My audacious nursling

Welcome to the July 2010 Carnival of Nursing in Public


This post was written for inclusion in the Carnival of Nursing in Public hosted by Dionna and Paige at NursingFreedom.org. All week, July 5-9, we will be featuring articles and posts about nursing in public ("NIP"). See the bottom of this post for more information.


***It was in my third trimester that I fell in love with my daughter. Her tiny self nestled inside my womb, she would roil and tumble, acrobatics in the safest place we can ever be. I began feeling connected to her, the realization that she would soon be my girl as I sat in an English class in sweltering summer heat at a rectangular table with my sweet (and radiantly beautiful) friend Jessy, who was sometimes there and sometimes not. I began finally talking to her, singing to her and dreaming of her. I would imagine her at two, at three, at ten. I imagined her smiles and her kisses, her little knees and her sweet curls, fluttering eyelids and precious baby kisses. I read about breastfeeding and mama blogs about natural birth in beat up dog eared copies of Mothering while munching on fiber bars as the other students in my classes read the newest Cosmo articles and IM’d their girlfriends and sipped on latte’s. She would twist and turn and at times I had to leave the class simply because the tumbling was so funny to me that I couldn’t keep from laughing in the middle of our section on grizzly Vietnam poetry.

In my 37th week I made a switch from the University’s Women’s hospital to a midwifery practice five minute’s walk from our then apartment. They loaned me books and encouraged me to attend La Leche League meetings held in their tiny spare room. Meanwhile, my partner stared at me in awe and signed us up for cases of free formula samples and bought huge bottles of ready-made Enfamil for “just in case," and loaded our cabinets with plastic bottles, nipples, and sterilizing microwave bags to clean them all with.

When she was born he held her first. She gnawed on his shoulders searching for sustenance while I received stitches for tearing and cried that I wasn’t pregnant anymore. I was terrified of latching her on that first time and did it while no one else was in the room to hide what I anticipated to be inevitable failure. The midwives had mentioned that they would be there in a few minutes to help us nurse, and so I asked my partner to find me some food. When he left, I curled her against my chest and let her feed as she would. In the coming days, breastfeeding was hard.

We found out later that we had thrush and together we fought that nasty yeast and spun me through phases of depression. The second night of her life, my partner fed her a bottle of formula because when I started feeding her, blood gushed from her umbilical cord. It was old blood from it beginning to dry up, but he convinced me somehow that I must have hurt her while breastfeeding, that I was squishing her stomach, and gave her a bottle. After we realized she was fine, I contacted a La Leche League member who was in our area and she gave me the emotional support via emails that I needed to continue feeding on demand. I began to nurse at the University when she was two weeks old, for my last semester in college. I would feed her in the hallways between classes while young ladies streamed around me and young men gawked, and surely I was awkward still but in my mind those moments were full of elegance. I nursed in the car while he drummed his fingers impatiently at my anxiety about feeding her, because she had a bottle of expressed milk at home and if that wasn’t enough, he could always just give her formula.



I took her with me to a job fair one evening at the University and sat feeding her in a corner when I was approached by the organizer of the event. She told me “this was inappropriate and I needed to leave.” It happened again when I tried to feed her at the gym before heading to a class: “you’re not allowed to do that here.” Both of those times I simply left. It is hard to nurse a squirming baby who wants to know why a stranger is leaning over their mama and making angry faces, so I would leave, hungry babe in arms and try to find a place that wouldn’t disturb anyone, embarrassed. But then one day I finally realized how ridiculous that was. Restrooms are nothing if not filthy and loud, stairwells are terribly uncomfortable and sitting here in this comfortable chair where I was before I started nursing is actually pretty great!

I was literally shocked to learn that I had breastfeeding rights. In most states (my own included) it is legal to breastfeed when and wherever you are as long as you the mother have the legal right to occupy that space. And so I began feeding her wherever I needed to. I nursed her in Target and at the restaurant, at Starbucks and on benches at the park and eventually I found the blessed ERGObaby Carrier that allowed me to breastfeed while walking, while shopping at Old Navy, while traveling abroad on trains and planes and many, many times, sitting in the parked car in the middle of a trip somewhere. It made me feel more justified somehow, to not have to sit down to feed her, to be able to nurse AND pick out tomatoes or breastfeed and walk the dog. She will be two in August and we have nursed across many states and several countries, with obvious results: I have a healthy, thriving, happy, easily comforted, blissful toddler.

I support the rights of breastfeeding mamas because I know how hard it can be to be alone in a room of people who are horrified and offended at your audacity to feed a baby. I have come a long way since I started breastfeeding, but the best sights I’ve seen were not those moments I spent huddled on lidless toilets in uncomfortable and dirty restrooms trying to feed my girl before someone disturbed us with the roar of a toilet in the next stall over-but were the peaceful perfect moments I was able to relax and enjoy her beautiful face as she filled up with breast milk and fell asleep to mama smiling sweetly at her, knowing I had given her everything I possibly could.




Welcome to the Carnival of Nursing in Public


Please join us all week, July 5-9, as we celebrate and support breastfeeding mothers. And visit NursingFreedom.org any time to connect with other breastfeeding supporters, learn more about your legal right to nurse in public, and read (and contribute!) articles about breastfeeding and N.I.P.


Do you support breastfeeding in public? Grab this badge for your blog or website to show your support and encourage others to educate themselves about the benefits of breastfeeding and the rights of breastfeeding mothers and children.

<center> <a href="http://www.nursingfreedom.org/p/carnival-of-nursing-in-public.html" title="Carnival of Nursing in Public"><img src="http://www.babydustdiaries.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/06/inip1.png" alt="Art by Erika Hastings at http://mudspice.wordpress.com/" border="0"></a></center>

This post is just one of many being featured as part of the Carnival of Nursing in Public. Please visit our other writers each day of the Carnival. Click on the links below to see each day’s posts - new articles will be posted on the following days:

July 5 - Making Breastfeeding the Norm: Creating a Culture of Breastfeeding in a Hyper-Sexualized World

July 6 – Supporting Breastfeeding Mothers: the New, the Experienced, and the Mothers of More Than One Nursing Child

July 7 – Creating a Supportive Network: Your Stories and Celebrations of N.I.P.

July 8 – Breastfeeding: International and Religious Perspectives

July 9 – Your Legal Right to Nurse in Public, and How to Respond to Anyone Who Questions It

My birth story with little berry, part 2

This is the final part of my birth story with Little Berry. For the first installment, see here .
Around noon on August 4th, I was still laboring hard. My water had still not broken, but I was having strong contractions every three minutes that I could not talk through. I was using the shower for 10-20 minutes at a time and it really helped. At one point, I began to feel guilty about the water usage and came out of the shower. My midwife suggested I use the birthing tub, and filled it for me. It was bad timing.

Pappa Starbucks was at home (remember, it was just around the corner) to walk our dog. I was exhausted so she filled the tub for me and I got in, leaving me alone. I felt suddenly and intensely overwhelmed by how alone I was and I started feeling tense, upset, perhaps even scared. I felt hot and painful and angry and loathed the birthing tub, although I think if I had tried it again with Pappa Starbucks there to would have been able to relax and enjoy it. I got out and put my headphones back on, listening to the same song over and over. It was "Crazy" by Seal and I had been using it throughout the morning. Something about it helped me relax and I kept it on repeat. I bounced on the birthing ball, tried the birthing chair, and when Pappa Starbucks returned, I was exhausted and realized I needed sleep. I had thought there was no way I could sleep in labor but I did-for almost an hour I was in a heavy hard sleep that was lucid and also very deep. When I woke up, I felt like I was coming out of a trance and I began laboring hard again.
I know my midwife checked me and I was almost fully dilated. I tried the shower again and I remember standing under the sharp splattering of hot water, the sound of running water filling the room, when I entered the third stage of labor. I wanted to push, I needed to push, but I was in the shower alone and there was no one else there to keep me from falling. I had a vision of responding to the urge to push and then slipping and hitting my head, or of the baby falling down the drain, a bizarre frantic airless panic sank in. Looking back on moments like this I wish wish wish I had sought out a doula. I could have used someone throughout my labor to just "be" with me. I was alone a lot. My midwives were busy with another mamma to be who had arrived (they complained about her while I was pushing!) "only two centimeters dilated and already screaming."
I crawled out of the shower on my knees, found a towel, and went back to the pretty yellow room that was around the corner. I think if I had not been alone in the shower I would have probably given birth rather quickly standing up there, it felt natural, compulsive.

When I went from the rushing water to the quiet yellow room I also felt tense again and instead of still needing to push, I began walking. I spent about 15minutes walking, my contractions very strong and consistent. I was on my knees breathing in and out to Seal when my midwives started insisting I try different positions. They were tired I'm sure. It was about 3:00 in the afternoon and I had been there since about 8am. It occurred to me that this is going to happen soon and I'm almost there!
I know I was anxious. I felt very unsupported. I'm okay saying this now, I've worked through most of the feelings I have about her birth. Writing these things down for me is the last step in moving past the sorrow I have over what I expected versus what I experienced. Not all births with midwives and "natural birth centers" are peaceful or beautiful. Not all women who choose unmedicated births have support teams and I was one of those women.
My midwives were fairly aggressive during the last stage of labor and the 45minutes I spent pushing. They held my legs, they told me when to push, they moved the lip of my cervix back forcefully without asking if I wanted them to. They massaged me forcefully with olive oil and never once asked if I wanted them to. And I didn't have the energy, knowledge, stamina- to tell them they were hurting me. I wish I could have that hour back, I would do it differently, I believe firmly that these are all interventions, that left on my own I could have found a natural position (rather than flat on my back, really, the most unproductive position) and I would be sharing different words.

But I lay, and I pushed and I cried, and I yelled words about how "I DIDNT WANT TO BE PREGNANT ANYMORE!!!!" And after this feeling of immense anger and solitude passed,
I breathed in and pushed down down down through the end of the world and out into the spinning light of a yellow room I birthed my beautiful daughter whose cord was tucked in spirals around her neck, where Midwives clamped it and cut it even though her pappa had asked to do it himself, and lay her on my chest to learn how to breathe.
We went home that same evening around 9:00, 4 hours after she became my daughter, little berry was safe at home, in a small apartment on a pretty street that will always be a little special, it was where I began to feel like a mama.

My birth story with little berry, part 1

On August 3rd 2008, I was a week past my due date with my little berry. I was finishing up my Junior year at the University of North Carolina in Chapel Hill. At 30weeks, Pappa Starbucks and I toured the labor and delivery wing of the Womens Hospital there. As we walked through the doors, the staff member was telling us about ankle bracelets used to prevent babynappings, that would shut down the entire hospital wing if the infant cane within five feet if the doors with this device on. It is standard procedure. I was already having concerns about my desired birth being compromised, and felt very unsupported in my delivery wishes. Pappa Starbucks is very pro interventions (he says that doctors have been to medical school and therefore are better prepared to make decisions regarding our health care needs, from cesarean deliveries to vaccines) and while that is good and right for him, it isn't right for me.
My philosophy was that if a baby was left with their mother to be weighed, to room in, etc, at least in most cases, this would be unnecessary. I was also upset about the way birth was being presented. Instead of telling me about the support staff that would be available, the tour guide was pulling stirrups out and showing the women in my group the fold down panel of lights and medical equipment and television setups that were in the ceiling "just in case," and that "the OR was right around the corner in case they needed to do a c-section." I asked about waterbirthing, and they answered, candidly, that that was considered unsafe and I needed to consider the monitors.
At this point I told pappa starbucks I was ready to leave, and we went home.
I was hormonal and irrational and pretty mad because I thought I had no other choice; but I knew this was not the right place for me to give birth to my daughter.
We discussed our options (I wanted to have a home birth at this point) and as luck would have it, there was a birthing center within walking distance of our apartment at that time, the only one in North Carolina. I was so excited that it was that close.
I would like to say I was reading up on natural birthing and attending birthing classes, but I wasn't. I was busy with a work-study job, taking several summer courses, and crashing in the early evenings, exhausted and also a little depressed. Pappa Starbucks was also working and going to school, as well as nannying part-time. To say we were busy and trying to do too much is an understatement. I think this is partly why our relationship has been so strained since her birth.
Making the Switch:
We didn't get a first appointment at the birthing center until I was 37weeks along. But because I was healthy and didn't have diabetes or any other conditions, they took me on. Their policy is that all patients take a birthing class before delivery, something I think hosipitals don't often require, but in the end they actually waived this requirement for me since there was no way I could get into and finish a birthing class in time.
After I got into the birthing center I only had 3weeks until my due date. We saw the facilities, met the midwives, and I began to read a lot of their books on breastfeeding, which was my biggest concern. I was more fixated on being able to nurse than on my impending unmedicated childbirth! August 3rd rolled around and I was huge. I was hot, tired, beginning to feel aneimic, and a week "overdue." I was craving vegetarian summer rolls and peanut butter and peaches like no one's business- eating those three things almost constantly.
I felt ready to deliver and had been 50%effaced for days, dilated to a 2for a week. I was using EPO and feeling... ready. I had the "nursery" set up, a huge room devoted to our little babe, diapers all lined up, clothes sitting waiting to be worn. I would sit and fold and refold her things, excited, eager, I had her coming home outfit picked out and the camera batteries charged.
On August 3rd, I felt two big contractions somewhere around noon but then nothing after that. Pappa Starbucks and I took to the mall, walking and walking and walking, finally ending the evening with dinner of Vegetarian Summer Rolls, and at about ten o clock that night I knew I was about to go into labour. I wish I had taken that chance to sleep, but I was suddenly feeling bursting with things I needed to do. I stripped all the sheets off of our bed and replaced them with bright white ones (I get the biggest laugh out of this now) and removed all the bedding from Little Berry's crib, thinking it needed to be cleaned again. I scrubbed the stairs one by one because they just looked SO dirty all of a sudden!! and I woke up Pappa Starbucks to tell him I wanted him to install the carseat. I was scrubbing the refrigerator, folding towels. I was nesting.
We spent the rest of the night "resting," (not sleeping, unfortunately) though my contractions got very close together quickly. They were 5 minutes apart andstrong by 3am. We hung out, walked the dog, and at 5am we called the midwives and drove to Starbucks. I wanted to stay home but he was adamantly against this, and yet he had HAD to get his coffee fix, a true coffee lover. I was very nauseaus and just wanted to be MOVING. Walking. We went into Starbucks a few minutes after they opened (he has once worked at this starbucks and knew everyone) and while he got his free coffee I tried to eat a croissant. When Pappa Starbucks is nervous, he
makes lots of jokes, talks a lot. Getting coffee took forever. We left at about 6, even though I wanted nothing less than to get in the car again and would have been happy staying there for the rest of the day.
When we got to the birthing center, the midwives unlocked the doors and let us in. We were both excited but knew I would probably spend the rest of the day in labor.

I was in back labor, so the midwife wrapped a sheet around my tummy to help Little Berry turn. This caused the contractions to feel extremely intense and she did turn later but not until I was enjoying a hot, hot shower.
.....to be continued!