Tag Archives: babywearing

Moments in time: a love letter

Welcome to the February Carnival of Natural Parenting: Love and partners!

This post was written for inclusion in the monthly Carnival of Natural Parenting hosted by Hobo Mama and Code Name: Mama. This month we’re writing about how a co-parent has or has not supported us in our dedication to natural parenting. Please read to the end to find a list of links to the other carnival participants.

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Moments in time: a love letter

I am not blessed with a partner who supports my parenting, but blessed by watching him parent you. These are some of the moments I have been witness to:

~~~~~~

We are in separate states, murmuring those words of endearment and infatuation so long familiar but with new depth now, new breadth as my belly expands, as the baby inside me grows. I hold the phone low on the lump that my torso has become, as he speaks from hundreds of miles away, over air waves and through the layers of my flesh and the precious sphere of fluid it contains. He speaks words I never hear, words that are not for me, words that the listener’s ear recognize only as that voice — known — love but are so essential to say, to have said; words that pass through me, beloved and welcomed by me, but are not for me. I will always remember these words I never heard, from him to you.

~~~~~~

We have danced together, you and I and he, for hours ephemeral and eternal, and you are almost here, your body in mine and out of mine, in this space between contractions, between bearing down, between born and not. He is behind me, behind us, (but before you as well), and he cradles your head, waiting, all of us waiting. Later he writes:

The first time I touched you only your head was out. I was cupping the back of your head and I felt an ear. It was so amazing.

It was.

~~~~~~

This image I could never forget, if only because I have studied it now so often. You are eighteen hours old, and already asleep on his chest. You will spend so much of the first weeks of your life this way, and it will be a familiar comfort to you for years.

~~~~~~

It is he who suggests the hold that allows us to nurse in comfort at last. This time is ours, this aspect of parenting you for me alone (except a time or two when your need to suckle is greater than my ability to stand it, and he latches you on, you confused, the two of us giggling — but I have the respite I need, you have the comfort you sought, and he and I have a new shared vocabulary for this experience, that we draw on for so many months to come), and he respects that, protects that, and steps up everywhere else to support that: but here, too, he is essential, not extraneous, and his suggestion saves my back, soothes your hunger, and we are content, thanks to him.

~~~~~~

So many more moments I could tell you of, my little love, my child. The times he knew why you fussed when I despaired; the times he walked the halls with you when neither of us knew; the moment when you laughed, laughed for the first time ever and it was for him, because of him; the moment you pushed a book to him to read to you, and all the moments of all the books he read with you in his lap, in his arms, in his heart. Of a million such moments, mundane and miraculous, does a relationship grow. Yours flourishes before my eyes.

~~~~~~

I hear you now, in the bedroom, reading, laughing, talking. I am sitting up to write, as I do almost every night now, because you do not nap and it is my only chance. I can just hear his voice, calm and low and slow, lulling and loving, and sometimes louder to speak over you, to answer your persistent questions. Yours dances over his, bubbly and bright, not willing to yet relinquish consciousness. Bedtimes are your time now, yours and his: my job is to fetch you more books if needed, to hug and to kiss and to slip away quietly, to stay away until I am sure you slumber. He has always been there for you at night, reading to me, walking with you, a warm body to turn toward when you were done with mine.

You are done with mine now, and I cherish the memories from when it was my body, my presence and my breast and my milk, that you needed — but no more than I will cherish the memories I etch in my mind on nights like these, when I steal into bed hours after you both crossed into sleep, and I see you, my family, my hearts, lying together: him with an arm curled above your head, you pressed to his side, stretched out so impossibly long, one leg claiming the space I’ll push you aside to slip into, momentarily. But first I give myself this, this time when I am the intruder on something intimate. I am a part of it, yes, but apart from it as well. You two are two, complete, whole on your own: add me, three, and we are something different, not better, just bigger.

Dear child, know this: I love you with all that I am; I am your mother, from my body were you born — but I am not the only one who loves you completely, unreservedly. You will grow up knowing this, of course, grow up having so many moments in which I am on the outside, and you two are two, together. This will be old news to you, because love is built daily, and he is there for you, loves you in actions and words and presence, every day. But indulge me, and allow me these moments when I see your love and it explodes me, when I write it down so I do not forget.

There is quiet now: my two hearts slumber in another room, while I toil, alone. I would have it no other way; and neither, I think, would you.

******

Carnival of Natural Parenting -- Hobo Mama and Code Name: MamaVisit Hobo Mama and Code Name: Mama to find out how you can participate in the next Carnival of Natural Parenting!

Please take time to read the submissions by the other carnival participants:

(This list will be updated Feb. 9 with all the carnival links, and all links should be active by noon EST. Go to Hobo Mama and Code Name: Mama for the most recently updated list.)


17 Comments | Posted on 9 February 2010 by Arwyn | Category: Parenting | Tags: , , , , , , , ,
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(Not exactly) Wordless Wednesday

I only hope he learns better babywearing etiquette before I have grandkids. But hey, the baby IS in a carseat!… sort of.


[Image: Boychick asleep in carseat with baby doll in sling.]

5 Comments | Posted on 22 July 2009 by Arwyn | Category: Parenting | Tags: , ,
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The Adventures of The Family Lactational, and a Fathers’ Day postscript

Okeedoke, I was trying to write an entire actual, y’know, post to go with these comics, but… nah. Later, maybe.

For now, a quick explanation: several years ago, long before the Boychick’s conception much less birth or extrauterine life (which is to say, way before I had any first-hand experience with any of this), I came up with the idea for a comic-based handbook for new fathers/non-lactating coparents. It would address the concerns non-lactating parents often express about how to be “involved” when their mamababy is a breastfeeding dyad. I liked the idea so much, I drew up half a dozen examples, starring the superheroes Nursing Mom, Supportive Partner (originally conceived as Super Dad, the rejection of which title and my ambivalence toward SP meriting a post to itself), and Amazing Babe.

They sucked.

But that’s OK, because I liked them.

I redrew them, from lined paper (bad for photocopying) to beautiful textured journal paper (er, also bad for photocopying, in hindsight)… and then forgot them.

Well, not exactly forgot: I’d pull them out and look at them and go “hey, this was a neat idea!” every once in a while, and then I’d carefully put the originals back in to the journal with the newer sketches, and put the journal back on the shelf, and not do anything with them.

Consider this a slightly more public, virtual rendition of that tradition.

For your titillation (sorry, I had to), may I present the partial adventures of

The Family Lactational


[Image: Mom in rocker nursing baby, partner bringing plate with drink and apple. Text: Supportive Partner helps keep Nursing Mom hydrated and healthy!]


[Image: Partner wearing baby in sling, on a walk holding hands with mom. Text: Supportive Partner spends lots of time with Nursing Mom and Amazing Babe!]


[Image: Mom nursing babe in sling, partner blocking talking head pointing and "blah blah blah"ing. Text: Supportive Partner guards Nursing Mom from Interfering Ignorami!]


[Image: Partner and Mom in family bed, superhero capes hung up for the night, babe asleep in between them, cat at foot of bed. Text: Supportive Partner spends the night with Nursing Mom and Amazing Babe!]

But what I wanted to say with this, what I really wanted to say and have been having trouble finding the words for, is:

Beloved, when I drew these, I had no idea how far you would blow them out of the water with your fathering, your parenting, your love for our Boychick, your thoughtfulness for me. I had no idea how insulting these caricatures would be to the reality of your deep, rounded, complete parenthood. You had no need for such a guide, and could write your own handbook on how to be a parent (full-stop, not a coparent, not a helping parent, not a mom’s-assistant father) as a feminist male in a patriarchal society — and you should, because the world could and should learn from you: you do nothing miraculous, you never expect accolades for what you do, you expect more from yourself than any one, you just simply, and beautifully, parent our child. It should be nothing out of the ordinary, but it is, and it irritates you that it is, and for that alone, even if I didn’t have the hundred thousand other reasons I have, I would love you.

Thank you. Happy Fathers’ Day.

8 Comments | Posted on 21 June 2009 by Arwyn | Category: Body, Parenting | Tags: , , , , , , , ,
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We are not bad moms — but are we good moms?

Reader sarah replied to my post We are not bad moms* with the following:

There is a corollary to this post that I think should also be said. Babywearing, breastfeeding, EC, etc. don’t necessarily make you a good mom. There is a world of hurt you can bring on your child even if you practice those parenting techniques, they don’t inure anyone from the negative aspects of parenting.

I just feel like this needs to be said (and repeated over and over) as I see my friends lulled into a false sense of safety and superiority because they subscribe to a certain set of parenting practices. We need to constantly challenge ourselves to look past our more superficial lifestyle choices to how our personalities, histories, family structures, and communities impact our children in a way that is beyond our control.

First, sarah, thank you so much for the comment and the post inspiration. I’d like to reply to this — agreeing and disagreeing and expanding and being inspired by — in three parts.

To the first:

Babywearing, breastfeeding, EC, etc. don’t necessarily make you a good mom. There is a world of hurt you can bring on your child even if you practice those parenting techniques, they don’t inure anyone from the negative aspects of parenting.

I really hesitate to agree, although I think it is technically true. But as I’ve mentioned before, everyone and everything in our society jumps at any opportunity to either knock us down and declare us horrid mothers, or place us on Olympian pedestals no one could hope to live up to. I am therefore loathe to take part in any of this game, to spend any of my time lending any credence to the bad-mother meme. I am in fact, in general, loathe to even place mothers on any kind of good/bad spectrum, nor to attempt to define what a “good mother” is, such that someone who breastfeeds and babywears, or who formula feeds and lugs a baby bucket, might or might not be one, because of or in spite of those practices.

Furthermore, I believe that babywearing and breastfeeding and elimination communication are good things in their own right; all other things being equal, it is better to breastfeed than to not, better to practice EC than to not. These practices have tangible, intrinsic benefits, to infants, to the parent-child relationship, to parents, to the environment, to society; I do not want to see them placed in opposition to intangible “good parenting”, as though it were a trade-off (although I will say I know sometimes it is a trade-off, especially with the limited amount of energy and resources mothers have available to them in the early months and years, but no one can know from the outside the balance of a mother’s choices; what costs time and energy for one person might be a simplification and a lifesaver for another). An inherently good thing is good whether or not one is managing to do other good things, and whether or not it protects you from the damage of other not-good things.** And, as they are minority practices, which are often attacked in a very misogynistic way (often supported in a misogynistic way as well, I will grant you), I am loathe as well to contribute to the belittling or dismissing of these parenting choices.

(I also wish to discuss whether or not or in what way(s) attachment parenting practices might indeed protect against “the negative aspects of parenting”, but I’ll leave that for another post, because it’s a complex issue in its own right.)

Jumping to the end of the comment:

We need to constantly challenge ourselves to look past our more superficial lifestyle choices to how our personalities, histories, family structures, and communities impact our children in a way that is beyond our control.

I can give a big ol’ Amen! to the bolded part. Certainly when we look at the ways in which the kyriarchy constantly constrains our choices, debating diapering methods can seem like rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic. Mothers are a persecuted subset of a persecuted gender; mothers who exist without white, straight, able, or class privilege even more so. So much of the damage that is done to our children is out of our control, dictated by the work choices we (don’t) have, the community support we (don’t) have, the parental benefits we (don’t) have, the schooling options we (don’t) have, and so on, et cetera, ad nauseum. Even those of us hell-bent on countering the kyriarchy and the dominant culture to the best of our ability recognize that our children will grow up in this society, influenced by its memes and beliefs and ideals and prejudices, fully versed in its gender and racial and sexual norms and mores, and there’s not a damn thing we can do about it, except try to at least help them be able to see and recognize those influences in their lives, and thereby, if we are very lucky, reduce their power at least a little.

That said, I’m not sure I can agree with the “We need to constantly challenge ourselves to look past our more superficial lifestyle choices” preamble. Although that is, at least in part, what I try to do with this blog, I recognize that it is something I am able to do due to privilege: I do not have to worry about where my child’s next meal will come from, whether his water is going to make him ill, how to pay for any injury he might incur running around like the toddler he is, or how to protect him from any abusive relations; and so I am able to spend my time thinking about paid family leave, environmentalism, universal health care, and preventing domestic violence, and the role of the kyriarchy in the lack of these things (which is not to say that only those who exist with privilege, like myself, can think big thoughts, or need to “fix” things for “them”, just that I have far fewer roadblocks in my way than does someone who is oppressed in more ways — these roadblocks are one of the many ways the kyriarchy seeks to protect itself). Further, “constantly challeng[ing]” myself does, to an extent, fulfill me and give me energy, but I am not hubristic enough to think that therefore everyone must lead the examined life: for some, letting go of the need to examine and challenge themselves is the healthier path.

Finally, looking at the middle part, where I think the meat is:

I see my friends lulled into a false sense of safety and superiority because they subscribe to a certain set of parenting practices.

Here we have the twofold point: “superiority” speaks to women who attempt to build themselves up by placing themselves ahead of others, because the kyriarchy has ensured that hierarchy is the only organizational principle they know (even in trying to be grateful, we too often make it about being better off than others); “safety” speaks to women who are seeking to protect themselves, because they are under constant attack by the kyriarchy and forces of anti-mother misogyny, threatened always with the spectre of the “bad mom” label if they don’t do things “just right”. And although I don’t think that being “lulled into a false sense of safety and security” (by clinging to breastfeeding or babywearing or what-have-you) is a good thing, I also cannot blame them, or fault the inclination. Because we are under attack, because there is so much out of our control, and if clinging to cloth diapers like they were lifesavers is what helps a mother get through the tsunami of hate, from outside and in, that comes with the early years of parenting… well, she gets through, and that survival is worth celebrating, an intrinsic Good Thing, even if she might have done it “better”.

The “mommy wars” suck. (A lot.) Possibly the most evil thing about them is the way they make us turn against each other, first by scrambling to place ourselves on a hierarchy of most attached/most crunchy/most Super/most whatever, then by attacking each other with “[not] necessarily… a good mom” when we recognize the fallacy of the hierarchy. Dismantling the kyriarchy without undermining each other, critiquing parenting choices without criticizing fellow parents: these are not easy tasks. It is not an easy dance, and it is so easy to make a misstep — just as with parenting itself. But it is necessary to try, and it is necessary to forgive ourselves because we will get it wrong sometimes — just as with parenting itself.

So no, putting the telly on for your toddler doesn’t make you a bad mom, and knowing a dozen carries to do with a 5m wrap doesn’t make you a good mom. But what might make you a revolutionary is to let go of both the fear of being a bad mom, and the need to be a good mom. Let go of the good mom/bad mom hierarchy altogether. Just be a mom — a bad-ass mom in your own right — and tell the hierarchy it can go to hell.

*Which is, by far and without question, my most popular post, which still kind of mystifies me. The reaction to it has been amazing, and humbles me. Thank you to everyone who read, and especially to everyone who commented or passed it on.

**An analogy: recycling is a Good Thing (as is reducing and reusing). I do my best to reduce my consumption of paper and plastic containers, and reuse or recycle what we do bring home. I also drive well over 100 miles a week, when I could take public transit, or avoid travel altogether. Does my typical American use of the car, which has a much greater overall impact on the environment than the waste I produce and how I deal with it, mean that “recycling doesn’t make me a good environmentalist”? Does my use of the car somehow negate the Good Thing that recycling is? It’s not exactly a rhetorical question, but I have an answer that I can live with for myself, and I hope you do too.

7 Comments | Posted on 5 May 2009 by Arwyn | Category: Kyriarchy, Parenting | Tags: , , , , ,
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I’m so happy the Boychick didn’t nap

Normally, I hate no-nap days. And I really, really wasn’t expecting today to be one, after the 2 mile hike at a local state park (two hours of running around a forest with five other 2-5 year olds), tiring out enough to want up in the sling (! and I almost didn’t bother bringing it, it’s been so long since he’s wanted it) at the very end, then a nice looooong drive home. He didn’t quite tucker out in the car as we’d hoped, but came home nicely worn out. And then he voluntarily climbed in to bed and yelled at me to come nap with him. Sweet! I thought. Alas, not so much. The Man comes home at 4:30pm, not calling even though he’s home early, because he was sure the Boychick would be asleep. Hah! No such luck.

So why am I so happy? Because right now, the cat and I have the house to ourselves, while The Man and the Boychick and the dog take a walk — with the Boychick happily riding on his father’s back.

Twice in one day! Since the time about four months ago he discovered he could walk in stores, and started insisting on walking everywhere “my own self!”, babywearing tanked from something we did 1-12 times a day to something measured in times per month. As in maybe twice a month.

I haven’t really written about the cessation of babywearing, although it’s something I think about a lot. I smile in melancholy remembrance when I see a sleeping toddler on a back in the library, an alert infant on a hip in a pouch, a tell-tale bump of baby under a stretchy wrap. It actually hurts to think about not having that anymore.

I sometimes put off the hurt by joking “Didn’t he get the memo that babywearing leads to over dependence?” I mean, really. Worn every single day for the first 1.5+ years of life, napped exclusively in a lap or carrier or in bed with us (ok, sometimes in the carseat, though only in the car!) until well over a year, never bothered with or needed a stroller or pram, still breastfeeding at 2 with no end in sight… He should be the poster child for all the “ONOZ, AP=clingy spoiled brat that’ll never let you put hir down!!” types, right?

I wish. No, really, I do; at least, a part of me does. I miss wearing him, miss that physical closeness, the snuggles, the weight and feel and smell of him. So, maybe my back doesn’t miss it, but it was always worth it.

And I miss seeing him and The Man together. Although they still have so many sweet, caring moments together, so many hugs and kisses and snuggles, I miss the pure joy of watching my two favorite people together like that, enjoying the sight of the at once utterly mundane and sublime expression of love that babywearing is.

So even though a late nap (for they returned, the Boychick’s eyes oh so heavily lidded, and he nursed to sleep at last in my arms) means a hard night, and a hard tomorrow, it was worth it; the hard night, the closet full of carriers kept just in case, the emergency carrier stashed in the car, the chiropractor visits for wearing 30 squirming pounds: it’s all worth it, just to have him close, to see that joy, to be able to say “yes, even though you walk everywhere your own self now, we will still be here to carry you whenever you wish, as long as you need”. That, as they say, is priceless.

7 Comments | Posted on 6 March 2009 by Arwyn | Category: Parenting | Tags: , , ,
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