National Breastfeeding Week – just another excuse for cake?

Is there anything that doesn't have its own occasion these days? Daffodil Day, Arthur's Day, Heritage Week, Book Week, Culture Night even Fish 'n' Chip day. Some of these are awareness raising, some are nothing more than marketing ploys. They seem to work in that the public masses go out of their way to focus on what they're supposed to at the designated time. Overall, having a day/night/week to celebrate your product or charity is good for business.

In 2005 I had my first child. I sometimes attended a breastfeeding support group with him run by my local public health nurse. Even though I had no breastfeeding difficulties, it was nice to meet other women around my own age, also flailing around trying to come to terms with who they were now; trying to accept that their new lives revolved around these whole other tiny people now permanently attached to their breasts, each generating more laundry than a busy hotel and every stranger on the street seemed determined to share their strong, knowing but vastly differing opinions on how the child should be treated. The group usually consisted of a bit of friendly chat, comparison of developmental milestones, discussions on where to get the best nursing bras and a teabag in a mug. If we were lucky we got a biscuit. My public health nurse was of the 'watch the baby not the scales' persuasion so although she would weigh a baby at a mother's request, it wasn't often part of the morning. The first week in October I turned up to find nice sandwiches, proper coffee and cake all laid on for us by the HSE to celebrate National Breastfeeding Week. What is the point of having a week, I wondered briefly, surely you either breastfeed or you don't? There was some talk of the launch of the Breastfeeding in Ireland 5 Year Strategic Action Plan to increase rates of breastfeeding in Ireland. I shrugged, shifted my baby to my other hip and helped myself to a chocolate eclair.

I moved house soon after that and spent a great deal of time in my new area trekking along to various coffee mornings, parent and toddler groups and nursing toddler mornings. I knew no one in the area and figured it was important to make friends, if not just for me, for my son. Some of these I liked more than others. In some, where my older baby was the only one still breastfed, the only one who had never slept anywhere but my bed and the only one who wouldn't let a puréed vegetable pass his lips, I felt pressured and judged. I frequented the nursing toddler mornings more often than the others. I was far more comfortable there.

In 2007 I had my second son and the women in my local La Leche League group were fabulous in supporting me through the ups and downs of breastfeeding through pregnancy and tandem nursing beyond. Something I hadn't even considered possible before. When he was three weeks old we attended the launch of National Breastfeeding Week 2007 back in the Rotunda where he was born.

By then I saw the point of it. This year the focus of the week was Your Network of Support, something I now realised was incredibly important even for those who breastfed with no physical difficulty. It's hard to stand up for yourself against the grain of what is seen as normal in this country. Even when what you are doing intuitively feels right, mothering your first child is always filled with questions and doubts. Having people to talk to who don't give 'advice' who just listen and act as a sounding board, gave me options and suggestions and left the decision making up to me was empowering and helped me become more confident in my mothering. It's also great to have someone to call if there is pain or other complications. Someone who will offer a breastfeeding solution to a breastfeeding problem because there very often is one. Whatever support group suits you best, they really are a great asset because unfortunately in our society, being home alone with a baby or toddler is a very lonely place to be.

This year, National Breastfeeding Week runs from 1^st- 7^th October. The theme is 'Breastfeeding Friendly' with a focus on supporting breastfeeding families and encouraging greater acceptance of this important and natural process. Many events, talks and coffee mornings are happening around the country. Most of these are organised by voluntary breastfeeding support groups such as Friends of Breastfeeding, La Leche League and Ciudiú. Some of them are available here http://www.friendsofbreastfeeding.ie/NBW2011.html but keep an eye out locally too.

I'll be at some of them handing out the coffee, cake and leaflets because as far as I'm concerned, if only one new mother finds herself a name, phone number or group to reach out to when she doubts her own mothering skills, someone who will reassure her and not undermine her; or if one pregnant woman decides to come along to see what its all about and meets someone supportive, the whole week will have been a success. I am also looking forward to the cake.

Some useful breastfeeding support sites:

http://www.breastfeeding.ie/

http://www.lalecheleagueireland.com/

http://www.friendsofbreastfeeding.ie/

This piece was written for http://www.theantiroom.com

A Maths Problem

Leaving cert results are out, college places have been offered and accepted and once again the powers that be have expressed concern that Irish students aren't graduating with sufficient marks in mathematics to take up places on engineering and computer science courses. Minister Quinn has asked his Minister of State to look at the secondary system for ways to improve maths performance and the Higher Education Authority is meeting with the National Council for Curriculum Assesment to explore the issue of reform. All in all, the numerical skills of Irish teens are a big worry for the government who are gambling on our future knowledge based economy to pay off their gambling debts.

So why don't teens think they're good at maths? How numbers fit together is the only thing that has remained and will remain constant in education since the first abacus. Language and technology are always evolving, we learn more about geography and science everyday and history is constantly being added to but complex numbers or not, one and one will always make two. It should be instinctive at this stage in our evolution. I know the majority of teens have mastered the basic concepts of addition, subtraction, multiplication and hopefully even long division by the time they graduate primary which theoretically should give them a good foundation to start playing with probability and calculus, transformations and quadratic equations but somewhere between fourth class percentages and Junior Cert algebra we seem to be losing them. Or - they're gaining such a negative opinion of maths, its complication and their own abilities in the subject that they drag their feet into class everyday, gaze out the window or doodle on their Text & Tests with an attitude of 'I can't do it, so why bother try?'

I feel sorry for anyone who misses out on the beauty of maths. In the insecure turmoil of puberty there was no feeling of elation quite like that of finding an elusive X and knowing it was perfectly correct because you could put it back into the equation and check. It was more satisfying to me to work out a simultaneous equation than to complete a cryptic crossword and probability was just games, like playing solitaire. Admittedly, I struggled a bit with differentiation and I absolutely despised learning off proofs of theorems but because I liked working out the missing angle, I could see the benefit in just knowing them.  I got differentiation eventually because I knew I was good at maths and I wouldn't let it beat me.

So, I'll ask again - why don't teens think they're good at maths? Why are we losing them? I think I have an answer. My theory goes back to infant level maths. Most children don't start school till they are five or well over four. Before this, most have completed at least one year of preschool. In preschool and at home for the first few years they've learned most of the concepts on the junior infant syllabus. They may or may not have the language for it and probably don't have the ability to write it but most four year olds have taught themselves about shapes and basic counting. They know two is more than one and they know if you take one away they are left with one. They count things constantly for fun and they certainly know which part of the chocolate bar is bigger and which is smaller. Most have watched enough Cbeebies to identify the numerals to ten too. Forgive the cliche but young children are sponges and constants like numbers are perfect stimuli for their small but information gobbling brains. Which begs the question; why is the first two whole years of formal mathematics education spent on matching sets to ten and numeral recognition and reproduction? The reproduction admittedly takes some time to master but the development of motor skills shouldn't hold back the development of cognitive skills. I was stunned last year when my eldest started junior infants. On covering the book I realised that the last few pages introduced addition to five with the aid of pictures. My son had been adding and subtracting to twenty for a year already. I mentioned this to his teacher and the head and they both said they had no choice but to stick to the syllabus. We struggled through the year with us writing out pages of  'addies' (eg 7+4=____) as a reward for completing his colouring homework. Twice the teacher approached me about his inappropriate behaviour and lack of patience in class. Eventually she gave him some senior infant work to complete while waiting for the others to finish. He complained this was also too easy. Do I have a gifted child on my hands? Perhaps. Lately though, my younger child who is only embarking on his first full time year of preschool has been asking for 'homework'. He doesn't hold his pencil correctly, he hasn't even decided which hand he prefers but he can match and he can draw a circle and he identifies sets and numerals up to ten correctly every time. He has a year to go till he starts junior infants and then what? Back to matching sets of one and two. Have I two gifted children? Unlikely. I asked on Twitter did anyone have a similar experience.  I got eight replies all agreeing with me that the syllabus is too basic/moves too slowly for many kids. One questioned my rush, saying yes his daughter found it easy in year one but that may change as she got older. More importantly no one disagreed. My concern is that in the first week of senior infants my son already complains 'maths is boring' yet will come home and demand his page of 'addies' and lately has been experimenting with simple multiplication. At some point in his school life the maths will get harder, proabably around fourth class with the introduction of long division. Will my sons still be listening in maths class at that stage? I doubt it. And this is where I think we're losing them.

I taught KG2 for two years and first grade for one in another country. The maths syllabus was very similar to here. There was another subject though. Twice a week, I was scheduled to teach Mental Maths. This was basic numerical agility. Addition, subtraction, filling in boxes, counting in multiples, learning tables, working it out with your fingers or in your head. I struggled to teach the methods and tricks of adding numbers larger than ten as I had to learn them myself. Rounding up - really? In all my years being 'good at maths' I had never learned to do it in my head. I was blessed with a good memory and to this day if you ask me to multiply two large numbers without a pen I will mentally work out the sum on an invisible piece of paper the way I was taught to doing long multiplication in third class. I never learned to round to ten, or break it down into factors until I had to teach the skills. Was I just not listening that day in school?   So many of my Irish teacher colleagues struggled with the subject too that I think not.

I'm not a so called tiger mom, I'm not particularly pushy. Of course I want my children to do well and be successful in life but the reason I give my children academic work to do is usually to keep them quietly occupied. I get fed up playing with Lego and spaceships and I'm trying to limit their screen time. They enjoy it. If they didn't I'd find something else for them to do. I know the theories that academia is best left till they're older and formal education doesn't start till they are six in Denmark etc. but living within the constraints of Irish rainy Suburbia, a page of  'addies' or 'matching' is a good way to buy myself a few minutes quiet to make a phonecall. I enjoyed maths too - it's satisfying.

I am dreading heading into the next few years of struggling with my children to complete homework that bores them and the stress of making up extra work that challenges them. Already the four year old is eyeing up the six year old's maths book. It's not a good way for a parent to feel about their children's education and it's even worse that small children are feeling that way about their school work. He loves the school, he enjoys all the other subjects, he adores his teachers but he is unchallenged and bored by maths below his level and I think that needs to change before it turns to apathy. I believe if Minister Quinn really is determined to improve the numeracy skills of the next generation he should start by challenging the little ones. Make it fun from an early age. Teach them mental numeracy. Show them the pleasure and satisfaction maths can give. Start them off with the idea that maths is something they can enjoy and succeed at and keep them interested and I believe they're far more likely to believe in their own ability to sit that higher level paper and pass it.

The Robins

A couple of weeks before Easter, I noticed this robin hanging around our garden acting a bit suspiciously. Every time I came out she froze and eyed me, usually with a bit of moss or hair in her beak. After a few days I figured out where she was building the nest. Beside our back patio door there is a water butt, on top of this the resident gardener had left two full bags of compost and an almost empty one that was split down the side. The robin was building her nest inside the top compost bag. At first I begged of Twitter what should I do? This wasn't as clever a place for a nest as the robin seemed to think. What about our garden hose and our trowel? Then I stole a peek. She'd obviously worked really hard to build such a spectacular structure. I hadn't the heart to move her on. I negotiated the loan of the gardening equipment to the robins for as long as they needed it and we did our best to leave them to it. After about a week, I noticed the male bringing food to the female robin. In the evening time he came to her and they both flew out together for about an hour. We slyly stole a pic to see what was going on. Four eggs! A couple of days later - a fifth was also there. Then everything went very quiet. The female spent all day in the nest for about another ten days, only leaving for a bath and a bite in the evening. The male came and went a bit with worms for her. It was intersting that they never flew directly in our out of the nest. They always perched on a tree on the opposite side of the garden, or the back of a patio chair first. Then they would duck in and out when they were sure nobody or other birds saw them.

One evening I thought I heard a tiny chirp from the nest. it was hard to tell though, there were loud nesting martins and sparrows all around in the eaves of the houses but the next day both robins were very busy coming and going with bits of worms and taking out bits of shell. We were desperate to look but didn't want to disturb them. Then the big wind came. The top of the bag, or 'the roof' kept blowing up, the entire bag looked at risk of flying away. I pulled over the patio table and taped a refuse sack between the parasol and the table to create a type of windshield. The robins watched me closely and seemed to figure out that I was creating shelter even if they thought it was accidental. They were still flapping about worried though, the bag was still looking precarious. George came home, saw my construction which was blocking the backdoor and grabbed a few tentpegs. He stuck them through the corners of the bag into the one beneath. While he was doing that he managed to stick his phone in and get this:

Four baby robins!

After that, other than the parents flying in and out with food and debris, everything was quiet. Robin chicks are surprisingly unchirpy. Up above in the eaves, the young martins were busy being schooled in flight. making ever increasing circles in and out of their nest. Then two days went by and I saw no robins at all. I grew concerned. On the third or fourth day we looked - they were gone. All of them. All that was left was the one unhatched little egg at the bottom of the nest. I was worried that a cat or bigger bird had gotten to them but the nest and bag were undisturbed and there was nothing on the ground around it. A quick Google informed me that robins are ready to fly and fend for themselves as soon as they outgrow the nest. Mom and dad simply entice them out with some worms usually in the morningtime. My nestlings had obviously flown. I was sorry I missed it. The six year old and I printed out these pictures and he wrote a couple of sentences about each. We pasted them onto a board and he brought it and the empty nest into school. He was very happy to be the centre of attention with his little project and the resident gardener was happy to get his tools back.

The Cult and me.

My heart thumped with excitement as I carefully applied black eyeliner and powdered my already white face whiter. It was November 1991, I was 15 and I was finally allowed to go to a major concert unchaperoned. The band was The Cult, I knew a few of their songs, I had dated a guy for a whole seven weeks that was mad about them and I liked their sound. I was going with a girl who these days might be known as a 'frenemy' but that didn't matter. She was a big fan and was so glad to have someone to come with her that she was being completely nice to me that day.

We got there early and made our way through the sea of black clothes and hair right up the front to the barrier. The support band came on; Bootsauce. They were good, sounded a bit like the Red Hot Chili Peppers. We danced a bit and cheered as the excitement levels rose. There was a break after them when we considered trying to buy a beer but we didn't want to risk getting thrown out for being underage nor did we want to lose our spot. So we waited as the tension built until the cheers, chants and screams reached a crescendo and this happened:

In 1991, Ian Astbury was already 30, twice my age and well older than anyone I'd consider dating; but whatever it was about his 'Don't Touch Me, I AM The Cult' stage presence, the flick of his hair, the pelvic thrust of his leather trousers, the 'Hey Baby!' with a click of the fingers attitude and the distintive raw crooning voice I was; for the first time in my life, completely, totally and utterly starstruck. There followed a good hour of pumping, rocking tunes. I sang along when I knew the lyrics. I made them up when I didn't. I danced, I sweated, I screamed like only a teenage girl at a concert can. When Ian and Billy pulled up chairs and performed an acoustic version of Edie, Ciao baby, I even cried.  Whatever happened that night, that concert made a huge impression on me. He became my definition of the perfect man.

I ran out the next day and bought Sonic Temple and Ceremony, I taped the frenemy's Electric and Edie EP. The  The Cult became a staple in the soundtrack to the rest of my teens. The upbeat, happy, good times playlist. The man with whom I later fell most deeply, self-sacrificingly in love wore the same leather trousers, had the same mane of hair and a similar attitude. Turns out he had been at that concert too. He had a Billy plectrum the roadie had given him after. I coveted it.

When I moved to Qatar in 2000, Pure Cult was one of the first CDs I bought to restart my collection. Many an evening was spent dancing around my apartment in the desert to Rain. When I felt homesick, Edie was still one of the ballads I turned to.

Life went on. I moved home, fell in love with a different style of man and had kids. My vinyl got left in an attic somewhere and the Pure Cult CD mostly got left on the rack. She Sells Sanctuary was regularly played on the radio but I didn't think much about them for years. I heard Ian Astbury was touring with The Doors but the night they played Dublin, I didn't bother going. Once, my husband played a request for me on Phantom FM and asked for 'anything by The Cult that's not She Sells Sanctuary' They played 'Lil Devil'. I danced in my seat all the way home much to the bemusement of my kids.

A year later, I hear they are playing. A mix up meant I thought I won tickets but had misheard. Then, they were sold out. I was beyond disappointed. My husband bought tickets to a gig and refused to tell me what it was. Soon after I heard The Cult had added an extra date. I suspected they might be my surprise tickets but I wasn't sure. He made me sweat it out. The night he gave in and showed me the tickets I was ecstatic. Pure Cult was put on loudly and I listened to it through twice. For the next few weeks I looked up everything they had done since 2001. I made Everyman and Everywoman is a Star my ringtone. My kids can now sing along with Rain in the car.

The morning of the gig, I woke excited. After the schoolrun I spent an hour choosing what to wear. I've seen so many gigs in the interim but this was the first one that had me jumping up and down all day long. I knew in my head that he must have aged and was overweight now but I figured he was still Ian Astbury; he was still The Cult; he still had The Voice and would still own the stage. We got there just as the support act was finishing up. This time I had no problem getting served. This time the sea of black was a touch faded and the manes of hair were a touch receded. I bumped into someone I hadn't seen in about 15 years and had fun catching up.

They came on. Despite being prepared for the worst, I was a bit shocked. He was wearing a pair of knee length jersey shorts with long socks and Converse. He looked like he'd  just staggered out of bed. They played Rain. The band were great. The same sound, the same energy. The rest of them looked great. They played Every man and Electric. By this stage I was giving it socks. In my mind, I was back in the 90s and if I closed my eyes or watched the musicians I could almost believe it.  The rest of the audience weren't dancing so much. There was lots of head nodding and foot tapping but no real rocking. Ian explained his 'dressing like an oompa loompa' was so his balls didn't get too hot. Lovely, Ian - dead sexy, baby. How many years did you prance around in leathers, hot rocks or not? Then they played Sweet Soul Sister and Ian appeared to get a bit annoyed at the sound or the audience or life or something. He shouted the melodious chorus out so it was practically unrecognisable. He gave the audience  a lecture about recording the show on phones and missing the moment. He created an atmosphere that wasn't so much one of a moody, arrogant rockstar but that of a grumpy oul' fecker. The band continued to rock. Ian missed half the words to most of the songs. Instead of dancing through the solos he stood in a corner and deep breathed. His short movie about Native Americans completely lost the audience. Edie has been replaced on the setlist by Embers, which he seems to find emotional but it has nowhere near the power of Edie. He insisted on starting Wildflower from the top when Billy broke a string and managed to miss the verse again. He stopped before the breakdown in Love Removal machine and gave another irrelevant lecture ruining the flow of the song. He didn't even manage to get the lyrics right to She Sells Sanctuary. All in all he gave a performance of the likes I've only read about in the latter part of Jim Morrisson biographies. Did the role go to his head, perhaps? For the encore they played a pretty rockin' version of Fire Woman which went down well, then he disappeared back into Jim Morrisson mode for Break On Through which it seems he carried off better the previous night.

This was The End. I had enjoyed the band and the music. I had danced my ass off. My neck still hurts from headbanging. I even got my own Billy plectrum. My husband bought me a Destroy Europa hoodie which I've barely taken off since. All in all, I had a great time. But I was left feeling let down, betrayed and disappointed. Ian Astbury had come crashing down off the pedestal in my head with a heavy thud. He's lost his confidence; he's lost his attitude and developed a metaphorical hump unbecoming of a rock idol. Now it seems he'd be more at home on a sofa with his hand down his shorts and a discarded pizza box nearby than pumping and grinding on a stage. He made me glad my teenage fantasies of being whisked away on a tour bus never came true. I wasn't even tempted when he invited the audience to meet him later in Temple Bar. For the second time after a Cult gig, I got the last bus home. I played all the songs he'd missed the lyrics to and danced to them again in my own living room. I relived my teenage experience at home and I was satisfied. I had closure.

And so it goes. Another teenage illusion dashed. Another road not taken revealed to have been potentially lethal. The question remains: would I go see them again? The answer is:  of course! - He was my first idol, my first crush, my first close up experience with a rockstar in leather pants, I will always give him another chance to rock my world.

Jack & Jill

So I'm doing the Flora mini-marathon. For those who know me this will probably be a surprise. I am not a sporty person. I've been training for a few weeks though and reckon I'll be able to manage it. I chose to do it for Jack & Jill Children's Foundation.

You've probably all seen the mobile phone envelopes but few know what services they provide. I met a nurse who works for this charity at a coffee morning fundraiser last year. She told me of some of her cases. A 2 year old boy who sufferred brain damage in surgery soon after birth. This child needs to be held close 24/7 or he gets very distressed. Jack and Jill provide a nurse to assist with this care so that his parents can spend some time with their two other children or simply take a break. She also told me of families who have been forced to leave work to care for their children full time. Here they provide financial or practical assistance such as children's books and toys. Another vitally important service they offer is advice on how best to care for a seriously ill child at home and how to access services. It's scary enough being home with your first child but imagine that child was seriously ill. Where would you turn? Jack and Jill provide home visits and offer advice and practical help. They are always mindful of the loneliness and isolation that affected families experience and provide support to help these families cope and to promote the best quality of life for all concerned. The charity also puts much effort into campaigning and lobbying government to improve services to these children who come from all backgrounds.

I would be very grateful to anyone who sponsors me to walk the 10k for this very deserving charity. If you would like to, you can here: http://www.mycharity.ie/event/jennyminimarathon/.

Jack and Jill also recycle mobile phones and printer ink cartridges to raise funds - or you can Text PINT to 57034 (Ireland only) to donate the price of a pint.

Thanks so much for your support.
Jenny

The Web

I hooked up with an old friend on Facebook and he mentioned he still had this poem I wrote as a tortured teen. I had long forgotten it but rereading it now bearing in mind I was 16 and knew nothing of the Internet I'm kind of proud of it. Thanks Ian for keeping it and sending me the text. Let me know what you think.

14.01.1993

The Web

It's a web of happiness entwined with gloom,
A web of hope entangled with doom,
A web of limbo mixed with paradise,

A web of a smile topped with sad eyes,

A web of people joined at the heart
But the fears of being hurt keep them apart

Confusion's the spider,we're all just flies
Caught in the web of love in disguise.
The threads are the ecstasy, the dewdrops the tears;
The pattern is hope, the gaps are just fears.

So many hearts mingled together
In a web so strong, yet light as a feather.
So many stories rolled into one
And nobody knows what's to be done.
For when you break free, think you've come to a conclusion
You find you're still caught in a web of delusion.

And when you think you're happy, settled at last,
What's around the next corner
But the webs of your past.

Healthy(ish) Cheesecake

Been craving cheesecake for weeks but been trying to lay off sugar and white flour. Today I concocted this from about 6 different recipes and it worked! Base is crunchy and filling is surprisingly sweet for so little sugar.

Base:

• 1 cup oats
• 1 cup wholegrain spelt (from health shop)
• 1/3 cup milk
• 1/3 cup melted butter
• 1 tbs sugar

Mix all together, press into greased pie tin and bake at 160C for 8-10 mins till it turns golden Leave to cool.

Filling

• 500g of light cream cheese
• 1 cup of light sour cream
• 1/2 cup milk
• 2 tbs castor sugar
• 1 tsp vanilla extract
• 1 package gelatine
• 1/2 cup boiling water

Disolve gelatine in water. Place rest of ingredients into a bowl and whisk until peaks form. Stir in gelatine solution. Pour filling into cooled base. Refrigerate for 2-3 hrs till set. Decorate with summer fruits.

I breastfeed because I am selfish.

• I breastfeed because I like being the one my infant relies on for food, love and comfort.
• I breastfeed because I love the feeling of relaxation that overcomes me when my baby nurses.
• I breastfeed because  it's nice to sit down with my baby and not think about anything else.
• I breastfeed because I want to keep my children healthy for as long as possible.
• I breastfeed because the nappies presolids smell much better.
• I breastfeed because I don't want to deal with infant constipation, gastroenteritis or ear infections.
• I breastfeed because I love when my child traces my face with his finger, or stares right into my eyes.
• I breastfeed because I don't want to get up at night to make bottles.
• I breastfeed because I don't want to be tied to a routine.
• I breastfeed because I like having a sure fire way to put my child to sleep.
• I breastfeed because I couldn't be bothered to ensure my house is clean enough to trust that a plastic teat would be sterile.
• I breastfeed because I like having a way to keep my toddler quiet when I need to make a phonecall.
• I breastfeed because it is the easiest way to deal with a toddler meltdown.
• I breastfeed because I like feeling that I can comfort and heal my children when they get the odd tummy bug.
• I breastfeed because I want my children to be as clever as they could possibly be.
• I breastfeed because I want my pre pregnancy shape back in the laziest way possible.
• I breastfeed because I don't want my children to be at risk of obesity, diabetes or a host of other illnesses.
• I breastfeed because I want to travel with my baby without worrying about how many feeds to pack, or where will I get clean water.
• I breastfeed because I don't want to worry about what nutritional value the solid food my toddler eats in a day has.
• I breastfeed because it is what my breasts are for.

What sacrifice?

Safety in Numbers

Welcome to the July 2010 Carnival of Nursing in Public


This post was written for inclusion in the Carnival of Nursing in Public hosted by Dionna and Paige at NursingFreedom.org. All week, July 5-9, we will be featuring articles and posts about nursing in public ("NIP"). See the bottom of this post for more information.


***

Currently approximately 47% of mothers in Ireland are breastfeeding at discharge from maternity care. This is compared with 99% in other countries such as Norway and Sweden.  Breastfeeding duration rate figures are not currently collected at national level, however, research studies indicate the fall-off in breastfeeding following discharge is worryingly high with less than 10% of infants still breastfeeding at 6 months of age. Reasons cited for weaning include lack of support and embarrassment of feeding in public. The national policy and strategy for improvement of breastfeeding rates is available here. http://www.breastfeeding.ie/policy_strategy  Breastfeeding mothers are encouraged to seek support from local voluntary groups such as Ciudiu and La Leche League.

Our local La Leche League group hosts an informal coffee morning in a busy coffee shop in a shopping mall. It started as a once off to celebrate National Breastfeeding Week in 2007 but so many mothers, who came along, spoke about how they felt uncomfortable breastfeeding in public because they felt like they were doing something strange, that the LLL group decided to make it regular. Every month, new moms come along and the relief is sometimes evident on their faces simply to see other moms breastfeeding. There is a leaflet available for mothers to take. It contains tips for breastfeeding discreetly, the law that protects our right to breastfeed in any public place and some kind words of encouragement. Mothers see other mothers nursing babies, toddlers, sometimes both and sometimes multiples. The chat ranges from nursing clothes to slings, baby development to housework, childcare to employment. LLL Leaders are available for information on breastfeeding but mostly people go for the company. Some mothers have initially met there and meet each other more frequently as they became friends. These mothers, given confidence by each other, now breastfeed anywhere. Some mothers have also said that they seek out that coffee shop even when the meeting isn't on because they feel comfortable nursing there in the knowledge the staff won't stare.

The more breastfeeding is seen in public, the more likely it is to become a norm. In a city with low breastfeeding rates, seeing other people breastfeed in public is vital to a mother who may lack the confidence. It is also important to young women who have yet to become mothers. Many women nowadays have their first baby without ever having seen a baby breastfeed. Experiencing  the subtle differences in how a nursing mother holds her baby may make all the difference to them when their time comes and they try to achieve  the proper positioning. Others benefit too. Family members may be more supportive of a breastfeeding relation when they realize she is not alone in her choices. Image stigmas of breastfeeding mothers may be removed for some people when they see normal, even glamorous moms happily breastfeeding in their local coffee shop. Strangers have often commented on how happy the babies at the group seem. A baby is rarely distressed for long. This can only be good publicity for breastfeeding. 

Perhaps you could organize a similar meet up in your area. It could make all the difference to a new mom and it might make all the difference to breastfeeding rates in your community. At the very least, a few breastfeeding moms will have a good morning's chat and make some new friends.

To find a La Leche League group in your area and for breastfeeding information see http://www.llli.org/

Welcome to the Carnival of Nursing in Public


Please join us all week, July 5-9, as we celebrate and support breastfeeding mothers. And visit NursingFreedom.org any time to connect with other breastfeeding supporters, learn more about your legal right to nurse in public, and read (and contribute!) articles about breastfeeding and N.I.P.


Do you support breastfeeding in public? Grab this badge for your blog or website to show your support and encourage others to educate themselves about the benefits of breastfeeding and the rights of breastfeeding mothers and children.

<center><a href="http://www.nursingfreedom.org/p/carnival-of-nursing-in-public.html" title="Carnival of Nursing in Public"><img src="http://www.babydustdiaries.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/06/inip1.png" alt="Art by Erika Hastings at http://mudspice.wordpress.com/" border="0"></a></center>

This post is just one of many being featured as part of the Carnival of Nursing in Public. Please visit our other writers each day of the Carnival. Click on the links below to see each day’s posts - new articles will be posted on the following days:

July 5 - Making Breastfeeding the Norm: Creating a Culture of Breastfeeding in a Hyper-Sexualized World

July 6 – Supporting Breastfeeding Mothers: the New, the Experienced, and the Mothers of More Than One Nursing Child

July 7 – Creating a Supportive Network: Your Stories and Celebrations of N.I.P.

July 8 – Breastfeeding: International and Religious Perspectives

July 9 – Your Legal Right to Nurse in Public, and How to Respond to Anyone Who Questions It

When the Decision to Breastfeed in Public is Made for You.

Welcome to the July 2010 Carnival of Nursing in Public


This post was written for inclusion in the Carnival of Nursing in Public hosted by Dionna and Paige at NursingFreedom.org. All week, July 5-9, we will be featuring articles and posts about nursing in public ("NIP"). See the bottom of this post for more information.

***

Being out and about with my first baby was nerve racking. He had never taken to any kind of feeding schedule so there was no way of knowing he was hungry until he started to cry. A lot. Very loudly. This evoked a physical response in me. I would begin to heat up, my breathing would get shallow, I'd sweat, then leak. I would get close to a panic attack. Nothing mattered except putting my baby to the breast straight away. Unfortunately, I hadn't discovered slings at this point and was still mostly struggling along with an empty stroller in one hand, carrying a rooting, distressed infant in the other. 

He was about three weeks old when it happened in the city. It was evening time and all the coffee shops on the street I was on were closed. It was downtown where my bus was due to leave from . I looked around. There was a pub. I could hear a soccer commentary through the door and then a loud cheer. I dismissed it.  Baby's cries rose. There was a monument with steps. I sat down on the steps. I opened my jacket and latched my baby on. Prolactin - the mothering hormone, rushed through me, panic subsided, a sense of calm came over me. Baby looked up at me lovingly. Then there was a shout, of incredulity, 'Hey look, that woman is breastfeeding her baby!' A group of young teenage boys walked past, staring, their mouths gaping. I checked myself. No part of my breast was visible to them. Baby's head was partially inside my jacket. 'What's their problem?' I thought and simply said, 'So?' They giggled and continued on their way. An old man passed me. He tipped his hat at me, smiled and said, 'Fair play to you. You're doing the best thing'. I was lucky. I had seen my mother breastfeed my sisters and my aunt breastfeed my cousins. It hadn't occurred to me to be self conscious and I really didn't know what the big deal was. I was far more self conscious of what people would think of me if my baby was screaming. 

Now, five years and another baby later, I've breastfed everywhere. On buses, trains, airplanes and boats, in museums, restaurants, at the beach, at festivals, in a church, even on top of the Empire State Building. If I've been there, I've probably breastfed there, and thankfully, I've never really had a negative experience.  I've had old ladies lament to me that their grandchildren aren't breastfed and I've had young teenagers ask  curious questions like, 'Does it hurt?' and 'How do you know how much he's getting?' My youngest son lived in a sling till he was 5 months old and helped himself whenever he felt like it. I once had a man move the sling to see the baby and jump back like he'd been burned when he realized baby was nursing away. He apologized to me immediately and then even offered to get me a chair.

I know that I would not have had satisfying breastfeeding relationships with my children had I not the freedom and confidence to breastfeed anytime, anyplace, anywhere. It made motherhood that much more easy for me to not be tied to a schedule, to take my pre-crawling babies with me to weddings, funerals and even Board of Management meetings, comfortable in the knowledge that they would be happy to sit quietly on my lap or in a sling and nurse themselves to sleep. If they caused any distraction it was usually adults cooing at them. I got stuck in an airport for ten hours once with a four month old. I am so glad I didn't have to worry about any facilities other than a changing table. When my toddler cut his knee in the playground, I could comfort  him right away. Mothering through breastfeeding made my life less stressful and breastfeeding in public was a vital part of this

In my experience, people are usually supportive of breastfeeding even if they are a little uncomfortable at first. It is not their fault that the art of breastfeeding has almost been bred out of our cultural knowledge and that it is, unfortunately, relatively unusual to see in the western world. Only breastfeeding mothers can change that.. The law and nature is on their side. Breastfeed  your child with pride. Be comfortable yourself and welcome others to sit with you. Answer questions matter-of-factly and without embarrassment. Laugh at well-meant jokes even if they are inappropriate. Chances are they are merely trying to mask their discomfort. If you encounter any  hostile stares or comments just  feel the prolactin and smile, secure in the knowledge you are contributing to the health of the next generation and setting a wonderful example for other women.You are doing much, much more than feeding your baby. There is no need to cover that up.

   

Welcome to the Carnival of Nursing in Public


Please join us all week, July 5-9, as we celebrate and support breastfeeding mothers. And visit NursingFreedom.org any time to connect with other breastfeeding supporters, learn more about your legal right to nurse in public, and read (and contribute!) articles about breastfeeding and N.I.P.


Do you support breastfeeding in public? Grab this badge for your blog or website to show your support and encourage others to educate themselves about the benefits of breastfeeding and the rights of breastfeeding mothers and children.

<center><a href="http://www.nursingfreedom.org/p/carnival-of-nursing-in-public.html" title="Carnival of Nursing in Public"><img src="http://www.babydustdiaries.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/06/inip1.png" alt="Art by Erika Hastings at http://mudspice.wordpress.com/" border="0"></a></center>

This post is just one of many being featured as part of the Carnival of Nursing in Public. Please visit our other writers each day of the Carnival. Click on the links below to see each day’s posts - new articles will be posted on the following days:

July 5 - Making Breastfeeding the Norm: Creating a Culture of Breastfeeding in a Hyper-Sexualized World

July 6 – Supporting Breastfeeding Mothers: the New, the Experienced, and the Mothers of More Than One Nursing Child

July 7 – Creating a Supportive Network: Your Stories and Celebrations of N.I.P.

July 8 – Breastfeeding: International and Religious Perspectives

July 9 – Your Legal Right to Nurse in Public, and How to Respond to Anyone Who Questions It

Birthday present success!

My first knitting project since school.

Take two carrots...

Take two carrots, one bog standard from a grocery store and one covered with muck from a pesticide free farm, leave them together for a week or two, checking them every couple of days. The results: not surprisingly both will have rotted but how differently. The one from the farm will have rotted in patches from the outside in. After a few days you could probably just cut the rotted bits off and use the rest of the vegetable. The grocery store carrot will have rotted from the inside out. It probably looks pristinely orange on the outside for longer but the inside turns to pulp. I don't know about anyone else but this gives me an icky feeling.

The recent UK FSA Organic review report http://www.food.gov.uk/multimedia/pdfs/organicreviewreport.pdf tested organic and non-organic vegetables for their nutritional content only. As it clearly states it did not set out to review the potential health impacts of contaminants such as pesticide and fungicide. Surely it is to avoid these poisons that most people who do buy organic?

If a pesticide will burn your skin what is it doing to your stomach, constantly, in small quantities, over years? There have been many studies showing that most samples of human breastmilk contain pesticides. http://www.dioxins.com/pdf/biological/biological06.pdf being just one of them. Just to be clear though - even contaminated breastmilk is still a hundred thousand times better for your baby than formula. Due to the nature of living life and the human being's amazing power of survival despite the odds, it is not possible to conduct a study showing that if you eat non organic foods you will get cancer or develop Alzheimers and if you eat organic you won't. It is all about minimizing the risk. Your grocery store carrot is still better chopped up and given to your children in their lunch box than giving them a chocolate biscuit but a pesticide-free one will be even better.

I find as a general rule of thumb, things eaten in as close to their natural state as possible are usually a healthier, tastier choice. If you have access to organic veg for an affordable price or can grow your own - great. But if you have to run to the shop at the last minute for your carrots - at least you're cooking a dinner with vegetables.

I would like to see Ireland as a country declare itself completely Organic and ban pesticides, fungicides and herbicides as well as antibiotics for animals. I think we are in a unique position to do this and the exporting and tourist potential from this would be huge. Maybe even get us out of debt. A romantic vision - certainly but I'd be more comfortable about living in this grey rainy climate if I knew all my and my children's food was safe and toxin free and I would be more proud to call myself Irish if the image was green and organic.

The Sofa Surfing Handbook

Just in case any of you are considering sofa surfing to save on rent. Here are a list of guidelines from an experienced sofa owner.

1. Target households that are used to sharing their living space; groups of students or shared houses are best. If you must stay with a nuclear family, ingratiate yourself with the kids. If you are staying with a couple, make sure you have the female of the house on your side whatever sex you are.

2. Never stay on the same sofa for more than three nights at a time. If you follow the rest of these rules, the sofa owners will miss you when you are not there and be pleased to see you next time you arrive. Always have two or three sofas on the go at one time. Keep one as an emergency back up.

3. Don’t arrive with one arm longer than the other. Bring food/ alcohol/recreational drugs that householders are partial to.

4. Arrive late in the evening but not after bedtime. Do not knock on a door if house is in darkness. If you feel you should phone before arriving, ask if anything is needed in the shop as you are on your way over to collect something you left there. It helps if you have actually left a notebook of important looking but not private information or some other personal but not too personal object there when you previously slept there.

5. Don’t ask can you stay – just don’t leave until they say they are going to bed – most people will offer and then think it's their idea. Never try and get into anybody’s bed unless you are invited. Sex makes the whole thing more complicated. It's best if you are celibate.

6. Make a lot of tea without being asked. Appear from the kitchen bearing toasted cheese, hot buttered brack or bowls of popcorn all round at appropriate moments. Make sure kitchen is left cleaner than it was when you went in.

7. Never use the last of the milk, toilet roll, teabags, sugar or bread. If you notice supplies running low replace them. Be ready to run to the shop/ liquor store/ chipper at any given moment.

8. Be a good listener and shoulder to cry on. Be prepared to forego sleep to sit up all night talking.

9. Be lighthearted and entertaining. Never complain about your situation. You want them to want you around. Think ‘ray of sunshine’ not ‘black cloud’.

10. Don’t talk about other sofas you have previously slept on. Refer to ‘flats you were looking at’ on occasion. Always imply you could go ‘home’ or even better you ‘should go home’ but you’ve stayed because of their delightful company. It is still important to say thank you.

11. Keep your baggage to an absolute minimum. You want to be as compact as possible. Do not litter the place with clothes. If you are supplied with a duvet, fold it and stash it behind sofa or somewhere out of the way. The idea is to make it look like you were never there.

12. If something is broken and you can fix it - do. Listen carefully for clues as to anything about the house that annoys your hostess. Do anything you can about it but remember the surprise element. You want her to be pleased you solved the problem not disappointed that you couldn’t.

13. Remember you have no TV privileges. Even if this means sitting through hours of soap operas or war movies. If there is something you really want to watch, casually mention that it’s on when someone is flicking channels.

14. Know when to hide out in bathroom. For example, when landlord, parents or exes arrive.

15. Try to look attractive and cute on the sofa. Personal hygiene must be of a high standard. No smelly socks on the coffee table or dirty underwear under the couch.

16. Try to be up and if possible have left before anyone gets up to go to work. If you must stay, have coffee made and stay out of the way (Not in the bathroom). DO NOT SPEAK IN THE MORNING UNLESS YOU ARE SPOKEN TO. Before they get up note where their keys, phone and wallet are and be ready to hand them to them just as they begin to look for them.

17. If you drive, offer lifts to work etc. Do not do this as an open offer but just at the last minute when they are almost late and you can get them there on time. This works best if you drive a motorbike and make sure you carry a spare helmet.

18. Do not still be asleep on the sofa when someone arrives home from work. If you are still in the house make sure it is clean and tidy. Have dinner ready if possible.

19. If you are invited to any parties, pubs or clubs by a third party, extend invite to the householders. You do not want to make them feel that they are subsidising your social life while they have none. If you are out and no sofa is presenting itself, call and invite target sofa owner out. If they refuse but sound pleased to hear from you offer to call up for ‘a visit’ later. Otherwise use emergency back up sofa.

20. Leave BEFORE you have outstayed your welcome. If you hear any muttering and whispering behind closed doors or receive any jibes or black looks, you have outstayed your welcome and so should leave immediately and graciously under the pretext that there is something you forgot you have to do. Retire to emergency back up sofa. Do not return to this house for at least a month then visit bearing usual gifts and leave once at a decent hour before returning and expecting to stay the night.

Fuel tank falling from shuttle Endeavour 23.22GMT above Dublin

Jane's Addiction at Oxegen 09

My husband, lucky man that he is, won two camping tickets to the Oxegen festival. Since seeing the line-up I was desperate to go but we couldn't figure out what to do with our almost two year old breastfed toddler. It was 'advised' not to bring under fives and he would have needed his own ticket anyway. Granny was happy to take four year old who is quite comfortable spending a few nights with her away from me but baby has never been apart from me for more than a few hours. Weaning on the spot seemed a bit unfair. I would have liked to be the type of wife that said, 'You go, enjoy yourself take a friend. I just have to accept I can't go.' but unfortunately as the day approached and I found myself crying into my coffee and switching off the radio at any mention of it I realised I could not be that cool.

After much deliberation, soul searching, arguing and worrying, we compromised. He would go down Saturday and I would follow on Sunday. I managed to sell my weekend ticket on http://www.toutless.com and I bought myself a day ticket. Four year old stayed with granny from Friday so I was only alone with two year old Saturday night. On Sunday I drove him down to Granny, armed her with bananas, DVDs and chocolate and left.

I got there in time to catch The Specials first gig in 26 years. It was great although they have certainly aged. The skies opened. My husband had nabbed me a plastic poncho which did the trick relatively well as long as I kept dancing to keep warm. We spent some time in the Bacardi tent where the pumping music reminded me of the bar in Schipol airport, ate some falafel and then ventured over to the O2 stage where Jane's Addiction were about to come on. Immediately the average age of the crowd increased by about ten years. Razorlight were on at the other stage. I had always liked Jane's but they put on a great show. In fact it was the sexiest gig I had been to in years. We danced right the way through.

We caught the opening ten minutes of The Killers who sounded great but we had to leave for our last chance ever to see Nine Inch Nails. The last time I saw them live was at Woodstock '94 and I have to say the set hadn't changed very much. It was great to rock to the old favourites though. We got home with only a short delay in park n ride at about 3am to discover that both children had been fast asleep since 11.30, there had been no crying or any trouble at all. In fact the little one didn't wake for milk until about 8.30 next morning.

We paid though. Despite hardly drinking at all, every muscle in my body ached next day. I couldn't keep my eyes open and I'm still only half way through the muddy laundry. Would I do it again? As soon as I kick this hangover.

The pirate ship cake.

This is the finished product. After covering in chocolate. Masts were constructed from wafer tubes on barbecue skewers. Crows nests were ice cream cones cut across middle and stuffed with marshmallow to keep them on top of barbecue skewer. Sails and flags made from eating paper (large money was all I could find but the maps on them were an added feature to my little treasure hunter) threaded on to sticks between the wafer tubes and rigging from candy necklaces hung on after. There was some discussion as to the historical accuracy of the jammie dodger port holes but we went with them. Finally we filled it with wine gum gems and chocolate money. The pirate candles were bought from www.littlestarparties.ie

How to construct a pirate ship cake.

This was the base of our pirate ship. It was constructed from two large, four mini and two medium sized shop bought swiss rolls. The prow was a madeira sponge cut diagonally from corner to corner and sandwiched with jam and cream. The large swiss rolls at the bottom are squashed to provide a base.

Rohan on an elephant.

Breastmilk as Cancer Treatment.

When a friend of the family was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, everybody was horrified. He was young, had two teenage children and was a really good helpful guy. Unfortunately, he was diagnosed late and, it being a very aggressive cancer, wasn't given much hope for survival. He opted to try chemotherapy as he felt he owed it to his family to stay on the planet for as long as possible.

I had recently seen a documentary on Channel 4 called 'Other People's Breastmilk.' In this, one prostate cancer patient claimed that drinking smoothies made from human breastmilk was keeping his cancer under control. I decided to research the subject a bit.

The information I found on the Internet was largely anecdotal. A pancreatic cancer patient had survived 13 months after been given only weeks to live drinking breastmilk shots twice a day. Some others had tried it too with varying results. It did seem that even if the cancer wasn't cured, the antibodies in the breastmilk seemed to protect the patients from secondary infections and ease the effects of chemotherapy by recolonizing the stomach with healthy bacteria.

The one bit of published research I found was known as HAMLET. A doctor in Sweden had literally taken tumour cells in a test tube and added breastmilk. The cancer cells had been killed and the healthy cells thrived. She then isolated the protein that was lethal to the tumour cells. This looked promising, although it would seem that the most efficient method of using breastmilk as a cure for cancer would be to inject the tumour with the protein and good luck to anyone who could get an oncologist to do this.

My friend agreed to give the shot method a go. He was also receiving chemotherapy which made him incredibly ill. I pumped approximately 4 oz of milk a day which we kept refrigerated at 0-4 degrees Celsius where it will keep up to 8 days. We decided against freezing the milk as this will kill some possibly useful living cells in it. There did appear to be some improvement in his overall wellbeing and his platelet levels. Perhaps this was due to breastmilk, perhaps it ws due to other medication, perhaps it was simply because he felt a bit more empowered in that he was taking action. He kept detailed records which I now have. Sadly, in February he passed away.

Since then I have been approached by three separate people looking for information on this. I have his records, the links I found, including the HAMLET study and lots of information re storage and pumping. I also have some scientific reasons why it improves health and decreases nausea. I would like to make this information available to anyone else interested in giving it a go.

You may wonder why so little official research is being done into this possible cure for cancer. The answer is simply because there is no money to be made from it for the people who usually fund medical research. I am interested in collecting as much information as possible on this subject, anecdotal or not. Perhaps we can build up some kind of picture and work out the most effective dosages, administration techniques etc. Please get in touch if you have any information.