Showing posts with label breast milk. Show all posts
Showing posts with label breast milk. Show all posts

Thursday, October 20, 2011

The Meaning of Scent

This post references the radio broadcast "Scratch and Sniff", that can be heard by clicking on the link in the post previous to this one on this blog.

Listening to the radio interview with Chandler Burr, author of The Emporer of Scent, I felt a feeling of likeness, of comfort of being understood. Smell means a lot to me. I am one of those sensitive people. When someone is smoking a cigarette in another car with the window down, two lanes away, at a stoplight, or even in slow traffic, I can easily become nauseated and get a headache. I have a relative that has worn a perfume for as long as I can remember that caused me such olfactory discomfort , that I am convinced that it is one reason why we never had a close relationship. I haven't seen her in years, but I can still smell it clearly when I think about her. When I was a child, my mother drove a woman to church as an act of charity each week, who perpetually needed to shower. I will never forget the torture of sharing that small, enclosed space with her. There is an upside to this sensitivity. I have the most delightful smell experiences. When someone or something smells good to me, it nearly brings ecstacy.

The topic of conversation in this radio broadcast covered the idea of how each of us has our own set of experiences that dictate an emotional reaction to the vibrational input that smell is to our senses. What is stinky or offensive to one person is another's greatest creature comfort, because reaction to scent is not universal, it is subjective. Further, Americans have a problem with smell. It is part of (an unfortunate part of in my opinion) our culture of over-sanitation as well as fear of individuality and being naturally unique. The example of the French was given to us as a way to understand how in some cultures, a certain level of potency is considered an attribute- something attractive and intriguing. Think of the cheeses, the wines and the more distinctive (because they are less obsessively scrubbed and deodorized) natural body musk. With awareness of this American fear of odor, I will not be surprised if when I reveal some of my most comforting smell loves, I am met with great distaste and disgust.

I love the smell of a newborn baby. It is not the bathed in Johnson and Johnson shampoo and fed-from-a-sanitary-bottle-smell that I love. Rather, I love the smell of babies who have been born at home, who still wear the protective layer of white vernix from before birth on their skin, and who have been nursing at my engorged, newly filled breasts and have that smell of warm, spilled, slightly soured Mama milk all over them. I could drink it in. Additionally, I love the odor of my body when I have just given birth days before, and do not want to leave my precious one for even a moment to shower, so my sweat glands are ripe with the hormones emitted from birth and new motherhood. These smells are the ones that have been with me when I have done my best work, have created and nurtured something/someone amazing, and have been absolutely satisfied, happy and living in the present moment.

In case those descriptions rubbed anyone the wrong way, I will list a few more "conventional" favorites: the mineral smell in the atmosphere with a new rain; warm beeswax from candles; whole grain yeasted bread rising and then baking; the sulpher after lighting and blowing out a matchstick; jasmine flowers bottled with oil and diffused in glycerine soap; Autumn in the Western United States; hot spiced apple cider on the stove with cinnamon sticks, oranges and cloves, pine tree sap; my hands after touching a fragrant rosemary shrub, popcorn from my air popper... the list is endless, and when I look at it, I see that even those are all wrapped up in experience. My art museum of pleasure is smelled entirely through my mental and emotional filters. These include my memories, accomplishments, joys, hurts, sorrows and loves. I cannot imagine experiencing something visually that is nearly as satisfying as a good smell. Art? YES!

I am talking about art not only as something that brings sensual pleasure and gratification, which I think is a very simplified but nonetheless acceptable definition of art, but also as something that has gone through an artistic process. What artistic process has a scent gone through? Well, I have two answers for that. Oddly, in recent years, I have rarely liked manufactured perfume. I find it to be overwhelming and like cigarette smoke, it can give me a headache. I have long held slight judgment for those who choose to pollute my air with it's odor, think of it as artificial, and generally disrespect the whole idea of it. When I listened to the radio interview, I heard something that surprised me. I heard it defined as art. Someone smelled two scents, one that was a natural extract from a live flower, and one that was a chemical rendition of a combination of scents. The person sniffing and comparing the two, said they liked the perfume better than the the natural flower scent. The person presenting the two was not remotely surprised. He stated that it is because the perfume is art. It was conceived of, labored over, created and perfected as a perfectly blended combination of ingredients to express a certain scent that conjured up the sensual experience desired by the maker. I felt shocked by this idea. Perfume made as art is just as natural or respectable as an acrylic painting or a mixed media presentation. I may not prefer it for my own sense experience, but now I must see it with renewed respect. So what is scent as art? It could be defined as something that was created carefully by the maker to be art, as in a perfume, or it could be something naturally occurring like the sap of a tree, that when experienced by a person who values it, art happens for them in their mind and body. Art is the creativity- the creation of feelings and expression- art is a mental and emotional process. Smell is art and with it we go through an artistic process seen, heard and experienced by no other.

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

I Wish I Were Like a Mama Kangaroo

In psychology class, I was asked to write about an adaptation possessed by another creature, that I wish I could have. I picked the adaptation of a kangaroo pouch, easily and with little deep thought. The writing of it became more of a personal and deep journey into my head and mothering history that I would have expected. I am sharing it with you here.

Kangaroos are part of the marsupial family. All female marsupials are equipped with a marsupium, which is a pouch of skin and fur that is part of their external natural body. Kangaroos need a marsupium because they only carry their fetal young in utero for 31-36 days, equivalent to about 7 human weeks in utero. When these tiny babies, called Joeys, are born, they are only minimally developed. They are the size of a large bean, and have the ability to drag themselves through their mother’s fur, into her marsupium, using their forearms, to find her nipple on which to suckle. While suckling continuously, they develop hind legs, and grow to maturity, and after nine months, they may begin to emerge for short periods, into the world, hopping back into the pouch as needed and wanted. The marsupium contains them most of the time, while they continue to drink their mother’s milk until the age of 18 months. They finally become confident and mature enough to be completely independent of the pouch at about 235 days of age (*1).

This adaptation of an external body pouch for baby wearing seems very useful, and I would be happy to have one on my body. I have birthed five children, and one of them died as a premature infant. Two of the remaining four children were born substantially early. In the days following my most severe case of premature labor and birth, I worriedly, longingly and lovingly watched my miniscule son, who lay vulnerable in an incubator, weighing only two and a half pounds. He was born at 28 weeks, gestation, and was without fat. His skin appeared thin and semi-transparent. He had no ability to regulate his own temperature, and needed medical intervention in the form of a controlled temperature environment, forced oxygen, and feeding tubes. My desire to bond with my baby and help him thrive, led me to the discovery of “kangaroo care”. At that time, over a decade ago, kangaroo care was a somewhat uncommon and little known practice in hospital, neonatal intensive care units. The encouraged and advised care of premature babies was commonly referred to as ‘benign neglect’, and was believed to allow a premature baby to reserve their much needed energy for growth. They thought that being touched might cause energy to be unnecessarily expended.
I have always placed greater trust in my motherly instincts than in conventional medical advice. Although I listened to the doctors and nurses with respect, I knew intuitively and without a doubt, that my baby’s most basic needs were to hear me, smell me, feel me, taste me, and absorb my warmth in order to thrive. I insisted to the doctors that I be allowed to practice “kangaroo care” for regular, continually increasing hours every day and night. “Kangaroo care seeks to provide restored closeness of the newborn with mother or father by placing the infant in direct skin-to-skin contact with one of them. This ensures physiological and psychological warmth and bonding. The kangaroo position provides ready access to nourishment. The parent's stable body temperature helps to regulate the neonate's temperature more smoothly than an incubator, and allows for readily accessible breastfeeding… Typically in kangaroo care, the baby wears only a diaper and is tied in a head-up position to the mother’s bare chest with a strip of cloth in a manner that extends the baby’s head and neck to prevent apnea. The mother wears a shirt or hospital gown with opening to the front. The cloth wraps around and under the baby’s bottom to create flexion. The tight bundling is enough for the mother’s breathing and chest movement to stimulate the baby’s breathing. Because of the close confines of being attached to its mother’s chest, the baby is enclosed in a high carbon dioxide environment which also stimulates breathing. Fathers can also use the skin-to-skin contact method (*2).” Our family became well known in the neonatal unit, as we refused to leave our baby alone. I nurtured my newest addition, along with his father, his grandmother, and even his five-year-old brother. We challenged the norm, taking shifts “kangarooing” the baby all around the clock. As we held him in this fashion for more than two months, he grew, became healthier, bigger, stronger, began to breathe on his own, and took up breastfeeding much sooner than was predicted. According to research, “preterm infants who experience kangaroo care have improved cognitive development, decreased stress levels, reduced pain responses, normalized growth, and positive effects on motor development. Kangaroo care also helps to improve sleep patterns of infants, and may be a good intervention for colic. Earlier discharge from the hospital is also a possible outcome. Finally, kangaroo care helps to promote frequent breastfeeding, and can enhance mother-infant bonding…(*2). It seems that our experience is a common one. In alignment with the research findings, my premature baby is now nearly eleven years old, and indeed, has grown normally, has great motor skills and has impressive intelligence and intellectual ability.
I am very thankful that I was able to create this wonderful situation for my baby who was born under challenging circumstances, and it is due to this experience that I have come to see the adaptation of the marsupium as an advanced and much-needed attribute. With a built in pouch, caring for my premature babies have been normal and simple. Additionally, this adaptation lends itself well to my preferred method and philosophy for parenting small babies, big babies and toddlers alike. I am a strong advocate of prolonged breast-feeding and baby wearing, which are common practices of attachment parenting. I share a bed with my infants, known as “the family bed”, and buy and make all kinds of contraptions for buckling, strapping and tying my babies onto my body. I can carry them against me in various positions while maintaining free arms and hands for executing all of the tasks required in the daily life of a busy mother, often breastfeed simultaneously. This works out beautifully, but I can’t help but imagine that it would be even more convenient, healthy and comfortable if I were equipped with my own external body pouch. The benefits of baby wearing are many. At minimum, it is easy to observe that babies prefer to be held. They cry less, when they are not put down. This keeps their stress to a minimum and helps them feel safe and secure. Additionally, all babies reap health benefits from physical attachment to the mother, similarly to the benefits gleaned by a preemie in “kangaroo care”, but with added extras from the mother’s movement. “When a baby rides in a sling attached to his mother, he is in tune with the rhythm of her breathing, the sound of her heartbeat, and the movements his mother makes – walking, bending, and reaching. This stimulation helps him to regulate his own physical responses, and exercises his vestibular system, [“the three fluid filled semicircular canals and adjacent organs located next to the cochlea in each inner ear (*4, p.158)”], which controls balance. As our bodies move during pregnancy, our unborn baby is in frequent motion with us, and a continuation of this movement during infancy, continues to help a child develop balance, and an awareness of how the body relates to gravity. The vestibular system is key in this process, and is active with head movements, as “the movements of the hair cells encode these somatic sensations (*4, p. 158)”. The sling is in essence a "transitional womb" for the new baby, who has not yet learned to control his bodily functions and movements...Mechanical swings and other holding devices do not provide these same benefits (*3).”
A transitional womb is an important provision. I have heard the same information from midwives, mothers, child development experts and health professionals in support of sheltering a child during the three months following birth. During this time, the newborn baby is still very much in need of protection from the extreme stimulation and relatively harsh conditions of the world that they are born into, compared with the protective uterine environment where they originated. This time of important adjustment is known as the “fourth trimester”, and is a time when an infant is still extremely vulnerable. "When babies are first born, they don't have the brain maturity to deal with the outside world," says Jennifer McArthur, co-director of the Northwest Association for Postpartum Support. "They depend on their parents for basic survival, but also for soothing, because they just don't know how to soothe themselves until they are about 4 months old. Compared with other mammals, human infants are much more fragile and vulnerable at birth. They need constant attention and physical contact with other human beings. At the time of birth, they are unable to lift their head, move about, keep themselves warm or feed themselves -- unlike many other baby animals that are born with survival instincts that allow them to get up and walk or run as soon as they are born. Experts say human babies are born with just three basic reflexes: sucking, swallowing and breathing -- and even breathing can be irregular. This may have to do with the immaturity of the human newborn's brain, which is only about 25 percent of its adult weight at birth, while most other mammals are born having 60 percent to 90 percent of their adult brain size (*5).
During the “fourth trimester” and beyond, baby wearing and eventually toddler wearing has many plusses. Bonding is stronger and deeper between mother and child, as the child feels strongly connected, smelling the closeness of the mother, and sharing pheremones. These are “biochemical odorants emitted by other members of [a] species that can affect the animal’s behavior or physiology, parents can distinguish the smell of their own children from other people’s children. An infant can identify the smell of its mother’s breast from the smell of other mothers…and breastfeeding becomes a personal connection between mother and child (*5, p.160).” With toddlers and babies alike, overstimulation is a common cause of crying and meltdowns. Wearing a child is a way to offer warmth and a sense of safe embrace, and will often completely ward off such behaviors and feelings. Just like a young kangaroo over the age of 18 months, a human baby with a pouch for carrying is able to self-monitor their ability to deal with the stimulation of the world, taking it in with small, gradual doses. He or she can climb into warmth and safety as needed, to recharge and find comfort and security until she feels ready to test the world again. If only attachment parenting, human mothers such as myself were blessed with this adaptation, we would find the ability to warm and embrace our children with ease, and without hassle.
In all fairness, I must address the few downsides to human marsupiums that I was able to think of. Unlike baby kangaroos, human babies do not need to suckle constantly. Admittedly, they love free access to snacking on breast milk, but they tend to fall asleep and let go. If a human baby was in a loose, stretchy pouch like that of a kangaroo, there would be risk of neck injury or suffocation, because without hanging onto the nipple, the baby would tend to collapse and fold over onto itself, because of weak neck muscles. When a baby is worn with use of an adjustable, cloth contraption such as a sling or wrap, care can be taken to tie him on in a tightened and upright position. When I watched the video of a kangaroo pouch, it looked as if such tightening and position control would not be possible. Also, there are many parents out there, who do not appreciate the merits of on-demand breast feeding, and attachment parenting. Some people prefer to maintain a bit of personal space and attempt to live life on a predictable schedule. I have always felt that this is an adult-centered way of parenting, and is not keeping the baby’s emotional security in priority, but I realize that every family must choose a balance that works for them, in order to maintain order, and a feeling of personal satisfaction and sanity. If complete availability to their child is overwhelming or chaotic, then they might find their patience and happiness to be compromised, and that could negatively effect the child. These choices are personal. Someone in such a position would probably not appreciate or desire to have an adaptation to human mothers of growing a marsupium. For someone like me, it would be perfect, and it would be so furry that I wouldn’t need any expensive, bulky winter gear for my infant, either. I could just tuck him in and go!

Here are some links to you tube videos that show the marsupium in use. Anyone who loves animals will find these videos irresistable.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UqO-OQ3Ec1Q This one is about a tiny, newborn joey, who would never survive outside of the pouch.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2qBgMmRMpOo This is about an older joey, who is considering a venture into the larger world. Notice how much room is in that pouch. Joey can just jump in and out as she feels inclined. It looks so inviting!

*Sources for my information:
1. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kangaroo
2. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kangaroo_care
3. http://www.naturalchild.org/guest/laura_simeon.html
4. Psychology, by Schacter, Gilbert, Wegner
5. http://www.parentmap.com/content/view/585

Thursday, January 14, 2010

More than milk

Galen is now six months old.  According to the mainstream medical world, as well as by obvious signs of interest and pending teeth just under the surface, this means that he is now ready for food that grows outside of the mother.  What an incredible life transition, when I really think about it, to go from depending entirely upon the milk of the mother, to gradually accepting and thriving off of food from plant sources, and eventually other animal sources as well.  I don't think it occurred to me with the others, the magnitude of importance this transition bears.

Galen's dad was visiting us and got to experience the food event.  Steamed and pureed, Organic delicata squash.  Delicious!  I froze the leftover into ice cube trays, and then popped the cubes into a big zip-lock freezer bag, as I've always done for my babies, for quick and easy portions to defrost at mealtime.


Happy half birthday, baby!