More on my time away, the "surgery files"

Upon returning, I finally went back to the doctor to have a surgeon check out my umbilical hernia. One of the many badges of motherhood, I guess, except in this case, the surgeon was concerned that I would be in trouble if I didn't get it repaired.  So, come last week...well, it's Saturday, so a week and half ago?  In I went for surgery.  Having never had a single surgery before, I was a little frightened.  But, all thankfully went well.  Waking up was painful and not the least bit untrippy.  It's so strange to lose a chunk of your life like that.  My surgery was outpatient, so after some pain-killer induced sleep in the recovery room, and some very interesting dreams, (no I won't share them, and no they aren't THAT kind of dream!  Shame on you!) we were off to our house.  Recovery has been slow and it's so hard to hold myself back every day.  I'm afraid to push to hard and injure myself, but as any of you moms know, it's hard to be down for the count when you care for two littles.

My parents and friends have shown up to the task and really offered help in the form of meals and support and hands to babysit and hold the baby.  It's been the ultimate exercise in humility.  It can be so hard to rely on others for what you need, and yet I imagine that it's what we really need to do with life.  Serve others, and allow them to serve us.  Sometimes it's harder to allow the serving than to do it.  I've also had great opportunity to "offer up" my pain. It's a learning curve to figure out how to nurse an older infant without causing pain to yourself.  It can be quite the task to keep a three year old from jumping on his mama in his unbridled enthusiasm.  Once my son started running, I've referred to him as the golden retriever puppy due to his great joy in experiencing life and the cute rambunctiousness. :)  I am completely grateful for all of the help and love that has poured my way.  Our community of family and friends are nothing short of miraculous.

The Unintentional Lactivist

When I had my son, I always planned to breastfeed.  It was important to me.  I hoped that maybe if I did, he would avoid the horrible allergies that I had growing up.  Kleenex-box-in-every-room-and-the-car allergies.  Immunology-shot allergies.  So I nursed him.  I kept that up for nearly two years with desperate hopes that maybe he would be saved from what I felt was a curse.  I was certain that breastfeeding imparted some sort of protection because of the very scientific evidence of my sister and me.  My mom could only nurse me for four months, my sister went for fourteen.  Guess who didn't have allergies?  (Or not many to speak of, anyway.)

So, I nursed and in public, even with my nursing cover, I was a little timid.  It felt like the whole world was watching me and it made me feel like I had to watch when I did or did not do it.  It probably didn't help that my mom was a little neurotic about it all, freaking out that someone might see me.  Okay, she was truly supportive, just still neurotic. I did alright, but never truly felt comfortable.  Ultimately by 23 months, I was tired of him climbing all over me, and felt I had really given it my best shot.  My goal had really only been one year, anyway. So we worked on weaning and I cherish the relationship we developed.

Fast-forward three years to baby #2.  Maybe it is the fact that I had so much time under my belt from the first one.  Maybe I've just become less self-concious. All I know is that I'm nursing when and where I need to this time around.  I still cover myself as much as possible, but I will nurse her when she needs.  That's a warning to anyone who wants to give me guff for it.  I've had my share of people staring incredulously while I pull on the cover, latch her on and then proceed to walk behind my son.  Maybe their awed by my super-duper breastfeeding skills.  haha  I really feel as if they are saying, "What are you doing nursing her like that here?!?!  Shouldn't you find a corner?"  Thankfully, no one has called me out on it because they might have heard an earful.

And that's what I mean when I say that I've become an unintentional lactivist. I think breastfeeding, if you can do it, is best.  I think that extended breastfeeding is even better for sake of immunity.  There are those pushing me right now to start solids, and I will soon, but starting purely because she is 6 months old seems like a silly reason to me.  I've done the research, exclusive breastfeeding through 7 months increases the likelihood of your child avoiding anemia.  Iron is more readily accessible in breastmilk.  I decided to wait.  It just strikes me as funny that in three short years, I've become so comfortable.

I was struck the other day by the thought that Mary probably breastfed Jesus when and where he needed it.  They probably didn't have the same taboos as we do today, because there was no formula.  People weren't offended because that was just how babies ate.  I cannot imagine that Mary would look down at her baby and say, "Well this is not only my child but my God, however I am not going to feed him right now because someone might be uncomfortable."  Same is true for me.