Dont Touch My Hair - Thoughts on Raising my Curlies.

Growing up, I really didn’t understand my hair. My friends comparably had straight hair and I was one of the very few with hair that got bigger if you brushed it, played outside.... or even looked at it.  My mother attempted to style it by blow drying it straight as a young child. This just resulted in one big 80s style poof. Then in middle and high school, I just solved that problem by sleeking baby oil in my mane and slicking it up in the tightest, wettest sloppy bun a 90s teen could muster.  

Conversely, people loved my curls.  Friends would try to convince me to let it down. They would twirl my trendles in class and ask to play with my hair during sleepovers. Parents would notice the color and body in the grocery store or as I readjusted it between sports events. These little moments became the foundation of my new relationship with my hair. 

I wasn’t unlucky to have curly hair. It was just a fact, I had curly hair. People loved it. People would tell me, "people spend big money to have hair like that." I was introduced to ethnic hair products. The baby oil went out and all of the amazing shea, cocounut and argon smelling products filled my bathroom cabinet. After some trial, error and education, I learned I had 2c/3a curls and I could celebrate them as oppose to being a victim to them.  I established a routine and led through adulthood proud of my curls.  I married another curly and that solidified it. My children would also have curly hair and I was on a mission that they would love it! 

Photo by Madeline Richards

My son has the most amazing hair. Its alive. Its vibrant. Its soft and cuddles back with you. If you pull it, it bounces. We like to play the boing game. Everywhere we wonder in this world, people stop to admire his hair. Passer byers will rub a "that-a-boy" tousle in his curls. Its like watching what happened in my childhood x 100000. 

"I love his curls." 

"Look at those curlies" 

"Que Chino."  

 He is growing up so proud of his curls. He loves them too. I like the comments. I like the hair love. The questions. 

"How do you get his hair like that."

"What do you put in it?"

"Is it hard to brush?"

It feels like an innocent curiosity. An opportunity to educate on curly hair and help bridge gaps.

We also live in a city that is predominantly Mexican American. It is perfectly normal here for random strangers to come up and touch or rub your child or baby real quick. This enhances the number of hair tousles my children get. Its cultural to touch what you love or are envious of in order to protect it. Its a tradition/superstition known as Mal de Ojo. 

Conversely, I understand intellectually the layers of history behind African American hair considerations. The pain of perpetuated biases, gawking, jokes, stereotyping, microaggression and minimalization of the African American experience. I understand that it is not culturally appropriate to touch an African American’s hair without first asking permission.... and you better be fairly secure in that relationship. That is not a question for bystanders. I get that this is also the cultural context for my son’s hair. 

I am not black and can therefore have no expertise on the black experience. But I am raising black children who are also reflections of me and my experiences. It interesting to balance all of these factors.  As a result, my approach to my son’s hair and my boundaries with that are likely different than if he was raised by purely black parents. I may have more to learn here or maybe this is the note to hit considering this beautiful hybrid of experience; meanwhile, I just want my children to be proud, confident and kind people. My son is proud of his curls and that fills my heart. My girls are still developing their hair textures and with that we will eventually be able to honor a household of five different types of curls and all of the beauty they possess.   

Photo by Madeline Richards

Book Review: Dont Touch My Hair!

My son's locks at 3 years old. 

Dont Touch My Hair by Sharee Miller caught my attention at the library one day after story time. Not only was the main character a beautiful brown babe, but it discussed an issue that is a conflicting one for me.  I understand the idea and historical significance behind not touching a black person's hair... but I also don't necessarily agree.  As a non black person, maybe I don't get to agree or disagree on this issue; however, as a parent, I feel its my right to take a position regarding my own children. So, I decided to give it a read.

The story begins with a little girl named Aria who is sharing her amazing self love for her hair. "Its soft and bouncy, and grows toward the sun like a flower." Then Aria sets out into her city for adventure. It turns out, everyone else loves and is curious about her hair too. She goes through her day filtering questions and comments about her hair. Then people want to touch it. This gets to be too much for little Aria. "They are so curious about my hair that they even want to touch it without even asking for permission."  People, dragons, and aliens are all guilty of this and she finally has enough. "This is My hair."  The book ends with her learning to set boundaries regarding what she is willing to experience with others regarding her hair.

Its a fun, light, first person narrative that invites the reader to join in the world of a little girl who makes it all the way to outer space and a deserted island from her home all in one day.

I liked this book for so many reasons:

1) It was all about self love and not letting that which makes you different affect your positive self view.
2) It serves to educate people who may unknowingly be offending or making another feel uncomfortable.
3) It teaches boundaries. Anything that helps my kids claim their own bodies and teach them boundaries gets gold stars in my book.

The book ends with some discussion prompts that you can use with your own readers to further the discussion. Its recommended from an audience preschool to second grade. My three year old thoroughly enjoyed it and asked to read it again and again.  There are also tons of Youtube videos of kids reading this book. Its a fun way to read to your kids if you're in a crunch.

Amazon Reviews: 

"Since reading this book with my 3 year old, she has had the confidence to tell 4 adults not to touch her hair! We love this book! It teaches them about consent. I’ve told her many times what this book says, but I think seeing a little girl with hair like her, dealing with the same issue, helped it sink in."

"This book has generated many important conversations in our classroom, grateful to the author for this."

"An excellent book for black girls and anyone of mixed heritage, my daughter absolutely loved it!"

Police can be Heroes.

Our first little bear is officially four years old and solidly into the hero stage. He loooooves all things hero and practices his rescue of people, toys and pets regularly. Prior to even walking, we had discussed the role of the police with him. It took repetition, but every time we would go to a public event or even grocery store, we would stop, greet the officer, and review the rules. "If you cant find your grown up, you tell a police officer and he will help you."

Thanks to Youtube, my son now also has the concept of jail. Apparently, little cars who wouldn't follow the rules of the road would have to go to jail. His world began to open more to the idea of good vs. bad guys.  For example, my car was broken into and the police had to come make a police report, Santa's "naughty and nice list," and of course, those pesky Ninjalinos from Pj Mask.  

On the way to school one day my son announced, "police catch bad guys and take them to jail. Police are heroes right?"

"Yes, son. Police are heroes." But my heart sank a little as I responded. This pure admiration and innocence. He couldn't possibly grasp that while this statement is also true, there is more to the story. As a white presenting female, I recognize this statement is more true for me than it will be for my son.  He will one day be a "black man" in America. 

It was time to get real. 

"Yes, police are heroes. They help people. But bad guys can be sneaky and sometimes bad guys can pretend to be heroes. Right now you are too little to tell who is a sneaky bad guy and who is a good guy. So you can always ask Mommy or Mama and we can teach you. One day, you will be big and will know on your own."

Furthering the conversation little bear asks, "bad guys go to jail, right?" My response, "yes! the police take bad guys to jail. But sometimes other people go to jail too. Sometimes, the police make a mistake and take a good guy to jail or sometimes a good guy makes a mistake and has to go to jail, but he is still a good guy." 

We have had versions of this conversation a few times and its amazing how easy it is for him to grasp. It is also very satisfying to know that while I am not ready - and he is not ready - to grasp the full understanding of these concepts, he is at least introduced to them in a way that wont shatter his idea of the world when they come tumbling into his reality. 

I cant raise my children assuming they will have the same privileges as me. They wont. But, I also don't want to raise them with the full weight of transgenerational oppression and trauma during early childhood. I want them to be confident in navigating the world. I want them to understand how these systems work and translate that into opportunity not marginalization. With the number of multiracial citizens tripling in the last census, systems can change too. There is power in numbers and empathy established when issues start to hit the masses closer to home. However, Trayvon Martin was murdered when I started my fertility treatments. The year my son was born, black men were 9 times more likely to be killed by police. These facts cant be ignored. 

Today is Martin Luther King Day. My inquisitive guy of course wanted to know who he was and why we didn't have school. I explained, "Martin Luther King was a hero. He helped save kind people from mean people. There is still a lot of work to do, but he was a hero too." We went over pictures of MLK and the massive crowd of his "I have a Dream" speech. Little Bear was amazed! Little Bear also has no concept of race. I don't want to teach him about race by first introducing racism.... Good and bad are not directly related to race and I want his discovery of race to be built on appreciation and curiosity.  On this day, regardless of who you are, consider your privileges and what you are doing to make a better world for our children. Also, consider how we start to teach privileged with simplifications like, "police are heroes." Yes. Police can be heroes.... 

  

Boosting Milk Supply

I had to learn to feed two! 

Nursing my firstborn was so easy that I didn't even realize there could be issues breastfeeding. Of course, I had the cracked, bleeding nipple stage in the beginning, but we latched easy within seconds of birth and my supply always matched baby. It was just natural.  In fact, nursing became my go to parenting skill. Cold baby, nurse. Hungry baby, nurse. Vaccines, nurse. Sick baby, nurse. Tired baby, nurse.

Flash forward to my twins the second round, It. was. not. easy. It has not been easy.

Aside from other issues, maintaining my supply has been a full-time job this round. The girls don't nurse on demand well because I have one baby who can't latch.  This means, I not only have to produce enough milk to exclusively feed two, but I have to somehow communicate that to my body when I only have one baby latching. 

We are now five months solid into breastfeeding and while the path has not been easy, it has been successful. We are now introducing our first foods so the pressure has officially come off my boobs a little. Phew! Along the way, I have learned some highly effective tricks for increasing supply. Assuming there are others who dont just naturally produce fountains of breast milk, I will list them in their order of effectiveness for me.

1) Water!

Make sure you are drinking enough water. Breast milk is 90% water.

2) Power Pumping.

Power pumping is 1-2 hours of pumping 15 minutes on, 15 minutes off. This is the most boring tool of all, but, it is by far the most effective. I power pump daily. This means I put all of the kids to bed, shower and straighten up, and then from 9:00 pm to 11:00 pm, I sit and pump. I hate it! But it simulates a baby cluster feeding and even if you aren't lactating for each mini pump, you are tricking your body into thinking baby is growing and needs more milk. The reason I do this daily is by power pumping, I can skip pumps during the day. Instead of pumping every 1-2 hours as recommended, I can limit my pumps to one morning, lunch and evening pump and skip the every 1-2 hours or midnight pump.

3) Fenugreek.

Take a minimum of 2,000 mg 2x daily.

I buy the Nature's Way brand because it is about $6.
The '"breast feeding" brands can price well over $25. 

4) Lactation Shake

I make my own mostly because they can be so pricey. Plus, I happen to like my recipe. I add 1/4 cup of cooked oatmeal, 1/2 cup of spinach, milk, blueberries (optional) and plant based protein powder. Then blend together and drink. I will use as a breakfast replacement or drink during my power pumping sessions. What I love most is it give my milk a slightly green color from all of the veggies. I have to admit that is satisfying to know my babes are benefiting from the extra veggies.

Breast feeding, kid safe and plant based
protein powder for less than $25 on Amazon. 

5) Dark Beer

I only use this method when "I am in trouble."  Stress, exhaustion, being sick, or off routine significantly effect my supply. If I have a drop, I will drink 1/4-1/2 a bottle of dark beer for 3-4 days while pumping. The beer has a couple of qualities that helps both increase production and encourage let down.

In addition to these tips, if you are pumping, you have to make sure you have good pumping technique. For example, leaning slightly forward while pumping, massaging breasts throughout sessions, using clean pumping gear, checking lines for fluid, maintaining a tight suctions, etc. There are a few other things to do as well, but these have been the most bang for my buck during my journey. Whether you are looking to build your supply for your exclusive nurser or for pumping moms, adding any or all of these should certainly help!

My typical morning haul after an evening of power pumping.
This is still after nursing one babe during the night. 

I'm Not a "First-time Mom" Anymore

As many of you may know, I am no longer a first-time mom. I originally thought that the second round of parenthood would be more or less the same as the first... but apparently, the process doesn't "repeat" itself. From conception, to pregnancy, to labor and delivery, nothing was comparable to the first round and my second pregnancy clearly established itself as its own whole new experience. Part of this may likely have been because my first born was a singleton and my second pregnancy was twins! But, I think many Mom-ease could relate to the following:

1) Conception: Our children are conceived with the help of fertility treatments. We tried several things with our first born and finally found a combo that resulted in our pregnancy. Come second round we thought we just had to repeat that same magical combo. NOT! Turns out, my body wanted a whole new magical combo that was unfortunately a lot more expensive. I think many woman experience differences in their fertility with each attempt (planned and unplanned).

2) Pregnancy: The pregnancy for each trimester was not even comparable. This was largely due to carrying twins, but I am sure many moms can relate to showing sooner, different early pregnancy symptoms and variations in morning sickness. For me, my firstborn gave me morning sickness for 5.5 months and then it returned again at about 35 weeks. My second pregnancy gave me a much shorter period of morning sickness which ended at about 12 weeks. The third trimester however, was like nothing I have ever done (or would like to do again...). That was hard!

3) Labor and Delivery: My labor with my singleton was textbook. Looooong, but progressed in regularly intervals over the course of 25 hours. Contractions became regular, increased in severity, and finally it was time to push. With the twins, my labor was so inconsistent. Contractions took place over 16 days, but were extremely irregular and varied in severity and intensity. In fact, it wasn't until I was dilated to 8 that I was even confident I was in active labor. I had back labor with my first and thankfully not with my second; therefore, labor with my son was immeasurably more painful. Many woman share that their labor the second time around is easier and I would have to agree.

4) Postpartum Recovery: Wow! The first time around, I was completely unprepared. I didn't know that I should expect bleeding for weeks. I didn't consider that I wouldn't feel confident sitting, that my boobs would be leaking, or that I wouldn't be able to use toilet paper. I was just sore and confused. With my twins, I immediately felt relief. Even the postpartum pain and bleeding while painful - still felt better than being 40 weeks pregnant with twins. The recovery period was much quicker too. I was taking steps and chasing my toddler within a few days. This did not happen with my first.

5) Hormones: Its not until now, two months postpartum with twins that I realize I likely had postpartum depression or anxiety with my first born. I chalked it up to "baby blues," lack of sleep, and nursing hormones. I thought all moms felt that way and it would just take time to recovery. It wasn't until my twins that I realize I didn't "need" to feel that way. In fact, I feel great! Ironically, I am an Licensed Clinical Social Worker and treat clients with Postpartum depression and anxiety. Apparently, that didn't mean I would recognize it in myself.

Overall, my girls require me to be a different kind of parent than my son did. Im sure this has to do with birth order (now I have a toddler to consider), that they are multiples (I just cant technically practice attachment parenting in the same way - I don't have enough hands!), and their personalities. All three kids need me to be a different kind of mom with them. So while, I am familiar with the technical stuff from round one, in many ways its a whole new experience again.

To motherhood!

The Accidental Pressure I was Putting on Little Bear

By the time my Little Bear was 1 year, he was speaking in sentences and could articulate his needs. Now three, I have unique insight into his little toddler mind because he can actually share how he is feeling and what he thinks about things in a semi complex manner. This means making phone calls or ordering at a drive through is particularly difficult, since like me, he has an opinion about everything; but, it also gifts me with insights that not everyone parent has access to.

Potty training has been a struggle for us. And not because he isn’t potty trained, but because he is resistant to committing. He has been using the potty inconsistently since before he was one, but frankly some days he prefers his diaper and some days he prefers the potty. As a social worker with a psychodynamic background, I am probably too sensitive to the idea of pressuring him to meet this milestone.  What if Freud was right? As a result, I have just been following his lead.

One day, I had this conversation with me son:

Me: "Maybe its too confusing to use diapers, pull ups and underwear. Do you think we should pack up your diapers and save them for your baby sisters?"

Little Bear: "No. I like my diapers."

Me: "Okay. Can I ask you why you aren’t ready? Is it too boring? Scary? Hard? Annoying?"

Little Bear: "No, I’m just not ready to be big…"

The simplicity of this statement hit me like a wall. He’s not ready to be big. That’s okay. I get that. Upon deeper thought, I realized there is another layer to this. I, through my "loving affirmations," have accidentally been pressuring him to stay little.

Me: "Will you be my baby forever?"

Me: "You’re growing up too fast."

Me: "I need my baby."

Also, Me: "You’re my perfect little baby."

All of these cuddles and loves, which we both cherish, really reinforces him staying little forever. I know you Moms get that urge to slow down time… but each milestone reached and growth observed is equally exciting. I just want more of it all! But, I wasn’t relaying that to him. I was telling him that I was not ready for him to be big.

Since this conversation, I have had to be mindful of how I talk to him.

Me: "You will always be my beautiful boy."

Me: "I am so proud of how you are growing."

Me: "I need my big boy."

The new Me: "You are my perfect big boy."

We all know he will always be "my baby"…. He can be 40 with three kids and I will always remember that little chubby, hairy, neckless miracle I pulled from my womb, but meanwhile, I need to be more mindful of the messages I send him.

I hope I never forget....

I have been feeling sentimental lately... But I have good reason. My only baby will now soon be a big brother. I am transitioning from a first-time Mom to a Mom of multiples. Twins are on their way Spring of 2019. This transition has been a whirlwind of emotions including excitement, bewilderment, nerves and more. So with the combination of hormones, lack of sleep and my quickly growing son and family, I have been feeling sentimental lately. Please indulge me....

August 2018

Things I hope I never forget:

I hope I never forget that you say toe-tatos instead of potatoes,
and Togg instead of Todd.
I hope I never forget that your biggest fear is ants,
but you are working through this by regularly playing out pretend ant bites.
I hope I never forget that you line all of your cars up
creating a zen garden of Hotwheels.
I hope I never forget your morning breathe
or the smell of your head.
I hope I never forget that mornings are our best cuddles,
because you're too busy in the day for such things.
I hope I never forget your refusal to feed yourself,
and the times I roll my eyes trying to get you to take bites.
I hope I never forget your love for fake coughing,
and your insistence on yodeling daily.
I hope I never forget the moment you crowned,
and I impatiently grabbed you from me before the midwife could intervene.
I hope I never forget that hairy peeling baby skin,
and that little wrinkly butt.
I hope I never forget how frustrated you got trying to take your first steps.
You just couldn't wait and had to push through.
I hope I never forget the utter excitement and ownership you took,
the first time you saw your two baby siblings' sonogram.
I hope I never forget they way you look at me,
and how you say, "I love you, Mommy."
You will forever be my first born, our oldest son, and the one who made me a Mom.
I hope I never forget these little things...
the ones that don't always make the photo album,
but make my days with you perfect.