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    Entries in babies (17)

    Monday
    Aug152011

    homemade diapers

    When George was still cooking, I decided to try my hand at diaper making. It wasn't hard, but having never cloth diapered, I didn't know what I wanted, and those early homemade all-in-ones (henceforth referred to as AIOs) have since been handed down to someone else who, I hope, likes them better than I did. They were cute and all, but one-time-users just aren't my cup of tea.

    We've been trying to think ahead and solve the two kids/one diaper stash dilemma. George has taken it upon himslf to potty learn, and has been using the potty for four months, though not reliably. There's a lot of time between now and February, but also, there's not, and who knows what kind of bathroom-related hijinxs will ensue between now and then. It's like a buddy movie nobody wants to see! 

    I'd be bummed if I bought a whole second supply of diapers only to have George in Elmo underpants by the time I need them, so I'm curbing my drive for preparation ("nesting"?) by sewing up some little newborn diaper covers, good for seven to 15 pounds of stalling while we decide whether or not to pull the trigger on some more fancy one-size-fits-most diapers/covers/whatever. This is riveting, no? My diaper purchasing decision making process. Wow. Anyway,

    The other day, I was shopping my section of bookmarks devoted to free patterns and tutorials and there were those old AIO instructions. Being older, wiser, having changed about fifty gajillion diapers since I last looked at the pattern, I felt like I could make it work for me with a few changes and some stuff I already had: some larger scraps of PUL (the shiny-backed fabric that keeps the -- ahem -- crap inside), some fold-over-elastic left over from when I had a lingerie shop (yes, the things a blog can teach you about its owner!)... oh, and I bought some velcro. 

    They're cute! Functional? Probably. I made one for George to try out and goodness knows that kid can pee; the fact he remained dry leaves me optimistic. The elastic is light pink, but anything bought more than five years ago counts as free, right? So it was free; no complaints. These aren't as cute as the patterned ones you can buy, but the colors are okay and I think they'll do, especially for that anything-goes period between birth and resurfacing for air/real food/social interaction. 

    I changed the original directions by simply cutting out the pattern in PUL, then going around the edges with the FOE, stretching the elastic taut at the legs and around the back. Her instructions are for a full AIO diaper, with an inner soaker and everything, but the shape is the same as that of a regular cover. She has a fancy snap press, it looks like, and I have none (Santa, do you hear me?), so I used velcro, first, on the aqua one, with two tabs on the front. I didn't like the apparent lack of a size range with that method, so on the other two I did a long strip across the whole front, similar to the other diapers and covers I have. Overall, I'm pretty happy with them, and in less than six months, I'll have a little bum to stick 'em on. We'll see how they work!

    Wednesday
    May112011

    how i spent mothers'* day

    Let's just cut to the chase:

    Ina May Gaskin! On Mothers' Day! What better way to spend the holiday meant to celebrate motherhood than with the woman who spearheaded the movement to put the power of birth back into women's hands? She was slightly scattered, technologically stumped, wry, smart and relatable. Everything you could ever want in a midwife, or an activist. She spoke plainly about the state of obstetrical care in this country and its unfortunate formal beginnings, about our innate understanding of how to give birth, about what keeps women from having the experience they're entitled to and what we can do to change things. She gave her own history: what brought her to midwifery, what's kept her there, and supplemented with photos of hippie caravans and Monday Night Class. She showed a video of an elephant giving birth and the bald soon-to-be-dad two rows in front of me unabashedly mopped his face of tears as his pregnant partner sat by, empowered in a totally unlikely way. Would an OB-GYN show you such a clip, pointing out how the elephant relaxed her jaw? Probably not.

    During the question and answer period, someone brought up the truly abysmal US maternal mortality rates, especially as they relate to women of color. Amnesty International reports that

           Despite representing only 32 percent of women, women of color make up 51 percent of women without insurance.

    Women of color are also less likely to have access to adequate maternal health care services. Native American and Alaska Native women are 3.6 times, African-American women 2.6 times and Latina women 2.5 times as likely as white women to receive late or no prenatal care. Women of color are more likely to die in pregnancy and childbirth than white women. In high-risk pregnancies, African-American women are 5.6 times more likely to die than white women.



    This translates to 80 of 100,000 black women dying in childbirth, versus 13.3 per 100,000 white women. Despite having the highest cost of care ($86 billion per year in hospital charges), the United States ranks 49th in morbidity. 

    As Ina May talked, I considered my own experience with birth. It was charmed, to be sure: short labor, discomfort that I felt confident in working through, encouragement from a watchful, hands-off (if surprised) midwife and a perfect baby born gently into water and dim lights and low voices. This was a privilege so many mothers will never know. While I was being attended by sweet ladies who brought me tea -- one of whose own babies could be heard running around the birth center -- women all over the country were being ignored, bullied, guilted. Some were fearful for their lives. All because of reimbursement rates and turnover goals and sexism and tee times and a confluence of so many other nasty, stupid things. In most of the country, mothers in my socioeconomic standing would've been given one option for which they should be grateful: the doctor to whom you're assigned and the nearest hospital. And if you question the doctor's c-section rate? If you say you don't want an induction or pitocin once labor starts or dare to present a thought-out birth plan? You risk alienation, humiliation, a pat on the head. 

    So many women I talk to are called to birth activism because of their own negative experiences. They want to save others from the trauma of unnecessary surgery, of the degradation that comes with having your own body autonomy unceremoniously taken away while your motherly instincts are trampled. This is obviously not my deal. I have, however, seen the TV shows and the movies depicting shrieking, sweaty, bed-ridden lunatics. I've read the studies. I've heard the stories. By contrast, I want everyone to have MY experience, whether it's in a hospital, in a field or in her own bed. Every woman deserves respect and attention and these two basic things are the keys to maternal health. 

    If you forgot to give your mom a gift this year, or if you like to plan ahead, make a card and let her know you've donated to the MAMA campaign in her honor. Help make midwifery available to low-income women! 

    * I take such serious issue with the conventional punctuation of this holiday. Some people have more than one mother! Some people want to celebrate more than one mother! 

    Monday
    Apr252011

    quick hit: gentle discipline

    Michelle at the Parent Vortex (which you should bookmark post haste) posted this list of useful phrases for gentle discipline.

    For awhile, we've been using (with good results!) variations on this one: “You really want to _____, but you can’t do that right now. I can see how upset you are about that.”  It seems to help minimize the compounded frustration of George not getting what he wants AND thinking he's being misunderstood or his feelings ignored. 

    Happy communicating!

    Monday
    Apr042011

    expect

    I am always late in turning my calendar. A shame, and odd since I'm eager for the coming month spent with a fresh page of Nikki McClure's art, hanging in the kitchen, visible and inspirational at (almost) all times. As I was doling out avocado slices or picking up a thrown water cup for yet another rinse, I looked up and realized that the calendar still said February though it was March fourteenth. George and I had plans, like we do every month on the fourteenth: go to the mall. Use the newfangled photo booth that Mama wishes was still the real, old kind with the red or blue curtain but consoles herself by choosing a funny header appropriate to the past four weeks of development. "Oh, by the way: I'm awesome" for 13 months. "I freaking love you" for fourteen months, Valentine's Day. Our new tradition whose seed was planted years before when my roommates and I covered the grimy breakfast nook of our punkrock house in photo strips, demanded one from each houseguest that crossed our couch, every band that used our floor. 

    I got distracted, didn't turn the calendar, but released George from his high chair and we got ready for the day. Went to the mall. Got our pictures, chose the "USA!" header for George's recent rallying cry/fist pumping victory dance. We stopped off at the drug store and came home. While George played on the floor with his puzzle, I took a pregnancy test that turned positive even as I willed it not to, glaring down at the defiant little plus sign that wussed out and only partially materialized. But it was enough. I didn't really need the confirmation, anyway. Even barely pregnant -- one day late -- my body gives itself away; we've been together for awhile, you know. 

    Feeling a sudden burst of responsibility to my household, I remembered I'd left February's cheery cherry blossoms hanging in the kitchen. Turning the page, I felt a little silly. If Nikki McClure could be so prophetic, a complete stranger reassuring me with her meant-to-be-looked-at-for-31-days art, things would surely be okay. 

    Of course, it was cruel of me to be anything but immediately delighted, and, it turns out, this pregnancy was easily jinxed. March changed to April and after three weeks of getting-used-to, what are we going to do? turning into we can do this, right?, the bleeding began. Though my midwife was optimistic and Nathan favored looking on the bright side (after all, this had also happened with George), I knew it just wasn't meant to be: an instinct confirmed by the poor ultrasound wand-wielding lady whose thankless job requires that she tell expectant women there is no sign of viability. The loss is sad, obviously, but this brief flirtation with another kid has opened my mind to the possibility of loving another one, doing this again, maybe even sooner than I'd envisioned when painstakingly organizing the timeline of my twenties and thirties. 

    If and when we're afforded the luxury of adding to our family, I hope the person who joins us and George are lifelong lifelines to one another. Filling each other's gaps, two 24 hour open signs when everywhere else closes at 7pm and 5 on Sundays. People -- smart people -- have told me that a sibling will be one of our most valuable gifts to George, and the chance to parent another kid would be a gift to me, for sure. It's terrifying to replay the hapless nights we spent in George's beginning: the sleeplessness, the confusion and eventual giving up akin to the moment you realize you're drowning and start to enjoy the languorous kelp floating around you. But, you know? Sometimes, you're not drowning. I wasn't. Soon came the realization that I'd drifted back inland and could easily stand. It'll come again, after all that other stuff, which will (fingers crossed) be less like drowning and more like a too-adventurous swim. I'm lucky to've had the opportunity to work through those feelings before our next (next) shot at parenthood. To start with excitement, assured that we can hack it. Nobody deserves an "oh, shit" at their first sign of life, and for that motherly transgression, former fetus, I am truly sorry. 

    I didn't plan on getting pregnant when I had a fifteen month old, but once I was, I quickly warmed to the idea -- the upsides, the pleasantness of the surprise, the potential -- which is, I think, my lesson in this bummer of a situation. The stranglehold I once had on PLANS has, in the past year and a half, loosened to a lazy handhold. I never thought I'd be the kind of person to let life happen to me, but here we are, Universe. Show me what you got.  

     

    Have you dealt with an early miscarriage (lame, huh)? Did you get pregnant again quickly? How did it affect your family plans?

    Tuesday
    Mar082011

    step away from the amazon list

    Welcome to the March Carnival of Natural Parenting: Natural Parenting Top 10 Lists

    This post was written for inclusion in the monthly Carnival of Natural Parenting hosted by Hobo Mama and Code Name: Mama. This month our participants have shared Top 10 lists on a wide variety of aspects of attachment parenting and natural living. Please read to the end to find a list of links to the other carnival participants.

    ***

    When you're pregnant, especially when you're pregnant with your first child, you're the world's most vulnerable consumer. You're a target for retailers, purveyors of all things teensy, pink and blue (and green -- with frogs -- if you're the sort of spoilsport who chooses to deny your baby shower attendees the personal fulfillment that comes with knowing whether to buy the onesie that reads Daddy's Little #1 All-Star Football Champion or the onesie with puffed sleeves and a glittery ADORABLE! applique). You have nearly ten months to daydream about the person you'll be meeting, and you want to make them happy. You want to make them so deliriously happy that you, poor daydreamy pregnant lady, will take "advice" from a website that suggests things you might like to purchase, you know, out of the goodness of its heart. Because Amazon.com? It just wants to help.

     

    7 month pregnant, summertime me

    Preparing for a first baby is kind of like getting ready to welcome an exchange student: you can run all over town looking for Vegemite, hang up Australian flags and learn the most current slang, but odds are the kid will just want to take a nap and hang out with some nice people. I'm the first to admit that I fell prey to the buy-this-now mentality of preparing for parenthood. I wanted my bases covered, and who was I to argue with Pregnancy magazine, or that person's "must have" list, or the people I knew who already had kids? If someone had told me that all my kid really needed was an attentive, loving, present parent, a place to sleep and some diapers, I'd have been skeptical but grateful. Well, if I had it to do over again, here's what I wouldn't buy, and what I would.

    I Would NOT Buy:

    1. A bumbo. There's a reason babies that age can't sit up. Give it... like, a week and a half, oh wait? He's sitting up. Now he's walking. Just let the kid roll around for awhile and be developmentally appropriate!

    2. A bouncer. George hated it. He was not impressed by the "mid-century modern styling" or iPod dock. I wanted to hold my baby, and he wanted to be held. Nature's bounciest bouncer is a walking mama whose milk's just come in. I don't come with an iPod dock, but my rendition of A Bushel and a Peck is not too shabby.

    3. An infant car seat. We didn't -- just went straight for the convertible -- and never wished we had one of what we lovingly call "the buckets." When we went to a restaurant, we held George so he could be a part of the action and nurse if he wanted, while we ate. At the store, he was strapped to mama or papa. No flat head, no giant contraptions to accommodate in small eateries. 

    4. Any baby food making supplies. I got a food mill and special baby-stomach-portion-sized silicone freezer trays that were glorified ice cube trays at four times the price of the ones meant for water. You know what works for mushing up food? Forks. Your fingers. Popping something on the stove to steam or in the microwave to soften doesn't take long, and if my kid is freaking out, Ican'twait hungry, I should've been paying better attention to his cues. 

    5. Toys. You'll get hand-me-downs and gifts, and unless something really speaks to you like George's Waldorf teether doll (hates it) did to me, you don't need to buy it. If you know any older babies, see what they gravitate toward. See if yours takes an interest in anything, and if you can find something similar at a consignment or second hand shop.

    6. Brand new parenting books. With the exception of the Sears' Baby Book, I don't need to own any of the books I've bought. Borrow from the library, or, if you're a bibliophile like I am, check thrift store shelves for deals. 

    7. A separate sleep space (crib, hammock, pack & play). It saves money, and it's nice to sleep with your family. It also makes breastfeeding easier, and the store will still be there if, after the baby's born, he turns out to be one of those have-to-sleep-alone types. 

    8. Shoes. Why did I buy shoes? They were just so cute. Those tiny Adidas still call to me. They call, "we cost $30 and never fit your kid!" 

    9. "Normal" clothes. If I think about my ideal wardrobe, it would consist of things with elastic waist bands, made of the softest knit imaginable. Socks that don't leave marks on my calves. Shirts that don't bunch up at my armpits or pull across my back. Nothing that gives me a muffintop. Nothing uncomfortable, ever. Then, still, people would somehow always think I looked completely precious. Babies have that last bit covered, so don't try to stuff their little bellies into jeans no matter how cute they are or what a great clearance sale Gap is having. 

    10. Fancy cloth diapers. Don't get me wrong, here: I LOVE cloth diapers. Constantly buying things for someone to crap into would be unbearable for me. But, I bought a giant stash of Bumgenius at $16something a pop only to discover after a few months of use that -- for US -- they leak, don't fit that well and get stinky no matter how diligently I strip them or painstakingly I make my own detergent. The prefolds and consignment shop covers, however, that total around $4 per set are reliable workhorses.

    gratuitous newborn cuteness

    Now, onto the positive. DO Buy:

    1. An Ergo. Baby wearing saved my relationship with my son. He wanted to be in my arms at all times, and I was a frustrated, tired mama who could get nothing done between hourly, 30-45 minute-long feedings. George learned to sleep in the Ergo and it was like having a new lease on life. 

    2. A king sized bed. We didn't originally intend to co-sleep, but clingy daytime George didn't turn independent once the clock struck nine PM. We tried to make our double bed work until tax season made a new mattress a possibility. Every night when we all snuggle into bed, it still feels like a luxury.

    3. Our highchair. It's small enough to fit in our little kitchen, is all wood and inoffensive. It was also $60 (take that, Stokke). It converts into a little chair and table, and I love to imagine toddler George sitting there, helping himself. 

    4. Cloth diapers. Just not the fancy ones.

    5. A sling for papa. One he will actually wear. Nathan was able to bond with George by wearing him, and it's still their special, sure-fire nap time spot. 

    6. Dr. Sears' Baby Book. Even though some of my friends were attached parents, I felt awash in unsolicited, unhelpful advice when my baby was pegged as "needy," "fussy" or "high-maintenance." When I found Dr. Sears, and read that it was OKAY to sleep with my baby, GOOD to feed him when he seemed hungry rather than on a schedule, HEALTHY to keep him close by wearing him, it felt nothing short of revolutionary. Dr. and Martha Sears have solved so many of my "problems" just by encouraging me to follow my instincts to provide loving care to my child. 

    7. An iPod or Kindle or something to entertain you. Gazing at your beautiful newborn is great for awhile, but when you're nursing for eight hours a day, you need something to do so you're not frustrated, trying to hurry him up. 

    8. Good quality toiletries: body wash/shampoo, diaper cream and massage oil. Don't skimp on the products that go on your naked baby. 

    9. A few pretty, functional mobiles. I made ours, and the black, white and gray one that hung over George's changing table for the first few months was the first thing he smiled at.

    10. Nice nursing bras that fit you. Get fitted by a professional at Nordstrom or a local lingerie shop (NOT Victoria's Secret). Don't underestimate the difference this can make in your day to day. 

    magical Ergo

    We made a lot of mistakes and continue to buy things we don't need, but I hope these top and bottom ten lists help someone avoid the "Amazon recommends" trap that is so easy to trip right into when your eyes are starry and nine months seems forever away. 

    ***

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

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