Warrior Part 2

From the time I was a very small child, my mother very lovingly characterized me as a "strong willed child." This was never said in a derogatory manner and I know that she was very well meaning in her attempts to tell me it really was a good thing and to "use my power for good not evil." However, the message I received was, "you are very difficult to love." Perhaps if I had been able to remain under my mother's care for my whole childhood this would have been tempered as I grew and matured, but unfortunately her illnesses and hospitalizations meant that I needed to go and live with other families in foster care.

My first foster home was actual a family from our church who had children of similar age to myself and the two of my siblings who also live there. This family was both verbally and physically abusive from the very first night I was there. I frequently heard words like, "You are a selfish, spoiled brat" and I believed them. Over the next five years I was in and out of foster care; being a foster child is an experience that has so much more to do with where you live because in so many ways you become kind of like communal property. Any adult in your life feels like they should have a say in raising you and helping you turn out right and all of that. It has a tendency to bring out both the best and worst sides in others, and so I  saw and experienced some of the absolute worst parts of adults that were not my parents. I remember some very specific times when in my hurt I reached out to another adult and response is so clear in my head, "You need to think about how hard it is for said person to do what they are doing for you." While I am sure the intent was to teach me to have grace for the struggles of others, keep in mind I was a child. A hurting child. A hurting who was being further hurt by the ones who were supposed to be helping me. So the translation then became, "you are so difficult to love and care for it's only expected for you to be treated poorly."

We (my siblings and I) left foster care for the last time the summer before I started 5th grade. The first year was one of regaining my feet and finding some kind of stability. The next year I was off to middle school, and things started to go downhill fast. I was still the emotionally traumatized and less mature child in desperate need of healing, and I very quickly became the target of bullying in my school. On top of that I was attending youth group with people who had been former foster siblings, and people in close contact with other former foster siblings, so it was common for me to be embarrassed by some story or other being shared about me. I internalized the shame of being different and weird very deeply; I knew I would never be fully accepted as an equal into the group.

My saving grace in that time were my two closest friends who loved me for who I was and never made me feel like less than or an outsider. Still, the leaders of our youth group were the young adult siblings whose parents had been very active in trying to help my parents. The dynamics there are all kinds of messy for many many reasons, but we'll suffice to say they didn't like me very much and while they were too "godly" to show it overtly I felt it deeply-and because of all that I'd been through before (and how loved and important this family is in the denomination to which we belong) it became one more piece of evidence against me.

To be continued...here

It's World Breastfeeding Week...or Month...or something like that

I am way to lazy right now to go off and check to see which one it is, but the point of my post remains the same.  It is a time to educate others on and to promote the practice of breastfeeding around the world!

To celebrate, I thought I'd share my own history with breastfeeding.  My own mother nursed all 5 of her children when it was far less popular to do so-so I have always been very comfortable with the concept.  In fact, when I was pregnant with my oldest son Peyton, it didn't occur to me to do anything else because it just seemed the automatic thing in my mind.  I was actually a little taken back at all of the literature out there designed talking about pros and cons and choices and being informed and even encouraging me that it was ok to not breastfeed if I didn't want to, I mean, who wouldn't want to right?  6 and 4 babies later, I've learned a lot.  It wasn't always easy, my milk took a very long time to come in with Peyton, and I had very cracked nipples-thank GOD for an understanding pediatrician who figured it out and gave me that shield.  On top of that I was working full time with him, and so lost my milk when he was 5 months.  After that though, I have nursed each baby longer and longer periods of time, and who knows how long I will go with Clara!  And now for some general impressions:

People can be really weird about this stuff-I totally get that not everyone had the advantages I did.  I was surrounded by supportive people from day one, my mother, my husband, my friends, and my in-laws were all cheering me on and taking it as natural that I would nurse my babies.  If someone doesn't have the education, support, or understanding I did then breastfeeding will not seem like the natural or even feasible choice.  Furthermore there are medical conditions that can get in the way.  However, anyone who thinks it's in any way sexual, gross, weird, unnatural, undesirable or inferior need to get a clue.  Seriously people-grow up!

People can be weird about OTHER people doing it- ?!?!?!?!  Really people?  It takes a really un-boundaried and nosy person to be offended to see a mother nursing a baby.  LOOK AWAY PEOPLE, LOOK AWAY!

LLL ROCKS!  -La Leche League, enough said :)

Ahhh, prolactin- I cannot tell you how many times I've been beyond frustrated with other kids or life or whatever and sat down to nurse a baby and felt my cares just melt away while I snuggled my precious babe. <3 <3 <3

Co-sleeping- In my opinion, co-sleeping should be every new parents biggest survival tool, but beyond the rest benefits, some of my most cherished memories are snuggling in bed at night nursing a sleeping baby in the quiet stillness of pre-dawn hours.