8/16/18- Breastfeeding

A week ago I had the privileged to write about what it's like to be a parent with Rheumatoid Arthritis  (RA) on the site Fiery Bones, and while I covered a lot in that article, there was one subject I specifically wanted to talk about while being an RA mom: breastfeeding.  First I want to caveat this post with this-- when it comes to breastfeeding in the US, it feels damned if you do (cover up in public! you can't do that here!) and damned if you don't (I don't care your situation, you should be exclusively breastfeeding baby from the nipple for the next 20 years!).  So now with that caveat, I'll dive into my breastfeeding story.

From the start I was a low producer, meaning that on a good day, I made 5 ounces of breast milk for baby Jack.  Jack consumed at least twice that in the earlier days, and I think 5 times that by the time I hung up my breastfeeding hat.  So I supplemented with formula, and no way do I feel guilty about my baby being feed formula because he was being feed. Period.  That is what is important.  But for the first 3 month (aka maternity leave), I did feed him what breast milk I had mostly by boob.

And I remember how stiff and locked up my hand and elbow joints would get.  Since I didn't produce much milk, feeding sessions would be close to an hour.  And it was painful.  So I'd switch sides every 10-15 minutes or sit him down and pick him back up.  I had suspicions within a month or two that my RA was flaring again.  It was confirmed when I had a check up with my primary care doctor four months after Jack was born.

My primary care doctor recommend a couple of different things, and I did a follow up with my rheumatologist.  The rheumatologist recommended that I go back on Plaquenil for the RA. I had stopped taking the medicine during pregnancy with guidance from my rheumatologist. She didn't want to risk any side effects during pregnancy, as well as all my RA numbers were looking good. I was most likely in remission during pregnancy, which does not always happen to pregnant RA patients.  But now that I was having a flare, it was time to go back on Plaquenil.

Again, with guidance from my rheumatologist and Jack's pediatrician, I started the medication.  It was middle of the road safe for breastfeeding mothers.  At the same time, I was back at work, so I (and Bobby) had switched full time to bottles with Jack (he had them off/on previous).  I remember one week into being back at work (and Jack receiving bottles full time at daycare) that I might try breastfeeding Jack for nostalgia purposes.  Jack was not having it, and I ended up giving him a bottle.

But I was pumping at work, which is it's own beast. Again, the breast milk I pumped wasn't much, but I was still proud of the fact that I was providing a little breast milk among the formula that Jack was receiving.  I'd also wake up in the middle of the night, even though Jack now mostly slept through the night, to pump. Those 3 ounces counted towards the total, no way would I miss that!  However, the lack of sleep was definitely not helping the RA nor was it making me a happy mom.  I was not the best version of myself on the little sleep I was getting (it was hard to fall back asleep after pumping a half hour at 3 am, and since I couldn't fall back asleep, I'd stay up reading or checking emails/social media).

I don't even remember much between months 3 and 9 of Jack's life, since I was a walking, breast milk pumping zombie whose joints ached so much.  Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed my time with Jack (and figuring out parenthood with Bobby), but I can't really remember what I did at work or conversations I'd have with Bobby.  I was in desperate need of Ibfropen and rest/sleep, but I wasn't ready to admit to myself that it was time to retire from breastfeeding.  According to society, I'd be a horrible mother and fail Jack if I didn't make it a whole year breastfeeding.

Then Jack got his first stomach virus at nine months, which is really scary when they're ity bity babies, but of course it all turned out fine (virus went away and Jack started eating again).  But since Jack didn't seem to be keeping any milk or pureed foods down, Bobby and I were in full on parent worry, red alert mood.  So much so, that while Jack was sick, I forgot to pump.  Once Jack was doing a little better, I put the pump supplies on and started the device up.  Nothing came out.  I waited a full 10 minutes before quitting.   I was like, no big deal I'll try again later, and I did try again yith the same results; nothing came out. So that was that.  At nine months, I was done providing breast milk to my baby.

Yet, it was a blessing in disguise.  I started sleeping 8 hours straight through the night (no waking up at 3 am) , and I started taking NSAIDs again (bless you Ibfropen).  I also felt relief that Jack wasn't getting diluted Plaqunil anymore (although the doctors gave their blessing for me to use that medication).  Yes, at first I was very conflicted-- I'm supposed to provide nutrients for a whole year to my baby. However, because of the extra rest/sleep and more free time (now that I wasn't pumping), I felt so much better and happier.  I hadn't realized how awful I had felt. But now I had a little more spring in my steps, and I was able to fully enjoy family time.  I was enjoying life more.

In summary, I feel like I got this unique experience of both sides-- the breastfeeding mom and the formula feeding parent.  I can empathize with both sides, and that I personally don't see breastfeeding as only one sided.  Before judging anyone on whether they choose to breastfeed or not, remember that they could be a RA mom who doesn't produce much and struggles to hold baby for a long time due to joint stiffness.  So let's support the parents who don't breastfeed, as well as the moms who nipple feed until 5+ years, and everything in between. Because damn it, parenting is hard enough without judgement, so let's support each in our breastfeeding decisions. Fed is fed! To breastfeeding and to formula feeding!

5/16/18- Parent Confession 2

In my last post, Parent Confession 1, I confessed that Jack likes saying the word poop and that I don't really discourage him from saying it.  It's kind of funny.  And now I'm about to make my second parent confession... I let my 3 year old have way too much screen time.

The American Academy of Pediatrics (AAP) recommends only 1 hour per day of screen time for children ages 2-5-- Jack watches TV or plays on a tablet for about 2.5 hours a day on weekdays and more on weekends.  I supposed I should feel guilty about him receiving too much screen time, but I don't.  For one, I'm a working parent with a chronic illness, and two, Jack is learning academic and social skills 8 hours a day Monday through Friday at preschool.

Since Jack is at preschool learning reading, writing, math, and other development skills, I'm not worried that screen time is inhibiting his development.  Inhibiting development is one reason the AAP recommends only 1 hour of screen time.  The AAP says screen time should also be quality programming (like Sesame Street), and that other types of programming (like silly cartoons) could delay development. However, from what I can tell, my 2.5 hours/day screen time toddler speaks, reads and writes at the average 3 year old level.

He also seems to be receiving the social skills needs from interacting with the other kids at preschool, as well as his teacher does various social development lessons (like how to recognize your emotions with emotion faces, how to care for people and plants, and so on).  We also only let him watch shows and play games that are designed for preschoolers; most meet the quality programming for preschoolers, with one or two exceptions (train videos on YouTube probably doesn't qualify as quality, but I think Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, Daniel Tiger, and Paw Patrol are probably fine/quality). So, for these reasons I don't really worry about the 2.5 hours/day.

Another main reason I refuse to feel guilty about Jack watching Mickey Mouse Clubhouse or Paw Patrol for long periods of time is that I'm a working mom with an autoimmune disease.  After work, I barely have the energy to make dinner and watch Mickey with Jack, let alone put on an elaborate puppet show or full blown chemistry lab or whatever it is we're supposed with our children instead of screen time.  Like, I'm doing my best as a RA mommy, and sometimes my best is letting my child watch TV and play trains by himself while I sit on the couch, okay judgy AAP?!

💜Laying on the couch, watching TV 💜

While Jack plays and watches TV, I do engage him and ask questions about the show or his toys, but I already have so much guilt for not being down on the floor playing with him because I'm sick/tired that I don't need the added guilt layer that the TV is on too. I'm working to give myself a little grace and kindness on this whole screen thing because holding onto guilt is only going to make my body feel worse, making me a worse mom.  Being a guilty parent over a happy and healthy parent doesn't really do Jack any favors.

I think all of parents could use a little self kindness when they start to feel guilty over whether or not they're doing a good job.  It's tough to always follow all the parent guidelines out there, like give your child organic air and make sure they get 9.8 m/s² of gravity a day, and trying to follow every single rule will just drive you nuts.  And again, a crazy parent over a happy and healthy parent won't be good for the child.  So I think just do you: do the parenting rules that won't drive you crazy and  won't make you feel guilty (of course always follow the no shark rules, like never abuse a children). For me that means letting my kiddo have more than the recommended screen time per day.

So, cheers to screen time!  And cheers to all the parents doing you!  There is no secret shame in being you: a parent who uses non-organic vegetables, a parent who lets their kid play with plastic toys, a parent who lets their kids watch too much TV.  Cheers to doing your best!  Cheers to being you!

*This was a great op-ed on parents with chronic illness. I'm a work in progress, but this op-ed was a good reminder to not beat myself up when I can't play with my kid and only lay on the couch (thanks Felicia for sharing this op-ed with me).  Why Parents With Chronic Illnesses Are Damn Superheroes

4/30/18- Parent Confession 1

I was going to name this post "Parent Secret Shame," but since I'm about to share it on the Internet, it will no longer be a secret.  And I'm not a shamed.  So instead, here is my parent confession: my child loves the word poop.  It's poop this, poopy that, and I find it entertaining.  Honestly the word poop doesn't bother me.  It's kind of a useful word when interacting with a toddler (have you pooped today? do you need to poop? did you just poop your pants?), so I'm not at all surprised he goes around saying the word poop a lot. And I mean a lot. 

Because for all of his life (all 3 years so far), we've been asking him if he pooped.  It started with his first poopy diaper.  Then during potty training, as a parent, you try to look for the poop face or the poop stance, and once your child is (mostly) potty trained, you're asking every hour if she/he has to pooped or if he/she just farted?  Was that a poop or a fart is a common phrase in our house.  So it's like no wonder the toddler is obsessed with this word-- we say it ALL the time.

However, the other day, I did a completely innocent and reasonable parent ask, of, Jack, do you have to poop?  I mean, it's an important question to ask your recently potty trained 3 year old, as it's really not fun to wash yet another pair of stained underwear. He turns to me and says (serious voice), "mommy, you can't say that word."  And I'm like, "poop? I can't ask you if you have to poop?"  "Yes mommy, we can't say poop."  And I'm like shark poop, we can say poop.  Of course, I phrase it a little different to him, explaining how everybody poops, bowel movements are part of the human antimony, biology, medical science, blah, blah.

He must have gotten in trouble at school for saying the word poop or poopy.  Sure, you shouldn't call someone a poopy pants (thanks Captain Underpants and fellow preschool friends for making that phrase popular). I've definitely drawn the line on naming calling. No calling someone poopy pants (omg, it's so hard not to laugh when writing/reading/saying poopy pants). We've talked how that hurts people/feelings, and he will get a time out for name calling.

But... I don't think it's improper to say poop when real poop is involved. Again, it's a very legitimate parenting question and discussion to be having with your kid.  I much rather he tells me he has to poop, then him pooping his pants in the middle of Target.  Nobody wins there.  Including the customers sensitive to the word poop (clutching their pearls, with their curse word meter set way too high) because their nose is going to have more sensitivity issues than their curse word meter if my kid does poops himself.

Also, I refer back to the science part of poop.   It's a part of being human that none of us should be a shamed of, especially if you are 3 years old and have just completed potty training.   If you've ever had serious medical issues, sometimes bodily functions (like poop) are involved, and you need to be capable of openly and maturely talk about poop.  In the medical sciences, prim and proper etiquette about bowel movements goes out the door; it really forces you to be a grown up about it and accept poop as human biology. So please just keep all that in mind if you get flummoxed about the word poop.

Of course, it doesn't help that I laugh when my child says let's ride the poop train or there's the poop dinosaur or poop flowers smell or other nouns getting a poop adjective attached to them. You kind of get desensitized to the word poop as a parent and an autoimmune patient, so I can't help it when a laugh escapes from my mouth when he says poop. And now that I've written poo a bunch of times, I bet you didn't even realize I switched it up from poop to poo just now. 💩

I know I'm not alone in this kid loves the word poop.  I just saw a friend share a picture of a story/letter her child wrote, and it went: Poop poop poop poop poop.  Please feel free to leave your own best parent  poop story (life's bleach-able movements as Clorox so cleverly coined it) or favorite poop joke or any other favorite poop story (doesn't have to be about a kid in your life) in the comments.  Happy pooping everyone (seriously fiber and/or probiotics will help)!

7/25/17- Monsoon and RA

Every July monsoon season blows into Phoenix.  The weather is mostly high winds, dark clouds, thunder, and lightning. A haboob might form because it is the desert (desert=dirt) after all.  The city usually just gets a threat of rain, but occasionally it will down pour.  The rain is great.  If you are a dry desert, going through a drought, then you really need the water.  However, the rain is not so great if you are a RA patient.

Thanks to all the monsoon rain Phoenix has received, I've had inflamed joints.  And really poofy, wavy hair. The hair is easy to deal with; just wrap it into a bun or ponytail.  The inflamed joints are a little more of a pain to deal with. Okay, it is pain.  I have re-acquainted myself with the Ibuprofen bottle. I've seen it more often than I've seen my own mom (she does live in the same city) this summer. Although the Ibuprofen helps with the pain and the inflammation, I also feel so worn down.


Mornings are so hard-- I just want to lay in bed the whole morning.  Eventually, I do get out of bed (before noon!), but I move so slooooow.  I'm achy and fatigued.  And the days I have to do daycare drop off... ugh. I really don't like doing daycare drop off right now.  Since I move like an 85 year old granny in the mornings, I can't get Jack to daycare before 9 am.  Even if we're up really early-- I'll just use that extra time to be more sloth-y (picture the sloth, Flash, from Zootopia; that's me in the mornings). Jack always misses morning snack on the days I have drop off.

Because I take so long getting us ready, Jack thinks he's staying home with me.  It's really hard to convince him to go to daycare.  Getting him to daycare and then saying good-bye at daycare involves a bunch of tears (insert joke about how Jack cries too). I feel riddled with guilt during this drop off ritual, and say to myself, "why didn't I just keep him home?"  Oh yeah, it's because I would need the whole bottle of Ibuprofen to take care of Jack if he stayed home with me (not a whole bottle, but you get the point).  In fact, Jack offered me medicine the other morning when I finally stumbled out of bed.  It was very considerate and compassionate of him (yay for toddlers learning empathy), but also a little heart-breaking for me.  I don't want to be the broken mommy.

Thankfully, I do live in a desert, and it will be dry again before I can figure out how to tame my frizzy hair.  Dryness is good for people with joint problems.  I'll be up and at 'em, like an old pug, before too long (that's better than a sloth, right?).  I won't be so broken.  Jack and I can spend all day playing together, and whatever else non-arthritic parents do. If only the dry season could happen a little sooner (thanks nature! I'd appreciate it!)...

I can't image living in a coastal city.  I'd probably never leave my bed. How do RA patients in coastal places handle humidity and moisture that is all the time?  They probably own stock in Ibuprofen companies (and maybe this is why places like Seattle are legalizing marijuana? So there's alternatives to Ibuprofen when rain cause joint inflammation?).  So in summary, rain great for the desert, but bad for my joints.  I want to wish everyone fair health and long-life this monsoon season! May you not have to take Ibuprofen for the next couple of month!

5/14/17- Happy Mother's Day

Happy Mother's Day to all the moms out there!  This year marks my third Mother's Day, and it was a good day.  Jack sleeps until 7:30, 8:00, and Bobby usually takes care of Jack in the morning because of my RA, so getting to sleep until 8:30 wasn't anything new, but is still really nice (apologies for the long run-on sentence). Then Jack brought me my Mother's Day cards (one from him, one from Bobby) and while I got to read the one from Bobby right away, Jack wanted to put the card back into the envelop.  Then pull the card back out.  Then put the card back into the envelop.  That went on for 15 minutes, until Jack determined he had mastered the skill of envelop stuffing. :)

Knowing that we might be chasing Jack at a restaurant, and that I'd prefer a relaxing day, which includes how I eat my meals, Bobby and I talked before hand about just getting take out for the Mother's Day Brunch and eating at home.  Bobby went and picked up food from one of our favorite breakfast places, Wildflower.  We got to eat slowly at our table while Jack played with his toys and watched "Toy Story 3."  Seriously, quoting another mom, "Mother's Day Brunch is for mom's with adult children"-- eating take out at home was awesome and I recommend it for any mom with children under 18 (it's okay moms to just ask for that; it's supposed to be our day after all)!  :)

Jack and I called my mom/granny to wish her a happy day (she's in Colorado right now, living the snow bird dream) and Bobby, Jack and I visited his mom/Nana yesterday, so I've got to spend the day doing want I enjoy most on a Sunday: chilling at home. OH YEAH.  Happy Mother's Day to me! Hope all the other moms out there have enjoyed their day as well!

Chilling