Monotony and the self.

Just write something, she said. I believe in you, Mama.

But what is there to write when day in and day out is monotony? Granted, the most meaningful monotony of my entire existence, but monotony just the same.

This is my first post in 2012, since November to be clear, and it is, so far, worthless. How do you write about each day when each day looks exactly the same as the last? How do you write about the feelings when the feelings never change, a veritable roller-coaster in grey. Things are sunny, things are dark but ultimately they are all the same. Get up. Milk. Breakfast. Milk. Playtime. Milk. Groceries. Milk. Lunch. Milk. Nap-time. Milk Milk Milk. Clean clean clean. Cook cook cook.

Is he walking yet? Is he talking yet? Is he a super-star rock n' roll basketball hero yet?

I remember when I used to be creative, but not vividly. I remember it like I remember looking at a powerful photograph, not as though I was really there. I remember when I used to feel that my art meant something. To me, mostly, and maybe to other people, too.

What is a blog for, is it for me? A space to be honest about who I am to a world of people who only wish to tear me down silently behind their computer screens? Or is it a space for me to harp about the parenting choices I make, subsequently making other people question their own monotonous existence? If it is meant to be a space to connect, how do I feel so disconnected? Compared to everyone else at all times.


The other day I realised something again, but for the first time. We are nothing, all of us. We are specs of nothing on the grand scheme of nothingness. This is very freeing, as it means I can do anything I want, I can make any choice I'd like to make. I have only me, I can only control myself. No one else is working to make me happy. No one.

I have begun to consciously choose selfishness. But only when the little one is sleeping.

From a Breastfeeding Mom to All Moms, Everywhere.

From a Breastfeeding Mom to All Moms, Everywhere.

I'm a breastfeeding feminist. I believe that breastmilk, evolutionarily, was made for human consumption. It is complex and, scientifically speaking, ideal for babies.

That said, there are times when mothers choose to quit breastfeeding. There are times when mothers choose to quit pumping breastmilk and bottlefeeding. There are times when mothers do not breastfeed at all.

And you know what bugs me the most out of all of this? That those mothers consistently feel the need to explain to us, the breastfeeders, the world, why they formula feed. Formula feeding moms feel the need to justify to the world - "This is why I'm not breastfeeding!" - they have to explain to us the reason why they made that parenting decision.

And yeah, that makes me pretty sad. Do you know why? Because I trust those moms to make that parenting decision. I am not those women. I do not live their lives, I do not know what they have gone through, I do not know the challenges they have faced. By that fact alone, I have no right to judge the choices they make regarding how they feed their babies. Even Jessica Valenti said that formula feeding was 100% right for her. Why should we ask her to justify that decision? We don't know her and we don't live her life.

A friend Sarah and I were out with a group of moms recently, and when I disappeared to talk to someone else, the topic of breastfeeding - and struggling with breastfeeding - came up. Sarah told me later that two other moms out of the large group professed having difficulties before my friend spoke up about her experience with public health nurses telling her she was starving her child and the subsequent the guilt trip she faced on the internet when she blogged about supplementing with formula. And she confessed to me that as soon as she put it out there, as soon as her story hung over the group in silence, she was nervous about what the other moms would say. Thankfully one wise mother piped up and said something I have said before, too: "We as mothers have enough to worry about, we need to be free to make the decisions that are best for our babies without being made to feel guilty."

If you formula feed or if you breastfeed - your baby is fed and loved and cared for. You are an amazing mom.

Squeaky D raises his fist in Solidarity

I do talk about breastfeeding a lot. It's what I do these days. But I've also shared the story of a Formula Feeding mom. I am a close supporter of many moms who formula feed. I want people to know that you can support and encourage breastfeeding without leaving formula feeding moms behind.

In the last week or so, things have become very heated in the feminist twitter community. Yes, there is one, it's weird and awesome all at the same time. Of course I love it.

Firstly, it must be addressed that there are some women who are not kind. Bluntly, that is it. There are women who champion breastfeeding without being considerate, without being kind or compassionate. Some of them even spread a hateful message. I do not stand behind these women, and I encourage everyone I meet to be inclusive and kind. This is very obviously a sensitive topic and I don't think there is anything wrong with treating it as such.

And secondly, breastfeeding in this modern time has become, unfortunately, something that is mysterious. There are a lot of misleading half-truths that are consistently spread by older generations, doctors, nurses, hospital "lactation consultants," and formula companies. We desperately want to spread truth about breastfeeding, and sometimes that means questioning things that women have heard.

For instance, someone shared in the midst of the kurfuffle that her mother could not breastfeed because she was intolerant to breast milk. Babies are not intolerant to breast milk. A baby could have an allergy or a sensitivity to something a mother is eating, but maybe that mother would have made the choice to eliminate peanuts or eggs (or whatever) from her diet and continued breastfeeding. Maybe not. But maybe so! And isn't it her right to know that and make an informed decision? It is hard for us breastfeeding mothers to stay quiet when we hear people repeating misinformation and all at once respect the relationship that mother may have with her choice to formula feed.

We know about the "mommy guilt," all of us. I know of it so deeply that sometimes it is crippling and I can feel weighed down and crushed by it. I can't imagine what it might be like to be bottle feeding publicly have have someone shame me for parenting my child. As a breastfeeder I fight for the right to breastfeed publicly but I have never had someone insinuate that I was a bad mother for breastfeeding. How upsetting, how demoralizing, how infuriating, how utterly cruel. This is not a comfortable position and I myself would probably also take a defensive stance. My worth as a mother is hardly defined by how I feed my baby. 

Please, my formula feeding moms, my fellow moms. Please understand that so many of us, we don't think you are stupid. We don't think you are uneducated. We don't think you didn't try hard enough. We don't think your baby is eating poison and we don't think your kid is going to be stupid.

We just want formula companies to stop their false advertising. We don't want them to lie to mothers anymore. We don't want them to pretend to offer breastfeeding support.

That's it, really. We just want the truth and the experts on breastfeeding to be the ones offering breastfeeding support. We want educated doctors, nurses, and internationally certified lactation consultants handing out unbiased information and support. I don't mind that formula companies exist and I think formula should be available, I just want them to keep a respectful distance from a mother's right to educate herself about feeding her baby.

We want all moms to make the best choice for them and their babies and their families. And you don't have to justify it to us, the breastfeeders, or anyone else.

Can I say it again? Your baby is loved and cared for. You are an amazing mom. We can all support all mothers so that each one knows her rights and has the access to make her best decisions, no matter what they may be.

He was refusing to breastfeed. What was I to do?

My baby refused to breastfeed at four months old. Was he trying to wean? 

I love breastfeeding my baby. Now that we have been doing this dance for over ten months, I can look back on our steps and see the areas where we lost our footing. Where we had become off-beat. How I was steadfast and determined, I simply didn't see any other choice and so I dug my heels in, turned up the music, and kept dancing, even if I didn't know what the dance was supposed to look like.

There have been moments where I was exhausted, confused, raggedly looking into the eyes of my friends and desperately pleading for a moment of sanity thinking - "Am I doing this right? Is this really how it is supposed to go?" Not knowing that when it comes to breastfeeding - and babies in general - there really isn't a "supposed to" about it.

When Desmond was four months old he woke up. That is, he realized he could see the world and couldn't tear his eyes away from it for one moment, not one. He only wanted to be held high enough to see over our shoulders, or facing away so that he could look look look at everything.

q u i e t n e s s

This made breastfeeding very hard. Friends would come to visit us and he would squawk, hungry like a tiny bird. I would gently bring him to my breast and he would hungrily root and latch. And then immediately become angry and arch his back away. Partly? This was a learned behaviour from the reflux. But mostly he did not want to look away from the world. He did not understand that snuggling into my breast meant he would no longer be hungry.

This was more than just a baby bobbing his head into the breast. More than just a baby pushing and pinching the breast. Those actions are signs of hunger often misinterpreted.

This was a baby, my baby, full on refusing to take the breast and suck or feed. This was a nursing strike. At a very young age.

I didn't know at the time but we were going through was something many women go through. At my LLL meeting, mothers saw him squawk in hunger, mothers saw him angry and refusing to be turned into the breast, angry at the suggestion that... maybe he'd like to eat? They offered their sympathy, they offered to help any way they could. Their eyes told me - "It's going to get better." As I packed up a finally full, finally sleeping baby to drive home in wintery darkness, Leaders would put a hand on my shoulder and thank me for being determined, for coming to the meetings. "Keep coming," they'd say.

Obviously I was petrified to leave my house to go anywhere else. How could I go to the grocery store? How could I go to the bank or the mall? My baby would become hungry, but what it took to feed him was at least a 15 minute ordeal that involved a lot of crying, a lot of that very screamy baby screaming that we call Code Red around here. And I was unable to juggle the two of us in any discreet kind of way. I couldn't very well plop myself down in the pickle aisle with my breast out and struggle with my screaming baby for 15 minutes. I wish that I could have, but people today wouldn't understand. Because What would people say? They would say breastfeeding is only okay if it is discreet. Right? We tell mothers No!

Not if a she needs to sit down on the ground and pull down her v-neck and leave it that way and THEN somehow finagle the L O U D E S T infant into quietness just so that she can get some fucking groceries, god dammit. No, not the mothers who really need it, not the mothers who are struggling. They can't be discreet so they are NOT OKAY IN PUBLIC.

There were only two things that I knew for sure in those days:

1. A four month old baby is not trying to wean. A four month old baby has no concept of those things. 
2.  A baby can't be distracted if it is already sleeping. 

And so we became very good at putting the baby to sleep without the breast at all. We wore Baby D and walked until he slept. We held him in our arms and danced around the livingroom until he slept. We held him to our chests and bounced gently on the exercise ball, humming and shushing, humming and shushing. Until he slept. And he would cry. But then he would sleep.

He sleeps.

Once his lungs were quiet and his eyes were closed, I could bring him to my chest and he would latch and he would suck and he would eat and eat and eat. And he would sleep. And I would visualize and take deep breaths, anything anything to get that letdown to come as fast as I could. Rushing rivers, gates opening, waterfalls of milks. Breathing deeply, my hand on his tiny head, celebrating; my baby is q u i e t.

We had cracked the secret code. And so all day I would feed him after he fell asleep. If he would fuss during a nap, I would lay beside him and let him eat. I would feed him again as he woke up. He started eating more over the course of the night to make up for the days. I didn't mind. Babies need to eat, and I wanted to feed him. I would breastfeed him anyway that we could make it work.

Every day it became easier until at one point - it stopped. He started making the connection and the dance became so much smoother, we were more than comfortable taking time-outs from the world to nurse. And then it was just gone. I can still remember the first day that he was happy and excited to breastfeed every. time. And I'm so grateful that I powered through that rough patch, that nursing strike, to emerge on the other side.

Now? Six months later I am even happier. This dance couldn't be any easier.

Breastfeeding is a crazy (wonderful) thing.

You know, breastfeeding is a crazy thing.

Forget the fact that it is a hot-button issue these days. Forget that it is often disrespected and women are shamed for nursing publicly. Even forget the fact that people who don't understand it, often, for some INSANE reason, sexualize it.

Just think about how, for thousands and thousands of years, it was the only choice. It literally IS how our species has survived infancy since the beginning of our time. Wow. Not only that, but think about how truly complex and fantastic our human bodies - our mammal bodies - are for being able to not only create and store milk, but to transfer it to our babies in such a loving and comforting way.

Before I go any further, I want to make a disclaimer. I want everyone reading this to know how I feel about breastfeeding and mothers who do otherwise. There are no hard feelings here - and I want to stress that we all love our babies and we all share, cultivate, and bask in this love in meaningful ways no matter how we feed them. It is true that, unfortunately, some mothers have more success than others. But to all of you who have put a baby to breast, who have breastfed at all - think back to the calm quiet moments, even if those moments can be so few in those early weeks. Think to yourself - My body made colostrum, my body made milk and I gave it to my baby. I did that! 

Breastfeeding Then.

Maybe it is just that, in all my life, I had actually never considered my body's potential in this way. In the last decade of my life I have noticed a very profound appreciation for my body's potential in many different ways. I could jump, and climb trees, ride my bike pretty fast. I could swim fairly well. I rode horses and ran races and drank an obscene amount of alcohol in my early twenties. My body was great.

In the last four years of life, my appreciation grew deeper. I started sharing my poetry. And people other than me liked it! I met a handsome mandude who taught me how to view each experience as an opportunity to see art and creativity. I went to burning man and experienced a real community, a life lived without fear of judgement - FOR REAL - for the very first time. I realized that the most single important and incredible thing that we could do as humans was to create. We can create something from nothing at all - a painting, a poem, a novel, a dance, a warm moment, a hug, a crazy wild experience - from nothing but the pit of our minds and maybe a bit of legwork. My body was amazing.

And then I became pregnant and I realized that, though we both had a hand in it, I was completely on my own in growing and creating this tiny little life inside me. I couldn't help but ponder, as it squiggled around in there, how fantastic it was that I had a factory inside me for making more of me. I felt very connected to the women who came before me, who had carried the beginnings of humanity. I could sense the juxtaposition of how far we have come laid against what has not changed, will never change. But mostly I ate. And grew. And ate and grew, and the baby did, too, and my mind expanded along with us. This is crazy, I thought. I made a HUMAN BEING with thoughts and preferences and an idea about the world someday. And I'm going to push it outta me and then what!

Breastfeeding Now.

And then what? I started breastfeeding. And my baby emptied my colostrum. And my baby brought in my milk. And then, through those first days, that haze so thick with love, and soreness, and obsession, and sleep deprivation, and love - it struck me. Breastfeeding is so intricate; a mix of hormones, knowledge, support, instinct, circumstance, confidence, and science. Breastfeeding is at once complex and natural. It is so easy and perfect and yet at times it can be a struggle. And you know? It wasn't all easy for me, and I think it is okay to be honest about that, but I grew to love it. Ultimately, I was sustaining human life. An entire life, outside of mine. I was nourishing his every need with my body. This blew me away. Here he was, my son. And we could lay, stomach to stomach and doze. And he was being fed.

And then I realized. Our bodies are good and amazing. They are fantastic and spectacular! And breastfeeding is a crazy (wonderful) thing.

Happy World Breastfeeding Week.

Don't tell me what to wear. Tell men not to rape.

Slutwalk is spectacular. 

The concept, the message, the conversations, everything. 

These days I am finding that there are too many people in the media who do not understand what slutwalk is about. It is not about dressing like a slut and marching around downtown. It is not about a subculture of women who want to flaunt promiscuity. It is not even fully about "owning the word."

It is about putting an end to victim blaming, it is about women standing up, standing together and saying "I am not asking for it, I am never asking for it and nothing I could EVER wear could mean that I forfeit consent. I am a HUMAN BEING."

I want to see women, mothers, daughters. I want to see fathers, partners, young boys. I want us all to stand together and send the message that our culture has been allowing the perpetuation of rape, sexual assault, sexual harassment - all of it - for too long by allowing words like "slut" to have any sort of power or sway. By allowing newspapers to comment on a woman's "revealing" outfit when reporting the story of her violation. Or by questioning the victim's choice to spend time in certain locations -jogging at night- or by choosing to have a few drinks.

The message needs to be clear. Rape is not okay. Rape is never okay. 

We walk together to say: 
All of us are sluts or none of us are, it doesn't matter. Nobody is ever asking to be raped. 

Photo Credit: We Heart It

Slutwalk in Edmonton is June 4th. http://www.yegslutwalk.com/ 

Will I see you there?

More from Farren Square on Feminism and Parenting

Being a Mom is Hard Enough - Guest Blogger Cerlandia

Before becoming a Mom Sarah received a Master of Arts degree in Sociology and worked with troubled youth. Currently she enjoys staying at home with her two young children and crafting whenever she has free time. You can see what she's up to over at Cerlandia.

I had to really think hard about doing this guest post. I was incredibly honored to be asked, but I value my family's privacy (as well as my own) and I try to find humor in all things. Unfortunately, there's not a lot of humor in this story; even I who can find humor in Husband finding out his product was moving to Seattle while our kitchen was torn down to the studs still fail to find humor in Daughter's birth story.

Or better, the story of why I was unable to breast feed. I talked with Husband about the privacy issues I had with it and we both agreed that people need to know that not everyone can breast feed, nor does everyone want to for their own reasons. People should be respectful of other's choices and in part, it was this lack of respect that made me hate leaving the house when I knew I had to feed Daughter. I will try not to get up on a soap box, but I make no promises. I'm sure that I will be opening myself up to a lot of criticism, but as a tech at the emergency room who was trying to start an I.V. told me, I have tough skin.

When Husband and I found out we were pregnant there was a mix of emotions, but we came to terms and we were excited. We chose a wonderful midwife whom we both really liked and the pregnancy was going so well. The baby was doing great, there was no reason to think she wouldn't be healthy. Until 31 weeks. I had a tiny spot of blood and mentioned it at my appointment the next day. Turns out I was 1.5 cm dilated, the head was down way lower than it should have been and after the stress test the midwife found that I was having contractions every minute. I had no idea. A premature contraction feels a lot different than a full term contraction (I learned that later - it has been likened to your baby curling into a ball) and pair that with my high pain tolerance I didn't even notice. We were sent off to the hospital (I think this was 4 days before Christmas) where I was admitted for three days while they did their thing to stop the contractions and gave me steroids to help her lungs develop. There is a bit of irony there as I wanted an all natural pregnancy only to end up getting steroids.

I made it two weeks on bed rest until my water broke. Daughter was born at 33 weeks and 3 days (I used to say she was 6 weeks early until a doctor clarified that they call that 7 weeks early). During labor a doctor from the NICU came in telling us what to expect having a baby that early. I don't really remember anything but the baby will most likely be in the hospital until the due date. The birth was not the easiest, but that's a story for another day. I was only able to hold her for less than 5 minutes. We did skin to skin, but didn't even try having her latch on because the doctors were worried about her breathing. She was taken to the NICU for tests and to get cleaned up, but we were told they would bring her back if she showed signs of wanting to eat. About an hour later when they were done cleaning me up we asked the midwife to go back and see about her. She came back with great news; Daughter was going to be brought to our room!

That's when the breast feeding struggles began. Turns out that back in the NICU they decided (even though our chart and the bassinet clearly stated I wanted to breastfeed) to give her an ounce of formula. At the time I had no idea the damage that may have been done; that you're supposed to nurse your baby as soon as possible. It wasn't until 6 hours later, when it was well past her next feeding, that the nurse had a lactation consultant come in. It wasn't that I didn't try to get help from the nurses, because I had. Daughter's latch on looked wonderful, she wasn't sucking. I kept trying to tell the nurses there was something wrong and they kept putting me off telling me the lactation consultant would be in as soon as she came in for the day. Approximately 12 hours after Daughter was born a pediatrician was called in and confirmed that there was indeed something wrong. Her blood gases were high and she wasn't getting enough oxygen. Plus a heart murmur.

The day after she was born

Here's something else a lot of new moms may not know, if you can't breastfeed for any reason, it is important that you pump as soon as you are able. And then every 2-3 hours after. Nobody brought a pump to my room until 14 hours later. I got the tiniest amount of colostrum for her and then my milk came in. I pumped ever 2-3 hours for the almost 4 weeks Daughter was in the NICU and made an ounce a day. That is what she was eating every 3 hours. You would think the nurses would have been supportive, but the NICU was my first experience being judged simply because I didn't make enough milk. Not because I wasn't trying, I did skin to skin every time I was there and pumped every 2-3 hours. I don't think I went out except to get a meal once in a while or visit the NICU. I heard such comments from the nurses as:

This is all you have for us?

You need to drink more fluids!

Don't you know this is the amount she drinks at one feeding?

I already felt like a failure for having a premature baby, but now I got to feel like a double failure because my body didn't produce enough milk for my child. I never got to see the lactation consultant in the hospital again; unless you were having issues feeding you didn't get to see her (it was a large hospital and she was extremely busy). We did rent a hospital grade pump, like it was recommended, it just didn't help.

When Daughter was getting healthier and her sucking reflex started to kick in I wanted to breast feed. Not one nurse encouraged it. Instead I was told that I could breast feed but that she'd still have to be fed the ounce of formula since I wasn't making that much and she couldn't lose weight. I was told that the doctors needed to know how much she ate and they wouldn't be able to tell that if I breast fed, but the choice was ultimately mine. So basically if I wanted to doom my daughter to the fate of being in the NICU longer then I could breast feed. At least that's how it sounded to me. I should have fought more, but I really really just wanted Daughter home so I let them give her the formula.

Two days before she went home

When we got home from the hospital I tried breast feeding a lot, but I had a lot of the same fears. We were told at discharge that if she didn't eat so much per day (and we were supposed to keep track) that she'd be back in the hospital. Nobody told me that it would be okay to breast feed and then bottle feed. That it wasn't a big deal to mix formula and breast milk and that my daughter would be able to tell me if she wasn't getting enough food. Instead we were taught (like a lot of NICU parents) that we should not trust a preemie.

The Monday after she was discharged we had an appointment at the breast feeding clinic (the one they never told me that I could have gone to when she was in the NICU to get help with low milk supply) and the lactation consultant walked in to us giving her a bottle. You would think that a lactation consultant, or anyone really, would be happy that at least the baby was getting food. But no. She seriously yelled at us. As in raised her voice and yelled at us for giving her formula. And so I explained why I was giving her formula and that's when she became helpful. She told me to breast feed, then give the bottle, and then pump to try to increase my milk supply. She also gave me some herbs to try and told me that there was a prescription medication that could also take, but she hesitated going that route (as did I, Daughter had had quite enough prescriptions in her young life). So I tried all of that. This was my routine:

feed for an hour

bottle feed for a half hour

pump for a half hour

sleep for a half hour

get up and do it all over

It worked fine the week my husband was home so that he could do the bottle feeding and I could get an hour of sleep, but when he went back to work there was no way I could keep up that schedule and still stay sane. My milk supply never increased even though I was told it should within a week. I just physically and mentally couldn't do it anymore and so we switched to formula.

And if I thought the nurses and the lactation consultant were bad they were nothing compared to others (some complete strangers). One said it was a shame because breast feeding is the best thing about being a woman (now I'm a bad mother and just a shame to women everywhere? Might as well take me out back and shoot me; I'm sure the jury will understand). I was told that my child would be stupid, overweight, would hit puberty early, and wouldn't be good at math (I'm still trying to figure that one out). And the looks strangers would give could be horrid. Which is hilarious because I've seen strangers give those same looks to breast feeding moms; so the only thing I can come up with is that moms who are still feeding their children from a bottle or breast just aren't allowed outside the home.

I can't help but wonder if without all of the pressure to breast feed and with actual support from people I knew and from people who were caring for my child I might have made it a little longer. I'll never know and as guilty as I felt then I don't anymore. Daughter is 5, is not stupid, or overweight. I have no idea if she'll hit puberty early or not and I'm not going to worry about it. Girls are hitting puberty early, some have even been breast fed. I do know that I had a Son three years later. Everything went right and I still didn't produce enough milk for him. I started to do the same thing in terms of breast feed, bottle feed, pump until it suddenly occurred to me that I was exhausting myself and not being as good of a mom as I could be. From that point on I just breast fed during the day and pumped only when Husband was doing night feedings. And I was a much better mother.

Being a mom is a hard enough job without people judging you on how you feed, whether you cloth diaper or use disposables, or whether you cosleep or babywear; and I can't help but wonder if we supported each other instead of judging each other if maybe (just maybe) this mothering thing wouldn't be as hard.

...............................

I am honoured to host this guest post from Sarah at Cerlandia, and invite you to leave supportive comments as well as visit her lovely blog.

xox
Farren Square

I talk about Breastfeeding. A lot. Here's Why:

You may have noticed I talk about breastfeeding a lot. I post pictures of me nursing, I ask questions about breastfeeding on twitter, and I blog about breastfeeding, too. Hell. I've even written a poem about breastfeeding.

There are more than a few reasons why it's always on my tongue, and I think sharing those reasons is important.

I talk about Breastfeeding a lot because I do it all the time. Right now I nurse Baby D about 12-14 times in a 24 hour period. If it sounds like a lot, that is because it is. I am his only source of food right now, and both his body and his brain are growing exponentially. So we nurse. And of course I'm going to talk about it; I think you would talk about it, too, if it took up many hours in your day.

Nursling Smiles

I talk about Breastfeeding a lot because I'm curious about it. I like to be a smart-ass, it's true. I like to know a lot about the things I know a lot about. Meaning, when I set out to be good at something I want to be all the way good. I want to know the secret things, the tiny bits of information, the loud things, the things everyone knows. Breastfeeding is intricate, a delicate relationship between a mother and a little one, there are a lot of details to know about supply, physiology, mistakes to avoid, and inevitable struggles. I want to know all of those things.

I talk about breastfeeding a lot because I want it to be normal. I want people to think nothing of my breastfeeding baby at the restaurant. I want to nurse in the middle of the mall without a cover and not get any glares or stares. I want to educate women before they are mothers on those small intimate secrets about breastfeeding so that they aren't secrets anymore. I want people to know that breastfeeding can be a positive experience and have it be a natural first choice for every mother.

But I don't talk about breastfeeding to make anybody feel badly. I don't talk about breastfeeding to make anyone feel guilty, or judged, or like less of a loving mom. I don't talk about breastfeeding to make mothers who do otherwise have any negative feelings, ever.

I support all women, and I support the informed and educated choices that they make. I support mothers who feed babies, mothers who have a different story, mothers who are doing their best; I support all mothers.

So yes, I talk about breastfeeding a lot, but it doesn't dictate who I am as a mother.  And it certainly doesn't have any effect on my respect for all women and mothers.

The Bad Mommy versus The Perfect Mommy

When I announced my pregnancy to my large group of -mostly childless- friends, several people told me that I would make a good mom.

That sentence scared me like nothing else in pregnancy ever had. What does it even mean, to be a good mother? How does one qualify what a good mother looks like, sounds like? And if some mothers are good mothers, that means there are bad mothers - and what if I was secretly one of them? What if I was selfish sometimes and wanted to go to the bathroom without my kid in there with me, what if I wanted to leave my baby with his daddy and escape to the coffee shop sometimes, does that make me a bad mommy?

Is this what a bad Mommy looks like?

What if I put my sleeping baby down in a swing, does that make me a bad mommy? What if cloth diapers just don't work for us overnight - now am I a bad mommy?

It's all just too much to think about, defining who is and who isn't a bad mommy. I can only focus on what I choose to do because it feels right to me.

It feels right to put my sleeping baby in a swing, where he will be rocked and loved while I breathe and sip the cold coffee I made for myself hours earlier. It feels right to put him in a disposable diaper so that neither of us are waking every hour for a diaper change. It feels right to take time to re-charge every so often, to remind myself that I am just "I" - not always a "We."

It feels right to breastfeed my baby, but if that didn't work for us the way it has so far, it would feel right to make sure my baby was fed and happy - no matter what I had to do to accomplish that task.

In 2008 I had the chance to be a part of a community where nobody is judged for any choice that they happen to make, as long as it is respectful to others. I felt absolutely freed from the world's negativity. I vowed that I would return to my life and work harder than ever before to make sure nobody I ever encountered felt judged for any choice they make (as long as it was respectful towards others). I've slipped up more than once, but I still continue forward with this mission, especially now that becoming a mommy has opened up a gorgeously diverse group of women for me.

But as I get to know these mothers, as I move forward as a mother myself... I'm realising that I never stopped judging myself. I never stopped and allowed myself to simply make the best choices that I can. I haven't let myself believe that it's okay not to be an absolutely perfect mother.

Or that maybe I get to be the one who decides what perfect means for my family. I think it is time to move forward, to let go. I think it's time for freedom.

My Body's Potential - A Mother's Body Image

I just gave birth 110 days ago. That really doesn't sound like a lot, and it isn't. I'm still processing a lot of what has happened in these last 111 days. For one, my entire perspective on the world has been shifted - there is not one thought in my mind that hasn't been altered by the arrival of my child. But I feel a physical shift, too.

My Belly - Shot by Maak Photography

I know I'm early in the game. I realize it hasn't even been four months since my body rose and swelled and then promptly deflated with the birth of my baby. But every day I look in the mirror and I can see the changes. I pull on my jeans and I can feel where I'm different. In pictures my face seems to be a new shape. My smile is deeper, sometimes I look more concerned than I intend to.

And for the first time in my life I have an extrinsic force motivating me to be healthy, not just a nagging voice inside my head. I do it for him and not for the reflection in the mirror and the societal expectation. A week after birth I remember marveling at my belly when it felt so soft and so empty, lifeless and striped with bright red zigzags. I said out loud: "I want to be proud of my stretchmarks because they gave me something beautiful, they are a symbol of my strength." They are pink-silvery now. Sometimes I barely notice them and sometimes I look so closely at them but mostly I accept them and let them make me feel powerful. My breasts, too, have changed - fuller and heavier than ever before, charged alone with completely sustaining a delicately tiny human life.

Today I stepped out of a shower and actually had a moment's pause to look at myself. I told myself to love my body for what it can do, not what it looks like. They way we love a good book or perfectly ripe avocado with rumply brown skin. My body is more powerful and amazing than either of those things. My body's potential is beyond exponential, it can make something of nothing at all.

TED Tuesday: Courtney Martin's "Reinventing Feminism"

Sometimes I am completely flabbergasted by how often I have to defend my use of the word Feminism or the fact that I label myself a Feminist.

I truly believe that to champion for women's rights is to champion for human rights. While the discrepancy is magnified in other areas of the world, there are still major issues that need to be addressed right here in our home. Domestic violence, rape, and controlling a woman's right to choose - all of these are worldwide issues that also definitely plague us here in North America. Did you know that over half of all Canadian women have experienced domestic violence? Look around at the women in your life. Are you aware that one to two women are murdered by a current or former partner each week in Canada? Chances are there is a woman in your life who is experiencing violence at the hand of her partner every day.

In honour of the 100th anniversary of International Women's Day I am posting this magnificent TED talk by Feministing Editor and author of the book "Do It Anyway: The New Generation of Activists" Courtney Martin. She discusses the modern era of feminism - How it isn't about birkenstocks and man-hating (I don't believe it ever was....) and reinventing the word so more people understand that it is about lifting women up, reinforcing their human rights, and helping them have a positive impact on the world around them.

My favourite part of this TED video? When Ms Martin announces the activist who had the largest impact on her own worldview: Her mother. It inspires me as a mother to keep campaigning for what I believe in, that I can have a positive impact on the world in which my children will live and grow.

Courtney Martin: Reinventing feminism

I've said it before and I'll say it again. As women, we are beautiful flowers - we can also be sparks of change. Have a lovely International Women's Day.

For more facts or information on violence and Canadian women, or to help with the cause, please visit the Canadian Women Foundation

More TED videos on the topic of women's rights & feminism.

xox
Farren

TED Tuesday: Tony Porter's A Call To Men

If you are someone who doesn't understand what feminism is or why anyone would ever claim to be a feminist, this TED Tuesday is for you. This TED video, from the perspective of a man and father, changed how I approach the issue, especially now as a mother.

During pregnancy, I often wondered how mothering would fit into my feminist viewpoint. Or how feminism would fit into my mothering viewpoint. I had become a feminist breeder and was curious about what kind of impact this would have on how I felt about certain issues.

I knew just how to handle myself if we had a girl. All the things I would say, the opportunities I would offer her.

But oh, no. We had a boy. A beautiful boy, but in regards to my feminism... seriously outside my realm of experience. It might seem strange, but amongst all the soul-searching questions I asked myself, one that appears and re-appears often is - "How will I raise my boy to be a respectful feminist?"

To be honest, simply avoiding gender stereotypes has been hard enough. And then to add this notion of raising a respectful young person who grows up to be conscientious and respectful to all genders, while remaining knowledgeable about hurtful preconceived ideas... Well, it will be a journey we will explore together to say the least.


Tony Porter's A Call to Men TED speech came at me out of left field. As he tells powerful and moving stories from his own life, he is honest and vulnerable - he allows himself to say what I have rarely heard men say before: Don't "act like a man." The cliche to "act like a man" alone is so telling about our social climate where young boys are told that if they don't demonstrate power and control (especially over women), then they aren't really a man - and if they aren't a man, they are worthless. As worthless as what?  A woman?

Enjoy this video, and let me know what you think.



xox
Farren

A History of American Motherhood

I don't have a TED talk for you today. I'm in the middle of moving, actually I'm going through all my creative gear and crafting supplies right now, and things have been so hectic that I haven't really had the time to watch anything!

But I have been listening! Today I listened to an incredible podcast from backstoryradio.org about the History of Motherhood in America. Though at first I was skeptical [how can three men present an accurate and unbiased representation of Motherhood?], it turned out to be a very entertaining and very informative historical podcast with several different guest questions and viewpoints. They even presented a feminist perspective.



Though I don't think it is a complete look at what it is to be a Modern Day Momma in North America, I do think it was worth listening to, and definitely worth checking out if you are into the cause and effect that historical accounts can so often underline.  While I do not have a TED talk for you today, I present to you the first podcast I have recommended,

Click here to Listen to The Good Mother: A History of American Motherhood 

The most interesting piece of information, in my opinion, was the account of Anna Jarvis, the "inventor" of Mother's Day - and what she actually intended Mother's Day to represent and to celebrate. Her intentions were much more noble than a box of chocolates and a bouquet of $9.99 roses - and next Mother's Day, I intend to make sure that people are aware of positive ways they can celebrate their mothers as well as make positive changes to their communities.

TED Tuesday - Radical Women Embracing Tradition

When I was 15 years old, my naive self fell desperately in love with a tall ginger-haired athletic boy who ended up -predictably to everyone else- breaking my heart. And in the entire time that I basked in that silly teenage romance, I have but one regret; I can remember the day that he asked me, in front of his guy friends of course, if I was a Feminist. I had no idea how to answer. I spun the question and told him that I believed women deserved equal rights and equal opportunities. But his friends chose to laugh and call me a "feminazi," that I was probably going to burn my bras and expect better jobs than men. Why this didn't enrage me, I'm not sure. My boyfriend - and in my 15 year old heart, my One True Love - took my hand and asked sincerely, "You aren't actually a Feminist, are you? You aren't a feminazi?" And, regretfully, I said No. I'm not.

Since that time in my life I have done a lot of growing, a lot of reading, and a lot of self-reflection. I can remember the day in University that I stood up and started telling people - "Of COURSE I'm a feminist, and I will be until I feel that championing this cause is overkill." But sadly, that day hasn't come. Realistically, it may never come in my lifetime, and that is why - I explained to anyone who would listen - it was up to us to tell people that we aren't afraid to call ourselves Feminists in order to highlight the gap that still exists. As Kavita Ramdas, today's speaker, says: "Feminism is not about fighting one distinct oppressor. Its against a deeply held set of beliefs and assumptions that we, as women, hold ourselves far too often."

This week's TED Tuesday Talk is given by Kavita Ramdas, a brilliant woman and feminist who has traveled the globe speaking to amazing women everywhere. Her insights are wrought with experience, anger, acceptance, and intelligence. In a time when women are universally seeking to overthrow many traditions, she gives her speech about Radical Women Embracing Tradition - and how this empowers them to make change.



We can be flowers, we can also be sparks of change.