A Letter to Maia

This post was inspired by this site and a similar call on a message board to which I belong.

Dear Maia,

The day you were born was one of the greatest in my life so far. In you I saw so much from the time you opened you eyes to the time when you were bundled up and I held you so close. I always knew I wanted to breastfeed you, to give you the best I had to offer and to build a relationship like no other. This is what I believed at the time.

Three months and a struggle I didn't think would ever happen later, I know that it is not the contents of a breast that makes a mother but the contents of a heart.

In that first hour after you latched on, right after birth, I thought things would be easy. I was so sure of my body and of your ability I brushed off the kind labor nurse who wished us continued success with breastfeeding. I told her I was ready, I had read the books, been to the meetings. I knew what was going to happen next. You, Miss Maia, seemed like the "champ" I had read so many stories about. Your latch seemed good, no pain and you were there and happy attached to me still. Even after the lactation consultant visited, and helped me correct your latch and explained to me that I had to be careful with your placement because the way my nipples were shaped I was not worried. I knew my milk would come in full and voluminous and we'd both be happy.

We took you home (and I still can't believe they just let us walk on out with you!) and that's where the real struggle began. You had your days and nights confused. You would be such a sleepy baby during the day and during the night would just stay up and wail. We tried rocking, bouncing and swaddling. Nothing seemed to really calm you down. I fed and fed you but you always wanted more. We could sit and nurse for an hour and you would cry as soon as I took you off. You were losing weight...but that was to be expected. Your doctor didn't seem to be worried and I just knew everything would be all right in a day or two. I thought I felt milk coming in and was waiting for the feeling of engorgement that all new moms describe.

When you were a week old we couldn't get a wet diaper from you. You had lost so much weight the skin was loose on your little legs (so chubby and darling at birth) your dad and I knew something was really wrong. Guilt set in. I felt so strongly that something was wrong with me. My nipples are scarred and I knew that I had done something wrong and I could not feed my baby. I was devastated as I called the hospital lactation consultant and made an appointment with her that very day. It was there I learned that my milk had no come in and we needed to be feeding you fast. You were on the edge of severe dehydration. I cried as you took a bottle and gulped its contents down. I couldn't feed my baby. My body, the one that gave you life was now rebelling and causing you to suffer. I felt at that moment lower and worse than I had ever felt in my life. I had let you down.

It was there that day I learned a new phrase: Chasing the milk. That was what I set out to do.

The details are not important. I tried herbs, pumping, and drugs. Nothing worked and every new can of formula I purchased was another knife in my heart. This is not what I wanted. I envisioned a loving, carefree, breastfeeding lifestyle. I was going to take you everywhere...all you would need was a clean diaper and a breast and we'd be set. The bottle heavy, formula mixing, stress-inducing place I was in at this point was so far from my expectations. I was miserable. I kept you at the breast...you stayed there even after the bottle was introduced...but it was not the pleasurable experience of closeness I wanted but rather a task; a chore that had to be done. I dreaded feeding time even as you began to thrive.

You did thrive. You are a born eater. You gained an entire pound in the first week after we began to supplement you. There was nothing wrong with you and that was a blessing. It was simply mama who was broken.

Feeding was still a miserable time for me. I used to sit and cry over you as I fed you formula. My heart was broken. I couldn't talk about it without the tears beginning. I didn't want to take you out for fear of being judged a bad mama by strangers or friends as I prepared yet another bottle instead of putting you to the breast. It wasn't a good time and I am afraid that I missed out on some of the joy of your first months because I was angry and sad over the loss of our imagined breastfeeding relationship. Something had to change and it needed to be my attitude.

It was a dear friend of mine who put things into perspective for me, although it took me some time to be able to process and accept her words. She pointed out that while we had lost what I had dreamed about, it was up to me to take what we did have and make that special. Feeding, even bottle feeding, was still time to quietly connect, to let you know how much you were loved and to look in to your eyes and know that I was doing the best I could by you. I had the power to define my breastfeeding relationship with you.

I have set aside my guilt. We nurse the best we can. You are growing. You are happy and you smile up at me the same whether you're at the breast or at the bottle. I hold you close for both and remain connected to you. I am still sad that we don't have the relationship I dreamed about before you were YOU but I want you to know that you had a mommy who fought for you and did her best for you.

The last three months have been harder than I ever thought. I knew parenting would be a challenge, but this extra one pushed my to my limits. I didn't think I would ever be happy with how things worked out for our "breastfeeding relationship" but I am now. We have built our own special relationship. You are my darling daughter. You don't love me any less because I couldn't nurse you exclusively. In some ways, this struggle has made me realize how lucky we are. We have the luxury of finding alternative food sources; you don't have to suffer because of me. You will be able to grow and become a healthy child and adult even without the benefit of gallons of breast milk. We are blessed by options.

I am blessed by you, Maia.


always your loving...mama

Nothing Doing

Maia is asleep in my lap. She's too comfortable to move, and I love to let her sleep. But...laundry needs to be changed, groceries need to be bought and dishes need to be washed. Plus: I have to go to the bathroom and I HATE the show that's on the radio right now but the control is across the room.

Luckily the computer is right here.

My Leg...My Picture

just playing here...

Comic Con...or More Geeks than you can Shake a Stick At

Comic Con was more than I could have imagined. With 100,000 visitors over the space of four days...plus the "sneak preview" evening there is enough to see without the added bonus of the booths in the dealers rooms. Every day has a full schedule of drop in conferences ranging from how-to's of the comic world to meetings with artists, writers and directors. Television stations and movie studios rollout there new offerings to see how they fly with the masses and of course, the big comic companies are there in full force to show what's new and hip in the world of four color print.

In a word: Overwhelming.

Navigating this world alone would have been hard enough but add a small infant to the mix and one might have a recipe for disaster. I came into it knowing that I wasn't going to push Maia too far...knowing that would mean that I might miss out on some of the things I wanted to do. It did. I didn't hit all the panels I was interested in or meet all the cool people who were there (most disappointing was missing Henry Rollins, but oh well, the breakfast took a bit longer than anticipated). All in all, I did get to see what was most important to me and I did have a very cool brush with greatness.

Joss Whedon held my baby. Joss, because we're on a first name basis after all, is the creator of many a cult classic from "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" to the grossly underrated "Firefly". John and I are Firefly fans. We even make those who have not seen it watch it. Our DVD's have made the rounds. We might not be completely fanatical--like my sister Aribelle--but we dig it, you know? We were hanging out by the Browncoat (as card carrying members of the fan base like to be known) fan booth waiting to meet with said sister--who is so deeply involved I'm surprised she isn't tattooed--when word went out that Joss was circling the booth. Well. This was the day when Maia was wearing her Kaylee costume, from the Firefly show. Soon we spotted him. A group descended for pictures. I sat down to get a bottle ready. I waited for the crowd to disperse some. I grabbed the baby and made my move.

The conversation, as it were went something along the lines of me stating that I didn't normally accost people, but would he be so kind as to take a picture with my Kaylee baby?

Joss: Is she really a Kaylee?
Me: Her name is Maia, but she's wearing a Kaylee costume...

I thought we would pose together, but being a dad himself, he has no fears of babies so before I knew it I was handing her over to essentially a stranger for pictures she will only look at with slight embarrassment when she gets older. But, she is so cute!! I figure, these photos are really for us anyway at this point.

The best part was when Maia had her bout of baby gas as she was being held, and Joss-the-dad kicked in by mentioning that she was making a poo. Great conversation. He then decided that yes, she was the cutest thing ever and wanted to hang with her for the rest of the con...so he turned away and walked a few steps before smiling and handing her back. Very fun.

Joss with Maia

So that sums up Maia's first brush with the famous. Her other encounters that weekend were in rooms with dozens, if not hundreds of other people, but I'm glad I went and got to hear some of my favorite people speak. Ray Bradbury is still the funniest man on any panel and still sharp as a tack. His advise on writing? It should feel like sex. I can see that...I'd rather understand writing as sex than childbirth...but I think publishing is like childbirth. At least the writing is fun.

I would do Comic Con again...but next year I'm rooting for AirVenture in Oshkosh WI. John and I need to switch off big conventions and he gets his next year. Of course, there is always something for the both of us. We did end up buying art the Comic Con. German advertising lithographs from the 20's. Yeah, we have interesting taste. All in all, given all I experienced in San Diego, I still think my favorite part of the entire week was the room fairies. With that, I must go and get some more sleep.