Break the Silence

19 Comments

I struggled to write this post.  Really struggled.  Not just with the emotion of it all, but with the feelings of vulnerability and complete exposure that this topic brings out in me.  But that’s why it needs to be written…..to break the silence, prevent the stigma, and end the taboo surrounding miscarriage.

I had a miscarriage last year.  We lost our baby on April 6th, 2011, at 11 weeks and 6 days gestation.  One day shy of the magic ’12-weeks-pregnant’ mark where the stats on miscarriage decrease dramatically.  I was wrapped up with the excitement of another baby, and we were already envisioning life as a family-of-four.  In a cruel twist of irony, we had signed the papers for our bigger-with-an-extra-bedroom-house the weekend prior.  I had told friends and family of my pregnancy, even casually mentioned it to acquaintances, and sorted through bins of my maternity clothes.  And then it all ended.  My miscarriage was very sudden, very graphic, and very traumatic.  There was no doubt what was happening to our baby as we rushed to the ER, and as I laid on a triage bed next to my heartbroken husband, the loss overwhelmed me.

Those next few weeks are a haze of tears and despair.  My mom flew out to support us, and helped me get through the physical and emotional struggle of the first few days.  I ended up with a D&C surgery two weeks later, as I was deemed to have experienced an ‘incomplete miscarriage’.  The day following my surgery, I flew to New York City to spend the weekend with my two best friends.  And as I reflect on that difficult time in my life, I can see that’s where my heart began to heal.  Sister-like friends have that power.

That baby would’ve been due on October 27th, 2011.  I was dreading that day on the calendar, which had already been circled in a big red heart when we initially found out I was pregnant.  But as October 27th approached, I found myself blessed with another pregnancy; my beloved Casey was born on March 2nd, 2012, only 11 months after the miscarriage.  My gratitude for her is exponentially greater after feeling the hopelessness of loss.

There are three things that helped me get through this:

1. A memorial.  We carved a cross on a big tree in our favorite walking trails in remembrance of our lost baby.  That tree is a source of comfort for me, and a place we visit as a family several times a year.  My 3.5-year-old calls it our ‘special tree’.  I like to think of it as our ‘healing tree’.

2. Time.  While the grief and pain from this experience is not gone, it has lessened.  Time heals.  And my heart has healed a lot in 18 months.

3. Talking about it.  When this happened, I told the details to all of my family and friends.  I told my parents and my in-laws.  I told my sister-in-laws.  I told my girlfriends.  Talking about it helped me to process things, but it also helped to break down the stigma.  Miscarriage is still a taboo topic, and people don’t know what to say when it happens to someone they know.  It will happen to someone you know.  Up to 25% of known pregnancies result in miscarriage, 80% of those occurring in the first trimester.  Don’t say nothing.  Acknowledge the loss.  Because saying nothing only perpetuates the silence.

October is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Month.  On October 15th at 7pm, I will be joining many other people around the world in lighting a candle to remember the babies we’ve lost.  And I will be hugging the babies I have, thankful beyond measure.

My 6-month-old loves chicken

6 Comments

My six-month-old loves chicken.  And peaches and tomatoes and oranges and zucchini and plums.  No purees, no spoons, no time-consuming struggles to get her to eat.  Why, oh why, didn’t I use this method with my son?  If I’d only known!

This self-feeding approach is known in parenting circles as Baby-Led Weaning (BLW).  That’s a bit of a misnomer, as I don’t plan on weaning her anytime soon- I like to think of it as Baby-Led Feeding.  You give your baby food.  Real food.  And your baby learns to eat it.

I love it because:

  • It’s easy.  Step 1) Give food.  Step 2) Watch baby eat food.
  • It makes sense.  Throughout history, generations of parents have fed their children table food, rather than pre-packaged, pureed medleys.  Little cavemen babies were given a drumstick to gnaw on, not a jar of turkey and green bean mush.  Within my ‘crunchy hippie’ style of parenting, the natural feel of baby-led weaning fits the bill.  And at six months, children are physically able to self-feed, so it stands to reason that they can be given the chance to do so.
  • Babies learn to chew their food first, and swallow their food second.  This is contrary to the learn-to-swallow-first-and-learn-to-chew-second traditional approach of spoon-feeding purees.
  • It aligns with the World Health Organization and Health Canada recommendations that an infant’s primary source of nutrition before the age of one should be breastmilk or formula.  Food at this age is more about learning the process of eating, rather than worrying about the quantity they consume.
  • I’m hesitant to introduce grains to my daughter because her negative reactions when I eat wheat (here is my Blog about that!).  Starting with meat, veggies, and fruit seems like a logical beginning.

So how do you implement this approach?

  • Get used to answering questions from curious friends and family.  An atypical approach, baby-led weaning is not yet conventional, so people are going to want to know why your baby is nibbling on a strip of flank steak.
  • Buy an easy-to-clean highchair.  It’s a messy endeavor, since your infant will have control over the food they eat, rather than food coming to them on a spoon.  While you’re at it, don’t worry about bowls and plates; they’re just asking to be thrown on the floor, along with the raspberries and salmon flakes.
  • As with the traditional baby-food approach, a hungry/tired baby will not respond well to table food- make sure your baby is well-rested and not famished when you’re introducing solids.
  • Allow your baby to put the food into their mouths themselves so that they can control how far it goes in.  Infants have a very powerful gag reflex and will quickly learn how to manipulate food properly to avoid their gag response.  Cut the food into manageable strips, as they do not yet have a pincer-grasp.
  • Do some research (you can find great resources at www.babyledweaning.com, www.wholesomebabyfood.momtastic.com, and www.youtube.com). Get comfortable with this approach.  And then dive in!

Apples…

Peaches…

Red pepper…

Zucchini and lettuce…

Mango…

Oranges…

And chicken!

Farewell, Our Loyal Friend.

7 Comments

Our beloved dog died last week.

Tyson was our eight-year-old Chocolate Lab, who had been with my husband and I since the very beginning of our relationship.  I met Chris in January, 2004, and he got Tyson in March.  My friends tease that I married my husband for his dog; they were a package deal.  Tyson was with us through the start of our marriage, my graduation from Chiropractic College, the start of a business, a move, and two babies.  He has comforted me through heartache and celebrated with me through triumph.  Now that he’s gone there is an emptiness in my heart.

He was euthanized on Tuesday afternoon, after suffering a massive, brain-damaging seizure that morning.  There are a few blessings in this scenario, in a silver-lining kind of way: 1) Tyson had three smaller seizures over the course of the last two weeks, so we had time to mentally prepare ourselves for this inevitable end, 2) the choice to euthanize was a clear one.  There are no ‘what-ifs’ or ‘should-haves’; in the end, Tyson was not the dog we knew and loved, and 3) my kids are not old enough to be emotionally distraught over the loss of their friend.

Tyson enriched our lives in countless ways, and this is what I will miss:

  • I will miss seeing his happy, tail-wagging self when I come home.
  • I will miss having him by our side on after-dinner walks.
  • I will miss seeing my son laugh at his high-fives, sit-stays, and rollover tricks.
  • I will miss seeing my daughter watch his every move.
  • I will miss exploring the trails in our neighborhood with him.
  • I will miss my son referring to us as a family of five.
  • I will miss watching him chase sticks through the creek.
  • I will miss having to store every morsel of food above shoulder-level.
  • I will miss him alerting us to visitors with a bark and a race to the door.
  • I will miss the kindness, compassion, and responsibility that he taught my kids.
  • I will miss his gentle nature.
  • I will miss him running around the backyard while we play.
  • I will miss the warmth, love, and comforting energy that he brought to our home.

We are going to spread his ashes through his favorite running trails, and we’ll hang a cross on our backyard fence in remembrance of him.  We will miss him, but we will not forget him.  Farewell, our loyal friend.  R.I.P.