Through my healing journey of grief (yes, it’s been 3 years and I am still grieving), I look to stories, authors, and self-help books that relate to grief, growth, feminism, and social justice. For Christmas, I told my husband that really wanted a book called “Untamed” by Glennon Doyle. He had never heard of her. I only knew her through Instagram and listening to a few of her TedTalks. As I was eagerly reading her inspiring words, there is a story about Mona Lisa. It screamed to me. A story of a woman who lived over 500 years ago who I now connected to through our grief.
Untamed
As I was in bed reading, there was a part in the book about the painting of Mona Lisa. Glennon Doyle said that while she was looking at the painting in France and a woman approached her and said, “do you want to hear a theory about her smile?”. She was told that Mona Lisa and her husband had “lost” a baby. Then after the birth of their second child, her husband commissioned Leonardo Da Vinci to paint her. But Mona Lisa refused to smile.
I read that story over and over again.
Finally, I felt seen, I felt comforted, I felt connected because of grief.
I see you, Mona Lisa.
I am intrigued by her story.
There are many conflicting stories and theories that go along with why she isn’t smiling. But the story that resonates most with me is that she refused to smile because she was grieving.
Apparently, while she was being painted, she had jokers, jugglers who tried to make her smile wider for the painting. Finally, Leonardo asked her why she wouldn’t smile. She had apparently told Leonardo Da Vinci that she did not want the joy she felt of having her living child to erase the pain of losing her first.
I get it…
Wow, do I get it. I get the guilt of being happy to have a living child that you love so deeply. But I also understand how the death of a child (or in my case two) is a pain that never seems to subside. It does something, almost physical, that makes you stand out from other mothers. The grief sets you aside. But the grief also connects you to other mothers, like Mona Lisa.
Of course, I had to look at other sources of this. An article from The Globe and Mail suggests that the painting was altered. It was alleged that originally Mona Lisa was wearing a black veil, suggesting that despite celebrating the birth of her child she was still in mourning. The story goes on to say that because the painting wasn’t paid for, Da Vince changed it. Taking away the veil but keeping the emotion stoic. Today, this image is one of the most recognized paintings in the world.
How I see the Mona Lisa Today
Before I looked deeper into her portrait, I just saw a woman unamused in a painting. What I see now is a mother’s grief. Her pain (notice the word “pain” is in painting). The guilt of feeling happy while her heart was torn into pieces trying to repair itself with the joy of another baby. This is a painting that countless mothers like you and I can relate and connect to. A feeling of incredible pain, while holding on to gratitude. It’s confusing, yet it makes sense.
I feel like I am connected to the famous Mona Lisa through our grief. As her life continued, I hope she was able to find some peace amongst her grief. Even 500 years later her grief is seen and admirably respected from one grieving mother to another.
On my Instagram Page, someone messaged me and asked, “I’m confused….are you about food or about miscarriage?” I simply stated that while I was feeling my grief, I’ve learned to feed my soul.
Ask yourself, when someone dies, what do people usually offer? …. food.
OF course, sometimes it’s flowers, cards, gifts, but almost always people love to give food. I have found that food is a way of evoking sympathy and emotion without having to speak a word.
The History of giving food when someone dies
In the time of the Egyptians, when a loved one died, family members and friends offered bread, beer, and the deceased’s favourite meals to the tomb in which the person was being placed in. It was thought that even after death, the spirit needed to be nourished. In other traditions, bringing food to the grieving would ward off evil spirits and allow the deceased to rest in eternal peace. However, it began, it seems to be somewhat customary to show love and affection to a bereaved person when you bring them food.
What happened to me during my grief.
Cooking started to be a creative way that didn’t require me to be physically or emotionally present or have to bring my family into my dark place. I was able to nourish my family, show them my love, and bring my emotion for that day into my cooking. For example, a good day would be a fun meal like homemade pizza, chili dogs, chicken picatta. Whereas, a difficult day might look like a quick soup and grilled cheese, which is a tad less exciting for my family. During this time, I began to heal and take time for me.
Grief can mess with more than your emotions, it can also affect your appetite and your hormones.
According to Dr.Wendy Trubow, the stress of grief can have differing affects on your appetite. Grief can either increase your appetite or shut it down temporarily. This has to do with the fight or flight internal response. This affects not only your adrenals, but can alter emotional response as well. So often when someone is offering your food, they are taking from their own emotional space of grief, while offering you a space to nourish your soul.
Food can remind you of grief.
On the day of my D&C, my parents came to take care of me, and my husband. My dad doesn’t say much. I didn’t realize that I am more like him than I thought. Like me, he shows emotion through cooking.
I remember after my surgery, coming in and out of the anesthesia, he was busy in my kitchen. Finally, he came to me. He brought me a bowl of homemade Italian Wedding soup. As I think about this now, his offering of soup was like a warm hug. A place of refuge. Someway to take my pain away by filling my belly. It was a way for him to make me feel better. It was his way of offering me his sympathy. Now, Italian Wedding soup is my go-to when I am missing my babies, or when I need a warm hug from my daddy. I will be sharing his recipe with you soon.
After their death, my closest girlfriend brought me a meal of stuffed pasta shells. I remember when she dropped this off, my security doorbell camera notified me that someone was at the door. When I looked, she had dropped off the meal and ran away. Not a word. I knew that she didn’t want to see me in pain. Or maybe didn’t know what to say, but this meal was like a big “I love you” without the words. I knew what she needed me to feel.
Since their death, I have spent so many hours in the kitchen. Sometimes with my children and there are times where no one is allowed in that space with me. Depending on the day, this is what I need. In the kitchen, I am always in my thoughts where I can address my anxieties. It’s where I mourn my babies and count my blessings. I continue to process my grief and nourish my soul while I feed my family. This is a journey, and I am in it for the long haul.
A Short Story
I am going to tell you why my miscarriage matters.A few weeks ago, I was out for a walk with my 8-year-old and 1 year old. An elderly neighbour couple stopped us, and we spoke for a while. After several minutes of talking about my boys (older people love talking about the kids), they asked me about the age between my boys. They continued to ask why there was such a large age gap. I always dread these questions. I take a deep breath and tell them that we lost twins in two separate miscarriages.
They looked at me with empathy. Almost, embarrassed and unsure of what to say next…or so I thought.
I thought that would be it for the topic, but then came the dagger, “….how far along were you?” I let out a big sigh and though I didn’t need to, I explain that we suspect 8 weeks for our first baby, and we estimated 10 weeks for the second twin. She replies “oh, that’s good you weren’t far along”. It felt like a lightning bolt sending a shock through my body. I can feel myself get fired up with anger. I take a deep breath unsure if I wanted to scream, walk away, or explain myself. In that moment, I chose to end the conversation…though I wanted to tell them my painful story.
My Miscarriage Matters
My miscarriage matters, despite what she thinks. Despite what anyone thinks. My babies were special. They were loved. They mattered.
Sadly, this isn’t the first time this situation has happened to me. In fact, it happens often that my miscarriage isn’t important because I wasn’t “that far along”. You know what, screw you and your opinions. Because, I. DON’T. CARE. ANYMORE.
My miscarriages happened. It happened to ME! They happened a week apart. There was pain, there was devastation, there was hurt, there was heartbreak. There was trauma. Don’t YOU tell me, “at least you weren’t that far along” as if your words are going to make me magically feel better, because you know what, they actually make me feel one hundred times worse!
I wonder if her reaction or sympathy would have been different if my babies were further along?
My babies had heart beats…both of them. Then one didn’t. Then a week later, they both were gone.
If You Want to Say Something…
So here is what I really want to say, if you are reading this and haven’t gone through a miscarriage, please don’t ask the gestation of their loss. Be there for her. Listen to her story. Tell that mom that she is so strong. Don’t make it about you or your comfort. Don’t try to justify the loss or death. Just listen. Be empathetic. Offer a hug. Show compassion.
If you have suffered a loss and someone asks your gestation, ask them if it matters? Tell them what you need. Or don’t say anything at all. I have learned that people don’t respond well when they don’t know what to say. Or when they are put on the spot and don’t have an answer. People want reasonings and justifications. But most of all they want to fix it. I usually tell people that my babies were loved so much. Even if I only had 2 months with them, the love my family and I have for them is enough for a full lifetime. When my time is up earthside, I know that they will be waiting to greet me at the gates of heaven.
Please know that your miscarriage matters. Even if it happened twenty years ago, it mattered. If it happened yesterday, it mattered.
It will always matter.
Neither of my babies have been great nursers. Both of them went on a nursing strike between 7-10 months. If you have never gone through it, it is the most stressful, painful, annoying part of breastfeeding that I have at least experienced so far. My current baby went through a long one. Almost 2 months of squirming on the breast, biting, scraping (yes, and it hurts!), and screaming when my tater was near his face. Despite all of the tears from both of us, we made it through. I stopped my baby’s nursing strike. I don’t know why he refused or why he went through the strike, but I am going to share with you how we (because he and I are a team) made it through.
What I did:
- Kept offering the breast after naptime and throughout the daytime
- Pumped when he didn’t empty my breasts
- When he showed that he was frustrated, I took him off and didn’t force
- I gave him something to be distracted with (a blanket, a small toy)
- I followed up with a bottle of formula or breastmilk
- He needed time and I kept being annoyingly persistent
Kept offering him the breast:
My little guy has been on a routine since about 5 months of age or so. This predictability has helped me write this blog, but also give us both a consistent routine. I feed him after he wakes up for the day, after naps, and before bedtime.
This works for us.
When he went through his nursing strike, I would offer him the breast upon waking up. If he refused, I would stop and then change his diaper. I would then try again after the diaper change. If he refused, despite feeling frustrated I would offer him a bottle and then in the middle of his playtime, I would offer him the breast. There would be times where he would refuse or he would take a few sucks, and there would be times where he would drink for a few minutes. It was really touch and go.
Pumped after feeding:
More often than not, he wouldn’t empty the breast. I kept saying to my husband, “now I know what blue-balls feel like”. It was painful. My little guy would drink before my let down and then he would come off. I often had a breast pump or my hand pump available to catch what my guy didn’t take. It was so time consuming and quite frustrating, but I had an end-goal, which was to keep breastfeeding and to ultimately stop my baby’s nursing strike.
When he showed that he was frustrated, I took him off and didn’t force:
There was nothing more that I wanted to do than smush his tiny little face into my boob and make him drink. But that is not realistic and definitely not going to happen. Instead, I would try to calm him down and offer the breast again. When that didn’t work, I would change his diaper, and then try again. If that didn’t work we would abandon ship and try again later…until then it was date time with the pump.
I gave him something to be distracted with:
As time went on, I tried to be crafty. You know, outsmart the little bugger. I would give him a small toy, get him interested and then tip him back. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it only worked momentarily, sometimes it was an epic fail. Different times, I needed different craftiness, I would say rhymes and use my fingers, or I would make really awkward facial expressions while talking to him. Literally, I tried everything to distract him. It was hit and miss with him.
I followed up with pumped breastmilk or formula:
Sure this might defeat the purpose of all of my efforts to have him nurse, but I refused to allow him to be hungry. So I made this decision. If this is not an option for you, who am I to say it is wrong. This worked for me, so this is what I did.
He needed time and kept being annoyingly persistent:
This is where the success happened. Sure it took 2 months, I could have easily thrown in the towel, but just like anything, consistency is key to success.
Feeling like I tried a million things, something just clicked in his head and he’s back, he’s nursing. With help from a lactation consultant, my own research and persistence, we did it. It was a long and at times; stressful two months but we’re back baby!!
I hope that some of the strategies my experience of how I stopped my baby’s nursing strike can help you and encourage you not to give up!
I am a small business owner, mompreuner, blogger, and mom, these are only a few of my titles. So, I need my baby to nap. Because I am a busy lady and having my child nap or go to bed early or on-time is super-duper important to me and my sanity. Creating a consistent and predicatble naptime schedule was important for my productivity, and like previously mentioned….my sanity. I am going to tell you why naptime saved my sanity.
Before I started this journey I made a promise to myself and my children that I would work on MY time…
I promised them that they wouldn’t see me head down. I promised myself I wouldn’t miss them growing up.
Will this set me up for burnout? Maybe. But I have a goal. I have boundaries, and I know my limits.
Naps are consistent and predicatable for me and my baby.
Luckily for me, naps are consistent and predictable. Naps and sleep are super important in my house, not only to ensure for my kids; but this is the time when I can get all the things done. My oldest child has a bedtime of 7:30pm and my baby is in bed between 5:30-6pm. Sometimes I grind, sometimes I wine…
Right now, my oldest is in school and my baby is almost a year old. While my youngest still has two naps, I still have 4 hours in my day to get the things done. Those four hours are broken down into two naps. Morning nap is usually for me. I shower, drink my coffee (hot), and sometimes I read (including Instagram, Facebook, books, etc). The second nap is when I try to get stuff done. I write, I plan, I schedule meetings, I work. Sometimes naps don’t go to plan and I adjust.
To those who struggle with naps, I am sorry and please know that I have been there. Getting your child on a predictable and consistent nap schedule is tough. For me these naps are imperative for my own well-being, plus these are the times where I can get ANYTHING done. I am writing, I am researching , cooking, planning, emailing, eating, etc…doing what I can for the short span I can.
Can I just say, if I didn’t have those naps, I wouldn’t be able to do what I love….write. This is my happy place. This is where I can lay out all my frustrations. Naps are the time where I can reflect. I can think. I can take a few hours of not being touched, not having to wipe a nose or a butt, not having to feed someone other than me…a chance to drink my coffee HOT. This time is important to me. Like mentioned before, naptime has saved my sanity.
How do I get those naps to save my sanity?
Here is what I do…
First, you need consistency. Naps happen at the same time every day. If he wakes up earlier in the morning, he stays in his crib until his “wake up time”, usually that’s 6:30am. In the beginning, he would cry, squeal, and fuss. As time went on he would happily play and often would resettle.
Of course, there are those days where he doesn’t fall back to sleep. My plan of action is to keep him up until his first scheduled nap. I always gave him two hours in his no matter what. This ensures that he has the chance to fall back to sleep if he wakes up midway through his nap.
If for example, he wants to sleep longer, I go in and gently wake him up. FYI, it’s a myth that you can’t wake a sleeping baby. Of course, you can (especially if it is to protect his afternoon nap or bedtime). Then I repeat for the second scheduled afternoon nap. This ensures that I can fill my metaphorical cup (…and my coffee cup).
So can I give you a tip? If naps aren’t the best and you feel antsy…it’s OK to turn off the monitor. You know that your child is safe. You know your child is ok. Another tip… make sure that you put your babe to bed earlier. An earlier bedtime will not only prevent your child from being overtired, but it also gives you an opportunity to catch up on that work you may have missed.
I know that you have a deadline. I have a deadline. We are just trying to make it through the day in one piece and in case you haven’t heard it today….You are doing awesome!
So going forward, schedule those naps and watch your progress grow!!
Nap poops are real….also really annoying and super common. So if you’re reading this, I bet you are going through the same thing. I am going to tell you how I got my baby to stop pooping during naps.
Not that long ago my little guy went on a nap strike so he could fill his pants and not sleep. That time in his tiny life was fun….NOT! I needed naps to happen for my own sanity
I was pretty annoyed because I felt like he just waited until I poured that hot cup of coffee, then he would begin to wail. He was such a Grumpy Gus while in his crib. I would go in, change his diaper, and put him back down to sleep….without luck. He was even grumpier. He would stay awake for that entire nap. So that made things fun when it came to me keeping him awake until his next naptime. It was uber frustrating for both of us.
Naturally, when I am frustrated, I wanted to talk to everyone about it. A girlfriend of mine said “put him down earlier”. She continued by telling me that she has gone through this and she has a “trick” that is fail proof.
I was listening…
She told me to put him in his crib about ten to fifteen minutes before his naptime. Leave the window curtains open, turn on the light, throw some toys in the crib, and leave him in his clothes. She said I could put away laundry, stock diapers, or go downstairs and leave him to play for that time (remember the hot coffee?).
I thought she was nuts and that this was some sort of pipedream that I could get my infant to poop on demand. But I gave it a shot….
BAM! A big doodie on day one!
Seriously, what kind of witchcraft is this? I believed this to be some sort of fluke. So I tried the next day, and the next day, and the next day…all with the same result of having a big full poopy surprise waiting for me. I was so excited to show my husband our baby’s new trick! He was mind blown!!
I have now penciled “poop-time” into our daily routine. Right after breakfast, it’s time to have a poop party. After about ten to fifteen minutes, I clean him up and put him back down for his nap (his scheduled nap time) with clean and empty pipes. He wakes up fresh, rested,and ready to take on the rest of the day!
Of course, there are going to be times where we miss the mark, like he may not want an audience (I know how precious bathroom time is solo), or he just toots away without any poop production, or he has a small little smear after naptime. That’s ok because I usually cake on some bum cream before he naps anyway to avoid any sort of bum irritation.
If you are having any sort of pants-filling challenges with your child, give this a whirl. making these simple changes is how I got my baby to stop pooping during naptime, bringing back restful sleep for him and self-care time for me.
Let me know how you fair out. Enjoy those naptimes, the hot coffee, or trashy TV while your little one slumbers, because you know, it’s exhausting after a big poo-poo-a-choo.
