Rising Tide Lifts All Boats
We put out the call a bit ago in our free facebook community, the Rising Tide Women Sisterhood , to see what was on everyone's mind when it came to breastfeeding.
We answered a whole spate of them in our 7th episode of our Wednesday morning Rising Tide Doula Jam on our facebook page, and I'm sharing them so you can get the info, too!
In my kitchen here in Brewster, there's a jar. It seems pretty utilitarian, but it has a secret: it's magic. This magic jar is always there for me when I need it. It's perpetually full of good-quality ground coffee so that whenever I want to brew a fresh cup, it's easy. The jar sits right next to our coffee maker, nestled in next to the sugar dish, always prepared to help me out with a soothing cup of hot coffee.
Now, you might think this post is about coffee, and while I could wax poetic about it all day, what I actually want to talk about is the magic of having that jar always full.
One of many, many things I love about this work is when I meet someone new and they ask me what I do (unless they already know what my husband does for work; then they almost never ask me what I do. Which tells me we have a lot of work to do around expectations of women and work and spouses. But that's another ranty post for another day, I guess). I love getting asked what I do because when I take a second to think about it, I feel so full of possibility and I can feel my eyes start to sparkle.
Dear mamas,
You are not crazy. I hear it from you all the time, at my Eastham group, or at your homes: "I just worry so much; I'm so crazy!", "I'm just being crazy", "I must be crazy". And a thousand other, more oblique ways of saying it. And I get it; sometimes it seems like that might be the only explanation that makes sense for the way you are feeling. Sometimes it's easier and more natural to just dismiss what's going on by thinking it's a problem with you and not the situation you're in.
But I want to talk about this phrase. I want to talk about how often we say a woman is 'just being crazy'.
It's been a tough week for me. For a lot of reasons I won't get into here, but suffice to say I'm struggling. The other night, when there was a brief moment of respite in between all the kids trying to out-shout and out-cry each other, I looked at my partner and said, "Good Lord, when does it get easier?"
Unfortunately, he didn't have an answer for me. And I keep replaying that question in my head. I remember asking it so desperately when the twins were babies. "When does it get easier?" It's a question I hear now from the new parents I work with, and clearly I haven't found a satisfactory answer because I'm still asking it.
Hello new friends, people I don't know. And a few people I do. I want to get raw with you for a moment in the hopes that it may help someone else out there in the internet land. It feels vulnerable to talk about these things, so I want to ask you all to be kind. (CN: Postpartum rage, suicidal thoughts, intrusive thoughts)
I read an article this morning that threw me off balance in a big way. I found myself tearing up and feeling nauseous in the middle of my kitchen in Brewster, reading it on my phone while my four year old asked for a glass of juice and my puppy tore up the living room carpet. It's this article: Naked. Please go read it. It's short, but it spoke to me in a way that few things do.
After the birth of my twins, I was battered. Traumatized. Their birth and early infancy went exactly the opposite of what I had been dreaming of: unwanted cesarean birth, NICU stay for respiratory distress. My sweet, precious babies
