Posts tagged postpartum
Some Thoughts on Tandem Nursing Journeys
My first round of tandem nursing with the brothers, a newborn Wonder and a toddler Bloom. They are 21 months apart.

My first round of tandem nursing with the brothers, a newborn Wonder and a toddler Bloom. They are 21 months apart.

Recently I marked my 6 year anniversary of breastfeeding one or more babies daily. My oldest child just completed his sixth turn around the sun. I’ve been in a space of deep reflection, celebration, and amazement at all that has happened in my first years of motherhood. 

As I think back over all my breastfeeding labors, I see so far that nearly two-thirds of my nursing journey—almost 4 years cumulatively—has been spent as a tandem nursing mother. Tandem nursing is defined as nursing two or more children who did not share time in the womb together. I think it’s important to distinguish tandem nursing from simultaneous nursing—which I’m defining as the process of breastfeeding two children at the same time, one on each breast. Also, breastfeeding mothers of multiples share some experiences with tandem nursing moms, but they are also having a very different experience in that they are navigating nurslings who are all the same age. Some moms tandem nurse, but don’t nurse their children simultaneously. In my tandem nursing process I have nursed my children simultaneously, and also had them take turns at the breast. I’ve also tandem nursed while pregnant, tandem nursed through the night, and tandem nursed while pregnant and weaning the older nursling. 

It’s important to make distinctions about all the possibilities of our labors as breastfeeding moms because each choice we make is shaped by many unique and intersecting factors. For one, the “choice” to tandem nurse begins for most of us long before we are actually managing life with two or more little people. My tandem nursing journey evolved as the natural progression from my choice to continue breastfeeding my one-year old son while pregnant. At the time I got pregnant with my second son, my oldest was still primarily breastfeeding, having challenges adjusting to solid foods, and weaning was not at all a possibility or my desire. I was simultaneously nursing a 21-month old and a newborn hours after my second son was born. The transition from nursing one child to two children was extremely seamless, and was a major part of me being able to support my older child’s adjustment to becoming a big brother. 

Pre-tandem nursing for the second time around, breastfeeding Wonder while in labor with Jubilee. Photo by Eleanor Kaufman Khan

Pre-tandem nursing for the second time around, breastfeeding Wonder while in labor with Jubilee. Photo by Eleanor Kaufman Khan

I’ve heard many times from other moms who weaned before getting pregnant or while pregnant that they can’t imagine tandem nursing. The assumption is that tandem nursing is much more work and stress on the body. This might be true for some moms and babies. But I found that the labor of weaning, especially weaning while pregnant, was more challenging for me. Weaning presents all sorts of unknowns, as you have to establish new rhythms, new soothing techniques, and new understandings of what foods your baby will substitute instead of your breastmilk. Weaning is an entire labor unto itself, and if you don’t feel you can navigate all that unchartered terrain while pregnant, tandem nursing might just be a much better process for you and your family to prepare for instead. 

Something for moms to keep in mind when nursing while pregnant and also tandem nursing an infant and toddler—Colostrum is a laxative for everybody! Colostrum poop in a newborn is simple and sweet. Colostrum moving through a toddler’s system—get ready for the funk! Of course everyone is different, but I noticed when my milk started changing to colostrum during second trimester my toddler went through a week or two of extremely pungent, runny, explosive diapers. Not to worry, it doesn’t last forever, and it might not happen with your toddler. But for my little folks it did. Also the funky diapers returned for the nursing toddler the first few weeks of baby brother or baby sister’s life, but as their system adjusted to the shifting landscape of my postpartum breastmilk, their poop diapers went back to normal. 

The early postpartum period is intense for every mom. One of the first challenges I remember with my early tandem nursing journey is the difficulty of physically managing a bigger, stronger, heavier toddler on my still very-raw postpartum body. Your older child is used to being on mommy a certain way, and might not understand that they can’t just jump on mommy or be so rough with her body while it’s healing. Also, depending on how old the older sibling is, they might not understand at first how to be gentle with the newborn when simultaneously nursing. When my second son was born he was definitely whacked in the head a few times by his big brother who was trying to figure out why there was all of the sudden someone else nursing beside him. 

When my daughter was born, my nursing toddler was even older—and stronger— than his brother had been when he was born. In the first few weeks of her life it was very difficult for me to manage simultaneous nursing, and I had to have another family member be with my toddler so that they could hold him or keep him busy until I could finish nursing his baby sister. I had assumed I could nurse brother and sister simultaneously like I had done for the boys, but I was physically in a lot more pain during the early days of postpartum, and I just couldn’t manage two children on me at the same time until baby sister was a few weeks old. 

One of the things I love most about tandem nursing a newborn and a toddler is that tandem nursing naturally supports a very strong milk supply in the beginning of postpartum, and an optimal flow without feeling overfull or getting engorged. The older nursling, being so well-practiced and efficient at emptying the breast, makes it easier for the newborn to learn to latch on because my breasts don’t ever get too full or too hard. Also, I haven’t leaked milk since the first months of nursing my first son, because all my other newborns have been tandem nursing and there’s generally no excess milk I have to worry about leaking through my clothes.  

A typical breastfeeding morning with Jubilee and Wonder. As a co-sleeping mama, the munchkins generally have a “preferred side,” but I do my best to make sure the youngest one especially nurses evenly on both sides. Some moms exclusively tandem nurs…

A typical breastfeeding morning with Jubilee and Wonder. As a co-sleeping mama, the munchkins generally have a “preferred side,” but I do my best to make sure the youngest one especially nurses evenly on both sides. Some moms exclusively tandem nurse each child from the same breast each time.

One concern I’ve heard is that an older child will “drink all the milk” for the newborn. But our brains are so intelligent and our bodies so magical. Every time we bring baby to the breast, the brain is able to determine who is latched on from the information exchange facilitated through baby’s saliva. As long as mom and newborn are supported in being able to nurse on demand, the brain will get plenty of signals to keep making enough milk for the newborn. And when the toddler nurses the brain will understand from his or her saliva that this child is eating solid foods and is much more mature and doesn’t need the same composition of milk. Some moms who tandem nurse keep each child on their own breast exclusively. Sometimes if they pump from each breast, the milk from the breast the toddler nurses from will look radically different from the milk coming from the side the newborn nurses from. All this to say—-the toddler will not take away the newborn’s milk! There’s plenty for everyone!

I also deeply appreciate tandem nursing for the way it assists with the transitions of siblinghood. It’s a lot for the youngest child to suddenly be bumped up to big sister or big brother, and the emotional reassurance that being able to still breastfeed provides is so welcome and amazing. I know that all of my children have adjusted to becoming older siblings so well because their breastfeeding process was not interrupted or ended because of the birth of a new child.

The tandem nursing process and all of these choices are different for every mom, for every pregnancy, for every baby, for every family. Many of us don’t know how we’ll be as mothers or what we’ll do until we’re in the moment. I didn’t set out to nurse everyday for the past six years, but that’s what has made sense for me, my children and our family flow. I imagine things would have looked differently had I not been the primary caregiver for all of my children, or had I had more hands-on support with my children. But I learned early on that in addition to all the health benefits of breastfeeding for my children, breastfeeding saved me and my family time, energy, money, and resources. The more children I have and the more time I spend cultivating our breastfeeding practice, the more grateful I am that I’ve poured so much of my labors into our breastfeeding journey. In my family breastfeeding is a way of life, and tandem nursing is an essential part of what makes breastfeeding sustainable and fulfilling for all of us.

 

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Coretta is too a good mother {character lab}

It started out small like that. Just a little something for those moments when I couldn’t protect myself from scary memories long enough to walk to the corner and get some fresh air. It was harmless. Nothing I couldn’t put a lid on whenever I wanted.

When I would take a hit, it would just ease the rawness of everything. Make the rough edges of all these callouses not scrape so bad against my heart. It’s like, I could just breathe, finally. Hear my own self breathing, but without the hammer banging in my head, without the siren ripping through my blood.

With the drugs I could feel like a soft woman again. Access that lush, cloudy part of me that was able to give and forgive. The part of me not consumed with hate and rage, so easily set off by the slightest of triggers. To this day I still can’t sleep with any clothes on, no sheets neither. No matter how deep into winter it might be. Warmth ain’t nothing if you don’t feel safe. And I always keep at least one light on. I need to know that I can see and be seen, even when my eyes are closed. I need to trust I can find my body at all times.

So it began just with these little getaways for when I couldn’t go nowhere. And with it flowing through my system, I could dance again. And I used to dance all the time, you know. Before the incident. Before I couldn’t feel the fleshy part of my thighs without bursting into tears. And if you understood anything about what happened, you know it’s not my fault I lost touch with myself. Once a counselor told me that it’s the detachment I need to heal. It’s that’s need for connection leading me to abuse myself. But I tell you, it didn’t feel like abuse at the time. It felt like relief. Like something had to give, else I’d explode. I’d be dead. And what would you choose if you didn’t really have a choice? Dying, or getting high to make it through a long night.

Actually, it’s a miracle I could even become somebody’s mother, the natural way I mean. That I could even allow a man inside of me without shattering to pieces. I mean the nerve of some of these fake-ass people who want to hug up on my baby but talk shit about me. This baby came from some deep soul healing, from my own courage. I still can’t put into words how I made a way for any type of love to take root in me. But for Isaiah, I found a way. We found a way. A sweet and lovely way, and that’s where this baby girl came from.

And I did too stop when I got pregnant, before I got pregnant actually. Four months before she was conceived I had a dream one night of being surrounded by flowers on all sides. I was resting in a sweet field of pink and purple hydrangeas. Softness and beauty were all around me. My fingers seemed to be the petals themselves, my body a vibrant sea of stems. And I don’t even understand flowers like that, but in the dream I knew what these flowers were, and I knew what they meant. It was a sign that my daughter was coming, a message from my forward potential, a fracture of light in the dark that would never, could never, go away.

This is how I know motherhood saved me. I had this new urge inside of me, I wanted, needed, to feel again. To feel life for myself again. I didn’t want to escape reality anymore, didn’t want miss out on anything. It’s like I had a new tongue, new hands, new eyes. I woke up from that dream and could sense a greater life waiting for me beyond the walls of my addiction.

The next week I was in a treatment program my mother and aunt helped find for me. My mother dipped into her retirement to pay for half of it and my aunt covered the rest as a gift to me. They believed in me. And so I was believing in me too. I didn’t tell them about the dream or the baby that was coming. I knew they would think I was crazy and wasn’t ready to be anybody’s mother. But I knew. I was already communing every morning with my baby. Writing her letters. Talking to her about the recovery process. She became my strategy for temptations. I had a sponsor to call, but really, it was my baby that I called on first. Her sweet spirit, lifted me. Kept me safe inside myself.

I met Isaiah on the first Tuesday in April, at a tea shop I had discovered a few weeks earlier on one of my morning walks around town. I could feel our connection, our future, even before he told me his name. It’s like the baby nudged me forward, whispered to me, That’s my father.

There weren’t that many tables open, so I grabbed a seat by the window even though it hadn’t even been fully cleared. A few inches away sat a professor and his student, engrossed in the review of some document. Later Isaiah would tell me all about one of his students and how he was encouraging her to not limit herself because she was finishing an undergrad honors thesis. He would tell her to act as if even this paper was her doctoral dissertation. Go all out, be thorough, in all things. You don’t have to have a PhD to be an expert, he would always tell his advisees.

So absorbed they were in their back and forth, they didn’t know a stray paper that had slipped to the floor and under my table. I reached down to pick it up for them and my eyes fell on the cover page of her thesis. I read the title, and smiled at the one word that seemed to mean the most to me in that moment: Remontant Flowering Potential of Twelve Hydrangea Macrophylla.

I don’t care what anyone says. Nobody else was there inside my amniotic fluid but my baby, and she’d tell you if she could. She’d scream it from the mountaintop if she could: my waters were clean! I was eating all that damn kale. I was drinking coconut water, taking probiotics. I read stories to her, went to all my prenatal checkups, did yoga, rocked all around on that birth ball. And so what if her father wasn’t there in the end. He was there when it mattered most. The only time I ever made love in the dark and didn’t have a panic attack was the night she was conceived. Our daughter, Holy. The loveliest creation we could ever have made.

So all these assumptions that my baby must’ve been a drug baby are baseless and just cruel. Look how perfect my baby came out. Healthier than all the other babies. Her pediatrician told me so himself. And I breastfed her, exclusively, well past the recommended 6 months. She didn’t even start having a bottle until my mother had to take her for me. Until the day I picked up a needle again. But you go ahead and check if you don’t believe me. You go back and look at her records. You won’t find a trace of heroine in her system. They making this shit up as they go. Picking away at a mother who had a relapse. Like I’m the first woman in the world to ever lose her mind and mistake her devil for her savior.

But I am not going to let them just rewrite our history, and make me out to be some sort of unfit mother. I know who I am. I know I’m a good mother. I was not using! Soon as I felt her spirit coming I put that shit down. And she was almost a whole fucking year old before I felt like I needed my protection again.

 

 

I first met Coretta as a child in a short story I wrote. I have been playing around with who she becomes as an adult, given the traumas she survives in her childhood. Listen to more about my character development process in “Finding Coretta,” a selection from our Library’s Sound Bites archive.