Today was Judah’s dedication at church. For those of you who don’t know what that is..it’s sort of like a baptism, but it’s not that at all really. The only similarity is that it often takes place in a church, but it certainly doesn’t have to.  It’s mainly a time of thanking God for the life of a child and praying God’s blessing over their lives and praying for the parents and family and wider church family that we would all play our parts in nurturing the life of the child spiritually and emotionally….that we would be the best family we can be.

Sunday morning was a rush out the door. I was decorating cupcakes, mentally preparing for leading worship, everyone else was busy…we forgot our camera. Typical. So there are no good pictures to remember the day. No pictures of Judah in his gorgeous little Calvin Klein outfit, (except the one above, taken later in the day)  the purple T-shirt with the guitar across the front, or the chocolate cupcakes with purple frosting decorated with minstrels.  Never mind, the day was gorgeous. The sun was shinning and it was an unusually warm Sunday in April. Many of my friends turned up and it was such a joy to share the day with them as well as my church family at New Life.

My little boy, with the mass of blonde curls that may be messy but in my opinion are unashamedly gorgeous and beautiful. Like the mane of a lion. I find myself often having to repeat his name when asked. It’s not one of the more well known biblical names, but it’s a good strong one. If you google Judah on an image search, several pictures of Lions will come up. Jesus is often called “The Lion of Judah” which always makes me think of a Lion’s mane whenever I see his beautiful curly hair. He’s also got quite the roar on him that demands to be listened to and noticed…a shriek and a cry that could break glass….not to mention everyone’s ear drums. The amount of times I’m out and about and people turn to look whenever he’s given one of his famous shouts. I’m amazed at how strong he is. He can push his four year old sister off my lap with little effort. He seems to think whatever he wants is his right to take and own and snatch off people…oh the cringe-full moments to come at playgroup..the endless apologies…..I can see it all now…my little baby Lion.  But he can smile. His giggles and laughs brighten up a room like sunshine. They seem larger than he is. He kisses with his whole head. He nurses standing on my lap with his bum in the air. He crashes into me to give me a hug with the force of a battering ram, but his cuddles are soft and sweet. Although he can make a loud noise, he can also make the sweetest little sounds, including something that sounds almost like a purr….

Judah’s name means praise. In Genesis when Leah gave birth to Judah, her fourth son she said “I will praise the Lord” Leah had had a pretty rough time of it. Her husband did not love her, she was sharing him with her sister (who he did love) and even though she managed to give her husband many children, she never won his heart. In some ways her sad story is perhaps many women’s worst nightmares. But she said “I will praise the Lord”

Life certainly does not always turn out the way we imagine it. Things happen to us that we always thought only happened to other people. We make mistakes we thought only other people make. I know I have. Yet so many amazing things happen to us that we could have never dreamed up or imagined for ourselves. Our seaming mistakes and mis steps take us to places we never ever thought we would be.  We may not be living the life we dreamed of, or the life we thought we wanted, but we are being given the incredible gift of life every single day, and each day holds a potential that is unlimited.

My Judah has existed in three different countries. He has lived in six houses, and survived four major home moves. He came into my life when words like “transition”  ”limbo” and phrases like “settling in” and “up in the air” were starting to wear thin. The ground was unsteady and it nearly swallowed us a few times within the first year of his life. Even before he was born, he’s felt like an angel to me…giving me hope and reminding me to praise God…no matter what the circumstance. When I turn to God and stop dwelling on the circumstances, I find my strength, and most importantly, I find my hope.

I sang “Desert Song” today. I first heard the song holding Judah stood at the back of a church I was visiting in the States. The words filled my soul with hope during a time when I was desperate for it. Every word of every verse resonated with where I was at that stage.  The desert, the fire, the battle….and even the harvest…all seemed to happen in the short space of a year, and through it all, I’ve known what I’ve been meant to do. To praise God for the beautiful gift of life he’s given me, not denying any reality of pain or hurt or disappointment, simply finding a place where I can praise Him in the midst of it all….because when I do that….it does not magically make the problems go away…but it reminds me of who God is…and my faith grows stronger, and I am flooded with hope.

So Judah, may you praise God in every season of your life to come. May it be an extraordinarily rich life full of blessing…but as you go through your trials, battles, and desert times…I pray that praise would rise from within you almost as an instinct. That you would be drawn to your Creator…and that you would know in the deepest parts of your heart and soul…that He is God and that he loves you more than anyone else, even me, who cannot imagine loving anything else as much as I love the beautiful family I’ve been given.

May praise be always on your lips. Psalm 34:1

For many of you who know me…You’ll know that I have had for the most part, two really wonderful birth experiences. I’m so thankful for them. They are both different from each other but both really special. I do understand though that no two births are the same, and sometimes it’s hard to empathize with what someone else has gone through if you have not experienced it yourself.  You may not understand the mother with a negative view of birth if you had a positive experience, and in the same way, a woman who had a difficult birth may roll her eyes every time she hears a mother go on about what a great experience it was. I’m so thankful that yesterday I had my first peek into the window of the wide and varied world of birth experience.

Jessica wandered into our church toddler group shortly after it was re-launched as “Little Angels” She brought her partner with and although she seemed a bit nervous she was incredibly warm and friendly. We could hardly tell but she was just over 20 weeks pregnant with her first baby and full of nerves and excitement about all that was ahead. To make a long story short, after accompanying her to a scan one day, and checking it out with DH, I offered to be her birth partner. She jumped at the offer and from then on I’ve been her very informal “doula” Trying to give her as much information as I could, taking her to other mother’s groups, etc. Thankfully many of the other mothers from the group took an interest in her as well and we even had a little baby shower for her.

She’s a small girl, carrying a small baby, and she’s young…and with a few other less than ideal factors into the mix, she was classified as high risk. I can not tell you the stress that this puts on a young mother having a baby in less than ideal circumstances. After every appointment she seemed to come away confused and stressed. She’s a bright girl but it’s hard to take everything in when you’re pregnant and scared. Anyway we did our best to encourage her and reassure and all of that but it was not easy. When a lot of bad things have happened to someone, it’s almost hard to believe that something is going to go right.

She went into the Hospital on Thursday evening with some bleeding. She was adamant that she wanted to just get checked out and then be on her way..but they did advise she stay the night. Of course this whole process took over three hours. We had to sit in the labour ward in a curtained off cubicle trying not to be nosy listening in to other people’s early labour. The Dr. was tied up in a C-section so that was the main hold up. As she was only just 37 weeks, I was hoping this was just a bit of blip and she could come home the next day, put her feet up and let the baby cook for a few more weeks. Instead, the next morning I got a phone call from her. Her waters had gone in the night and she was 2cm dilated. I panicked. I had plans for the day, and my in laws were under the weather and definitely not up for having two kids abruptly dumped on them for who knows how long. I spoke to my friend Claire who is a “real” Doula, and she told me that I could probably wait to go to the hospital until she was at least 4 cm.  Shortly after that I had a phone call to say she was 4 cm. Right. Ok. A few more phone calls and some really complicated plans of where the kids could go…and I was out the door…thankfully my husband decided to come home from work early to ease the chaos with the kids. Iona was fine but I was worried about Judah.

Claire told me to give her lots of apple juice to drink…and to get some baby oil for rubbing her back with. I stocked up on some other essentials at Tesco and then flew to the hospital. When I got there she was in her own room, sitting on the birth ball,  starting on the gas and air, and unfortunately hooked up the the monitor. I never had to experience the continuous monitoring in my births. The reason for Jess having it done was because of the baby’s small size. However it is known that this sort of monitoring during labour greatly increases the chances of C-sections, epidurals, and forceps deliveries.  It is really difficult to move around when you are hooked up and it’s quite uncomfortable. Also, the transducers keep sliding around and often don’t pick things up accurately. Often people think there is a problem when there isn’t one. Intermittent monitoring is usually all that is needed in a normal delivery, but unfortunately the baby’s size was the issue.

So she was off…she seemed to handle contractions well, but it was not easy!  She was exhausted from the start having spent the whole night in the hospital and her waters going in the early hours of the morning. I remembered how it felt watching her…just seeing how she moved (or attempted to move despite wires) was fascinating. Claire told me to make eye contact, and to keep making her drink. So I did…I gave her a drink after every contraction. This meant she needed the toilet a lot, and of course they had to let her use the toilet so every time she needed the toilet was an opportunity to move around, and have a few contractions in an optimal position! about an hour later they examined her, and unfortunately, in three hours time, she had not dilated, and as well, her contractions seemed to ease off and were not very strong. So the drip was recommended.  I felt a bit disheartened. You always here about the “cascade of medical interventions” and already we were partway there. I did not want her to have to endure any more interference. However, again, the issue of the baby’s size came up…they could not afford for labour to just slow down…they needed to keep it going. So after awhile the drip arrived, and the midwife could not get it working properly…and the Dr. had to stick her in another place because the current vein the paramedics had used the night before wasn’t working. So more needles…ick. He made a bit of a mess of it as well…and then after that it took ages for the drip machine to get working! Then the shift change happened and the head midwife came in to oversee it. Jess was pretty discouraged at this point..she felt terrible to be only half way there, and felt like there was no end in sight. The contractions were becoming more painful and she was finding it hard to cope. The head midwife was chatting to us and then suddenly noticed on the wall that the tube for the gas and air seemed a bit off, and she went to the wall, twisted it and said “there, that should do it!!” Whoops! I guess the whole time previous, the gas and air had not even been on!!!! Jess was the only one who did not see the humor in this, poor thing. Anyway, I looked her in the eye and said “right the contractions are probably going to get a bit stronger now…but we’re here with you, and we’re going to help you through each one..you can do this”

Several times drugs were offered. At one point the Dr. came in and said “you can have an epidural if you want” I think sometimes when a woman is crying out in pain…and then offered drugs..she feels confused. She doesn’t think she can cope…and people seem to have some sort of solution..but she may be worried about the effects…it can be a really confusing moment. Jess honestly didn’t have any idea…Claire had been giving her ante-natal lessons but as she was still a few weeks away from delivery they hadn’t covered this bit yet and we had not had time to come up with  a plan. I did not want to “force” her to do it naturally..but something inside me just knew she could do it…so I said “let’s just take it one contraction at a time Jess…remember, I’m with you for each one!!” I found just making her look at me and hugging her and holding her and breathing right with her…as though I was going through it myself seemed to work. It was intense..i mean, I didn’t know her THAT well…but I just felt I had to get her through it. So we kept it up. I kept giving her water…she kept insisting she could not do it anymore…it continued on and on. Her partner Darren was there. He was obviously supportive and cheering her on…and at times I directed him to massage her back while I made eye contact with her…I really felt I needed to be facing her. Despite the drip and the fetal monitering, we managed to keep her moving. The fact that she needed the toilet was a good thing as it kept her mobile.

Then…around six O’clock…she started to say she needed to push…The midwife would glance up from her notes, and say “ok, hun, just breathe through it” Just before this she said to me “I am going to need that epidural” Often just at the end, the mother really starts to feel like she honestly can not go on. I remember feeling like that. You just think this is the worst possible thing to have ever happened to you and you just want it to be over. The exhaustion is the killer…often more so than than the pain. I noticed that during the first stage of labour, the midwives are kind of casually hovering. They do checks, they offer advice here and there..but for the most part they seem to have their nose in your notes…..they are observing though, but it does seem like they are not that involved. Then suddenly Jess made this sound….and I remembered making it myself..i can’t describe it…but the midwife’s head snapped up and after saying she was not due another examination for an hour, she quickly put her gloves on and said “Ok I’m going to examine you!!”  It was a huge relief to see the smile across her face when she announced that Jess was totally dilated!!! We were so excited. I was like “you did it Jess you did it!!!” It was almost like she didn’t realize how great this was… And so the pushing began! The midwife was now fully engaged with the process. On her first push she did extremely well and it was already time to call the second midwife in. It was the head midwife and I noted how even though they must see this so many times, she still had this look of excitement on her face…”the baby is coming”" Jess did great. She asked to change positions as she was on her back and I was glad…I knew she should, but at that point the midwives seemed to have taken over and I felt nervous saying much. So after she changed positions, it was just a few more pushes, and little Jack made his appearance!!!  I watched the whole thing!! As the head midwife was up close to Jess helping her push I decided to watch the actual birth…so amazing!!!!!

Jack was put skin to skin and he snuggled right in to his mother’s chest. It was amazing. I wanted him to stay there until he latched on but they had to weigh him because he was very tiny. As he was under 2.5 kilos, he was automatically put on a feeding protocol so she only had about an hour to try and latch him on herself. I wanted to try biological nurturing, but the midwife started trying to latch him on herself as we were now in a race against the clock. Unfortunately he did not latch on in time. However, I now wonder if we’d just left him as he was…he may have…it was so frustrating…but at the same time I know i’m not an expert…and I felt really out of my depth. Thankfully Jess is determined to breastfeed and from what I observed, the staff seem keen to make it happen…it’s just their protocol. I’d be interested in researching this myself to see if the way they handled things was the best thing….

It’s all been such a learning experience for me. I now understand why it’s so important to have women supporting women in labour. I think some men are amazing with their partners…and they certainly should be there if they want to be there…but I know from my own experience when I had my friend Emma with me while I was in labour with Judah…I found her presence extremely comforting…and wish she had stayed the whole time…as great as Jon was…there is just something about being with another woman who knows how you are feeling and who is determined to walk with you in it. Maybe the sound of it does not appeal to everyone…but traditionally birth was women supporting other women…

It’s an intense experience though, and exhausting. I got home around 10:00 at night and I could not fall asleep for hours. Then I woke at four to comfort Judah and again found it hard to get back to sleep. Sure I did not physically go through the labour but I do feel totally drained! It was an absolute privilege to be there though….and I want to do it again!!! Ha ha

Perhaps when the kids are a bit older and/or I have a better support system worked out! I think this experience helped me realize that I really can do this…given some more training and experience…I think I could!! I wasn’t sure before really. So we’ll see.

Well Done Jess and Congrats to her and Darren on their beautiful baby boy Jack xxxxxxx

Recently I was chatting to a mother at a local baby group. We were chatting about the subject of breastfeeding and what age to wean (as in, fully stop, not just start solids) and she said that although it was going well, and she could see herself happily carrying on for longer, in her head was her mother’s voice telling her that “women who breastfeed beyond a year are doing it for themselves alone, and are getting some sort of self indulgent pleasure from continuing” This isn’t the first time I’ve heard such sentiments expressed. Once when describing to a local nurse the various mothers and ages of children involved in our breastfeeding group,after hearing one of the ages of a child nursing she exclaimed “oh well, that is definitely just the mother doing it for herself in that case! it must be!!” Interesting. I wonder if women who makes such arbitrary judgement calls have ever experienced nursing a child over a year. I have also heard the “there are no real benefits after a year anyway” statement thrown around as well, which implies what? Carrying on breastfeeding beyond a year is pointless? harmful? silly? a waste of time?

Let’s look at this. Are there any “real” benefits to nursing a child over a year?

A mother’s body does an incredible job growing the life that is inside her, from tiny cells into a baby with a beating heart and breathing lungs and a brain. A miracle.  Then the mother’s body gives birth…an amazing accomplishment. After that the mother’s body continues to sustain the life it’s grown for the last nine months through feeding it. Physicians agree that the main source of food for the first year of the babies life should be breast milk. Although somewhere around the middle of the first year babies can start to experiment with tasting, touching, and playing with solid foods, breast milk should remain the babies primary food. So then what? At one year this flow of life from the mother’s body is abruptly cut off….because….it’s been a year, the baby is walking, talking, or some other indication that it’s “too old” for it’s mother’s milk…I think people are more freaked out about it simply because breasts are involved, and they may possibly be saying babies are “too old” to be in such close intimate contact with the mother’s breasts at this point.

Anthropologist Katherine Dettwyler has done research into the weaning ages of primates and mammals to determine a “natural weaning age for humans. Details of her study can be found here, but to sum it up, she determined a normal natural weaning age to be any time between three and seven years! Now before anyone starts freaking out at me, it certainty does mean people have to nurse this long, but for those who do find themselves feeding children beyond a year, it can be reassuring to know that this is physically natural for us as humans.

So what are the benefits of this normal natural behaviour? Have a look here.

So there may be just some benefit to continuing for the child.

And yes, there may just be some benefits to the mother….like these.

Why is it then that mothers who continue to nurse beyond a year are called selfish, self indulgent, eccentric, strange, weird? Why is it that if they do choose to carry on, it becomes a large defining factor of who they are. “Oh yes, that mother..the one STILL breastfeeding”

As someone who has found herself in the sustained nursing camp, I have not experienced any out and out criticism. No one ever says anything to my face….but I am sure they have thought these things about me. It shouldn’t matter, and it doesn’t. I am not saying all this to be defensive or to make a case for sustained breastfeeding. I just want to set the record straight for anyone who actually believes there is “no real benefit” and that the mother is doing it “for herself” and that it is a sick and self indulgent thing to do. Or worse, that she is spoiling her child and being an overly indulgent parent. Also, to encourage any mother out there who is feeling it’s time to stop, simply because they feel everyone else expects them too…that if they feel happy to carry on, there are a lot of good solid reasons to.

Another thing. I don’t think many of the mothers who find themselves nursing older children ever planned to. I think it’s something that simply happens. A lot of us started out taking it one day at a time…and this is where it’s lead us. So if you’re reading this and you have a new baby in arms and can not contemplate the thought of feeding beyond three weeks, let alone three years..don’t worry. Just take it one day at a time!

It arrived in the post today. A fresh copy of the newly revised “Womanly Art of Breastfeeding”.  As I stared at the front cover….I felt this excitement well up in me. It’s like I have this giddy zeal inside me that makes me want to share it with the first pregnant mother I see. Yet, with that excitement and zeal, I feel this sense of…sadness really.

When I first decided I wanted to help other mothers breastfeed, I was so excited. I remember running around the hills of Mt. Pleasant, my daily workout while living in South Africa…and my mind always drifted back to the antenatal class the NHS provided on breastfeeding, and the mothers to be who sat in a circle less than enthusiastically. It felt a bit like school really. It was not inspiring, and in no way was it empowering. The midwife did her best but the general response in the group was a resigned “well..i’ll give it a go…but if it doesn’t work out…it’s fine” Breastfeeding was presented and understood as some sort of lofty ideal, that some magically seemed to be able to do, but that the majority struggled with, and that many simply “couldn’t do”. This is not what was said in words but it was how it felt really. So as I did my daily run, my mind would swirl with ideas….what would have made that session more productive? What would have really inspired those mothers? what would have empowered them? What would have opened their eyes to consider this issue as something really worth doing?  I had all sorts of ideas.

I came back to the UK and hit the ground running. I joined the world’s leading and most longstanding breastfeeding support group, and threw myself into digesting information and learning as much as I could about the subject so that if anyone needed help or advice, I would know what i was talking about and actually be able to help them.

But the further I have gotten into it, the more mixed feelings I have. It is simply not straightforward. It is not just enough to enthusiastically encourage someone, provide them with information, support, and whatever they would need. It sort of feels like I am up against a great big wall. I want to help people, but I worry about being pushy, about being judgemental, about being pressurising. I suppose I naively think most woman  want to be helped. I was not prepared to hear while helping out at a breastfeeding cafe “If i had to do it over again, I wouldn’t do it” or for this general feeling that the breastfeeding experience is a hard slog that we have to get through  and when we’ve “done our bit”  we can breathe a huge sigh of relief and get on with our lives. I also did not expect to hear such inaccurate information at times with regards to the subject, often given by health professionals.  I knew that I fell somewhere on the attachment parenting spectrum when it came to my parenting but I didn’t expect to get labelled as “extreme”. As much as the issue was important to me, I didn’t realize how quickly it would define me as a person in other people’s eyes.

It sort of dawned on me recently…that a lot of women, simply do not want to be helped. They know in their own minds what they want to do, and they simply do it and get on with it. If they have a question…they’ll ask their health visitor…so just stay away..you’re being pressurizing, interfering…extreme…even if all you have done is say “how are you getting on with it?”  Even quietly modelling it around other mothers can be interpreted wrong….

It’s been a hard lesson, but it’s made me take a step back and realize that all I can do is simply be there for those who want help. It’s hard. It’s always hard when you hear misinformation being given or certain perceptions expressed on the subject.  Yet,  we do live in the Western world…and this is just how it is here. It almost makes me want to give up on the whole thing and just forget that it was even an issue that was important to me. “it’s not worth it” I tell myself…surely there are other things that are more important in life…..other causes I should get stuck in to.

But when I opened my parcel and pulled out the crisp new edition….and saw that beautiful picture on the front, tears welled up in my eyes. My heart tells me, it IS important…it IS what I should be doing….it does actually matter.

So after three and a half years of nursing in public without incident….I experienced what far too many women have experienced in the western world. The “confrontation”

The sad thing was..it happened in a place where I would have least expected it.  It happened at my parents church. It was just at the start of the service here in the States. (this is after three and a half years of active church involvement in the UK and South Africa..so my experience up to this point has been nothing but positive)  

I was in the back corner,  nursing my 7 month old little boy when one of the elder’s wives came up to me and said “do you have a shawl or something you can put on?” I said “no I don’t actually” I couldn’t believe this was happening. I will spare you the blow by blow of the conversation but I was basicaly asked to “consider the rest of the people there over my own right to nurse in public” When I pointed out that I was not even showing anything she said something along the lines of “yes…but,just the fact that you’re doing it” whaaaaaaaaat? Again. shock. My only response was to say “that is just really really sad that people here feel that way”

I walked to one of the sunday school rooms, feeling a bit shocked and shakey…I couldn’t believe it. When I sat down to finnish feeding Judah I just started to cry. I really don’t know why it affected me so much…but it did. About ten minutes later this woman came and found me and was wanting to talk to me and make sure there wasn’t anything “funny between us” I actually felt sorry for her. She really did not have a clue who she was talking to. She knew my parents but she didn’t know anything about me.

In our exchange, I was confronted with the two big buzz phrases that some Christians use on this issue.

1. Modesty and causing a brother to stumble (romans 14:29)

2. Causing offense and how we’re not supposed to do that.

I managed to communicate some points to her and ask some questions.

The first being, if people have an issue with breastfeeding, even if it’s not showing anything, why would a shawl help? She then told me that many of the women in the church have issues with other women breastfeeding in the main meeting, full stop. That their husbands are uncomfortable with it. I asked why? are they worried their husbands are looking at other women’s breasts? no no, nothing like that…they just feel strongly about modesty.

Ahah. There you have it. Modesty. I am not going to even go there right now and explain how I feel about that particlar issue…and how that word is used…but I did ask her this.

What is modesty? Is it being covered head to toe?? No of course not..that’s extreme right??? Well…where do you draw the line then? Do you let culture define it? Fasion trends? literal passages from scripture? (braids are not allowed then)

It seems as though Jesus spent a lot of time talking about the heart. He was very condeming of those who trusted in simply following the letter of the law, and seemed a lot more concerned about what was going on in someone’s heart. So when it comes to modesty. I believe it is more about an attitude you have in your heart, not always about what people see on the outside.

For example, if you see a woman sitting in a coffee shop, feeding her baby…and the baby suddenly pulls of the breast and decides to look around, and you get a flash of the woman’s breast. Is she being immodest? No, she’s probaby mortified and does what she can to cover herself up before anyone else gets an eyefull of a breast that she is most likely self concious of and not particularily proud of. Is she more modest if she’s not attractive and her breast isn’t exactly appealing? Is she less modest if she happens to be beautiful as well? How do we measure modesty? On how beautiful and appealing someone happens to be?

If we are talking about immodesty, as regards to dress, to me, the term would refer to someoe who trusts in their body, and uses it to get something they want….compliments, attention, love, sex, admiration, power, whatever that happens to be, but for crying out loud, NOT to a mother showing a bit of skin while she feeds her child.

It makes me wonder if people simply have a huge issue with a child sucking on a breast…if the act itself is what is unappealing and makes them cringe. I wonder if certain christians are using the ”modesty” excuse for the fact that the idea of a child nursing is in itself off putting.  If that is the case, then people need to really search their hearts and ask themselves what in them makes  natural function like feeding a child so uncomfortable to them. If they can not get over the oversexualization of the breasts to accept their first and primary function, or if they struggle with lust, and the mere sight of a breast sends them into a tizzy, then to me, the problem is with THEM, not the mother nursing.

They have options. They can look away. They can simply not come. Do these same people not go to the supermarket during the summer when skimpy clothes are everywhere and breastfeeding women are protected by the law? I suppose then they could pull up the ”but this is a church” argument. To which I say…the church is not a place or a building, it is the body of Christ gathered together, and it is meant to be a safe haven for all to come no matter what.  When Jesus was on earth, he hung out with the poor, and the down and outs, and those with bad reputations….he managed to hang around prosititues and never sin…and we know he reached out to them and they felt nothing but love from Him. He went for their hearts…and he won them. But that’s nothing to do with breastfeeding in public really. I get the impression that breastfeeding was a non issue back then….as it should be now. The Bible mentions it in the most normal terms possible. It’s simply what mothers did for their children, not only nourishing them physically, but creating a bond that is compared to the love that God has for us.

God designed our bodies to feed our children..and it must make Him really sad to see a culture that has allowed such a normal everyday invaluable tool in mothering, undervalued. So people may get defensive here and say “well it’s very much valued, but we shouldn’t have to look at it” or “it’s inappropriate to do in public” Sorry. It doesn’t wash. When a mother is told she needs to cover up she usually feels mortified, embarassed, ashamed, and like SHE has done something wrong. That’s not a way to value something.

If more teenagers and boys in particular were exposed to mothers nursing in public, it would become less of a taboo, and perhaps men and boys would start to recognize the primary function of the breasts, and perhaps girls would be more motivated to succeed at breastfeeding when their turn comes around. I’m so glad that if anything, my children will grow up knowing and experiencing first had the reason for breasts.

Not everyone who breastfeeds always does it discreatly 100% of the time. I admit there are times I have thrown some clothes without thinking on that are not totally condusive to feeding and suddenly found myself needing to nurse my baby. I’ll admit the previous Sunday this happened I was in a sun dress which isn’t the easiest to feed in…maybe not the best choice..but I think we mothers need a bit of grace and don’t need to be jumped on the moment we show too much skin. We’re not trying to make anyone stumble. We’re mothering our children. It’s sad that people immediately get a bit wierded out by seeing breasts used for their primary purpose. Why should we have to be bannished to another room and miss out on the service because our children need us?

If men are struggling with lust, we can help them out by not parading half naked in front of them, but….they need to train their eyes. In this day and age they simply will not escape skin exposed to them. If the bit of skin they see when a mother feeds their child is really causing their minds to spin out of control…then they should look away, and also seriously consider never going out in public again, especially in the summertime.  If the fact that a child is breastfeeding makes a man uncomfortable…even if it’s covered up…that’s pretty sick and sad and he should pray and ask God to heal his warped mindset on the matter.

It’s like in China..when they used to bind women’s feet….feet back then were the big turn on…the value of feet for sexual attraction was valued more than the ability for women to be able to walk, and many times women could barely walk as a result. So what would this church have done in ancient China? not let women walk in front of men? So now breasts serve a double purpose….and the culture’s value of them for sexual purposes seems to have trumped their primary purpose and made mothers who are using them in that way feel uncomfortable unless they are hidden away out of sight. In China the women were cripped by their practices…..and I wonder how much our society today has suffered because of our culture’s oversexualization of the breasts.

I realize I’ve touched on the larger issue of breastfeeding in public…but my main purpose was to address the issue with certain fellow Christians who seem to be using verses about not offending, not causing people to stumble, and modesty…..in a way that in the long run, does nothing to empower mothers, and normalize the normal way to feed children. It simply reinforces the warped mentality of the western world….and validates it.

When you start making rules in a church about breastfeeding, you’re heading down a legalistic path…and not winning any hearts. Sure you may have the odd mother (like me) who shows a bit too much skin one sunday because breastfeeding is now such a normal part of her life, she sometimes puts on a dress without thinking that was not made with lactating mothers in mind. But most of the time…we’re pretty good about it…because honestly…the last thing we want anyone to see is our post pregnancy tummy….so the odd indiscreat nursing episode is in no way justified as a reason to make women who are feeding their children feel ashamed, embarassed, and like they are doing something wrong…or causing someone else to sin. As far as causing offence…I just don’t think this issue is one that any sane person has a legitimate reason to be offended about.

Today I was one of “those mothers”

I got halfway to church before it dawned on me all Iona had had to eat for breakfast was a flapjack left over from yesterday’s baking.

I did not have the will to fight about what she wore, so while I myself was showered and dressed in clean clothes, she was misshapen, dressed in a wrinkly lilac dress, with a sparkly red cardigan over the top…oh, and a dirty face she hadn’t let me finnish wiping.  Her choice. But I realized it looked as though all I cared about that morning before I left the house was myself.

I was the mother with the child running wildly around the coffee shop, while I held my place in the heaving queue, sounding somewhere in between desperate and resigned as I attempted to keep her under control.

I was the mother with the pram…trying to find a place to sit, blocking people.

I was the mother that didn’t seem to show much sympathy for her child when she fell on the pavement…you would have thought the child had done something wrong with the irritation that spilled over.

I was the mother who had no real plan for the day….who randomly decided to drive 30 minutes out of town….using precious petrol….because she needed a Starbucks….she needed that familiar international setting….she needed to sit there and smell the familiar smell..and remember happy times….knowing it looked like a superficial extravagance……a luxury she surely couldn’t afford….surely her priorities should be elsewhere…..but she did it anyway…dragging her two bemused and unaware children along with her.

I was the mother who let her child eat sweets and cake at a birthday party, and did not insist she have anything proper to eat before crashing into bed.

I was the mother who was honestly not bothered who saw her uncovered in public today or who was offended while her 5 month old baby did the on/off thing while feeding.

I was the mother who was not quick to notice her daughter playing by the door….where her little foot got trapped for a moment…and did not run to her fast enough.

I was that mother today….the one we often come across…the one we judge…the one we look down on….the one who’s actions cause us to question her priorities…..and label her….as one of “those”.

There is a storm in our lives at the moment. It will pass….but for now…I am experiencing what it feels like to be that mother…the one doing her best to mother while a tornado whirls around…watching things get dropped, broken, and lost. Not quite holding everything together….but standing as strong as she can….and weathering it..praying that too much damage isn’t done.  Hopefully coming out the other end stronger…

I am beyond confident my own storm will pass….and much good will come of it…while i know others live in a constant storm..that they are not sure will ever end.

My daughter is growing every day.

She talks so much. She says words like “actually” and when I look at her face I can actually see her little mind thinking….

It seems like has so much of a sense of the world. Who her friends are, which ones are boys and which ones are girls….

Every morning she asks “where are we going today? and then where are we going after that???”

On the way home she cries “i want to go to another place”

She never wants to stop…but she will often say “i’m tired now”  She seems to be so self aware.

She runs around and screams at the top of her voice…but also sits and plays quietly with fuzzy felts and jigsaw puzzles.

She has pushed boundaries, She’s tested limits….she’s had her moments.

She says “no I don’t want to” “stop don’t do that mommy!” and “I want it!!!” and throws herself in a heap if she doesn’t get to do what she wants.

Nightime comes…and I tell myself, “she should really just be able to go to sleep now on her own…she really should” I toy with starting a sticker chart…I have bought some story cd’s and lullabies for her to listen to….yet each night I usually end up just laying beside her….nursing her down..just like I did when she was a tiny baby. So much has changed in her short life already…but bedtime looks much like it always has done. There are variations..there are the nights when she’s had her fill, but hasn’t fallen asleep and she wants me to sit there and hold her hand for what feels like an eternity. There are nights i get frustrated…where I get harsh, where I tell her she just needs to go to bed and stay there!!! Sometimes I sit on the other end of the room….caught between leaving and causing a huge upset, and “giving in” by drawing close to her. I sit there…and she lays on her bed… restless…unsettled…until finally, I go over there…lay down, put my arm around her…and then…five minutes later…she’s fast asleep…the battle is over…and I’m nearly asleep myself. As I look at her angelic face…i wonder why I was stressing so much..these days are numbered.

It’s ten to ten…pm. I’ve just sat down with a decaf cappuccino (a nasty packet one which i know probably has bad things in it) some baby biscuits made with spelt and chamomile (no no i’m not weaning yet…they are for me and Iona!!) huge big sigh. It’s been one of those days. Only just got the baby down to sleep and I should probably go sleep myself but I need to unwind.

So the events of the day were a little crazy. I took Iona to school. I’m feeling a bit unsure at the moment about that one. She’s suddenly moved up out of the playroom into the proper nursery school area and although she loves it I’m suddenly all worried for her and nervous about it. I don’t want her to grow up too fast! Like she has her own Peg to hand her coat on!! Yikes! I then sorted out a place to cook the food for the Alpha course next week….at the church. The only way I am physically going to be able to cook for 30 people is to get everyone together to help me and help watch the kids and then bung it in the freezer until the day of.

Later in the morning I found myself in a bit of a crisis situation. As many of you know it’s my heart’s desire to help women who want to breastfeed. I am new in my journey and by no means a professional, and in some ways I feel very out of my depth as my personal experiences have been pretty straightforward. At the moment I find I am paranoid about people thinking I’m “pressuring” them. There seems to be a very fine line between helping someone and empowering them, and then other people seeing you as a pushy lactation officer. I’m frustrated at the lack of information there seems to be from midwives and health visitors in the early days of a woman’s experience. I am involved with a worldwide highly respected organization that takes great care  in being on the cutting edge of breastfeeding support and research yet, I at times it seems the advice I hear being being given and the things I have learned are contrary to each other.

So I tentatively tried to help my friend. I did not try and pass myself off as any expert or authority. I just tried to listen and encourage in a way that would be empowering. It can be very scary having breastfeeding problems in the early days. You doubt yourself, you fear for your baby, you think you should be able to do it and face feelings of failure when it just doesn’t seem to be coming together. What does a woman need to hear in this situation?  Perhaps different women need to hear different things. I don’t know. Perhaps more than anything the woman simply needs to be listened to and for her feelings and emotions to be affirmed. She needs the person to really know how she’s feeling. I think it’s only when we can really hear the mother’s heart, that we can assess how to help in a way that will empower her in whatever decision she makes.

It’s tough. It really is. I want to see women empowered…but at the same time how do you help someone feel empowered when all they’ve experienced up to this point is struggle and failure?  Me saying “you really can do this….” can perhaps be heard as “there is no reason why this should be hard for you” How do you help someone see beyond what is right in front of them? How can you encourage someone to see beyond their circumstances when they are full of fear and anxiety?

I’m sure I’ll come back to this subject over the next year as I consider my own role in helping my friends and fellow women….this is only the beginning of my thoughts on it…and I welcome everyone’s input.

For those of you who missed it on Facebook, I thought I’d put this on here!!

I wasn’t really that overdue. Calculating “dates” based on my own cycle, I was due the 25th of October. However the alimighty all knowing scan, said the 17th of October. So as the week of the his birth dawned, I started to worry a bit about the argument I would have to make with the “professionals” about how late I actually was. I did not want any interventions, and I was prepared to stand my ground, but at the same time, I didn’t fancy the hassle.
I will be eternally greatfull that I did not go into labour the previous week, as I came down with the flu and was not at all in any way fit to birth a baby. It was the scariest feeling to be laying in bed feeling completely ill, but with the prospect of contractions starting looming overhead.
I really have not been all that prepared for this birth. I bought the book “hypnobirthing”, and only read a few chapters. I was also lent some hypnobirthing cd’s that I downloaded onto the PC but never got around to downloading on my husband’s ipod so I could “practice” with them. Someone lent me a birthing pool and up until a few days ago I was unsure if I would actually use it.
Iona spent most of Monday feeling very ill and under the weather. I only managed to get out in the afternoon for a bit with her and it was then I finally picked up a hose and a mixer tap adaptor in case I wanted to use the pool.
So Tuesday arrived and my husband says to me “yeah…I think it’s time, do what you need to do to get things going” and I was like “what??? you think it’s up to me??!” However I did decide to do some walking. Last pregnancy I’d been walking all over the place all the time. This time, I have been a bit more lazy, so I put Iona in the pram and we walked into Sandbach, and then back again. I also rubbed some clarey sage oil on my tummy, but I’m not really sure if that works or not.
Anyway, the day progressed as normal and I made dinner and put Iona to bed, not suspecting anything was really up. About an hour and a half after Iona fell asleep, I heard her wake up. This is quite unusual for her but since she’s been unwell I wasn’t all that suprised. I ended up having to nurse her back down and it was then i started to feel a few contractions. She struggled to fall back asleep and seemed to be very restless and distressed. Jon took over for me and I told him I had felt a few twinges.
He was convinced from that point on that this was it, but I wasn’t. We decided to start timing them and they were over 10 minutes apart so again, I was convinced it was just practice labour and not the real thing. However, they were painfull so I decided to put the TENS machine on…just in case. I went on facebook, as you do….and my friend Emma offered to come over. Jon, who was quite convinced things were happening said “yes, have her come so I can take Iona to my parents house” He also had me ring the hosptial to forewarn them that I would most likely need someone. At his point I was still not convinced. Once Emma showed up, my contractions had started coming a lot more frequent. She insisted i ring the labour ward again and get them to send someone so I did and was told someone from the homebirth team would ring me. Jon started to fill the pool, and then slipped off to drop Iona off. The midwife rang me while I was having a contraction and did her best to assess me over the phone. It turns out she wasn’t even on duty but the other home birth midwife was with someone. She said she would come see me but that she was “not at her best” as she had been up the whole night before and working all day and would be ringing for back up. So Emma said to me “well then you’re going to have to have this baby when she gets here!!”
Emma was a star and helped me through my contractions which were suddenly coming between 1-2 minutes apart. Jon returned and just before the midwife arrived, the TENS machine ran out of batteries. Thankfully the pool was nearly filled. When the midwife arrived she examined me and I was 9 centimeteres, so I jumped in the pool, and immediately felt relief, but at the same time, a lot of pain! It was all happening so fast and I started to doubt myself. I was trying to relax and breath through the contractions like i’d heard and read about but I just felt overwhelmed. I was only about 25 minutes in the pool. In the end I was on my hands and knees when I felt the head come, and the midwife said to me “just reach down now and on the next push bring the baby up” Sure enough, on the next push, out the baby came and I reached down with my hands and brought him to the surface of the water. That was a lovely feeling and was exactly why i wanted a water birth. He was so calm. After an initial cry, he just nuzzled right into me and it was the most lovely sensation. He still had a lot of vermix on him, which shows those scan worshipers that he was not “late”. I had wanted to give birth in the water, but had not realized how much the water would contribute to the pain relief as well. It all happened so fast, the water was the only thing that helped me to relax in between contractions in any way shape or form.
The Placenta came naturally a few minutes later, which suprised me as last time I waited like 40 minutes for it to come. Then I was just completely struck with afterpains. I never knew they could be so painfull. I really did not feel well afterwards which was a bit of a dissapointment. After just sitting and recovering for half an hour, I latched him on and he fed beautifully. The midwives had to stay and do tons of paperwork, (another one arrived just after the birth) and then we all got into bed and snuggled down for what was left of the night.
All in all, it took about 3 and a half hours!

I’m still unsure how I feel about such a “fast” labour and delivery. In some ways it was almost too fast because I didn’t have time to get my head around things. It was all just hitting me so fast. I think If I had been a bit more together I would have insisted on Emma staying with me throughout the delivery as I found her presense very calming. She didn’t know what i wanted though and as it was not planned that she would be there, she self conciously just hid out in the kitchen! It’s funny how when you are in labour, you can be thinking something in your head, but be unable to verbalize it.

Recently I watch a program called “one born every minute” and the idea is to showcase a wide variety of births…and just seeing women in a hosptial setting stressing out made me so thankfull I was able to experience the birth I did. I realize how rare it actually is in our western world.

Yesterday was one of those great community days. Even though I live in the far reaches of Sandbach, I have friends that make the treck out here to visit me. It’s great as Iona loves having people over and someone to share all her dressing up clothes (thanks to her cousin in america) with.

I am learning that I can not tell Iona about things too far in advance or else she will expect them to happen instantly. When I told her that her friend Poppy was arriving first thing in the morning, she spent most of the morning sat by the window calling out “Poppy!!! Poppy!!!” explaining to me that if she called her, she would come. However nothing matched her excitment when Poppy did actually arrive. She couldn’t contain her excitement and squeeled and danced around. I love it. I love how she isn’t afraid to be unashamedly full of excitement. 

Another friend and her son joined us and the rest of the day was full of good conversation, squeeling toddlers, homeade quiche, french bread, yummy soup, and cups of tea.  It was one of those days you describe to your husband and he says “nice…..i had to work all day” But….it’s not that we were not working too…dishes were washed, kitchen cleaned, tables wiped down, noses wipes, conflicts dealt with, stories read, toddlers and babies nursed, however…as women…when we get together, and do it all together, it lightens the load and brings the full potential out of a situation.

Yesterday allowed me to get out on my own with Judah and get him weighed. I was simply curious to where he was up to and taking him and Iona would have been an ordeal, but just being able to nip in with him and nip out again was great. When I got back, my friends had done all the dishes and tidied my kitchen up!
I need more days like this as a mother. Sure it’s great to have quiet days at home…..but I think I prefere mothering within a community much more rewarding, not to mention easier! Staying at home and mothering does not need to be some sort of dark sentence to hard labour…we are allowed to share the burden and help each other out. I think sometimes that this is one of the best kept secrets of being a happy stay at home parent…the fact that we were never meant to cope day after day all on our own….we were meant to do with with other people alongside us.

Sometimes it’s something as simple as having somewhere to go for a cup of tea when the afternoon has just gotten a bit too long…other times it’s enjoying whole days together sharing meals and housework.

It’s not easy in some ways. It means we have to be vulnerable…allowing people to see the inside of our fridge, the dust on our shelves, and that random messy room where we stash our rubbish. Most of the time we are left with a colossol mess in our children’s bedrooms!! I think it’s worth it though. We have to transfer the mindside of being hostess with the mostess to simply a friend sharing our home.

I hope to grow in these kinds of relationships. I hope these kinds of day happen more often. I hope others can experience these days as well. It helps us to really enjoy our children at this stage and not just count down the days until they are in school full time.