A Baby Humpback Washes Up Near My House

On Wednesday afternoon last week, a dead baby humpback whale washed up on a rocky part of the beach near my house. This caused quite a stir, as one can well imagine. The body of the whale drew a crowd, with people stopping by the side of the road throughout the day to view the unusual and sad spectacle.

I joked with my husband that I hoped they got rid of it before it exploded. Roadkill is one thing, but whale entrails spewed across a major roadway was not something I was interested in encountering.

I was hesitant to go see it myself. While I've long since become relatively inured to roadkill, I'm still not one to view carnage with aplomb. But then I decided that a whale was no ordinary dead animal. This might be my only chance to see a whale up close, dead or not, and it was probably worth taking a peek. Besides if all these other people were happily whale-gazing, it couldn't be that bad, right?

I wasn't sure if I should let the kids look. We tend to want to protect our kids from disturbing or upsetting sights. The seven-year-old mentioned that everyone at school was talking about it and that many of his friends had gone to see it. Maybe it was the right thing to do, to let my kids have this unusual experience. And this was something we'd be talking about for a long time. "Hey, do you remember that time the whale washed up on the beach?" It's a once-in-a-lifetime thing, and I decided I'd regret not taking the opportunity to see a whale up close.

We stopped by the side of the road on Thursday evening, after confirming that it had not yet been removed. The seven-year-old and 2.5-year-old wanted to get out and see it, so I left the five-year-old and baby in the car and took the others out to take a peek.

It was not at all gory, but it was sad. The poor baby was on its back, its neck and belly bloated from the gasses building up inside (my worry about it exploding was not, after all, unfounded), and with each wave, it was banged against the rocks. This poor, majestic creature was just another piece of flotsam. Why was it here? I wondered. How did it die? Was its mother looking for it? Was she mourning? I've read that whales mourn.

We looked for a few minutes with a few dozen other people, everyone with a camera or phone in hand to capture the image and the memory. Then we hopped back in the car and went home.

The next afternoon, my five-year-old declared that he actually did want to see the whale. I asked my oldest if he knew whether it was still there - he seemed to be in the loop, since everyone at school was talking about it. He said he didn't know, but the question was quickly answered as we headed down the road and saw that people were still standing around on the rocks and parking along side. I pulled over and got the five-year-old out.

To my chagrin, between Thursday afternoon and Friday afternoon, scientists had been by to study the whale and perform a necropsy to see what they could learn about this whale and how it had died. They had pulled it farther up onto the rocks and most of the way out of the water, flipped it over, and cut it open. It was not as majestic or pretty a sight as it had been the previous day. I was morbidly curious about it, having never seen a whale cut open before (really?), but I am also not able to view these things with as clinical an eye as others. I worried that it would be upsetting to my son, but he didn't seem at all disturbed by it. He pointed out the tail and the mouth. I'm not sure he even realized that it had been cut open. (At least the release of gasses meant that there was no longer a danger of it exploding!) I later read that they had determined it was a juvenile female, about 25 feet long and perhaps less than two years old, and appeared to have experienced some trauma, but the carcass was already too decomposed to determine a cause of death. Too bad.

I knew they'd be towing it out to sea soon, so it could go to its proper graveyard and no longer be subject to the morbid interest of tourists and onlookers. I hoped it sank and rotted far, far from shore.

All-in-all, I'm glad we decided to go see the whale. I think I'd have regretted missing out. When something like this happens practically just outside your door, it's worth taking a few moments to appreciate the wonders - and sadnesses - of nature.

When Kids are Sick at Night

The other night, my 2.5-year-old was coughing up a storm. I tried all the usual remedies - from Vicks on the feet to sitting in a steamy bathroom to giving him a dose of albuterol to a spoonful of honey (rejected) to sitting outside in the cool air to try to soothe the inflammation - but it was over two hours before the coughing fit ended. I suspect it was some combination of all of these efforts that eventually calmed the spasms. After the poor kid finally relaxed and was able to sleep, around midnight, I lay in my bed, staring up at the ceiling, listening. His bedroom wall adjoins ours, so I can hear him clearly if he does make any sound.

The baby was asleep beside me. The older two kids were cuddled together on the 5-year-old's bed, as they are wont to do, the 7-year-old snoring softly, more of a low hum than the buzz of a chainsaw.

I was tense, waiting for the hacking to start up again, for the thump of his sliding out of bed, the pit-pat of his feet on the wood floor, a "Mommy, I want to come up your bed." But I heard none of these things, to my relief.

I strained for the sound of gentle breathing, the rasping of a half-stuffed nose, the scraping of his water cup against the wall.

I was wired. On nights like these, all senses are on alert for signs of distress. My brain is seeking other avenues of comfort, cataloging the medicines available in the house, running lists of possible remedies, planning for an emergency room run or a phone call to an after-hours nurse line. I am calculating how much sleep is left to me for the night, deciding how badly I need it, figuring out what can be sacrificed the next day, just in case.

But, the extended quiet period continued. My eyes grew heavy. I forced myself to stay awake for a few more minutes, just to make sure. I resisted the urge to go check on him, buried the nonsensical fear that something was terribly wrong, reassured myself that an intriguing mix of bubbe meises (grandma's wisdom) and modern medical knowledge had relieved the coughing so he could sleep comfortably.

It was a while before my body and brain allowed me to drift off to sleep, and I was still half-listening for a new coughing fit to begin. In fact, I was very confused when I did hear someone cough, many hours later, but it wasn't the toddler. It took me a few moments to change gears and realize that it was the baby, cuddled up next to me, who had coughed!

I find that I am so attuned to my kids that I am the first to wake up and become aware when one is unhappy or uncomfortable, often before he himself even awakens fully. I hear the whimpering, the out-of-character squirming in bed, the unusual rhythm of his breath. I lie in bed, eyes open, wondering if and when I'll have to wrest myself from the covers and untangle myself from the baby to check on which ever child is in need.

I suppose that awareness of your kids doesn't end when they grow out of toddlerhood. I remember being 11 or 12 and upset about something late at night. I would cry softly in my bed until my mom would wake up and come to my room to find out what was wrong. I didn't go to her. I didn't call for her. But she always knew that I was unhappy and came to comfort me.

Knowing that I know when something's not right with my babies means that I can relax and sleep when everything's fine. I don't have to worry, because I trust my Mama-sense. Perhaps, one day, I'll be able to sleep deeply and unaware once more, but as long as my children are nearby, I'll have half an ear cocked in their direction, I'm sure.

As I Nurse You To Sleep, My Son

I love that you understand
what it means as I lay down beside you
and fiddle with my shirt
and brush your cheek with a bit of my skin

And you open your mouth
and you pant like a little bird
whose Mommy has just returned with
a juicy morsel.

You wiggle and wriggle and scoot
your whole body
your feet kick
your head moves back and forth
like a sonar pinging

Looking for...

Looking for...

Comfort.
Food.
Love.
Warmth.
Soothing.

And then you lunge at me
latching on
somehow both excited
and gentle

Your teeth do not but brush
the sensitive skin
Your lips settle
Your fist grasps my shirt
A foot digs into my soft belly

The quiet kah kah kah of swallowing
The rhythm of your jaw
The tongue flicking up and down
Up and down

Tugging.
Pulling.

Your eyes roll back in bliss
The same bliss I feel when I take that first bite
of cheesecake
or fudge
or sip a perfect milkshake on a hot summer day

Slowly your eyelids droop
Eyes open and close
Open and close

Until finally...

Finally...

Your fist opens
The kah kah slows
Your foot slips from its perch
on my soft belly

Your tongue flutters
chin quivers
jaw relaxes

And you slip off

Eyes open once, briefly
Lips quirk in a contented smile
Then lids droop once more
Mouth closes
And you sleep.

On Running Errands Alone

On Saturday afternoons, my husband occupies all four kids one way or another and I have a half-hour guitar lesson. For that short time each week, I am kid-less. It is a healthy, rejuvenating half-hour for me. A half-hour in which I can focus on myself, my guitar, and the chords before me and not wonder if the toddler is getting into something he shouldn't, not have to break up shouting matches between my two oldest, not have to be interrupted to feed a crying baby. It is a half-hour all my own, and I treasure it.

Something interesting happened recently. I got to my lesson about 15 minutes early, accidentally (I over-estimated traffic). I was thirsty and needed to use the bathroom, and we needed a few groceries. Next to Guitar Center is a Trader Joe's. I parked the car, went to Trader Joe's, bought a couple of things, including a drink for myself, drank it, then went into Guitar Center, used the bathroom, and then went to my lesson.

For someone without kids, or someone who is regularly able to run errands without their kids, this doesn't seem at all remarkable. I mean, it's an obvious sequence of events.

But if you're like me and you almost always have at least one or two small children with you - or even three or four - you can understand why this was interesting. Normally, running any errand, whether it's to pick up a few things at the store, make a deposit at the bank, or run in to the post office, is a project. Depending on how many and which kids I have along for the ride, I need to plan my parking spot close to the door or the cart return, I need to wear the baby or put him in the cart, I need to hold at least two other hands, keep my eyes on the others lest they wander. I usually try to limit my errand-running to one or two per day. It can be exhausting.

No to mention that any trip to a grocery store inevitably involves requests for treats or a drink, various instances of "can we get this?", a trip to the samples table (at Trader Joe's), and potentially fights over who sits in the cart and/or who pushes it. And G-d help me if there are kid-sized carts!

And forget stopping in the bathroom. I'll just hold it until I get home.

If I forget to buy something on a trip to the store, oh well, we'll do without. If we need something in particular, I stack that errand with any others I may need to do. There's no "stopping in on the way to" or "just running out for"s in my life. I'm not complaining. This is just my reality right now. It has gotten easier in recent months since the older two can get themselves into the car without assistance and the toddler can at least climb into his car seat, although I do have to buckle him. It's gotten easier because the older two know not to run off or dawdle in parking lots. It's gotten easier because they can actually help me by grabbing things from the shelves, standing with the cart while I run to the other end of the aisle for something, and make the baby smile.

So, suffice it to say, I enjoyed the luxury of being able to run in to Trader Joe's, buy some stuff, and use the bathroom all by myself.

No, We Have NOT Ruined The Next Generation!

Kids these days, eh? If you believe the blog posts that tend to go viral, kids these days are being raised to be worthless, useless beggars who won't be able to make it in this world because no one is teaching them how to take care of themselves, we don't give them any independence, and we don't let them take risks and learn to fail. We are ruining the next generation and, by extension, the world by raising dependent and needy kids who never want for anything, care only about themselves, and can't be bothered to so much as wash their own clothes, solve their own minor problems, or learn to manage their money properly.

Kids these days. All they want to do all day is sit in front of their computers, watch TV, and text. They've always got their noses buried in their iPhones, drink 64-ounce Cokes from McDonald's, and take pills to help them stay awake for tests. They're all fat and lazy. They're bullies. They don't know how to respect each other or adults.

It's funny, because when I'm driving around my neighborhood, I see kids out riding their bikes and scooters in the pleasant springtime afternoons. We go to the park and there are always other kids there swinging, playing ball, and going down the slides. Yes, some of them have iPhones. Yes, many have earbuds in their ears. But they're out there, running around, playing together. They invite other kids to play with them. They express concern when a peer is hurt. They help the younger ones climb up the ladder to the slide. They push their younger siblings on the swings.

I meet kids who hold doors open for me as I come through with my stroller or a kid on each arm. Polite and sweet children greet me and each other and introduce themselves. Kids share sand toys at the beach and cars and trucks at the park.

I see kids wanting to solve hunger in their communities. I see young people showing incredible sportsmanship. I see kids raising money to fight cancer. I see teenagers helping a stranger with special needs find his way home. I see high schoolers rallying to to give a sick friend the time of her life.

There was the boy at school who helped my son to the bathroom when he wasn't feeling well, then brought him to his teacher. There were the boys playing baseball in the park who invited my son to join them. There was the little girl in the sandbox who offered to share some of her sand toys with my sons so they could play with her.

How about the middle schooler who found an elegantly simple solution to help his school district and the federal government save hundreds of thousands of dollars? Or the young man who got into all eight Ivy League universities?

Instead of denigrating a whole generation, let's hold up these shining stars as examples for their peers. Instead of blaming young parents for raising a crop of moochers who won't do anything to advance humanity, let's celebrate families whose kids go above and beyond. Instead of bemoaning the selfishness of today's youth, let's rejoice in their compassion and generosity.

Tell me about children in your life who deserve recognition for kindness, respect, and accomplishments!

How Does Milk Production Work in the Early Days Postpartum?

The first few days and weeks after your baby is born can be confusing. You have so much to learn and so many things to worry about. It's stressful and scary. You want to be sure you're doing the best you can for your baby, and that includes making sure he's getting enough to eat. When you're breastfeeding, it can be hard to tell how much your baby is taking in and whether it's as much as he needs or wants.

So let's talk about how milk production works in those early days, so that you can be more confident that your baby is satisfied.

You start producing the early milk, called colostrum, between 10 and 14 weeks of pregnancy. Colostrum is milk, but it's not the mature milk you'll see a few days after your baby is born. Rather, it's a highly concentrated, thick, golden liquid consisting mostly of protein, beta carotene, and antibodies. Colostrum is sometimes called "liquid gold" because it is so valuable to a newborn baby to help protect his tender new gut, support his undeveloped immune system, and prepare him for life outside the womb.

10mL (2 tsp) of colostrum pumped on my baby's second night of life.

The presence of the placenta and the progesterone it produces keeps your milk volume low, so you won't produce mature milk until after your baby is born and the placenta is expelled. Your levels of prolactin - the hormone that tells your breasts to produce milk - are very high at the birth of your baby, but it's just floating around in your blood stream with no way to send the message until you start actually nursing a baby. The action of the baby suckling at your breast (or of a breast pump or hand expression) creates "prolactin receptors," places for the prolactin to attach within the breast so that the message to produce milk can be sent. The takeaway from this is simple: The more you nurse your baby in the first 3 days of life, the better your milk supply will be even months down the line.

Now, once the baby is born and the placenta detaches, your levels of progesterone, the hormone produced by the placenta that supports the pregnancy, drop, and you've started establishing prolactin receptors. This paves the way for the prolactin to do its job, and your body will begin producing more milk - and that milk will be the mature, watery, white substance we think of when we think of "milk."

It takes about 48 to 72 hours for your milk volume to increase. In the first two to three days of your baby's life, he does not need to eat much. Remember that he was being constantly fed by the umbilical cord while inside you, and his intestines are full of meconium - a greenish-black, tarry substance that coats the intestines. There isn't room for much food until the meconium is cleared out. Colostrum, along with all of its other amazing properties, acts as a laxative to help clear out that meconium. Your baby's stomach is very tiny at first and cannot hold more than about a teaspoon (5mL) of milk anyway, so it doesn't take much for him to feel full. Remember, in the last few weeks of your pregnancy, he was packing on fat stores to help him survive these first few days of life where he suddenly isn't eating much.

Though your baby isn't super hungry at birth, he will have a high need to suck. This high need to suck serves a few purposes. First, when the baby suckles at the breast, it stimulates the release of oxytocin, which helps the mother's uterus shrink back down and slows her postpartum bleeding. Second, as mentioned before, it helps set up receptors for the milk-production hormone called prolactin. Third, the sucking stimulates the baby's intestines to start moving out the meconium to make room for the milk. Finally, newborns find sucking comforting. Babies even suck on their hands inside the womb!

Remember that breastfeeding takes practice. The best thing to do in these first few days postpartum is to bring the baby to breast absolutely as often as possible, at least 12 times in 24 hours, or as often as the baby asks. The quickest and easiest way to learn your baby's hunger signals is to start out by offering the breast every time your baby fusses. You'll begin to recognize certain movements of his head and mouth that indicate that he wants to nurse. You'll learn the different types of cries that mean he's hungry or tired or uncomfortable. By offering the breast every time your baby seems fussy, you'll give yourself and the baby every opportunity to practice nursing and to establish those prolactin receptors and build your milk supply!

By about 72 hours after the birth, you should notice that your breasts feel fuller and are now producing something that looks a great deal more like "milk" than the colostrum did. Some women find they become extremely engorged literally overnight, while others notice a more gradual increase in volume. If your milk hasn't increased in volume by about 72 hours after birth, you may need to speak with a lactation consultant and/or your baby's pediatrician about providing supplemental donor milk or formula until you have a greater volume of milk available. It is important that your baby start eating so that he can grow.

Once the milk supply does increase, you'll want to know that your baby is getting enough to eat. You can monitor how much the baby is getting by counting diapers - what goes in must come out! A 3-day-old baby should have three wet diapers and three poops per day. A 4-day-old should have 4 and 4. A 5-day-old should have 5 and 5, and after that, there should be at least 6 pees per day and anywhere from about 3 to 6 or more poops. In order to be sure that your baby is really producing at least that many wet diapers, you need to check your baby's diaper at least that many times per day. If you're not sure how to tell if the diaper is wet, or you are concerned that your baby isn't wetting as often as he should, you can place a piece of tissue in a clean diaper. When you check the diaper, if the tissue is wet, then your baby has peed.

Another way to reassure yourself that your baby is getting enough to eat is to watch his growth. Your pediatrician will want to see your baby several times in the first two months of life. Your baby should be gaining at least half an ounce a day, if not more, and should be back up to his birth weight by the time he's 10 to 14 days old. Even if you don't get to weigh your baby often, you'll notice as he starts outgrowing his clothing and diapers, becomes heavier for you to hold, and starts to fill out.

If you're concerned that he's not taking in milk, you can do what's called a "weighted feed," where you weigh the baby hungry, then feed him, then weigh him again on the same scale with the same amount of clothing. This requires a sensitive baby scale that can measure in small increments. Many baby boutiques and lactation consultants will have scales like this available to do weighted feeds and to check your baby's growth. Typically, a newborn baby will take in about 2oz. of milk in a feeding, which you can see because he'll be 2 oz. heavier after feeding!

Finally, you can tell if a baby is getting enough by making sure he's not dehydrated. His eyes and mouth should be moist, skin should be smooth and not have dry patches, and the fontanel (the soft spot on top of the head) should not be sunken. He should not be lethargic or floppy, should have periods where he's awake and alert, and should wake on his own to eat. If you see orange urine crystals in his diaper or he has fewer than six pees in 24 hours after day 5 of life, call your pediatrician immediately. Dehydration in a baby can be very serious but is also very treatable.

If you have any reason to be concerned about your baby, don't hesitate to call your pediatrician. Trust your gut. If your baby is not himself, it doesn't hurt to have him looked at. Often the nurse can listen to your concerns on the phone and help you determine if the doctor needs to see the baby.

Remember that a newborn typically eats 12 or more times in a 24-hour period, but that doesn't necessarily mean he's eating exactly every two hours. He might eat three times in three hours, then sleep for three hours, then eat twice more in the next four hours, then sleep for two hours, etc. Watch the baby, not the clock, for when you should feed him next, and follow his cues.

The best way to ensure that your milk supply is healthy and your baby is well-fed is to simply nurse, nurse, nurse. Avoid artificial nipples such as pacifiers and bottles until at least three to four weeks of age, when breastfeeding should be well established. Have your baby's latch evaluated if you have any pain while nursing. Sometimes it may look like your baby is nursing well but he's actually not transferring milk efficiently. Listen for the sounds of swallowing and for a suck-swallow-breathe pattern. If your baby is sucking but not pausing to swallow or breathe, he may not actually be getting any milk, or not enough to trigger the swallow reflex.

Check out my videos on newborn nursing to see what it looks like (and sounds like!) when a tiny baby nurses!

Guest Post: Baby S's Birth from His Father's Point of View

My husband was kind enough to share his thoughts about our oldest son N's birth here. He issued a challenge for us to reach 200 likes on the Facebook page before he'd write about his impressions of S's birth. So, here is the long-awaited second chapter, S's birth from his dad's point of view.

***

I know I promised I’d write this when the Facebook page got 200 likes. It passed 200 likes a while ago, but better later than never!

So, birth number two, our son S. I will come right out and say, this one was the hardest for me. For starters, it happened much earlier than we expected. In the afternoon Jessica went for her regular doctor’s appointment, and a few hours later she called me to come to the hospital because they were going to induce her due to high blood pressure.

We were pretty new to the area and did not know many people. We had no one to leave N with, so I brought him with me to the hospital. This was fun for a while. We hung out with Mommy, and he was on his best behavior and really sweet and cute. 

Later on, as my wife’s labor got more intense, we played “Let’s scream with Mommy!” By then it became obvious that we needed to find a solution for him. He couldn't stay there anymore. We eventually found a friend who could pick him up and bring food for me, but it would take him some time to get there. I was hoping he would make it before the birth!

Let’s back up a little. By the time I got to the hospital, Jessica was already in her Labor and Delivery room, and ready in the hospital gown and hooked up to an IV, and assigned a nurse. This already felt weird for me. I got there later; I did not take her there. I felt like I was just a spectator. The nurse was flaky, weird, and, well, I did not like her very much. In return, she seemed to not care for me much either. She pretty much ignored me most of the time. I was there with my wife, but detached from the process. Of course, having N there with me, distracting me from the labor, did not help that much either.

Finally, our friend arrived and I took N out to meet him. N was screaming and unhappy; he thought he was going home with me. I felt terrible about that. By the time I got back up to Jessica’s room, she was already pretty advanced. I do not remember much from the whole birth. I only remember feeling like I was not wanted there by the medical staff, by the nurse. I resented that for quite a while. I kept reminding myself that it is not about me, I am just there to support my wife, and will do what she needs me to do.

S finally arrived, vaginally. I was happy for her, as this is what she wanted. They placed him on her, as she wanted him skin-to-skin right away. He was just with her, he was her baby. I think I did not get to hold him until much later, maybe it was next day when brought N to see him, maybe it was when we brought him home. I just recall feeling like I had very little to do with anything at that point, and fighting the feeling that I did not think this was right, insisting to myself that this moment was about her. I was there to support her. I became edgy waiting for the nurse to come back, to move to another room, settle down, so I could go back home and pick up N from our friends’.

Finally the flaky, cheery nurse who ignored me (bear in mind, I might have imagined that she was ignoring me – that’s just how it felt to me) came back and took us to the postpartum room, but not before triggering a bunch of alarms because she went through the wrong door with the baby. After that, I was free to go and pick up N. I had great time with him for a few days, just him and me. But, I was bitter about the birth. I had wanted to be part of it, like last time. I did not want to feel like a guest at my own kid’s birth!

Today when I think of it, I realize what I did wrong. It was my mistake. I was trying to be there for her only. I did not factor myself into it at all. Partly because of what I felt, part because this is what society tells us, or was telling me at the time, men are only guest at the birth, they shouldn't interfere. But in the end that’s what caused me to feel so alienated, to be so frustrated. The fact that I ignored my own wishes, never spoke up to her or the medical staff about how I wanted to be involved. I just accepted it as it was. I made myself not important. I made myself just being there. Sure, it might have been done with good intentions, but unhappiness in any relationship is not good. It left me distant from S for a very long time after his birth.

My only advice for men would be, take a stance, but accept hers as well and be ready to be wrong. Because speaking up for what you want and letting her know what you think is support, too. It is what opens up a dialog and shows her that you are interested in the process and want to be a part of it. Just accepting her wishes creates a distance and disinterest for yourself in the birth and in your baby.

That, and bring food. Always remember food.