Through a mother's eyes.

If you're a mom and part of Facebook or any online forum for mothers, then you've probably at least heard in passing about the controversy surrounding pictures of nursing infants.

"Oh the obscenity!!"

I took this picture today while nursing Ladybug, who will be 4 months old this week.
As I learned before her birth with all my internet research, NIP (nursing in public) is quite controversial. Both in real life and online, NIP brings with it a whole host of issues. Cover or not? Nurse at the table when out to eat or hide away in the bathroom? Leave the house at all? Is it legally protected or subject to public indecency laws? Mom's right to breastfeed or baby's right to eat or the public's right to not be grossed out? That's just the tip of the iceberg!
There are Facebook groups, blog posts and carnivals, news articles, and forum debates about breastfeeding. The arguments go back and forth, and honestly? I don't think any one person is more right or more wrong than any other when it comes to all the different opinions on nursing mothers. I truly believe everyone is entitled to their own opinion, regardless of whether or not I agree with them.
When I see other moms nursing, yes, it makes me uncomfortable. I am embarrassed to admit it, but there it is. I personally choose to cover up when NIP because, as you can see, my boob is 3x the size of my daughter's head. For me, covering makes me less afraid of a confrontation with a belligerent or ignorant stranger.
Yet when I'm at home, I look down at my baby and see nothing but the love I have for her. I am often overwhelmed by how much stronger I am as a woman and mother because I am nursing her. We have overcome much on our journey. From a past riddled with sexual abuse and body image issues, to flat nipples and painfully broken/bloody skin, to oversupply and thrush, to paving the way as our family's first breastfeeder in this generation, Ladybug and I have shown ourselves to be strong women.
I guess I can now understand why women want to post pictures of themselves breastfeeding their kids. After all, in a formula saturated society (no pun intended), breastfeeding for any length of time is something to be proud of, and something to celebrate. It's not about making other moms feel bad. It's not about getting our jollies by showing off the goods. And it's not even about promoting breastfeeding. It's about seeing the world through a mother's eyes. It's about the love we have for our children and the pride we have in ourselves.


Til next squeak,

The unexpected places

Sometimes, it not only takes me by surprise, but amazes me entirely the way God can speak to our hearts.
In the last 5 months or so, I've been battling depression...again. In my life, I've been in treatment 4+ years for various mental disorders. And a few years ago, I thought, by the grace of God, I'd had it licked.
Guess I was wrong.
As I sunk lower into myself and the hurts I've been feeling, I drifted farther away from my Lord and Savior. Oftentimes, I felt as though I've been talking to brick wall when it came to my prayers and times of seeking His face. Where was He when my heart was breaking? Didn't He always promise to be with us every step of the way? Why are all these things happening to me? Did I screw up big time, or is there a meaning to all this?
While those questions still plague me, God found me today. Or rather, I found Him in a very unexpected place.
Earlier, I wrote an email to a dear sister in Christ. And while I was sharing my heart with her, our Lord shared His with me.
I don't know how many of you were taught to swim by being tossed unceremoniously into the pool by your dad. Lord knows I was! Picture for a moment, the small child being scooped up into her daddy's safe embrace. As he walks towards the cool blue waters, she feels no fear. But then, all that is gone in an instant. She finds herself sinking fast, wondering why her loving father would toss her away, sinking into deeper waters than she could handle.
As she flounders in the pool, kicking with all her might, her father looks on, knowing just when he should intervene.
One moment she's terrified, darkness closing in around her. The next, she feels her daddy's strong arms around her, pulling her to safety.
You know, I think God is like that too, except with deeper knowledge of pool safety.
Deep water faith in the shallow end. That's how most of us live our lives of faith. Confident we can handle what comes our way because, after all, our heads are way above water. And one day, our Father scoops us up for that walk to deeper waters. He knows we can not only survive it, but grow to be stronger swimmers from some time in the deep end of the pool. And with a heart stopping plunge, we find ourselves in a sink-or-swim situation. I'll be the first to admit that the struggle for the surface can be harrowing. However, once we can clear the water from our ears, we can be sure to hear His voice.
"Did you know you could do that, My darling child? Know that I'm always watching over you as test out these deeper waters. Under My watchful eye, you'll grow to be comfortable and confident in the pool. And should you need Me, I'm right here to pull you out."
Yes, God can find us in some unexpected places. Be it poolside or simply in front of our inbox.

Til next squeak,

A lil punch for the New Year

Punch...as in, I've been feeling punchy lately. And somehow, that just got worse. Waa-a-a-a-a-a-ah! My Smiley Central is on the fritz!

Ok, now that that's out of my system...
You'll notice, Dear Squeakers, that the Maze is sporting a New Year's theme. Poor Mousie, his office party got a little out of control this year. After all, no one pimps it like Mousie.
Also, the music on my player may not be within many of your tastes. That's fine, I don't take offense so long as you don't. Simply hit pause on the thing. That's why I keep my player right at the top of my blog. Handy dandy, is it not? The songs this time around are ones that I love to shake-a mah bootay to. (shake-a shake-a Mr. P.)
All in all, my blog often reflects my mood. And unfortunately for the blogosphere, when I'm moody, things around here get odd.
Hopefully with any luck, I'll shake my punchiness off soon and can get back to sweet innocent lil ol me. ;) If not, I've got plenty of punch to ring in the New Year with.

Til next squeak,

On thick-headedness

I've been thinking about this. How many people do you know who've had their kids put into foster care? If you're reading this blog, then right now, you know at least 1. How many parents do you know of who've had DCF/CPS called on them? How about an opened case?
Not many? Yeah, I didn't think so. Believe me, those of us who have gone through the wringer don't really talk about it. So...I've been thinking about it.
I don't know if your perceptions are like mine were, but when you think of a family who's gotten themselves enmeshed with the State, what do you think? Probably some ghetto family, maybe a single mom, seriously neglected kids at the least and some major issues with the parents. Now keep that image in your head. What about that same family, only after the case is closed? Now what's your image like? Kids still in foster care, Mom's rights terminated? Or maybe the family is still whole, but they've gone back to their old ways, proving this "lesson" hasn't taught them a thing?
Yeah, I used to be right there with ya.
Actually, after our own experiences, I could give you quite a few other hypothetical outcomes. But here's the thing. Not all families who've been through the system turn out like any of those scenarios.
Let me tell you about us. One thing we learned early on in our DCF experience was to claim your issues, and take responsibility. Yes, ma'am. It's not the state's fault you screwed up; it's not your mama or your daddy's fault; it's not because you didn't have everything in life you always wanted. Honey-child, it's YOUR FAULT. And if you can't admit that, claim it, and change it, well, you're gonna be spending a lot of time hollerin' at the wind. Speaking of which...
Another thing we learned was that no matter how fair or unfair, right or wrong, legal or illegal you may feel the Department's actions or rules are, well, they just ARE. You can take that to the bank. It's kinda like arguing with the wind. You can waste your time and energy screaming at it all you want. You can tell it to you won't be effected by it. But then again, you can't see it. You can't tell with any certainty whether it's coming at you from the north or south. You may think it'll come in a roar, but then it could always surprise you by whispering through your town. You just never know, and you can never truly control it.
Now if you are a thick headed kinda person (much like we are), it could go 1 of 3 ways. The 1st thing that could happen is that you don't learn those things I pointed out above. You spend the whole time trying to tell the state what to do, and ultimately, your kids are taken. After that? Well, Parent #1 is still ramming her thick head against the wall, screaming about how she was wronged and is gonna get her babies back...1 day. The 2nd thing that could happen is you could try to be thick headed with the state, eventually realize it's not getting you anywhere, "play them", and once they close out, go back to your old ways. How long do you think it'll be before Parent #2 gets another DCF/CPS case opened? Yeah, that's what I'm thinking too. Then the 3rd thing that could happen is you can take that thick headedness, channel it in productive ways against the state (the key here is the word productive), learn from your experience (ya thick headed doof) and make sure that once the case is closed, it never happens again.
I'm proud to say that we fall into the same category as Parent #3.
The one thing I've been really thinking on is that many people don't realize that there are Category 3 families out there. We do our best to make sure our kids are healthy, happy, and successful in school. We pray that God will give us the serenity to accept the things we can't change (like the DCF rules we will live by for the rest of our lives), the courage to change the things we can (like the situations that may have caused the case to be opened in the 1st place), and the wisdom to know the difference. (can you tell Mr. P. and I come from a long line of 12-steppers?)
All I'm saying is that when it comes us Category 3ers, give us a little grace. We're not calling you out on anything when we make comments about our parenting vs yours. Give us a little support. We still live each day in fear of that knock on the door. And give us your prayers. God knows us thick headed people need 'em.

Til next squeak,

2 hour Frankenstein party

At least that's what I'm calling my EMG/nerve conduction study that was done yesterday. The urge to shout "It's ALI-I-I-I-I-I-I-IVE!!" was great, especially when those godforsaken electrified needles were shoved in my neck.
Seriously, although the experience was not as bad as I thought it would be, it's still pretty darn high on my personal not-cool-o-meter. Like a 9.5. Easily.
I had gone in to test for a pinched nerve in my neck/shoulder area. Good times, good times. For about 3 weeks, my right arm has been bugging me. Ok, so I've wanted to gnaw it off in the night. It's been worse than I care to admit. Pain, numbness, and all that jazz. More than that though, I've hated how it's interfered with my life. In the last 2 months, I've gotten to be fairly active. Just a glance at my weight loss ticker will tell you that. I've been able to do more around the house, be more of a mother to my kids, and feel more like the wife I want to be to Mr. P. Until this nerve thing , that is.
When I went in, I was thinking that we'd figure out just where this stinkin' nerve got pinched so I could let my physical therapist know. (I start today!) Then, in a matter of a few days or weeks at most, I'd be back to normal, getting more active every day. That got shit all over, in plain words.
The tests showed I have severe carpal tunnel syndrome, and the doctor has recommended surgery. Somehow I feel like a fool. How does someone who doesn't do anything get this?! I kept asking him if it was because of my weight. (yes I'm actually clinging to the hope that if I just lose enough weight, I'll get my arm back...dumb huh?) Unfortunately, that's likely not the case. He said it looks like this all started about 10 years ago or more.
Can you tell I'm not handling this well? I handled my cancer diagnosis years ago better than this! I know in my head that I'm being an ass, but I can't help it. I feel like a part of me has been stolen away. For about 3 years, I've been telling my doc that my arm and neck have been hurting...badly. He always said it was in my head, or better yet, in my fat. The one time I pressed the issue about my body pain, I was sent to the rheumatology department at UCONN. Guess what they said? Yup, in my head. So, I accepted it. It took about a year, but I did. The days when I couldn't even lift my blankie over my head because of the pain and weakness, I told myself to power through it. After all, it was just in my head. The days I couldn't do any housework because of the pain, I told myself it was because I'm a horrible wife and mother, even a rotten Christian. And now? Now I know it's because my arm was deteriorating, and I never knew it.
I can't help but think of my maternal grandmother. She died when my mom was 6. She had had gall stones that went undiagnosed til it was too late. They kept telling her it was in her head. I really just feel for her in a new way now. At least for me, it's just my quality of life and not my actual life that was put in danger. So much can be lost when doctors won't take patients seriously.
Anyway, I'm off my soapbox now. I'm still in shock about all this, and trying to process it. I don't think I'll ever really understand how I got to this point, but I'll leave that for God to know. Right now, all I can do is try to make an informed decision about what to do from here. I know I'm being a baby. And a drama queen. If you guys would just pray for me? Help me get a grip? Heck, send me a cyber smack upside the head!
Oh, and if you ever have 2 hours of free time, I recommend a Frankenstein party. Maybe your doc will have his fly unzipped the whole time like mine did. At least that made it fairly amusing.

Til next squeak,

The gift that keeps on giving

Admittedly, that title is very sarcastic. Today's post is on child abuse. It really will keep on coming back to haunt you, years after the fact. I did 4 years of therapy and still, from time to time, it all floods back and gets the better of me.
For those who don't know, I grew up in a very abusive home. My father was a violent alcoholic who lashed out at anyone within reach. Mostly, it was the verbal/emotional abuse that people knew of. However, he was also physically and sexually abusive too. Mom wasn't much help. I'm still not sure quite why but she never did divorce him. I truly don't buy her excuses that she would have to pay him, that she couldn't afford us kids, blah blah blah. There was something more under it, but exactly what I'll never know. Not that I think I even want to.
In a previous post (the title escapes me), I told the basic outline of my story of meeting Mr. P. and getting out of my family's home. I really don't know what I would've done without him. He is truly a Godsend. Even though I got out as soon as I could, those 18 years not only traumatized me, but shaped who I am.
Yesterday in church, our pastor was saying that God never makes mistakes. He was talking about how we all have roles within the body of Christ. Lord, that just broke me inside. Where I am now is about finding my place, and much of that is now overcoming the hurt of the small child I once was. I bottled it up long ago, and never dealt with it in my years of therapy. I made so much progress in acknowledging the sexual assaults, and not only facing but overcoming the aftermath of that. Now, I am stuck in this place where I am trying to come to terms with the emotional abuse. It seems in recent days no matter where I turn, there is something there to remind me. Whether it's an article on some one's blog, or an episode of Law and Order, or simply the way someone in the store speaks to their child, it's there all over again. I have to wonder if it will ever end, this constant sabotage of the past. How many years will I have to pay for the sins of my father? Will there come a day when I can hear someone say that I was not a mistake in God's eyes and not be near mental breakdown?
There is this feeling that by talking about it, I am just being whiny. I know so many people who've been through this. So many who've had addicted, abusive parents. So many who've wandered through life feeling worthless. Why does that make my personal journey any different? Well, it doesn't. But if nothing else, I know I can ramble, rant, rave, and generally vent here because after all, it's not as though anyone *has* to read any of this. Well, except for Mr. P. unless he wants to sleep on the couch. ;)


Til next squeak,