My son will be 3 in about a month and I was determined to at least have him trying to use the potty by then. We have been working on this for a while now, on and off. He clearly wasn't ready until last week as that most recent attempt has been very successful. But I have learned a few things along the way. So now that I am an expert in teaching my own son to use a toilet, here is my newly acquired knoweldge:
1. Children, especially headstrong and stubborn children, will not even attempt something new until they want to. I knew my son was physically able to use the potty, knew he knew the process (he would recite the order of sit on potty, wipe, pull up pants, flush, and wash hands), and that he was starting to get annoyed by diaper changes. But he would not do it until he wanted to. I don't know which of the million things I told him about how great it is to be a big kid out of diapers finally got through to him, but something did. Or none of the things I said helped and he just figured it out on his own.
2. It is best not to start this potty business during a major house project like building a sidewalk in the back yard. As if keeping a curious toddler out of concrete isnt hard enough, let's add watching for him to pee his pants. Plus, my son wanted to watch the whole sidewalk-buidling process and wouldn't come in to use the potty. So I had to bring it outside for him to use in the back of his grandpa's truck. Future house projects will be completed around all future potty teaching schedule(s).
3. Teaching a child how to understand and control this crazy body process of eliminating waste requires patience. Patience and PMS are mutually exclusive in my house. I don't think I would have changed the timing of the diaper removal had I realized where I was in my cycle, but knowing I am angsty from PMS helps me de-angst when I need to. Poor guy wouldn't have had such an earful when he pooped in his unders had I been checking my own emotions. (For the record, I apologized, but I do think it lit a fire under him to try to go in the potty.)
4. Watching him constantly and waiting for the potty dance so I can help him recognize his body signals is exhausting. The whole family sleeps all night for the most part, but this past week has left me more exhausted than when I was getting up every few hours with my daughter. And I had horrible dreams for five nights in a row where I was responsible for making sure someone in my dream made it to a toilet on time. So much stress!
Although it probably wasn't the best week to put the diapers away, I am so glad we are where we are on the road to elimination independence. And I think if I had postponed it, I might have missed the little window where he was super receptive and more life would have happened that we would have needed to work around anyway. Silly life, always interfering with my perfect plans!
Wednesday, October 22, 2014
Thursday, August 7, 2014
Perfection, Breastfeeding, and My Guilt
I came across a post regarding perfection in breastfeeding recently. I don't relate to blog posts that often, but this one really resonated. Being 2 years past my decision to allow occasional foruma with my son, I had forgotten my internal struggle with guilt and doubt and perfection and stress. Getting over "perfection" in breastfeeding--exclusively breastfeeding--was the hardest pre-pregnancy expectation for me to let go.
I am not normally a perfectionist, I don't think, and I tried to go into motherhood without expectations, but I had a really hard time letting go of the "exclusively breastfed" standard. I think it is great when women can exclusively breastfeed, but the stress was too much for me. Perhaps it was the way my son ate (constantly and for a long time) or the fact that by staying home with him I wasn't forced to find a pumping schedule, but it took me several sessions of pumping to get enough to be able to be away from him for one feeding. Then after being gone from him, it would take several feedings and pumping sessions to get unengorged.
I was so determined that my son wouldn't have any formula, not one single drop, that I stressed myself out. We had a rough time breastfeeding. I had to reteach him how to latch after each growth spurt; I battled cracks and clogged ducts and mastitis. I stayed home with him, so pumping for a caregiver wasn't necessary, but I wanted milk on hand for the few times I was going to need to be away from him. I never got good at pumping and by about 6 months in, I could barely get anything out. I became obsessive about the milk I had stored, to the extent that I would give crazy instructions to baby sitters (my parents) so they wouldn't waste my precious milk. I made things harder and more stressful for me and others around me. That is definitely not healthy.
I don't remember when I accepted the fact that we might benefit from the possibility of using formula occasionally, but once I "gave in" the weight slowly lifted from my shoulders. I was holding myself to some high standard that I didn't hold anyone else to--I don't look at bottle-fed babies and think their parents are bad so why did I think I would be a bad mom for having sitters give my son formula if I ran out of pumped milk? It took a while for that inconsistency to sink in, but when it did I was able to give my son formula guilt free.
He was still breastfed until about 16 months and really didn't have much formula at all, but I stopped resenting breastfeeding and breastmilk because I wasn't bound by it. My parenting wasn't determined by feeding my son solely from my body, it was determined by how happy and healthy my family was. I was able to take a little time for myself (haircuts, brunch with friends occasionally) and not worry about finding time for multiple pumping sessions (without forcing my son to skip a feeding) to get enough milk for one bottle. Grandparents could watch him and bond with him without me there because they had a way to feed him and my husband could hang out with him on weekend mornings while I slept (which oddly enough provided me a few opportunities to pump, thereby increasing my little stash of frozen milk).
He had maybe a few dozen formula bottles over the period of a few months. So he wasn't exclusively breastfed, but he was fed. And he was (and is) happy, healthy, and amazing.
I am breastfeeding my daughter now. She doesn't really like bottles, but I have formula on hand for her just in case she needs something while I am gone. I pump when I need to, like when she skips a feeding or changes her schedule and I get engorged, but I don't have a huge stock pile of frozen milk. I have just enough to mix with her solid foods. We, too, are stress free and happy.
I love the simplicity of breastfeeding (note, I didn't say ease) and absolutely believe breast is best. I don't understand not at least giving breasfeeding a fair shot and taking it a day at a time. But formula is not evil and sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do. In the end, the only thing that matters is a happy, healthy baby--and I know plenty of happy, healthy formula-fed babies.
I am not normally a perfectionist, I don't think, and I tried to go into motherhood without expectations, but I had a really hard time letting go of the "exclusively breastfed" standard. I think it is great when women can exclusively breastfeed, but the stress was too much for me. Perhaps it was the way my son ate (constantly and for a long time) or the fact that by staying home with him I wasn't forced to find a pumping schedule, but it took me several sessions of pumping to get enough to be able to be away from him for one feeding. Then after being gone from him, it would take several feedings and pumping sessions to get unengorged.
I was so determined that my son wouldn't have any formula, not one single drop, that I stressed myself out. We had a rough time breastfeeding. I had to reteach him how to latch after each growth spurt; I battled cracks and clogged ducts and mastitis. I stayed home with him, so pumping for a caregiver wasn't necessary, but I wanted milk on hand for the few times I was going to need to be away from him. I never got good at pumping and by about 6 months in, I could barely get anything out. I became obsessive about the milk I had stored, to the extent that I would give crazy instructions to baby sitters (my parents) so they wouldn't waste my precious milk. I made things harder and more stressful for me and others around me. That is definitely not healthy.
I don't remember when I accepted the fact that we might benefit from the possibility of using formula occasionally, but once I "gave in" the weight slowly lifted from my shoulders. I was holding myself to some high standard that I didn't hold anyone else to--I don't look at bottle-fed babies and think their parents are bad so why did I think I would be a bad mom for having sitters give my son formula if I ran out of pumped milk? It took a while for that inconsistency to sink in, but when it did I was able to give my son formula guilt free.
He was still breastfed until about 16 months and really didn't have much formula at all, but I stopped resenting breastfeeding and breastmilk because I wasn't bound by it. My parenting wasn't determined by feeding my son solely from my body, it was determined by how happy and healthy my family was. I was able to take a little time for myself (haircuts, brunch with friends occasionally) and not worry about finding time for multiple pumping sessions (without forcing my son to skip a feeding) to get enough milk for one bottle. Grandparents could watch him and bond with him without me there because they had a way to feed him and my husband could hang out with him on weekend mornings while I slept (which oddly enough provided me a few opportunities to pump, thereby increasing my little stash of frozen milk).
He had maybe a few dozen formula bottles over the period of a few months. So he wasn't exclusively breastfed, but he was fed. And he was (and is) happy, healthy, and amazing.
I am breastfeeding my daughter now. She doesn't really like bottles, but I have formula on hand for her just in case she needs something while I am gone. I pump when I need to, like when she skips a feeding or changes her schedule and I get engorged, but I don't have a huge stock pile of frozen milk. I have just enough to mix with her solid foods. We, too, are stress free and happy.
I love the simplicity of breastfeeding (note, I didn't say ease) and absolutely believe breast is best. I don't understand not at least giving breasfeeding a fair shot and taking it a day at a time. But formula is not evil and sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do. In the end, the only thing that matters is a happy, healthy baby--and I know plenty of happy, healthy formula-fed babies.
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