Saturday, August 27, 2011

Who Is That Girl In The Mirror? From Feeling 'Ugly' To Beautiful Again


Sarah, shown in this image taken by a friend/photographer, says she felt "ugly" in her pregnant body. While taking this photo, she says, she felt almost graceful.
Michael Seif
Sarah, shown in this image taken by a friend/photographer, says she felt "ugly" in her pregnant body. While taking this photo, she says, she felt almost graceful.
(first published on NPR's Baby Project)
There's something to be said for feeling beautiful.
For the latter months of my pregnancy, I realized that my face was filling out and that I was dangerously close to acquiring a second chin. To a girl who has always been slender without really trying, the extra 50 or so pounds I put on while Finn was incubating had an effect on me that I was not expecting — I felt ugly.
I went from being the girl who loved to have her photo taken to being the girl who didn't appear in a camera frame for several months, save my baby shower in May. Virtually all of the photos taken of me between May and July are of my lower half, specifically my belly. Granted, that was the part of me most people wanted to see, but if I'm really honest with myself, I was ashamed of my weight gain, and a little scared that I didn't recognize the girl I saw in the mirror.
 
I was sure that I would want to be one of those women who gets maternity photos taken, and was certainly planning to do a belly cast in the last few weeks (which wound up nonexistent as Finn arrived three weeks early). However, when I looked at my body, it wasn't something I wanted to commemorate. I felt swollen and out of control.

About Sarah

Sarah Crossman, 32, and her husband, Chad, are first-time parents to Finnley James.
A few things have happened over the past couple of months to make me feel much more comfortable in my skin. First, as you may have guessed, getting that baby out of my belly and all that accumulating fluid that went with him was a good start. Since then, as Finn and I have taken our daily walks, I've slowly watched my face return to a more familiar form. Now that we've hit the six-week mark, I'll be able to start running again (gulp), and shake those last 10 pounds. It also helped to dress up in a slinky black number (which may have shown off some assets that are a bit more ample than they were pre-pregnancy) and put on a little makeup to help at a gallery opening a couple of weeks ago.
In addition, though, I do have to shout out to two fabulous artists who have played a huge role in my reconciliation between my pre- and post-birth selves. I am a very visual person, and the images these two have created are a tangible representation of my journey.
I have a great friend for whom I've been doing some unconventional modeling for the past eight years, who was only too enthusiastic to photograph me in my 8-month glory. The photos (one of which is at the top of this post) were taken from a cliff into a granite swimming quarry on the island where I managed to feel almost graceful. I have always felt at home in the water, and doing something that was so familiar to me in such an unfamiliar form gave me an almost primal sense of security and groundedness in my body.
Sarah says photos like this, of her and Finn, helped her see who she is now.
EnlargeAmanda Burse
Sarah says photos like this, of her and Finn, helped her see who she is now.
The other artist is one I've been looking forward to working with for months, but whom I didn't meet until a couple of weeks ago when she came out to shoot Finn's newborn photos. Amanda was a godsend. Not only did she teach me some new techniques for soothing Finn, but she managed to capture some amazing shots of my son. What she really did for me, though, was to give me a visual representation of who I am now.
Yes, I spend my days nursing and changing diapers. You would think, therefore, that it would have sunk in by now that I'm a mom, but it was so profound to see myself in these images, almost as though they are proof that I made it. Somehow, they made me feel so much more comfortable and confident in my ability to do this job, which is turning out to be so much harder and so much more wonderful than I ever expected.
So thank you, Michael and Amanda, for joining me on my journey back to myself, and for creating images that define beauty as strength, confidence and love.

Mayday, Mayday! We Have Some Colic On Our Hands!


Finn sleeps with his "sister" Nugget at Sarah and Chad's home in Maine.
Courtesy of Sarah Crossman
Finn sleeps with his "sister" Nugget at Sarah and Chad's home in Maine.
(first published on NPR's Baby Project)
So it's been just over five weeks now. Finn is thriving, having gained 4 1/2 pounds, and an inch-and-a-half in length so far. The dude is weighing in at a meaty 11 pounds, 2 1/2 ounces, and is getting more than a little uncomfortable to carry in our sling. He's as handsome as ever and it's been mesmerizing to watch the little changes every day — that second (or even third) chin developing on his little body, the wideness of his eyes as he stares off into space (what is he looking at?), and the strength in his neck as he cranes up to see what's going on. It's been one hell of a ride so far.
However, there's one other thing that's been changing: his temperament. And not in a good way. I think we might have some colic on our hands, people. Mayday, mayday!
It's been dawning on me a little bit each day, having spent enough time with babies his age and older to realize that he cries quite a bit more than them. A friend of mine posted a photo of her sleeping baby on Facebook, and then another photo, taken a few moments later, of her waking up with a huge smile on her face. Finn, on the other hand, seems to hate waking up, crying almost every time he wakes from a nap.
 

About Sarah

Sarah Crossman, 32, and her husband, Chad, are first-time parents to Finnley James.
When we are hanging out with the class of 2029, the two other babies who were born within nine days of Finn are either sleeping, nursing or silently alert when we get together, but Finn is restless and fussy. He seems to hate bath time for the most part, as well as getting into his car seat ... and don't even get me started on changing his diaper, when he acts as though the sky is falling.
Now, the symptoms of colic are technically that the baby cries for three hours or more for at least three days a week for at least three weeks. It normally resolves itself within three months, and the symptoms produce no lasting effect and have no health risk to the child. In theory, that doesn't sound so bad, but in reality, it's really, really, really hard to deal with. We've dealt with it for three nights so far, starting at 7:30 p.m., and continuing until 10:00 or 11:00. Chad and I alternately sat with Finn two nights ago until he finally passed out at 11:00. During that time, he screamed, and I mean screamed, no matter what we did or said or tried. It was absolutely excruciating listening to it, having his little body wracking in my arms, and not being able to do anything, and I know for sure that Chad felt the same way. I finally broke down crying after a while, and it was a real low point for us as a couple as we debated whether or not we wanted to have another child and admitted that this has not been as rewarding so far as we had hoped.
I do realize that these are totally normal feelings to have, and I do know that down the line, when Finn can interact and communicate, we're going to wonder what we were so worked up about. I do know that. But it's really hard right now, and I'm just trying to be honest.
No one knows the exact reason for colic, but I'm pretty sure that Finn's been swallowing a significant amount of air when he nurses sometimes, and that his system is having a lot of trouble processing it. I'm overwhelmed by the number of suggestions we can try to soothe him — swaddling, trying a different diet, burping every three minutes, using a pacifier, driving him around, massage, nursing only on one side at a time, running the vacuum cleaner, etc., etc., etc. I plan to try all of them, maybe even at the same time, but it doesn't solve the problem that my baby is most likely in pain, and that he's trying to let me know that. I can see him straining, trying to get whatever is blocking him out, and it kills me that I might be doing something to contribute to his agony (was it something I ate?).
So, NPR readers, I'm looking for suggestions to help soothe him, stories of babies who made it through (or more importantlyparents who made it through), words of wisdom, etc. I'm really hoping that it's just a phase, but am preparing myself for the long haul. If colic lasts for three months, then it will all be over by October. I think I can, I think I can ...

Milking Myself: A Surprising Emotional Reaction to Pumping


Sarah started pumping so she could get out of the house, but is struggling with the process because she'd rather nurse Finn.
EnlargeCourtesy of Sarah Crossman
Sarah started pumping so she could get out of the house, but is struggling with the process because she'd rather nurse Finn.
(first published on NPR's Baby Project)
(Disclaimer: I realize that I may sound a bit grumpy in this post, but I am super-grateful that nursing is working for us, and my heart goes out to the women who are having a difficult and/or impossible time breast-feeding.)
So, I've started milking myself.
I'm sorry, but there's really no other way to describe it. There is something just plain wrong about pumping my own breast milk. Logically, it makes complete sense, but in practice, it is completely surreal.
 
Last week, I wanted to go see the Key of She, an all-female a cappella group from New Jersey. It seemed like the perfect time to see if Finn would take a bottle; I would only be gone for a couple of hours at most, and Chad wanted to stay home with the boy.
Perfect. After reading the instructions carefully and sterilizing all 321 parts to the pumping contraption (OK, it wasn't that many, but it felt like it!), I was ready to go. And to be quite honest, it was easy. Physically, no problem whatsoever, but for some reason, I had a really powerful emotional reaction to it. I tend not to chalk this up to crazy mommy hormones — can anyone else relate?

About Sarah

Sarah Crossman, 32, and her husband, Chad, are first-time parents to Finnley James.
First of all, my breast milk is not something I've actually SEEN before. It goes from my breast into Finn's mouth, apart from the occasional drip (or spray — woah — didn't know those suckers could shoot so far!). And it was kind of nice that way — it's kind of amazing that I can create food in the first place, and the process just seemed sort of magic.
Second, it was kind of nice not obsessing about how much he was eating. I know if he was eating formula, I'd be chronicling what time he feeds and how much, and making up theories about why. However, it's so much easier to nurse. It's clear that he's healthy and gaining weight, so I wasn't concerned. It's nice to let go of control, and a good lesson for this new game called parenthood. But now, I'm all freaked out if I get less than 2 ounces — as if Finn can tell, or that he would somehow be getting more if he was nursing.
Third, and most importantly, I felt like I was losing something. I was quite literally giving away the only thing that I had that no one else did. Yes, it was totally liberating, but I don't think I was necessarily all that excited to be liberated just yet.
If I'm going to be totally honest, I kind of wanted to jealously hold onto the one thing that I could do that no one else could. It's kind of a magical process for me. I am able to produce a life-sustaining substance, and even if Finn isn't hungry, just upset, the smell of my boobs can calm him down. It's kind of intense. I wasn't so sure I wanted to give away my superpower.
Obviously, though, I got over my fit of jealousy and handed over the goods to Chad. This was the moment I was terrified of. I think I was equally as terrified that he would take the bottle and that he would reject it. I have experience with babies who refuse bottles, and it makes life much harder on the mom, not to mention the babysitter who has to deal with a screaming, starving infant who is refusing to eat!
However, I needn't have worried — after an initial confused rejection on Finn's part, he downed the bottle from his daddy and fell asleep. When I called at intermission, I was one part elated and one part melancholy. I know it's ridiculous to think that a bottle has replaced me, but a little part of me feels that way. I expected at least a little struggle from Finn.
(As they say, though, be careful what you wish for! A few days later, my sister was staying with Finn while I was at a doctor's appointment, and he refused to eat for the better part of an hour, even going so far as to nurse on his arm hard enough to give himself a hickey before finally accepting the bottle from her.)
All in all, though, I'm very pleased that Chad and others can have the satisfaction of feeding Finn, and that I can have the freedom to pick up a few shifts at the restaurant I've worked at seasonally for over 10 years. But I'm a little sad, too. Not gonna lie.
In other news, I can't believe Finn is already a month old! I'm starting to realize that "they grow up so fast" is a gross understatement! He's averaging about a 2-ounce-per-day weight gain, and that's when he's NOT going through growth spurts. Weighing in at 6 pounds, 12 ounces when he was born, he's no longer a squirt, as he's pushing 11 pounds now. Luckily, we're taking his newborn photos this weekend, so his comparatively wee size will be commemorated.
Newborn photos. Me. Who would've thunk? I think I'm beginning to resemble "that girl" more and more every day.

Guess What? Being a New Mom Isn't All Sunshine And Roses


Sarah says she read way too many books on child-rearing while she was pregnant. Now, just a few weeks into parenthood, she can already start counting all the compromises she's made.
EnlargeCourtesy of Sarah Crossman
Sarah says she read way too many books on child-rearing while she was pregnant. Now, just a few weeks into parenthood, she can already start counting all the compromises she's made.
(first published on NPR's Baby Project)
So it's not all rainbows and sunshine over here in new-parentdom. To illustrate, imagine my poor husband coming home for his lunch break to find both his infant son and his wife in inconsolable tears on the couch.
Yeah, like that.
It's moments like these that make me realize that parenting is going to be a compromise, no matter what our best intentions were heading into this.
 

About Sarah

Sarah Crossman, 32, and her husband, Chad, are first-time parents to Finnley James.
Before Finn was born, Chad and I talked at length about our child-rearing philosophy. We decided to co-sleep with our baby (and to be honest, apart from a few half-hearted attempts, he hasn't even made it into the co-sleeper. He spends his nights happily couched between the two of us). We don't yet own a stroller and are either holding or "wearing" Finn for the majority of his life — so far in a sling, moving on to Snugli, the Ergo and the Kelti backpack as he grows.
We purposely bought a car seat that permanently installs in the car so we wouldn't be tempted to carry him from place to place in his seat, but rather be in contact with us, even if it meant dislodging a sleeping baby from his slumber.
Yes, I'm the girl who read way too many books about child-rearing before Finn was born. I managed to avoid the pregnancy books for the most part, allowing our process to unfold as it did, feeling confident in my ability to carry and deliver a baby. That was the easy part. However, at the age of 32, I've still never had a huge amount of experience with babies, particularly small ones, and felt that I wasn't necessarily prepared to care for an infant.
So I read The Continuum Concept. I read Our Babies, Ourselves. I read The No- Cry Sleep Solution, and The Baby Book by William and Martha Sears. And the message that ran throughout these books, in addition to baby-wearing and co-sleeping, was this: DO NOT LET THE BABY CRY IT OUT.
After having this message hammered into my brain over and over (and particularly after reading the description from The Continuum Concept about the psychological damage inflicted on an infant "crying it out"), you can bet I was sold on the idea. It was a no-brainer, really.
Or at least it seemed that way, reading it as an eight-months pregnant woman lounging on the couch with a reasonable amount of sleep.
During her pregnancy, Sarah and Chad talked at length about the types of parents they'd be, and the rules they'd put in place.
EnlargeCourtesy of Sarah Crossman
During her pregnancy, Sarah and Chad talked at length about the types of parents they'd be, and the rules they'd put in place.
But now, as a woman who hasn't had a "good" night's sleep since July 3, sitting here, trying to write a blog with a wiggly baby on her lap, I can look back and laugh at that pregnant chick and start counting the compromises.
Compromise No. 1: Now, this one isn't really our fault because the car seat we chose is one we thought we would be using, but because it's superbig and fancy, and because Finn was supersmall at birth, it was just plain, too darn big for him, and we've been using a hand-me-down from my cousin — one of those Graco numbers that snaps in and out of the base.
You know what? Those things come in handy! I can take a shower alone without worrying what Finn's smothering himself with, and I can bring him on the ferry and strap him into another car on the mainland when we need to go see our midwife. I'm certainly not toting him from place to place in it. First of all, that thing's heavy, and second of all, I like carrying him in a sling. It's way more comfortable for me, and less cumbersome.
Compromise No. 2: Sometime during week 3 (it all just sort of blurs together these days), Finn was having a really tough time sleeping, meaning Chad and I were having an even more rough time. He was waking every hour or so to nurse, followed by a fitful process of falling back asleep, only to have it start again about 20 minutes later. This went on for a couple of nights before the pacifiers came out. Our original plan had been not to introduce any bad habits we'd have to wean him off of later, but in order to make life easier now, we whipped one out (BPA-free, of course), and stuck it in his kisser. Alas, Finn was not impressed, and contrary to its name, the pacifier did very little to pacify.
Finn and his dad, at home on the island of Vinalhaven, Maine.
EnlargeCourtesy of Sarah Crossman
Finn and his dad, at home on the island of Vinalhaven, Maine.
Compromise No. 3: We plan to raise Finn without a television, and don't have one in the house. During the last few weeks of my pregnancy, I'd stopped working and started catching up on the seasons of Project Runway we'd missed during our time in the U.K., via Hulu on our computer. I intended to quit as soon as Finn was born, but for the past few weeks, I've been cheating and hopping onto the site at least once a day, usually during Finn's epic nursing binges (this explains why he's gained 2 ½ pounds in 3 weeks!). It's nice to turn off my increasingly exhausted brain for a minute and lose myself to Tim Gunn encouraging the designers to "make it work" — I think this might be my mantra!
I can already see myself caving to using the computer as a babysitter every now and then — as long as Elmo is nowhere to be seen. I also predict a defeat when it comes to going downtown to the penny candy store, though — thankfully — that challenge is far in the future.
What I cannot see myself doing, though, is breaking that cardinal rule and letting Finn cry it out alone. I can't help but think that no matter what, he's crying for a reason, and if he thinks for a second that I've abandoned him rather than do anything in my power to make it all better, I would be really disappointed with myself.
At the beginning, his cry would tear at the fibers of my being, making me curl my toes and bite my lip (evolution really knows what it's doing). But it's been getting easier to keep him company when he cries, even if I've exhausted every other option, at least he knows I'm there.
So all in all, parenting is a tough gig, and constantly changing. Whenever I think I've got a tiny part of it down, all the rules go up in smoke. There will be compromises and there will be moments I'm not so proud of, but I think I'm learning to trust my instincts and forget about the books so much. Just focusing on this little guy and trying to do the best by him seems to be the best strategy for me.

Growing Up On An Island Paradise, Where Everyone Is Family

Finn (center) and the future Class of 2029 got together recently for their first class picture.
EnlargeCourtesy of Susan Philbrook
Finn (center) and the future Class of 2029 got together recently for their first class picture.
(first published on NPR's Baby Project)
I love where I live.
As I've mentioned before, I live on an island — Vinalhaven in midcoast Maine, population 1,150 or so. Living here definitely has its challenges, but I wouldn't give them up for the support network we have, or the incredible reception we've had since Finn was born. He's already had some pretty extraordinary experiences, and he's not even a month old!
For example, last week, Finn got together with his (future) high school graduating class, and we took their first class photo. All together, there are five students in the class — three were born within nine days of each other, so we've got three newborns, a 4-month-old, and the oldest is 6 months old. (Can I tell you how TINY Finn is in comparison to the bigger babies? It's mind-blowing.)
It was so fantastic to get together with the other moms — women who will be pretty important in both my life, and now Finn's. I can't really imagine this happening anywhere else, and it makes me so happy to know that they get to grow up together swimming in the quarries, riding their bikes around town, going tide-pooling, and generally getting into mischief.

Before Finn was born, he'd also gotten some pretty sweet gifts as well, including both a co-sleeper and a boat cradle made by local island artisans — one a timber framer, the other a painter. These treasured items have been passed along to Vinalhaven families throughout the past two decades, and it's so heartwarming to know that my son will be one in a long line of island children to use them.

About Sarah

Sarah Crossman, 32, and her husband, Chad, are first-time parents to Finnley James.
My very favorite thing about living here, though, is the family we have surrounding us, both biological and socially produced. I know that it makes most trips to the grocery store a bit more lengthy, but it's only because the whole community is so darn excited to welcome Finn.
I know that I won't have to worry about Finn needing to nurse when I'm downstreet shopping (as opposed to downtown shopping), because I can just pop into "Auntie Alison's" gallery and nurse him there. I know that when I go into Go Fish, Rachel is going to be thrilled to see us. Bobbie and Kristin at the bank, and Carlene at the Paper Store go out of their way to ask how Finn's doing (and how I'm sleeping), and Sharon at the post office will always make sure he's warm enough.
By far, the best part about living here, though, is that Finn will be growing up next door to one of his three sets of grandparents — my father and stepmom. They are both thrilled that we're just a few steps away from their front door and that they can just pop in and see him, even during the summer — the busiest time of year on Vinalhaven.
Finn sleeping in his dad's arms
EnlargeCourtesy of Sarah Crossman
Finn sleeping in his dad's arms
My dad writes a column for The Wind, the weekly "newspaper" that comes out every Thursday. Last week, there were three birth announcements — Finn and two of his other classmates. There was also an article written by my dad that I think pretty much sums up his adoration for his first grandson. I hope you enjoy:
As readers know I have been practicing to be a grandfather and, as practice will, it has paid off. Encouraged by my having taken that initiative, my daughter and son in law have successfully produced a fine boy. Finnley James is here and eager to get on with adolescence.
When he was 26 hours old he dragged his tired parents to a picnic and enjoyed putting names to faces and getting to know us all.
On the second day he created devotion, putting an undeniable spell on his Dad to supplement the one he'd been nurturing for months from his Mom.
On the third day he cast the same enchantment on his island grandparents, taking an obvious and understandable interest in them both.
On day four he mastered a rhythmic burp he'd been working on in the womb. It was a syncopated effort, full of complicated musical asides and cadence, not the regular and predicable little eruptions one might expect from an ordinary child.
On day five he created language, putting together full sentences, each with a subject, invariably 'I' and a verb — 'want' and a fairly predictable object and wasted no time in beginning to train the adults around him to respond to these directives, subtle and less so.
On the sixth day he created facial expressions to augment his speech and by nightfall had assembled a nice repertoire of grimaces, smirks, frowns and smiles, all having to do, it seems likely, with gas.
On day seven he rested but only between feedings and the next day attended a band concert and then a memorable assembly, the first of many, of the very appealing and photogenic Class of 2029.
—Phil Crossman

This Crazy Love: How Having a Baby Turned Me Into a Sappy Mess

Finnley James Crossman-King was born July 3. Read Sarah's account of how he came into the world.
EnlargeCourtesy of Sarah Crossman
Finnley James Crossman-King was born July 3. Read Sarah's account of how he came into the world.
(first published on NPR's Baby Project)
I'm kind of experiencing a form of multiple personality syndrome.
I'm 32, and until this point, I was very much part of a population that did not have children. Don't get me wrong — we do have friends with kids, but for the most part, the majority of the people we hung out with on a regular basis are childless.
Now, I'm the only one with a kid. Everyone's really happy for me and going ga-ga (pun intended) over Finn for now, but I wonder what's going to happen when we have to refuse the bonfires and late-night soirees we used to thrive on.

About Sarah

Sarah Crossman, 32, and her husband, Chad, are first-time parents to Finnley James.
Even when I was pregnant, I was always the girl who said that my kid wouldn't run my life — that I would maintain my independence, and that the kid would just have to learn to adjust.
Well, I think anyone who's seen me over the past week and two days would have to say otherwise.
As cliche as it sounds, I didn't think my life would change this much, and to be totally honest, I didn't think I'd love him so dang much from day one. These hormones really know how to do their job. I'll just be sitting here, minding my own business, and some sappy song will come on iTunes shuffle, and all of a sudden, I'm a big, sodden mess weeping over how in love with my son I am. Really? Me? When the heck did this happen?
Of course, as I write this, I'm sitting here with Finn in my lap, waiting to hand him over to my husband who should be getting home from work any minute now so I can walk the dog and have a minute to myself. I love the sentiment, and I want Chad to bond with Finn, of course, but truth be told, if I didn't have to ever put him down again, I'd be totally OK with that.
Finn being held
EnlargeCourtesy of Sarah Crossman
It's really a mind-blowing process, and I hope I'm able to find a balance between this crazy love I feel and the life I once had. I know it won't be the same, but I do hope to return to a sense of normalcy, of balance.
I don't want to raise a spoiled brat, but I do want him to know just how much I love him, and that he can count on me to always put him first.
OK, this is the last sappy update I'll write. It must be the combination of hormones and lack of sleep that are making me so sentimental. Geez, when did I become this girl?