The Glamorous Life of a Single Mom

Ok, so I have been a HORRIBLE blogger…it’s been MONTHS since my last post!  But, my life has taken an interesting turn lately, and I feel inspired to document this new journey here.

So, the life of a single mom is becoming the life of a not-so-single-and-now-approaching-possibly-blending mom!

I had success with internet dating way back in 2000/2001, which resulted in meeting my ex, whom I was with for 3.5 great years, before I realized that his video game addiction was too much of an issue to continue the relationship.  Having had a positive experience the first time around, I decided to try again, when Cayden was around 2 years old.  I joined Lavalife and Plentyoffish, and immediately got some responses.  However, as soon as I revealed that I had a child, I would never hear from them again.  The only exceptions were one gallant man who at least told me that he wasn’t ready to get involved with someone with a child, and a single father, who was very immature and only wanted one thing.

So, I backed off for a while, feeling discouraged and dejected.  In time, I pulled myself up again, and made a decision: If I was single by the time I was 35, I was going to have another baby on my own.  I knew I was going to be totally financially stable by then, and knew that I could do it.  All of a sudden, I didn’t NEED a man in my life…it was a bonus!  With some of the stress lifted from me, I decided to not actively seek anyone out, but see who happened to wander in to my life.

Well, that got me nowhere….and after a while, I started to feel a bit antsy again.  I still knew I didn’t NEED a man, but I really did want a life partner.  I updated my photos on Plentyoffish, and changed my profile.  I included the fact that I had a child in the profile, for all to see.  Soon, I again had some interest.  I started chatting with a couple of guys, and quickly felt a strong connection to one in particular, Mr. Wonderful.  Another man, Vince, had asked me out, but when Mr. Wonderful and I made plans, I gently blew off Vince.  I had a strong feeling that Mr. Wonderful was The One.

My date with Mr. Wonderful was amazing, undoubtedly one of the best ever.  But, after telling me that he couldn’t wait to see me again, and how amazing I was, he went away for a weekend and I never heard from him again.  We go to the same school, and I see him all the time, but we have not spoken.

I had a few more dates with other guys, all very sweet and definite possibilities!  Somewhere along the way, Vince contacted me again.  We started chatting again, and I agreed to go out with him.  A few days later, I had my first date with another Mr. Wonderful, whom I had been talking to on the phone for hours a night, and was swept off my feet.  After our second date, I told the new Mr. Wonderful, who was going away for 6 weeks, that while he was gone, I didn’t think I was going to date anyone else, because I wanted to see where things would go with us.  I planned to tell Vince, yet again, that I couldn’t make it.  But, Mr. Wonderful shocked me by telling me that he thought I should continue to date while he was gone, because he was still in the “getting to know you” phase.

So, I set a date with Vince, finally.  Two days later, we met.  He was a genuinely good guy, with a good job, his own apartment, a healthy lifestyle…everything I wanted in a man.  And yet, I didn’t feel “that way” about him.  Our kiss at the end of the date was nice, but not earth-shattering.

Still, I could not find a single thing wrong with him, and I knew that I was still a bit hung up on Mr. Wonderful #2, so I decided to go out with him again, and give it another chance.  Our second date could not have been better.  As soon as I saw him, I felt totally comfortable, and excited to be with him.

The next night, we saw each other again and, sensing that we were moving towards a relationship, I asked him where he wanted things to go.  His reply was that he definitely wanted to see where it could go, which was good enough for me!  The next morning, I checked my e-mail in class, and was shocked to see a notification from Facebook that Vince had requested to be in a relationship with me!  Now, a lot of women would find that totally tacky, but I thought it was sweet.  And, it’s a testament to how well he knew me already that he realized that I would appreciate it.

That was October 7th.  It has only been 10 days now, and I am still on Cloud 9.  He is incredibly sweet, genuinely romantic, and absolutely adores me.  Even better, he was eager to meet Cayden, and wants to include him in activities.  This weekend, we are going to his family’s cottage together, just the three of us.

We are not in love (yet), and I think we are both using our heads.  Yet, it has been a whirlwind so far!  I am so excited to see where we will end up, and what the future has in store for Cayden and I with this new, wonderful man.

In April of this year, I attended 12 hours of Breastfeeding Buddy training through my local health unit. It was great! Being amongst like-minded mothers, committed to helping new mothers breastfeed was a really inspiring experience.

Even more inspiring is the results I’ve seen already. I have 2 Buddies at this time. Both are so incredibly appreciative, and I have seen the difference that my support and information has made in their breastfeeding relationships. I feel so privileged to be in a position to help these women. My newest Buddy asked me for tips on weaning the first time we talked. She had just gotten over her second bout with mastitis, and if she got it again, she was going to wean. I’m thrilled to report that she is doing MUCH better now, and is finally beginning to ENJOY nursing her baby.

This particular woman was unable to get the help she needed from her doctor. She felt as though there was no hope, until she was able to get the specialized information that I could provide.

I know this woman is very appreciative of me, but I feel incredibly thankful for HER and my other Buddy! The feeling of being able to help someone literally brings chills to my spine. Having them put their trust in me, and in my training, empowers and uplifts me.

I wrote this over a year ago, on the Breastfeeding Support board (which I co-moderate). I thought I would share it here.

Dr. Newman says this:

Quote:

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We sometimes hear that advocates of breastfeeding “force” women to breastfeed. You cannot force a woman to breastfeed; that is absurd. But let me ask this: has any woman in North America who has decided to bottle-feed been told in the hospital that she must put the baby to the breast? I doubt it very much. Has any woman who wanted to breastfeed been told that she must give the baby formula? Oh, yes, this happens every day, in almost every hospital in North America. Who is forcing whom?

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A very good point, I think!

Dr. Newman also points out the misconception that breastfeeding has “fringe benefits”. The reality, in fact, is that breastfeeding is not the “best” way to feed infants and children, it’s the NORMAL way to feed them. Formula is an imitation. Rather than listing “benefits” of breastfeeding, it is more accurate to lists “risks” of formula feeding.

But, of course, then you are accused of “judging”, and “making others feel guilty” for formula feeding.

IMO, guilt comes from within. If you make a decision, knowing why you are making it, as well as the benefits, drawbacks, and risks, then you should be able to hold your head high. Dr. Newman himself says:

Quote:

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It seems to me that the best way for a mother to make an informed choice is to start breastfeeding, get good help to establish breastfeeding, and then, if she decides it’s not for her…Well, who is going to say she did the wrong thing?

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I whole-heartedly believe that. I don’t think that a woman’s reason to bottle feed needs to have some elaborate, medically-proven motive. If a mother doesn’t enjoy breastfeeding, certainly she shouldn’t have to do it!

As a mother, I’ve made all sorts of decisions that other parents may not agree with, like co-sleeping, babywearing, Gentle Discipline, extended breastfeeding, letting my son watch t.v. on occasion, etc. But, I don’t feel bad, or guilty, about ANY of those things. The one thing I DO feel guilty about is the fact that Cayden weaned at 14.5 months. Without a doubt, the reason that I do feel guilty about that is because I realize that I didn’t do everything I could to prevent it, and because I allowed myself to be pressured by my mother and mainstream society to allow the weaning to happen, even though it wasn’t a conscious thing.

So, I would guess that a lot of mothers who DO feel guilty about stopping breastfeeding (or not doing it) feel that way because deep down, they feel that they could have done something more.

So, what is the role of the lactivist when talking to one of these women?? Certainly, it is NOT to judge them, to start hammering them with everything they did “wrong”, or to accuse them of anything.

But, is also not right to belittle them by saying, “Oh well, formula is really just as good”, because most of these women know that’s not true, and saying that undermines the feelings of regret, and possibly loss, that they feel.

My goal when talking to these women is to reassure them that they will NOT get judgment from me, that they CAN try again with future children if they wish, and try to figure out what went wrong so that:

a) They will be able to look back on their experience as a learning experience, knowing what happened and why.
b) They will be able to pass on that knowledge to others (instead of what seems to happen so often, where a mother tells all her friends and family that she didn’t produce enough milk, when in fact, there were many factors that inhibited her body’s natural ability to produce milk, and it was not a problem with her physiology at all)

I think putting blame onto women who were unsuccessful at breastfeeding is heinous and cruel, as well as ignorant. I mean, we’ve ALL heard stories from these women (heck, there are several here, very respected and cherished members!), and how often does lack of support play a factor?? I’d feel very comfortable saying in almost ALL cases!

And it’s fine for us to think “Well, she didn’t call Dr. Newman, she didn’t read ALL the breastfeeding books out there, she didn’t call around for ANOTHER lactation consultant when she didn’t like the one she got…” but, in reality, a woman with a newborn is often just surviving day-by-day, and really, it shouldn’t HAVE to be such a battle to find good and knowledgeable help!

As a lactivist, I’ve struggled to find my role, and it really hurts when I get called “judgmental”, or when I hear lactivists in general referred to as “Breastfeeding Nazis”, but then I remember that it was lactivists who created the Baby-Friendly Hospital checklist, and that for every woman a lactivist may inadvertently “insult”, there are probably 3 more who are helped and encouraged by her work.

So, I’ve decided not to sit back, for fear of being labeled an extremist. Maybe I am extreme, who knows? But, I have the desire, the will, and hopefully the skill, to help mothers and babies experience something that they were born and made to do, and to me, that’s worth getting excited about!

I have wanted to be a mother ever since I was very young.  Babies, pregnancy, birth, etc. always fascinated me.  Now, I find my life revolving around it, and it’s more rewarding than I could ever have imagined.

Not only am I a mother now, but I’m also a postpartum doula-in-training, a Nursing student (who just finished a maternity rotation, and is hoping to do pediatrics and public health next year), a co-moderator of CPO’s Breastfeeding Support board, and a Breastfeeding Buddy volunteer.  In my “spare” time, I volunteer with and sit on the Board of Directors of a childbirth education organization.  My current project is bringing The Business of Being Born (which I’ve already seen once, and absolutely loved!) back to our city for 3 special screenings.

When I was deciding what to return to school for, midwifery was one of the first things that came to mind.  However, because the schools that offer training are so far from me, and I was not ready to move again at that point, I decided on Nursing instead.   Recently, many of my friends and classmates have told me that I MUST become a midwife, and I know that it is my destiny.  I decided to wait until I’m finished having  children, and they are all in school (provided they want to go school…I’ve always wanted to homeschool).

But, this past Monday, I did some real research into the Midwifery programs, and am beginning to think that if I work for a year or two after I finish Nursing (in public health or on the Maternity ward, of course! lol), I might be able to take on midwifery much sooner than I thought.

The idea thrills me.  I never wanted to work, but this option seems like it might work very well with the lifestyle I want for my family, and is a job that I know I would ALWAYS look forward to going to.

My friends say I’m obsessed with babies.  Well, yeah.  But, they’ve also already made me promise to be their doula, their breastfeeding support, and their “beck-and-call” person, which is an honour.  So yes, I’m obsessed, and darn proud of it!

“Let’s go for a walk to the park!”

“No, I don’t want to go for a walk to the park!”

“Okay, we’ll stay home then.”

“No, I don’t want to stay home!  I want to go to the park!”

“Ok, great!  Would you like to walk or ride your trike?”

“I want to walk.  I don’t want to ride my trike.”

“Ok, let’s go!”

“No, I don’t want to walk!  I want to ride my trike!  Waaaaahhhhhh!!”

Typical morning in Cayden’s house.  The “terrible 2’s”, some might say.  I happen to find it quite amusing.  I do feel bad for him, when his emotions are out of control.  But, a hug, or simply some time to let it all out and calm down, usually does the trick.

I find Cayden SO affectionate these days.  He probably spends half the time that he is with me snuggling.  He doesn’t want to go in the mei tai anymore, but he’ll sit in a shopping cart with his arms wrapped tightly around me as we shop.  He’ll stop what he’s doing, and run over to me, saying “I need a hug, Mom!”  Then, he wants my sweater undone, so he can get as close as he possibly can to me.  It’s a running joke that he’s trying to get back inside me!!

If I pick him up, he tries to fit all 41″ of him between my waist and my shoulders, scrunching into a tiny ball.

It’s these moments that I cherish so much.  I wish they could last forever.  But, inevitably, 5 minutes later, he’s freaking out because “I don’t want you to say that!” or “I don’t want you to sing!” or “I don’t want to sit on the toilet!”, and I’m trying to keep a straight face again.

Today, I found out that Cayden was born via vacuum-assistance. Yes, that’s right….32 months later, I find out that I actually didn’t finally figure out how to push, he was pulled out of me because he was in real trouble. I can’t even describe what a shock this is, but it has completely changed my view of my birth, epidurals, hospital birth, and my OBs.

All this time, I thought I had a very good memory of what happened during my long induction. I remembered having AROM at 2:30 pm, and being put on oxytocin at 7:30pm. Sometime around then, I remember them telling me that there was meconium in the fluid, and he was having HR decels every now and then, so he needed an IFM. They also told me that the NICU team would have to be there for the birth, and that he would have to be assessed before I could hold him. I remember having a fever, too. I remember getting an epidural around 2:30 am, and a couple of hours later, still only being 4 cm dilated. Then, I remember another OB coming in about an hour later for a c-section consult, and saying that I was 9 cm now. I started pushing at 6:15, and at 7:15, no progress had been made. A male OB told me that the baby was in distress, and that if I wasn’t going to push him out with the next contraction, he was going to pull him out with a vacuum. The vacuum was put on, and I pushed like heck. After the contraction, the OB told me that the vacuum had popped off his head as soon as I started pushing, but I had managed to push him down all on my own. I felt really good, and pushed the same way for the next 2 contractions, and he was out.

BUT, apparently, this is not how it really went!

The part about the fever was all true, and the HR decels were pretty much how I remembered them. However, I thought they had started before the oxytocin was started, which isn’t true. I also thought that there had been meconium in the fluid before the oxytocin was started, which isn’t true. In fact, the meconium didn’t show up until just after I’d started to push….HOURS after I remembered being told about it!

I actually got the epidural at midnight, not 2:30. And apparently, the vacuum never came off, but was used for the final two contractions, 3 pulls with each contraction.

Which means: I didn’t birth my son by myself.

All this time, I’d been so proud of myself for avoiding a vacuum-assisted birth, even after a long and exhausting induction, and with an epidural, pushing in lithotomy. Now, I find out that I didn’t. He was pulled from my body by a man I didn’t even know.

I wanted a natural birth the first time around, and am even more gung-ho about natural birth now. After finding THIS out, I am more resolved than ever to do it on my own next time. I absolutely do not regret being induced, as my son showed every sign that he needed to be born, but it’s something that I truly do not wish to go through, or put a baby through, again.

This is going to take some time to sink in…and I feel like I should find every post I’ve ever made about my birth experience and change it. Every “survey” I’ve ever answered, that makes it look like I avoided many complications of induction and epidurals, when I actually did not.

There are many parts of the labour and birth that I still cherish. I can clearly remember what it felt like when he was being born, and I know that is true. And these facts about the process don’t change the outcome. Both Cayden and I were completely healthy. He nursed like a pro right from the start, despite all that he’d been through. My only “problem” with breastfeeding was oversupply and overactive letdown, which were never a major problem at all. I still came away with an intact perineum, no lasting side effects from any of the drugs, and the most wonderful gift that I have ever received.

The day that Cayden was born was an incredible day, but it is not the day I became a mother. THAT day was November 7, 2004, the day that a plastic stick and some urine changed my life forever.

That morning, I had woken up at a friend’s house, in my old hometown. We’d done a bit of partying the night before, nothing too crazy, just getting together with friends, just like the “old days” before I’d moved away. I had to work the next day (I was an educational assistant), so I planned to leave fairly early in the day.

As I was packing, something was nagging me. I was now “late” by 4 days, which NEVER happens to me. As nice as it was, now that I was thinking about it, it was bugging me.

When I got back home, I unpacked, and opened a rather uninviting fridge. Time to do some grocery shopping, so I invited my best friend and housemate, A, to come with me. As we prepared to leave the grocery store, I told A I needed to drop in the drugstore. When I told him I was going to pick up a pregnancy test, I thought he was going to pass out. I laughed and assured him that it was fine, I just needed to put my mind at ease so I could focus on work the next day.

When we got home, A asked me when I was going to take the test. I said I’d do it right away, so I did.

Okay, time out to say how complicated PG tests SEEM, when they’re really not…they are VERY intimidating, plus emotions are usually running high when they are used! Then, you pull out this little BOOK of information about how to use it, and you start thinking “Oh God, what if I don’t pee right?” “What if I look to early? “What if I look to late?” “What if I hold it upside-down and read it wrong?” I totally understand now why women would pay five times as much for the digital ones that just tell you, flat out, what the result is.

Anyways, I muddled through the paperwork, hands shaking, and finally made my contribution. I put it on the counter (EW!), finished up, and ventured a peek. As my heart started to pound, I pulled the manual out of the garbage. “That can’t be right…I thought the vertical line was the control line…but then why would the horizontal line be showing up FIRST?!” Well, no point in prolonging it, because you already know the outcome anyways. I always say that the “positive” line showing up even before the control was the cosmos’ way of saying “Heck YEAH, you’re preggo!”

I can remember exactly what giving birth felt like. I remember how it felt the first time Cayden nursed. But, for the life of me, I can’t remember EXACTLY how it felt when I got my BFP. I had been convinced that I was not going to be able to conceive naturally. To the point that my ex and (whom I’d broken up with in May 2004) were “not trying, not avoiding” because I figured that the longer we hadn’t been using contraception, the quicker a fertility specialist would help us. So, to find out that not only had I concieved naturally, but completely by surprise was shocking, to say the least.

Mixed with the shock, was fear (mainly of telling A and my mother), anxiety, confusion (what the HECK was I going to do?), and joy. Yes, joy. My dream since I was about 4 years old was to be a mother. Whenever anyone asked what I wanted to be, the answer was “a mom, but if I have to work, too, I guess I’ll be a ________” The blank changed every now and then. Being a mom? Never.

After disposing of the stick (which I really regret now), I went downstairs. A had just finished a delicious bag of popcorn, one of the 3 meals he would make for himself. I called his name, and he asked if I had taken the test. As he came over to me, my heart still pounding, I suddenly wondered if my huge smile was showing on the outside. Knowing how crushing this was going to be for him, I tried desperately to hide it.

He did not take it well. In fact, he was angry when I told him I’d made a final decision to keep the baby, and showed little to no interest in the pregnancy until about a week after the due date.

I went back upstairs to my room, and called one of my friends in Ottawa, the one who’s house I’d woken up at that morning. I had told her about my “lateness” that morning. She was very supportive when I told her, and I could tell that she was as shocked as I was.

Next, I called a local close friend, and asked to come over. She and I sat and talked for hours, while I tried to wrap my head around this life-altering event. At some point during the evening, I called my mother to ask her if I could come over the next day after work.

The next morning, I told another close friend, who happened to be one of the teachers that I supported at work. She, too, was very supportive, and gave me the strength I needed to talk to my mother.

Long story short, it was one of the most difficult things I have ever had to do. I had a full-time job (and a part-time one), but they weren’t stable, and I was nowhere NEAR financial security. I was single, and though A and I were very close, I had very little hope that he would want to try being a family. Adoption was not an option for me, so I had to decide whether I could provide a good home for my baby. I had battled depression for 6 years as a teen, and I felt very strongly that an abortion would completely destroy me, possibly even kill me. I knew from the moment I saw the BFP that I was a mother, and I wanted my child with me, but now I had to justify that decision.

In the end, with the support of family, friends, and local agencies, I came up with a plan for raising my child on my own. I would move back in with my mother (very difficult to do after only moving out 1.5 months earlier) later on in the pregnancy, would go back to school to obtain a more secure career, and would figure out the little things in the meantime. I wasn’t going to depend on A for anything, because I didn’t want our child to be a burden to him. If he didn’t want to be involved, that was fine. But if he was, I wanted it to be of his own free will, because he wanted his child, not because he was forced.

Cayden is now 2.5 years old, and things are going wonderfully. I am just finishing my second year of Nursing school, we are still living with my mother, who is a second parent to Cayden, and A is moderately involved (he can’t afford to pay child support, but he does what he can when he can, and we get together every few months or so). Most importantly, Cayden is flourishing. He is incredibly bright, well adjusted, emotionally healthy, physically strong, and just about the happiest little boy I’ve ever met. There are still moments when I look at him and think there must have been some mistake. I couldn’t get pregnant, how the heck did I end up with a perfect little angel of my very own? But whatever the reason he was sent here to me, I am eternally grateful to have been so exquisitely blessed.

T