Time: Breastfeeding On The Front Cover

Ah breastfeeding. Such a controversial and sometimes taboo subject - when really, at the heart of it - it's all about feeding.

But what's this? A cover of Time magazine? With a breastfeeding mum of a three year old? 

The question here is: do you really invest yourself and worry yourself by what someone else is doing?

It's posed to cause argument. I was taken aback initially. It's not everyday you see an image like this. But that's my own issue. I love breastfeeding. I breastfed for a long time. My babies loved it too.

The headline screams: 'Are You Mom Enough?' - which carries its own inference. She's doing what's right for her and her child. And that's good enough, isn't it?

Why do we care so much what others are doing? I need to focus on myself and my own family, and let you do your thing, you let me do my thing, unless of course it's posing a danger to someone. Deal?

Stigma Number Four:: Breast Check

The other day I had to go to my GP for a regular check up. And to get her to freeze a stubborn plantar wart. Again.

While I was there she asked if I checked my breasts regularly.

I laughed.

I mean, I know I shouldn't have laughed. I am fully aware of that. But I am complacent.

I explained to her that because I am lacking in the breast department, I tend not to routinely check my breasts - because if there isn't anything there, then how can anything else be there? I concluded my weak argument with the fact that, despite my complacency, I realised I really should be checking my breasts regularly.

She conducted the exam, and then said "Yes, I see - I'm feeling more rib cage than breast tissue." What a cruel way to reiterate that my boobies are lacking! But I did laugh.

Anyway, the crux of today's story is this. Check your breasts. Monthly. Make it a ritual. Too many women discover too late that they have breast cancer. Cancer sucks.

Click here to go through to check out the array of how-tos on YouTube.

And if in doubt - go to your GP. If there's something not quite right - get it checked out.

Stigma:: Number 3 - Miscarriage

It's been a long time between stigmas, but today, I've decided to tackle another.

Miscarriage.

If you've ever had a miscarriage, I believe, it's a strange and sometimes lonely road to navigate.

No one knows what to say. No one really knows what to do. Everyone seems to keep their distance in some sort of limbo. It's awkward for everyone. Trust me. I know. Even my husband seemed to feel differently about it to me.

When I had a miscarriage a few years ago, it was a weird, strange, sad, disappointing period.

One of my friends stated confidently that it was probably a good thing so I could 'go back to work'.

A relative told me that I should consider myself lucky that I was fertile. That I could fall pregnant. And in my mind I thought, great, I'm fertile, but I just lost a baby.

I was nine weeks pregnant and had known pretty well from day dot that I was pregnant.

I was excited. I was dreaming. I was really happy.

I also had no morning sickness (from which I'd suffered a great deal of when I was pregnant with the Doctor).

I remember the Saturday morning I woke up with cramps and spotting. I called the midwife. She told me to wait a while and then if it continued to head to the ER.

The ER was fantastic, however, a little vague. But nothing was concrete, everything looked to be fine. I was asked to come back for an ultrasound the next day.

We did. The three of us, Matt, the Doctor and I bundled into the darkened room, I was filled with hope to see my wee babe's little heart bumpity-bumping. There was no flicker. And the sonographer turned sadly to us. She was sad. I had tears rolling down my cheeks, and I remember Matt held my hand tighter while the Doctor played on oblivious to what was happening.

My gyno and I agreed not to have a D&C, for which I was grateful to begin with. But after days and days of waiting, and the constant reminder that I had lost my baby, I wanted it to be over. I wanted to get on with the grieving.

I had a quiet moment in the bathroom and felt a whoosh. I held that wee babe, probably no bigger than a golf ball and about the same shape, in my very own hand.

I've written and re-written this post so many times, months ago, weeks ago.

Maybe you've had a miscarriage, or someone you know. Everyone deals with it in their own quiet way and no one really wants to talk about it.

I wish the awkwardness was not there though, it would do away with some dark days.

My babe would have been born in September. But it was not to be. I still sometimes think of that baby. Boy or girl. And it always makes me think of blossoms. Spring blossoms. Spring blossoms and petals scattered on the breeze.

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Have you ever had a miscarriage? Or do you know someone who has?

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Read about other Stigmas here. There's another one I just can't find it.. Anyone remember what it was about?

Continue to Squeeze

There were some things I neglected to mention in my previous post. Such as the importance of doing your pelvic floor exercises correctly. If you cheat, then you reap no benefit and you might as well chew bubblegum and drink soda pop for all your pelvic floor is going to garner from this effort.

I found this link, but if you think you might have a problem, do seek help, because accidental wees ARE avoidable. You CAN do something about it. There IS someone who can help you. And unfortunately it will not get better without toning those muscles.

When I first started going to the physio I rated a measly 19 on the squeeze-o-meter. The target squeeze is 30. Is this TMI? Too bad, that's what carrying two babes in my belly did.

And as Jodi from Che & Fidel pointed out, mamas who have caesareans are not out of the woods either, those muscles stretch from carrying around those big babies in bellies.

So everyone, mama or not a mama, use it or lose it!

I've included a clip for your pelvic floor motivation. Here's something to inspire you.



And before I zoom off to bed, Mama Mogantosh has been celebrating with streamers, pinatas and margaritas the Week O'Mamas. Head on over there to read about all sorts of mamas, including me. But don't mistake my head as the pinata, ok?

Toodles!

Stigma:: Number 2

Ages ago I said I'd write about subjects that have stigmas growing all over them. I've been avoiding them myself. These stigmas, they're shunted into the corner and left to thrive with other stigmas sprouting all over them. I've dragged this one out into the sunshine. Hosed it down, given it a scrub, dried it, and now here it is. Especially, sparkly and delightful, for you to enjoy.

You can cover your ears, look away, sing loudly, whatever you like, but here it is - I'm never going to run around and desert you.

During my pregnancy with Tiny, in the latter stages, I noticed a wee bit of.. er.. wee. A little bit leaky if you will. So during a meeting with my midwife I told her. I had visions of the above happening to me.

She referred me to a physiotherapist, and I was scheduled for some appointments. And boy was I in for a surprise. I never knew physiotherapists dealt with such matters as weak pelvic floors. Lucky them!

My physiotherapist had a, I'm not sure what it's actually called, but I guess it looks a.. It looks like a dildo ok?

Yep. That was a surprise. Surprise PMM! Look what I have here.

Let's fast forward because:

a) this was a wee bit humiliating

b) my parents are reading this

c) I don't wish to revisit this series of appointments whereby the physiotherapist gauged my pelvic floor muscle condition by squeeeeeeezing the probe.

Needless to say, exercising your pelvic floor is important for both men and women.

I won't go on with any medical jargon (because I have none), but I do know after my sessions that exercising your pelvic floor is integral to not weeing all over the floor. And for after hours interludes. And for your own self-esteem. And for childbirth.

Regardless of whether you've had a baby or not, but particularly if you have given birth, those muscles are streeetched and need tightening pronto!

After my first physio session I set my alarm clock on my phone four times a day to remind me to exercise. This was known by rote in my family. Even my Dad would say 'PMM time for pelvic floor exercises.'

I don't do my exercises while I am driving because I can't focus on either thing. I need to be doing something such as folding washing, or watching TV, that doesn't require another part of my brain.

Anyway - ladies, if this post acts as a reminder, I will be chuffed, because the world around us will not only enjoy stronger pelvic floors, but it will not be flooded by wee. And that my friends is a good thing. Yes?

As is the mantra in the totally ace film 'Away We Go' - 'don't reach for another bagel, do another Kegel'.

There ends my first stigma post. I have more up my sleeve. Promise.