the Art of the Non-Complaint

This year Ian made a goal that he's going to run a half-marathon (although it's recently been bumped up to a marathon). I made a goal that I would "exclusively" breastfeed Jack and Christian for one year. And after the first few months when I got confident I could actually do it I even decided that I was never going to buy formula for them. This was mostly from a desire to save money than from being a hardcore au natural momma, but I also wanted them to get the things breastmilk has to offer. (*We do get free formula samples from the doctor though, and she often takes pity on us and gives us a lot so we've got a backup stash. But I don't get too hung up on a few bottles a week...).



While it's been hard I think I've handled it pretty well. I used a pillow to help me tandem nurse when they were little. Getting them both on there at the same time was tricky, but it saved a lot of tears, time and my back. And since it's been a challenge to produce enough milk for two some adjustments were made. I've had to steer clear of certain things that make my supply dip, like running and being away from the babes for more than an hour and a half for the first six months (I learned to do my errands very, very quickly and letting non-essential stuff wait). I found that eating oatmeal and drinking fenugreek tea helped. When I hit six months I thought I was going to go nuts trying to feed the tigers, but the pressure eased when solids came to the rescue. With less than three more months to go I thought that we were on easy street.

I've learned that I should NEVER think that I'm on easy street. Life always seems to have a double-sized challenge (or two) that it's been saving just for me, and this was no exception. Christian has had a little runny nose almost since he was born. His older brother had the same thing, and once we narrowed the problem down to adenoids and had them removed the problem was resolved. Since huge adenoids run in the family we assumed this the same deal.

Well, almost. In addition to enlarged adenoids we found out last week Christian is allergic to two things: egg whites AND dairy. There is a very good chance he'll outgrow these by age two, but in the meantime if I want to keep nursing I've got to eliminate them from my diet. One or the other is bad enough, but both together is rough. I've slowly discovered this means avoiding most breads, muffins, cookies, cakes, all pasta (lasagna, spaghetti, linguini, gnocchi, pizza!), ice cream, milk, (which means cereal too), cinnamon buns, waffles, pancakes, pies, casseroles, yogurt, fro-yo, cheese (which is in practically everything), chocolates... the list just goes on and depressingly on.

Normally I would wallow in complaints. My friends would lend a kind and sympathetic ear as I moaned, and probably encourage me to quit nursing already. I've done really well, but honestly, it's too much. And they would be kinda right. Normally this is what I'd do.

But you know, something is different about me lately. I think it has to do with the fact that as of two days ago I'm 32. And maybe it's that I've got 4 kids when just a couple years ago I didn't have any and thought I was still a kid myself, and my kids whine multiple times a day and I've found it hurts my ears and I realize it's time we all grew up a little. And maybe it's because in RS we've been talking about how damaging "murmuring" is, how the Laman and Lemuels never get it, and how hard criticizing is on our families, our communities and our nations. Because at the heart of it is a feeling of ingratitude and entitlement that I should be free from hitting bumps in the road. Because really, no matter how much I have there will always, always be something imperfect about my situation. So I decided that I was going to try a little harder to keep working towards my goal quietly and not bemoan the rocky patches. Well, at least try to keep it down.

Ian and I celebrated my birthday by spending a lovely, child-free evening and morning at the Hilton Garden Inn thanks to Ian's family. As we sat down for breakfast on the patio, the hostess named off the orders we could place- omelettes, french toast, eggs done any way we'd like, waffles, pancakes, crepes... all forbidden food. I headed to the breakfast bar to find yogurts, scrambled eggs, cheeses and fruit, creamy milk and cereal, butter for puffy bread, and as I helped myself to the one safe thing I could find besides cantelope -oatmeal which I would normally drown in milk- I wanted to complain. This sucks, I said to myself, but let's try not to dwell on it. I let myself have a mini pity party, but I knew that Ian didn't want to be invited and neither did I frankly.

But besides warding off a gloomy cloud, I found something else happened. I noticed some fruity sauces for the waffles and pancakes and tossed it on the oats. It was so good! I experimented with juice combos too. Yum. Ian and I chatted amiably and happily without my poutiness spoiling the morning.

Not that I feel like we should keep grievances completely under wraps. Acknowledging hardships instead of brushing them blindly aside is healthy (and otherwise I would feel like a hypocrite for writing this post!). I liked this quote from Jessica Seinfeld's 'Deceptively Delicious' Cookbook: "When my kids complain to me that their friends get to eat what I consider "junk," I try to answer honestly yet firmly and sympathetically. For example: "I see that you're disappointed about the cereal in our house, but eating cereal that is made of a lot of sugar is not good for your teeth or body..." I empathize with their feelings, but I don't give in. I find that this re-assures them, and it confirms my credibility and consistency."

Empathy is super-important, and acknowledging our own and others challenges is vital. But when I keep it like that I steer clear of complaining, I'm no Polyanna, but I lodge a non-complaint if you will. That way I won't miss the fruity sauces. And the strawberry-blueberry combo on oatmeal is especially delicious.