Feeding The Baby

Now that I'm doing this writing thing a little more consistently, I wrote a small essay for Drunken Bee's Feeding the Baby tumblr project. Sarah B. Was nice enough to post it on the site. I thought that I'd add it here in complete form:

’ve been thinking about how to write this a thousand different ways a thousand different times. I think everybody who expressed their opinion about breastfeeding has reiterated my point about a thousand times, which is that breastfeeding, or not breastfeeding is an individual act, and it shouldn’t be viewed as a statement on feminism or motherhood or even as who we are as mothers. The act of breastfeeding is like a snowflake, no two experiences are ever going to be the same.

Which is why I find the act of judging someone or our own self-judgment on breastfeeding so upsetting. The story I’m about to tell isn’t completely about breastfeeding but about parenting on the whole. I currently have a three month old and the whole act of breastfeeding and parenting while still not completely painless, is not even as closely fraught with the anxiety, pain, frustration, and fear I felt with my son.

I don’t know where to begin when talking about my son, except to say that he is no longer with us. We lost him ten days before his second birthday a year and a half ago. I judged myself and felt judged by every freaking body on every decision I made and we made as a family up to and definitely including the decision to let him go. Nothing about his life and my life as his parent was quote unquote normal. And every decision felt laden with doubt, and the fact that he and his medical troubles seemed to dog us at every turn didn’t help.

And the fact that there were people in the medical profession who should know better JUDGING us didn’t help. I once had to almost literally restrain my husband from crawling over a conference table and smacking a Neurologist (who should've known better) from judging us about decisions we were making. Nobody, and I do mean NOBODY, should tell a parent, especially a parent of a special needs child that they know more about that child’s care than that parent! Because we are living in the trenches not that doctor, or nurse, or lactation consultant, or any other health care professional for crying out loud! If it is working for you, good. If it isn’t working for you, change what you’re doing tell you find what something that does and for God sake’s don’t beat yourself up about it or let any FREAKING body do the same. Because they don’t know what you’re going through, they haven’t walked a mile in your shoes and they don’t know the decisions you’re making on a daily basis until they have to make them for themselves, period, end stop.

Also, if you find that you are beating yourself up about breastfeeding or your parenting skills in general, take a deep breath and remind yourselves, that the decisions you are making could be worse, with much bigger ramifications.

 Every time I write about my son in any form, it always bubbles up a lot of emotions and memories, necessary but bittersweet. I'm glad I got to share this with the tumblr crowd.

Ukiah's Birthday

It feels like a dream, his birth. And yet I can remember everything in exacting detail. I won't bore you with those details but that was all to say its still very fresh, and at the same time very distant. Three years ago yesterday, we brought an incredible spirit into the world. A year ago on April 5th, we lost that incredible spirit.

We're still trying to sift through what those dates mean to us and how we're supposed to get through those days. On April 5th, we went to George Mark House, walked the gardens, had a few good cries, took solace at their fountains, found the rock with his name on it at one of those fountains, said hellos, hugged necks, went to our favorite pizza place and came home. Doesn't sound like allot but believe you me it was exhausting.

Yesterday, we didn't want to wallow, we wanted to celebrate. So we went to San Francisco. We went to a museum, had lunch, bought cream puffs at the most amazing place in the city (Dear Pacific Puffs on Union, do you deliver, because there is one pregnant lady in Livermore who wishes you did).

We celebrated his life and by extension our own. It was nice, not to fraught with tears.

I did have one moment though. On the way out of the museum, we saw a lady with a little girl in special wheel chair. I could tell just be looking that the little girl was obviously special needs. If I had to guess, I'd say she had cerebral palsy. I was at once hit with two conflicting emotions. One was elation. I love when parents of special needs kids take them out and give them experiences as if they were any other kid. It makes me happy, as if those parents and those kids are going on as if whatever diagnosis isn't a hinderence but something they can overcome.

At the same time, I was hit with fact that I wished that could've been Ukiah. I would've given the world to load him up a car and go to a museum, hit the beach, take in a movie with him. He deserved all the experiences of the world, and because of his health issues, he got to have very few. That's one of the many heartbreaks I've had to face unfortunately, one that I'm not likely to get over, at least not any time soon.

There is a bright spot to yesterday. My giving page raised over 800 dollars in a day. Its current total is at 2,319! The lovely and wonderful people through Tomato Nation's fundraiser did that. Which is totally awesome. Thank you all for making my day a little brighter, and for celebrating my son's legacy. I appreciate it.