephora. It's $9 a bottle and despite the fact that my friend asked whether it wasn't basically "just finger paint" seems to work fine. So far, so good. Our bath products are all Whole Foods organic (mainly because they are cheap), and I'm way too lazy for perfume/make-up/etc. We use 7th Generation cleaning products (although I'm skeptical of how well they work given that we don't clean all that often ...) or JD does the cleaning. We don't have the option to move (we live above a major through-street for trucks and 4 floors above a bar so we both hear trucks all day and night and smell cigarette smoke in the apartment), so I can't imagine much else proactive to do at this point, but any suggestions welcome.
4. The good news: the midwife was entirely pro-breastfeeding and even said it was fine for me to pump when I go away for work. Seriously folks. Pump. She said we'd reconsider in the 3rd trimester if there's any sign of pre-term labor, but for now we're cleared to cuddle and feed as much as we want.
So one thing that mothers of breastfeeding toddlers always here, is the same 'horror story' repeated by other people about someone's cousin's friend's kid who -gasp- asked to breastfeed. And sometimes it's worse: sometimes the kid says things like "other side" or "I won't let anyone see." And over and over again you hear the trope that breastfeeding is fine as long as the kid can't talk. And all I can think is how lovely it would be if the fusspot could ask for the breast. Lovely. Of course, as we all know, she's a bit speech delayed so she can't yet. But it is with the greatest of pride that I inform you that when asked whether she'd "Like some boo.bies now?" the fusspot can finally respond "Yeah." And it is so nice.
Last week (in the heat, I must add), I had been wondering whether I'm still breastfeeding either as a type of in-your-face-I-can-do-this or as a my-body-sucks-but-at-least-the-artificially-enlarged-breasts-work. Needless to say, neither is a charming justification for a time and calorie-consuming process. But when I was reading "Having Faith" there was one little line about how breastmilk can kill 3 specific types of bacteria in the gut on contact. I.e. it's not that the milk contains the mother's antibodies which are passed to the baby, but rather that the milk directly kills this bacteria. And I literally jumped out of bed and started googling. And I was astounded.
During the great gas-baby-of-May debacle, my GI doctor told me he was 99% sure that I'd caught it from the fusspot. Said bacteria (gi.ar.di.a), for the record, is spread by direct fecal contact, meaning that I could have caught it at any of 5-6 diaper changes I did every day. And only one of us was playing on the train floors (they have squat toilets so everyone's shoes have made some type of fecal contact on the train), crawling around shop floors, sitting by the side of the road having a snack, etc. But because the fusspot was symptom-free (which babies tend to be), the pediatrician did not want to test her. But I insisted. And we tested her multiple times, it always showing negative. And I thought it totally improbable that the adult who was washing her hands with alcohol every time she ate, being careful what she touched, etc. would get sick when the baby crawling around the floor in Delhi would be fine. Except, see, breastmilk kills gi.ar.dia. On contact. In multiple studies of African babies and exposure in S. America and even U.S. babies. I wish I'd known because I would have seriously considered drinking it myself or giving it to the two other children with us (both breastfed for years, but weaned because they were on Project 3.0). And also, I picked up said infection last time we visited Ch.ina, so in case that's still in the plans for this fall, I have every intention of continuing to breastfeed through that trip.
So there you have it, we start with my trivial obsessing and end with the miraculous powers of breastmilk. And now I'm off to nap, as I do every day between 1 and 2 pm.
Friday, July 16, 2010
Thursday, July 15, 2010
oh well
So tomorrow is the big day. And I'm still feeling terrified.
I really do feel like once we see a heartbeat, our odds are pretty good. Statistically I'm a high risk for a miscarriage due to insulin resistance, severe PCOs, and other hormonal imbalances. In terms of track record, we've been incredibly lucky.
The temporary good news is that JD is not being sent out of town. The bad news is that he still won't be there because he has an "important conference call." Seriously. I'm pissed, but nothing to be done about it. I am 1000% sure that if he explained to his colleagues why he had to miss the call, they'd squirm and say fine. But he's not going to, and there's nothing I can do about it. Of course, that also means I can't actually talk to him after the appointment. And since the only family member I've told happens to live in Europe at the moment , I really won't have anyone to share the news with.
Which just raises the question of what I'll do if it's bad news. And the sad truth is probably proceed exactly as planned for the rest of the day, with the possible exception of taking a cab home if I'm not feeling well. So, wake up in the morning. Rush to take the fusspot to daycare and make this appointment (which needless to say was only scheduled early for JD's convenience. Yes, I'm still bitter). Appointment, errand in the neighborhood, collect fusspot and take her to the park for a playdate. Beginning of heat wave so the rest of the weekend will be spent chasing free AC in the city. I doubt they'd be able to do a D and C tomorrow (and have no idea if I could even have one given that I'm nursing), so dealing with any bad news will be postponed until Monday (by which point JD may of course be sent out of the city).
If it's good news, I will end the doom and gloom and wallow in dry heaving and a rather distinct little belly popping through. I will also go ahead and schedule my first midwife appointment, which I have currently and fully intentionally scheduled for a day that I am out of town.
I'm sure this is endlessly boring, but I like to make plans. I need to know what I'm going to do if I find out there's no heartbeat and I am sitting all alone in an unfriendly RE's office without childcare for the day or practically anyone to talk to about it.
I really do feel like once we see a heartbeat, our odds are pretty good. Statistically I'm a high risk for a miscarriage due to insulin resistance, severe PCOs, and other hormonal imbalances. In terms of track record, we've been incredibly lucky.
The temporary good news is that JD is not being sent out of town. The bad news is that he still won't be there because he has an "important conference call." Seriously. I'm pissed, but nothing to be done about it. I am 1000% sure that if he explained to his colleagues why he had to miss the call, they'd squirm and say fine. But he's not going to, and there's nothing I can do about it. Of course, that also means I can't actually talk to him after the appointment. And since the only family member I've told happens to live in Europe at the moment , I really won't have anyone to share the news with.
Which just raises the question of what I'll do if it's bad news. And the sad truth is probably proceed exactly as planned for the rest of the day, with the possible exception of taking a cab home if I'm not feeling well. So, wake up in the morning. Rush to take the fusspot to daycare and make this appointment (which needless to say was only scheduled early for JD's convenience. Yes, I'm still bitter). Appointment, errand in the neighborhood, collect fusspot and take her to the park for a playdate. Beginning of heat wave so the rest of the weekend will be spent chasing free AC in the city. I doubt they'd be able to do a D and C tomorrow (and have no idea if I could even have one given that I'm nursing), so dealing with any bad news will be postponed until Monday (by which point JD may of course be sent out of the city).
If it's good news, I will end the doom and gloom and wallow in dry heaving and a rather distinct little belly popping through. I will also go ahead and schedule my first midwife appointment, which I have currently and fully intentionally scheduled for a day that I am out of town.
I'm sure this is endlessly boring, but I like to make plans. I need to know what I'm going to do if I find out there's no heartbeat and I am sitting all alone in an unfriendly RE's office without childcare for the day or practically anyone to talk to about it.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
at last and other news
Sometimes I wonder if I am exaggerating the extent of the fusspot's speech delay. She does (finally) have a few words: mama, dada, hi, bye, 'ot (for hot) and 'dis. Which would be on the slow end of reasonable if her receptive language skills were also up to par. She is 19 months old.
So it was with the greatest of joy that I watched the fusspot for the first time ever follow a clear direction: Put the cup on your head. She did it three times in a row over a period of a half hour playing on a flight. With no visual cues. The thing is that the fusspot is so generally laid-back and well-behaved that people tend to be a bit skeptical when I mention that her receptive language skills are minimal but she simply cannot follow directions without visual signals (and she is quite good at those. I put my hands up when I want to pick her up and she comes toodling over). And poor kid is bilingual (maybe still trilingual but the 3rd language was entirely incidental and we have no intention of maintaining it).
In other news, JD and I took a flight together. A bumpy, stormy night, post-bedtime-thanks-to-the-rain-delay flight. And it was glorious. The very first time that JD and I have been on the same flight in over a year. In a year and a half I have taken the fusspot on 6 transatlantic flights, at least 6 other international fights, 1 trip to CA alone (1 trip 3 weeks later to CA with JD), and multiple trips to visit my family. Alone. So it was lovely to have JD along to carry the carseat and stroller up and down the stairs and watch the fusspot when I want bathroom (alone!) and while I spent a good half hour puking on the flight. Lovely, I say. Focusing on the good parts of that trip. Oh, and for the record I flew the first half of that trip alone with a rather fussy fusspot (see below re: possible ear infection). So JD joined me on half of one short round-trip flight after a year. And my mother's response? "Poor JD, he works so much." Huh.
Ah yes, so much for symptom-free. I have symptoms. Plenty o' them. Some of which had me dry heaving in the fusspot's room while she angrily chattered between the hours of 2 and 3 am. If only they would make me feel calmer things would be so much better.
So, dear readers in the know, any thoughts on an 18 month sleep regression? All information on Dr. Google seems to link back to a single post on Askmoxie, even though this phenomenon is in no parenting book I've seen. I only ask because ... the fusspot was a disaster at the beach. Took about 2 hours to get her to bed, screaming, waking up multiple times overnight, grumpy. So much so that we took her to urgent care where they promptly gave her antibiotics (the wrong ones, I should add). I would have at least waited a few days if I was at home, but given that we were staying with friends (as their guests) in a beach house without too much soundproofing and had to fly and drive and such, I caved. Needless to say, the drugs did nothing (nor did tylenol or motrin) and our NYC-pediatrician called in a different drug yesterday. No improvement last night (she was up 4 times. And angry about it). So, any thoughts? Or advice?
I am hoping to get some work done this week, but mostly feeling like I am just trying to pass the time until the big u/s on Friday. Friday. Really, 2 days away (counting today as practically done, and Friday as a non-day since I will wake up, rush out the door to drop the fusspot, and then straight to my appointment). Two days is nothing. Surely I can keep myself distracted that long.
Speaking of the big appointment (the heartbeat check for those just joining this round of obsession, and by the way they did not even see a fetal pole last time around), it was scheduled for early morning so JD could come. Seeing as he missed the first u/s and all early care during the last go-round seeing as I was alone. abroad. in a non-English speaking country, I was hoping he'd come. So of course ... the man who hasn't traveled more than one day in the past 6 months is being sent off on Friday for a business trip. And I'd like to say oh well, and it's not a big deal. Except that I care. I care because it is so incredibly awkward to sit alone in that waiting room watching all of the other busy high-powered NYC couples run in from their respective works and then quietly chatter to each other. It's hard because I'm terrified the news will be bad, and then I will be all alone with an RE I barely know trying to coordinate a D and C with my husband's secretary. So I wish he could be there, or alternatively, that I have anyone else I could bring. But my closest local friend is moving tomorrow, and I can't think of anyone who a. I could tell this early b. has childcare/could disappear for an hour on a workday c. would possibly be supportive. So I'll be there alone. Hoping for the best and without a real back-up plan.
So it was with the greatest of joy that I watched the fusspot for the first time ever follow a clear direction: Put the cup on your head. She did it three times in a row over a period of a half hour playing on a flight. With no visual cues. The thing is that the fusspot is so generally laid-back and well-behaved that people tend to be a bit skeptical when I mention that her receptive language skills are minimal but she simply cannot follow directions without visual signals (and she is quite good at those. I put my hands up when I want to pick her up and she comes toodling over). And poor kid is bilingual (maybe still trilingual but the 3rd language was entirely incidental and we have no intention of maintaining it).
In other news, JD and I took a flight together. A bumpy, stormy night, post-bedtime-thanks-to-the-rain-delay flight. And it was glorious. The very first time that JD and I have been on the same flight in over a year. In a year and a half I have taken the fusspot on 6 transatlantic flights, at least 6 other international fights, 1 trip to CA alone (1 trip 3 weeks later to CA with JD), and multiple trips to visit my family. Alone. So it was lovely to have JD along to carry the carseat and stroller up and down the stairs and watch the fusspot when I want bathroom (alone!) and while I spent a good half hour puking on the flight. Lovely, I say. Focusing on the good parts of that trip. Oh, and for the record I flew the first half of that trip alone with a rather fussy fusspot (see below re: possible ear infection). So JD joined me on half of one short round-trip flight after a year. And my mother's response? "Poor JD, he works so much." Huh.
Ah yes, so much for symptom-free. I have symptoms. Plenty o' them. Some of which had me dry heaving in the fusspot's room while she angrily chattered between the hours of 2 and 3 am. If only they would make me feel calmer things would be so much better.
So, dear readers in the know, any thoughts on an 18 month sleep regression? All information on Dr. Google seems to link back to a single post on Askmoxie, even though this phenomenon is in no parenting book I've seen. I only ask because ... the fusspot was a disaster at the beach. Took about 2 hours to get her to bed, screaming, waking up multiple times overnight, grumpy. So much so that we took her to urgent care where they promptly gave her antibiotics (the wrong ones, I should add). I would have at least waited a few days if I was at home, but given that we were staying with friends (as their guests) in a beach house without too much soundproofing and had to fly and drive and such, I caved. Needless to say, the drugs did nothing (nor did tylenol or motrin) and our NYC-pediatrician called in a different drug yesterday. No improvement last night (she was up 4 times. And angry about it). So, any thoughts? Or advice?
I am hoping to get some work done this week, but mostly feeling like I am just trying to pass the time until the big u/s on Friday. Friday. Really, 2 days away (counting today as practically done, and Friday as a non-day since I will wake up, rush out the door to drop the fusspot, and then straight to my appointment). Two days is nothing. Surely I can keep myself distracted that long.
Speaking of the big appointment (the heartbeat check for those just joining this round of obsession, and by the way they did not even see a fetal pole last time around), it was scheduled for early morning so JD could come. Seeing as he missed the first u/s and all early care during the last go-round seeing as I was alone. abroad. in a non-English speaking country, I was hoping he'd come. So of course ... the man who hasn't traveled more than one day in the past 6 months is being sent off on Friday for a business trip. And I'd like to say oh well, and it's not a big deal. Except that I care. I care because it is so incredibly awkward to sit alone in that waiting room watching all of the other busy high-powered NYC couples run in from their respective works and then quietly chatter to each other. It's hard because I'm terrified the news will be bad, and then I will be all alone with an RE I barely know trying to coordinate a D and C with my husband's secretary. So I wish he could be there, or alternatively, that I have anyone else I could bring. But my closest local friend is moving tomorrow, and I can't think of anyone who a. I could tell this early b. has childcare/could disappear for an hour on a workday c. would possibly be supportive. So I'll be there alone. Hoping for the best and without a real back-up plan.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Lest you worry that I have blinders on in regards to my angelic baby
Let me tell you about the playground yesterday.
I have been trying to make friends with a woman in our neighborhood whose daughter is about the same age as the fusspot. And I was almost at the point of inviting her over ...
The fusspot has been a bit of a hazard to her friends recently, mostly of the shoving and pinching variety. Luckily her aggression is limited to the home turf, but still I was a bit worried when this petite little girl wandered over at the sprinkler and tried to give the fusspot a hug. The fusspot froze and gave her a rather stiff glower, but neither pinched nor shoved, so all seemed to be well. And then 5 minutes later the little girl got her doll out of her stroller, gave it a hug, and passed it to the fusspot.
Who proceeded to very deliberately wipe her nose with the doll's hair. Yeah, we're really popular at the playground. So much for that playdate.
ps - off to the beach later today, back in a few days.
I have been trying to make friends with a woman in our neighborhood whose daughter is about the same age as the fusspot. And I was almost at the point of inviting her over ...
The fusspot has been a bit of a hazard to her friends recently, mostly of the shoving and pinching variety. Luckily her aggression is limited to the home turf, but still I was a bit worried when this petite little girl wandered over at the sprinkler and tried to give the fusspot a hug. The fusspot froze and gave her a rather stiff glower, but neither pinched nor shoved, so all seemed to be well. And then 5 minutes later the little girl got her doll out of her stroller, gave it a hug, and passed it to the fusspot.
Who proceeded to very deliberately wipe her nose with the doll's hair. Yeah, we're really popular at the playground. So much for that playdate.
ps - off to the beach later today, back in a few days.
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