Vieira was nochtans niet altijd zo pro borstvoeding. Toen haar wens om moeder te worden op haar 40ste eindelijk in vervulling ging, besloot ze om Archer de borst te geven omdat iedereen zei dat het goed was voor de baby. Maar prettig vond ze het aanvankelijk niet.
“Ik haatte het. Het was raar en pijnlijk”, vertelt ze op Instagram en in de Britse krant The Mirror. “Erg oncomfortabel. Het voelde alsof iemand met schuurpapier over mijn tepel ging en die in een potloodscherper stak. Maar ik zag hoe gezond hij was en hoe hij groeide en besloot door te zetten. Met verloop van tijd en veel oefening en geduld begon het beter te gaan. Toen Archer reflux bleek te hebben, maakte mijn pediater zich zorgen dat de flessenvoeding de situatie zou verergeren. Ik besloot dat ik nog even verder zou doen om hem voorbij zijn refluxprobleem te helpen en dan zou stoppen. Maar daar bleef het niet bij.” (lees hieronder verder)
This is what I call warrior pose. I could look at this photo and see different things. The toddler who is still breastfeeding. The thighs that never returned to their former glory after his birth. The unmade bed and the laundry that probably won't be folded. Wet hair that won't be dried and a slew of other things that will go neglected. But I don't see that. I see a warrior. I see a mom. I had a day. Not great. Not the worst I've had, either. It was what I call a "mom's day." My heart swelled and I got my butt kicked. All in the same hour. I wanted to crawl into bed and pout when it was finally over. But why? I wasn't defeated. I handled the day like a boss. A mom boss. We had tantrums. Defiance. He fed me a rock he pulled out of a plant (I thought it was a Cheerio from his snack cup; luckily I realized before I bit down). I had to use baker's twine to tie the dishwasher to a cabinet to stop him from opening it. He didn't nap. Two diaper blowouts. One nipple bite. And he spent an hour on my boob after I got out of the shower. Ugly crying when I pulled him off. So I relented. Because he needed it. I carried him around the house like this. My nipples sting. I kept hoping he'd wean on his own, now I'm stumped on what to do. I'm so tired of nursing yet I love that we still nurse. I'll save that decision for another day. I had to cancel coffee with my editor. I didn't think I should be in my underwear with a toddler attached to my breast out in public. After the second diaper blowout he had a bath. We sang and danced, read books. A drastic difference from the squealing, red-faced succubus who I was sure was trying to kill me a few hours early. I made him dinner. We put him to bed, he actually asked to sleep. I bent over (and felt my age in my back) and picked up toys, so many small pieces. Cleaned the kitchen, washed dishes. Finally remembered to eat for the first time today. And I'll do it all again tomorrow. With a smile on my face and a strength I never knew I had. How was your day? No matter what happened, you survived. You're a warrior, too. Don't forget that. #warriormom #aginglikeapresident
635 vind-ik-leuks, 57 reacties - Becky Vieira | The Witty Otter (@wittyotter) op Instagram: 'This is what I call warrior pose. I could look at this photo and see different things. The toddler...'
Intussen is Archer 22 maanden en heeft hij al tandjes, maar moeder en zoon blijven verder doen. Als aanvulling op het vaste voedsel dat hij eet sinds hij zes maanden is. Meestal doen ze het ’s morgens en nog twee keer later op de dag. Ze hebben hun techniek intussen zelfs verfijnd zodat ze hem nu zelfs kan voeden terwijl ze kookt, stofzuigt of zelfs op het toilet zit.
Het is niet altijd even aangenaam, zo geeft ze toe. “Soms grijpt hij plots mijn borst vast en dat is niet leuk. Dan kruipt hij op me, trekt hij mijn shirt omhoog en mijn bh opzij. Dan knijpt hij, draait hij en krabt hij. Sommige vrouwen zeggen dat ze geen kind zouden kunnen zogen dat tanden heeft. Hij heeft me wel al een aantal keer gebeten als hij in slaap viel.” (lees hieronder verder)
Everyone is lying to you. Parenthood is so much harder than you think. But it's also infinitely better. It was a day of highs and lows. Isn't that every day as a parent? His latest - and this has transpired in the last three days - is refusing to sleep. This isn't just not wanting to sleep. It's a defiant refusal. Clinging to me. Trying to get me to sleep with him. I've tried a few times, but that turns into him wanting to sing and play. So I peel him off me. My husband has to help me put him in the crib. We tell him we love him, that it's time for bed. He gets himself so upset that he throws up. This is our current world: he barfs when he has to go to sleep. We will figure it out, I tell myself. I've contacted my sleep coach. I'm reading, asking for help. This too shall pass. It will run its course and we will all move on and away from the bedtime vomit drama. But something new will take its place. The struggles will continue. The joy will, too. I remind myself of that. I try to maintain my gratitude. Because I have a lot. It's easier to do somedays than others, if I'm being honest. I'm emotionally and physically exhausted. But so in love with this little boy, this soul who makes my heart sing. I give him what he needs now. It's hard to imagine when he's screaming at the top of his lungs for me, but that won't always be the case. He won't always want, or need me like he does. So I take a deep breath. And embrace what is here and now. This little boy who finds comfort in the arms of him mom. Or breastfeeding. Who wants to be home, and his home is me. I feel humbled by that concept. Lucky. With that knowledge I know I can get up and do it all again tomorrow. It's worth it. Every day it's worth it. It's just a lot harder than I ever thought. How are you doing?
408 vind-ik-leuks, 49 reacties - Becky Vieira | The Witty Otter (@wittyotter) op Instagram: 'Everyone is lying to you. Parenthood is so much harder than you think. But it's also infinitely...'
Toch denken ze nog niet meteen aan stoppen: “We bekijken het dag per dag”, vertelt ze. “Zolang we er ons allebei goed bij voelen, gaan we gewoon door. Maar het wordt wel wat minder comfortabel nu hij groter wordt. Het is erg dubbel. Enerzijds wil ik soms dat het ophoudt, maar anderzijds ben ik ook bang om een einde te maken aan onze reis samen. Bang dat hij groter wordt. Bang dat ik misschien terug zal vallen in de zware postnatale depressie die ik na zijn geboorte had.”
Ze deelt haar ervaringen op Instagram en daar krijgt ze gemengde reacties. Sommige moeders staan achter haar en vertellen dat ze het ook zo doen. Ze zeggen dat ze zich minder alleen voelen door haar verhalen en dat ze blij zijn dat het bijdraagt aan het normaliseren van langdurige borstvoeding. “Ook heel wat moeders die zelf geen borstvoeding konden geven, steunen me en moedigen me aan om door te gaan. Anderen vertellen me dan weer hoezeer ze het missen.” (lees hieronder verder)
Help. This feels like crap. My husband took this photo this morning because the shirt said it perfectly. "Addicted." It's how he acts toward breastfeeding. I'm tired of it. And also depressed and anxious about ending our journey. I never wanted to breastfeed. I hated it. Said I'd do it for three months if I could, because I knew it was good for him. He had reflux and couldn't take formula; I ended up having a ridiculously bountiful supply. There were bumps and pain along the way, but we found our groove. Six months. Nine. A year. Okay, just a little longer. Friends were seeing their babies self-wean. I waited for that to happen. It didn't. Had my milk tested. It's still insanely nutritious for him. And comfort. I'd like to nurse in the morning. Only. He has other ideas. He crawls up me, lifts my shirt, moves my bra aside. Pinches, twists, scratches. He'll nurse while I'm standing, walking, taking a shower. We're like some bizarre acrobatic duo. I never wanted to be a breastfeeding mom, let alone an extended breast feeder. I want to stop. I want to continue. I want him to wean on his own. That's probably not going to happen. I'm afraid of my hormones causing a PPD relapse when I stop. Afraid of my baby getting bigger. I know we're lucky. Some moms never are able to nurse. But I hate being here now. Did you wean? Breast or bottle. Tips, please! And if you have friends who went through this/are going through it please tag them. We need ALL the input we can get.
224 vind-ik-leuks, 141 reacties - Becky Vieira | The Witty Otter (@wittyotter) op Instagram: 'Help. This feels like crap. My husband took this photo this morning because the shirt said it...'
Maar er zijn ook mindere reacties. “Er zijn trollen die me hun ongevraagde mening geven en zeggen dat het fout is om nu nog de borst te geven aan mijn zoon. Volgens hen laat ik mijn zoon toe om zich slecht te gedragen. Ze noemen me een freak. Sommige mannen zeggen dan weer dat het “sexy” is en dat mijn zoon “geluk” heeft. Ze sturen me soms niets verhullende foto’s.”
“Ach ik probeer mezelf eraan te herinneren dat niemand buiten ikzelf, mijn man en mijn pediater weet wat best is voor Archer”, zegt ze nog. “Soms kan ik die negatieve stemmen niet buiten houden, maar ik volg toch altijd mijn buikgevoel en mijn instinct. Daarmee ben ik toch al zo ver geraakt.”
Voting like a mom. I call this warrior pose: civic edition. I could focus on the things here that send my anxiety soaring. The messy kitchen. The dirty hair. The roll over my waist that doesn't want to disappear. Instead, I push past that and see a mother kicking a*s. Breastfeeding while voting. My mom always took me with her to vote. I remember I'd get stickers or pencils, and I thought it was so neat to go into the booth and pull back the curtain. She never missed an election and taught us how important it was to vote. Now that I'm a mom I'm trying to do the same. It just looked a little different this year. I did an absentee ballot because... toddler unpredictability. I explained what I was doing. Showed him the ballot. And held him as I began to fill it in. About 46 seconds in he decided to nurse. He slid down me like a koala descending a Eucalyptus tree, stopping at my boobs to latch on. I don't even have to think anymore; I lifted my knee to support him and kept going. Because that's what moms do. Everyday is different for me. Yesterday I cried twice. Today I feel strong. Like the warrior I know I am. I voted. While breastfeeding. An amazing thing that only a mom can do. Let's not forget how strong we are. And to teach our kids the importance of our voices by voting! You're a warrior too, mama. Don't forget. Tag you favorite warrior and remind her also!
321 vind-ik-leuks, 31 reacties - Becky Vieira | The Witty Otter (@wittyotter) op Instagram: 'Voting like a mom. I call this warrior pose: civic edition. I could focus on the things here that...'