If you're a teenage girl in about 13 years...

  In case  you missed it, this post has been floating around the interwebs: http://givenbreath.com/2013/09/03/fyi-if-youre-a-teenage-girl/

 I think it sucks. So here is my version.

    I have some information that is probably of no interest to you, because you are busy living your own life. But just in case you are unusually bored today and have nothing better to do, I will continue.  My son is only 12 weeks old and not really that in to social media at this point in time, but let’s pretend he is almost grown and really into Facebook, or whatever you youngsters are into nowadays.

   It has come to my attention that some families sit around the dinner table passing around their I Phone (version 20s, I suppose). This seems fairly odd to me, but I suppose this may be a normal occurrence once I have an adolescent boy. Whatever. But let’s say we were doing this and for whatever reason decided to internet stalk young girls…

  We noticed you weren’t wearing a bra. Don’t you love that feeling of freedom? My favorite thing to do at the end of the day is to take off my bra.  Or sometimes not because I was never wearing one to begin with. It just depends. My son may or may not have noticed. He probably wouldn’t feel the need to comment on it anyway because, crazy story, he has nipples too! And he knows what breasts are. He spent the first few years of his life attached to mine. He knows what they are for and that they do amazing things to feed young people. He knows they are part of the body and the body is beautiful in its myriad of shapes and forms. He also knows that people, him included, can wear whatever the hell they want and it says nothing about them other than that is what they felt like wearing that day.

  We also noticed that you were posing a certain way. Far be it from me to assume your intentions, and it really is none of my business. But if for some reason you were trying to be sexy, I want you to know that it is okay and perfectly normal. You are entering a time in your life when you are exploring your new-found sexuality. I hope you have had mentors in your life that have taught you how to do this in a healthy and age appropriate way and I hope you enjoy this new aspect of your life. I hope this for my son, too.

  So, please understand that we don’t intend to make a habit of stalking you on Facebook, because let’s face it- that’s kind of creepy. Unless of course you decide to friend  me or something, which would make me feel hip and kind of cool again. And know that whatever interaction you have with my son in private will remain private unless he decides to share them with me. Because he is his own person and I trust him and  the fact that he has a Facebook demonstrates that I think he is mature enough to handle it.

  You posts reflect the part of you that you want to share with people and all of those facets of yourself wonderful. They do not retract at all from any other aspect of yourself- intelligence, beauty, and kindness.

  But here is the bummer- some people may judge you. They may tell you that you don’t have the right to be yourself. That there is something shameful about your body or that you are somehow responsible for how their children react you. They may even have the audacity to post a picture of their half-naked son in the same post as they are telling you to put some clothes on.  I just want you to know that it’s bullshit. They are hypocritical, judgmental, and misogynist. You are only responsible for you.

  So wear whatever you want and do whatever you want. My son will decide if he would like to be friends with you based on your character, not your profile picture. And if he does treat you like an object, please let me know because I raised him better.

  This may sound odd, but you see- in our family we respect each other as unique individuals who have control over their own bodies. If my son decides to linger over your picture, that is his choice and if I for some reason have a problem with that, I will hold him accountable, not you.

  I spend time thinking about who my boy will love, and I don’t assume that person will have a vagina. I only hope that the person will love him and encourage him in life, and that my son will love this person for their heart and not how they choose to dress themselves. In the meantime, I hope he also gets the chance to explore his own sexuality and grow as a person and not feel wrong or dirty or dishonorable for acknowledging his real emotions.

   If you decide to dress differently or act differently- don’t be afraid to try new things. Just make sure you are doing it for yourself and not to fit into any predetermined labels seeking to ascertain your worth. You can’t control other people’s imaginations.

  There are plenty of people out there who love you for exactly who you are.

   Just be yourself.

Love,

Roxanne

  

At least we don't have yellow wallpaper...

 

 If you're missing the Charlotte Perkins Gilman reference, we can't be friends anymore. Go read some decent American-feminist literature and get back to me.

   I have a wicked case of post-partum depression. It's getting better (obviously I'm coherent enough to write this). I basically have done nothing except nurse the baby and sit. I had absolutely no appetite to eat anything, so I lost a ridiculous amount of weight and had no energy (in addition to being sleep deprived in general). I cried throughout the day. If Perrin started crying, I shut down completely. I couldn't do anything except stare at him. Joey would take him and calm him down. Joey changed his diapers, and held him, and basically did everything aside from nurse. He brought me whatever food I did eat, and my vitamins. He called psych counselors and lactation consultants and basically anyone who could help. I just couldn't get myself to do anything. I hated everything- especially the baby. The baby was nothing to me except pain. I knew, in my head, that it he wasn't being mean on purpose and that he is just a baby...but there were times when I could swear he was trying to inflict as much pain on me as humanly possible. It's a strange feeling to be so sad and so angry and then to feel guilty for feeling those emotions.
  I really don't know what else to say except that things got bad. I never wanted to hurt the baby, but Perrin and I coexisting didn't seem to be working out. One of us had to go, and I was the adult (sort of), so it seemed like it had to be me. I needed to go away- back to Memphis, somewhere else, I don't know...something had to give. Finally I wasn't able to handle it anymore. Joey stepped in and insisted I get help. He called our midwife and found some local PPD resources.
  I started seeing a counselor and she (as well as our midwife) agreed that fixing the breastfeeding relationship ASAP was key. The pain was driving a lot of my resentment towards Perrin. They brought up the possibility of me pumping and bottle feeding to eliminate the stress of nursing, but I refused for two reasons. First, I wasn't quite desperate enough to risk our future nursing relationship just yet. Second, and most importantly, nursing was all I had. That was my only interaction with Perrin. I did it because I absolutely had to. If we introduced bottles and Joey could feed him...I knew I wouldn't look at Perrin again. So I hung on to our nursing relationship and Joey called every lactation specialist in the state he could find until we started making progress. Now nursing is almost pain free.The counselor also stated she thought I was scared to interact with Perrin and that was one of the reasons I would just shut down. She suggested attending some Mom and Baby classes to get some tips and help on interacting with my baby. Joey and I now attend a Parent and Baby class on Tuesdays and Saturdays.
   Our midwife assigned me some homework as well. The first was eating and sleeping more, for obvious reasons. She also stressed my need for socialization. We don't really have many close friends in Tucson, and definitely not lots of kid experience. We don't have a tribe. So my midwife put in contact with some like-minded parents near by. We have had two social get-togethers this week.
  So things are slowly getting better. It is still ridiculously hard. I'm living off of gluten-free Oreos and Lucky Charms. Our house is a wreck and completely filthy. Every ounce of our energy is going towards just surviving until tomorrow..but it's getting better.

  So to those people who are offended by my experience- the people who tell me I should think of all the childless couples in the world and appreciate my baby more and get over the "difficulties of motherhood" (their condescending quotation marks, not mine)- Screw you. I'm in enough of a mental hell with plenty of guilt all by myself, I don't need your baggage. If I could snap my fingers make it all pretty, I would do it in a heartbeat. But guess what, I can't. It hurts and it's hard and I don't know what to do except work my way through it. So I can either pretend this isn't happening, or I can be honest and maybe help someone else out there know they aren't the only one. I saw another mom at one of our groups- she looked exactly how I felt. But we were both there and both dealing, and we will both be okay. So if I ever hear a person tell another PPD woman to just get over it and be happy with her baby, I'm going to punch them in face, ahimsa be damned.
 

My Baby is Kind of an A$$hole...

    I got a lot of great feedback from the breastfeeding post. Apparently, most people get it. They experienced it and they can commiserate. So, at the risk of sounding like I just like to bitch constantly (which is probably pretty true at the moment), I thought I'd go a little farther out on that same limb. Call CPS on me if you want. At this point it just sounds a lot like free babysitting. I'm going to be honest with people and share another little "gem" that I think rings true for most people but that just doesn't get talked about- I don't like my baby.

   There. I said it. I don't really like the kid. Not yet. I assumed birth would be this magic moment and I would get that rush of oxytocin and fall in love. I would spend hours staring at him and nuzzling his head and kissing his little face. And then he was born, which was cool because this tiny person came out of my vagina, but nothing really happened. Nothing clicked. And now, almost 3 weeks later, I still have this little person hanging around.
   Don't get me wrong, for a baby he is pretty cool. We are finally getting this nursing thing down so he is sleeping better and for 2-3 hour stretches now. He only fusses when he is hungry for the most part (he just happens to be hungry all. the. damn. time.) Overall he is pretty easy going...for a baby.   It's the baby part that's the hang up. Babies are kind of assholes. They scream at you, drink too much, puke everywhere, then pass out- like a really shitty college roommate.  He'll fall asleep at the boob, lose the nipple, then get pissed at ME because suddenly the milk is gone. Or start thrashing around with my nipple in his mouth. Or kick the living crap out of me while nursing. Or claw me with those godforsaken razor blades they call fingernails. He doesn't do anything fun or interesting yet. He smiles really cute sometimes...but usually that means he's about to shit his pants. Right now, he's just a demanding little bottomless pit. And he smells bad. Like milk and sweat (both of which are probably mine, but whatever. I KNOW I smell bad).
   Now, I know he doesn't do any of this stuff on purpose. It's just the baby thing. But that hasn't stopped me from looking up one-way plane tickets. Or fantasizing about driving off into the sunset. Or threatening to let him starve on multiple occasions. Or begging Joey to let me put him up for adoption. Honestly, the thing holding me back is usually that I will miss Joey too much. And that then he'd have to eat shitty formula (food is kind of my 'thing'). So I stay and nurse him. And then he falls asleep and looks all adorable and I figure, I can probably do this after all. And I know it will get better. It's just that...I don't really know this person yet. And save the "what did you expect/ you got yourself into this" bullshit. Yeah, I know. I knew babies would be kind of a time suck. But I don't think it's really possible to KNOW until you have one. Or at least not with the way most people talk about it. So I'm sure we will get to know each other better and then it will be all soul-gazing and fireworks. But right now he's rooting on Joey's chest, which means I'm up to bat, and I really just want to go hide in the closet.

*He really is a pretty cool baby. It's not his fault we aren't hitting it off right off the bat. It's just a mixture of a lot of things- like breastfeeding trouble, lack of sleep, and a loss of autonomy. We are just going through an adjustment period right now. But Joey is taking great care of us, and I know it's getting better. But don't think you're weird if you don't fall head over heels in love with your baby immediately. You're not. Babies are just assholes sometimes.

Breastfeeding Sucks

    Seriously. It sucks. I hate it. I would rather labor and birth the baby 3 more times than breastfeed. It's a million times harder than natural childbirth. It sucks. I haven't slept more than two hours at a time in over 2 weeks. And you know what really has me miffed? No one told me. No one told me how bad it was going to suck. Maybe everyone is just scared that the truth will put people off of breastfeeding. I have to admit, that thought did cross my mind. But I have more faith in you than that. I know that you will realize as much as it sucks, it is still completely worth it. That a little suckiness on the front end is nothing compared to the ease and convenience and enjoyment down the road. But right now, I'm still in sucky-McFuck-this-land. (*Note, if swearing offends you, don't read this post. I'm sorry, but go put your nipple up against a door jam and slam the door a couple of times and tell me you don't let a couple choice words eek out.) So here are things no one told me, but I am telling you, so that you can be prepared.

    No one told me that "nipple soreness" was code for blistered, bleeding nipples that make you want to claw your eyes out. A stubbed toe gets sore. Nursing nipples is a whole other circle of hell.
No one told me that my baby would suddenly become a black belt in judo when it was time to latch on and that it would take three people to position him just enough for me to cram my nipple into his  mouth. Or that he was given a bear trap for a jaw that clamps shut as soon as the tip of my nipple crosses his lips. Or that engorgement feels like someone filled your boobs with hot gravel. Or that someone with no teeth could somehow manage to take a chunk of skin off.
   No one told me that all newborns do is eat, which sucks because it hurts like hell, and sleep, which sucks because you spend the entire time dreading when they will wake up and want to eat again. No one told me I wouldn't even enjoy my baby at first because right now he's just a little bundle of pain and suffering. Or that walking out into traffic actually seems like a good idea at 1:30 a.m. when you have been nursing for an hour and a half straight.
  No one told me that nursing in public for the first time would result in my infant suddenly forgetting what a nipple is for and a particularly forceful letdown that culminated in my hosing Perrin in the face and soaking my shirt while some $5 haircut place lady comes over to quiz me on his birth stats. Or that I would give up on going anywhere or doing anything because it's just to much work to put on a shirt (not to mention painful).
  No one told me that even when he does finally fall asleep, you are still trapped because there is no way you are going to move him now. He might wake up ...and then eat. You can't take that chance. So you spend 22 hours of your day with a infant on you who's body temperature is somewhere between  lava and a supernova (just to guesstimate).

   Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe no one told me these things because no one else experienced them. Maybe it's just me. Perhaps you wake up in the morning after a restful night, pop a baby on your boob and suddenly woodland animals are singing at your window sill like you're some goddamn lactating Snow White. But I doubt it. You know what I think really happens? I think everyone just forgets the suckiness, because you know what people did tell me?
   They told me how amazing it was to be able to provide for their baby. To give them the absolute best. They told me all of their funny stories about nursing and their awkward moments. About how it was hard (understatement of the century) but so, so worth it. About the emotions of weaning and how much they missed that relationship. So even though it sucks right now, I know soon I won't even remember. I'll be too busy relishing in the fact that I can leave the house with just a spare diaper. Or cure any tantrum or boo boo. Or feed my baby without waking up at night (I'm really looking forward to that part). I'm thankful my body can produce what my baby needs and I don't have to pay for donor milk, and I'm in awe that my body can not only grow a person but sustain him topside. So yeah, breastfeeding sucks. For now. But I have feeling it will be worth it. Unless of course that is another big lie that everyone has told me...in which case heads will roll.