Kerstin Baker-Ash

Why Apologize?

So Gisele Bundchen has felt the need to apologize for saying in an interview with Harper's Bazaar that breastfeeding should be law for the first six months. Why shouldn't it be?

Only 80% of us first time mothers even start with the intention to breastfeed our babies from day zero. 80%? Shouldn't we all be at least trying it before we discount it as "not for us"? I'm not trying to come across as a lactivist, but it bothers me that there are babies born in the United Kingdom won't even get the ultra-healthy and ultra-important colostrum during their first few days of life because their mothers decided that breastfeeding didn't go with their lifestyle.

Sure, there are more than enough reasons why breastfeeding doesn't work for everyone. I think that sensitivity to women who cannot breastfeed should be very high when lactivism comes into play, but let's not kid ourselves. Women who can't breastfeed or babies that can't be breastfed form a very small part of the percentage which don't start from the beginning. On our street, there are three babies who were born within two weeks of each other. My daughter is the only one that is breastfed. One of the baby's mothers told me that she wanted to be able to go and have a night out clubbing with her friends at the weekends, so it wasn't convenient for her. Well, at least she's not going to feed her drunk, I guess.

When my daughter was three months old, her weight dropped off a lot. We were told by the health visitor to try one bottle of formula per day to see if it helped her get back on track. The first time I gave my baby girl a bottle, I was in tears. I felt like I'd failed as a woman - I'm supposed to be able to give her all she needs for the first six months. I might've been a tad over-emotional, but why don't all women who are able feel this way when they choose not to breastfeed. It's the best start for our babies, it's the best nutrition and the best way of bonding. I love the connection I have with her, and the way it makes me feel knowing that I'm starting her off on the right track.

Have I had a glass of wine with a meal? Absolutely. I was never a clubber before I had my daughter, so I guess I don't have to feel like I'm missing out on a night on the razz. I'm very, very proud to say that I'm part of the 20% of mothers still breastfeeding at 6 months, and I plan on continuing (in conjunction with our newly started solids) for another 6 - 18 months longer. It's great for me too - weight loss and many other benefits come for breastfeeding mothers.

Where a mother and baby are able to start the process of breastfeeding together, full support and encouragement should be given so that it can continue. Gisele, you don't need to apologize. Mothers need a high profile breastfeeding push, and you're absolutely spot on.

If you're looking for support - check out La Leche League in your area for more information.

Why Mommy Bloggers Are So Influential

Marketers often dismiss the Mommy segment as a bunch of bored busybodies with nothing better to do than blog about their little child-rearing foibles in a self-obsessed blogosphere. While it might be true that moms (this one included) employ tunnel vision when it comes to thinking about their little ones, the Mommy Blogosphere is ripe with comments that could sink or swim a product before it gets off the ground.

Think about it this way - the connectivity and support offered to moms of my generation far surpass anything my mother could have imagined 30 years ago. When you rewind another 30 years to when my grandmother was having her kids, her mind is understandably blown away by the technology I use to connect with my peers. Add on top of that our traditional way of product panning or endorsement - talking to other moms in the grocery store, in the park or on the street - and you have a powerhouse of consumers who make or break your product.

We all remember the Motrin Moms fiasco, and the backlash from that still plays in our minds nearly two years later. Will you, as a mom, buy Motrin? Probably not. In the UK, Aptamil has had its own issues by trying - unsuccessfully - to entice mothers to follow on from breastmilk. I can't cite a source (except for one of our playgroups), but apparently only 1% of mothers make it to the 6 month mark of exclusive breastfeeding in the UK - perhaps the reason lies somewhere behind the clever Aptamil or Cow and Gate marketing. Hey, there's a lot of money in baby formula.

Even if my blog reaches 100 readers (which would be nice), telling you that John Lewis sleepers are the best, Sudocrem does nothing to help my daughter's rash (we use Bepanthen) and that the Fisher Price Rainforest Jumperoo is the best thing we've bought so far is just another element in our vast network. We belong to playgroups, online forums and baby clubs. 10 girls (and counting) from the LPSS class of 1999 have had babies in the last year, and we've connected on Facebook. We have our traditional ways of communicating, sure - but the reason why Mommy bloggers are such a tour de force online is because when you have a baby, the first thing you want after a good night's sleep are other moms who are dealing with the same things you are.

So, when you're marketing your new, baby-friendly product online, put yourself in the shoes of a Mommy Blogger. We're poised to make or break your effort, so market wisely. 

Stuff We Can't Take

We've got a couple of things up on eBay at the moment, I'll add more to the list below as we put them up!

• Bowers and Wilkins (B&W) PV1 Subwoofer (Black)
• Denon AVR 3808 Home Cinema Audio/Video Receiver (Full HD)
• Bowers and Wilkins (B&W) Zeppelin Apple iPod Docking Station
• JBL Creature II Speakers in White

Canada Bound

It's public (and has been official for a while) - we're leaving the green green grass of my husband's home to the mossy rocks of my Canadian one.

Firstly, the decision wasn't easy. Not even remotely. We've done this transatlantic dance before (and a trans-Irish-Sea jig as well), and it's difficult, not least of which from a logistical standpoint. Our marriage was always going to be about compromise (whose isn't?); I'm from Canada, he's from Wales. I'm crazy, and my husband is less so. Those obstacles aside, we're firmly planted in the desire to seek out what's best for our daughter, and give her the kind of childhood we experienced - family, outdoors and ridiculous amounts of fun with both parents.

So why not Wales? My husband is an actuary, and the center for actuarial work is obviously London, with smaller outposts in Birmingham, Manchester and Edinburgh. We've tried unsuccessfully to make a move to Cardiff, looking for jobs as far away as Bristol (from Cardiff) to make the Welsh dream a reality. Sadly, it wasn't to be.

Still, we have family in the UK. Our daughter not only has grandparents, an aunt and uncle and  various assorted other relatives (including a few on my side) but a brand new baby cousin only 4.5 months younger than her. It's tough, knowing that their relationship might not have the chance to flourish as much as it could given they're growing up in two different countries. Her grandparents, who are absolutely smitten with her, also won't get the chance to see her as frequently as we'd like. It's remarkably tough. It's also deeply personal, this emotional decision, so we'll leave it at that.

The pros of moving (back) to Toronto are easy. Shorter commute time. Lower cost of living. Proximity to my gargantuan family, who all live within an hour or so of the GTA. Better work/life balance. Better access to the outdoors and seasonal sports (as much as it snows in Hertfordshire...). Most importantly - it's a place we can see our daughter grow up in, and we feel like we'd be better set up to afford her the opportunities we'd like for her.

Our time in Toronto has really confirmed that it is where we want to be, and we've officially taken the plunge - putting our house on the market (we've got it listed on RightMove) and putting some of our unmoveable (read: my husband's toys) stuff on eBay, including a spectacular Bowers and Wilkins subwoofer. We'll be listing more and more things as the move date gets nearer, but will also put up a list of items here on the blog to see if there's any additional interest.

There are a lot of things on our to-do list, the most important now being the process of getting Citizenship and Immigration Canada to grant my husband permanent residency. Our daughter, having been born to a Canadian citizen in the UK, was granted her Canadian citizenship (with a hilarious citizenship photo) in May. So, we've already started the roller coaster ride, and are currently plodding through a to-do list as long as the distance between London and Toronto. 

We've made our decision, and we're fully convinced that it's the right one for our family.

The Labour Party and Click Fraud

Oh dear. Seems like John Prescott, taking time off from punching people, has got egg on his face again. Encouraging people to commit click fraud and striking a blow to the Tories' war chest, Mr Prescott is under the impression that:

a) Google don't monitor these things.

b) Saying you're committing click fraud publicly doesn't draw attention to idiotic campaign tactics, ticking off a generation of tech-savvy voters.

I don't suppose this will make much of a dent in the traditional white van driving Labour base, but for those in my industry that are on the fence...

Plus, how does he know the Tories have a 50p CPC? I would hope that whatever agency is managing their campaign has got them a much better CPC through landing page optimization, ad copy rotation and relevancy. At 10p per click, I'd think the Tories would have a rather hearty laugh about it and make some remarks about how low Labour think they have to stoop to win an unwinnable election.

Babies Make You Busy...

My daughter is awesome - a 13 pound and growing ball of joy, laughter and constant entertainment. That means she also needs constant entertainment, from singing the "Poop in the Tub" song during the morning bath, making up distracting noises when I change her colossal diaper deposits (heaven help us when she starts eating real food - she's exclusively breastfed now...) or dancing around the house to Journey during her fussy time.

In a nutshell, blogging (and showering regularly) takes a bit of a back seat. We're incredibly fortunate to have a baby that sleeps from about 10.30 at night until 7 in the morning, but the flip side of the coin is that she really doesn't sleep much in the day. So, pardon the blogging pause, and apologies for the smell.

And Baby Makes Three

 

A watched kettle never boils, or so the saying goes. Our beautiful baby girl finally made an appearance on January 29, 2010 at 2.43 am in Hertfordshire, England. She weighed 8 pounds 14 ounces and measured a very tall 22 inches long. We're slowly getting into a rhythm as a family of three, and are absolutely and totally in love with our princess. I've posted a very long labor story below; if you're expecting and are thinking that you can jump in the birthing pool with the soft sounds of orca whales in the background while you push, read no further. 

I actually started going into labor on the 23rd of January. Like many first timers, it got going, going, going and then stalled abruptly. Excitedly, we had prepared for a very quick trip to the labor ward as the contractions were getting to the magical point of 45 seconds or longer and I'd had more than 3 in ten minutes for an hour or so. I was disappointed when they stopped so suddenly, but it seems our girl had very different plans for her arrival. We went to the hospital on Sunday morning after a show, but we were sent home with instructions to relax even though I was having contractions.

By Monday, I was getting more than a little impatient. I had heard that acupuncture could work, so made an appointment at a local clinic in Letchworth. It seemed to work; contractions started again in the wee hours of Tuesday morning, and my husband excitedly called his work to let them know he wouldn't be coming in. Labor then seemed to stall again; we went on a long walk, I had a bath, a shower and even bounced on my birthing ball... it just wanted to stall. I had another acupuncture appointment on Tuesday afternoon which made the contractions stronger, but no closer together.

I called my midwife and it was suggested I go in to get checked. I don't like the kind of examinations they perform when you're nearly two weeks overdue, but I was actually looking forward to being told how far along these contractions were getting me. Disappointingly, nowhere. My cervix was still posterior, I was no more dilated than I was a week before at just one centimeter. Gutted, we asked if my induction date could be brought forward by a day (it was scheduled for Thursday the 28th) and the doctors agreed that it was unlikely that I would get anywhere on my own. I was admitted to the labor ward and given the first round of medication designed to ripen my cervix and push Mother Nature along mildly.

We were entertained throughout Wednesday afternoon and annoyed by Wednesday evening by a family of Irish Travellers - a young girl was being induced at the same time as me - as the gas ran out, the girl got louder and louder. My only criticism of the Lister Hospital in Stevenage would definitely be the wait for the gas and air to be brought up by porters - an eight hour wait is totally unacceptable, and when you're in labor being offered codeine it just makes you want to bite the head, arms and legs off the midwife who says you don't need the gas just yet. There could be another reason that the Traveller girl's gas ran out - when she went to take a bathroom break, her baby's father started sucking on the stuff himself (and got a stern talking to by the midwife). Classy.

The passage of time from Thursday morning gets a bit fuzzy for me. My contractions got pretty darned strong sometime around 4 am, and I don't remember my husband returning to the hospital at 8 am when visiting hours began. I was aware that he was texting my friend (who is a physician) to ask questions about the treatment being offered, but the gas and air is quite effective at making you higher than a kite. At some point, I was given a shot of morphine in my leg - again, I can't really remember it although I know I felt a bit better until I started vomiting.

At some point in the late morning, I was wheeled down in my bed to the delivery suite as my contractions were getting stronger and the midwives felt that I was ready to go down at 3 cm dilated. Despite strong contractions, they still weren't regular enough and the decision was taken to start me on a syntocinon drip. At this point, I was given an epidural (which I remember) as the synthetic drug produces excruciatingly strong contractions. Unfortunately, the epidural didn't take at first and I was being topped up regularly. 

At some point after the clock struck midnight, I had an incredibly strong urge to start pushing. I can't really describe the carnal feeling that "it's time", but I could not control my body any longer... I was just pushing. The midwives asked me to stop pushing as I was only 9 cm and as hard as I tried, nothing would stop what my body felt was right. As a result of the stress, the doctor told me I was in or had tachycardia, the baby's heart rate jumped up dangerously high and they stopped the drip to try to help us both get a bit more stable. I was pretty far gone at this point - morphine, gas and air and the epidural were making me pretty incomprehensible. I entertained the medical team in the room by asking for water and then spitting it out all over my husband, and talking about needing time off from work for a conference in June. 

When I was actually allowed to push, I remember being told not to scream as the energy used to scream would divert from the energy needed to push. Yeah. You try that. I did manage to quiet down a bit, but not quiet enough to stop scaring the women who must've heard my roaring in other delivery suites. I remember someone telling me that they would have to use a Kiwi Cup and to keep pushing. I thought I was going to pass out before I got to see my daughter, but just when I thought I couldn't push anymore, I felt a "pop" (among other things) and I looked down to see my baby. I couldn't hear her, and kept asking if she was okay. I remember my husband telling me she was fine, she was crying and she was perfect. Through the haze, I was so incredibly relieved.

They brought her to my husband, who held and kissed her for the first time and he showed her to me. During this, the doctors were saying that I needed surgery and I remember thinking that I didn't want my baby being fed formula as I wouldn't be able to feed her right away - they assured me she was fine and would not go hungry. 

For two hours, my husband sat with his little girl as they waited for me to get out of the operating theater and then I finally got to meet her. All ten fingers and ten toes perfection, my baby daughter was beautiful and wonderful and it was hard to comprehend that we were now parents.

More than two weeks later, I still stare at her thinking how lucky I am to get to be her mom. My husband and I, both university educated, now discuss bowel movements and vomit with refreshing enthusiasm (not our own, mind...). My own mother stayed for a week to help, and I've just done my first day just me and my baby. 

My baby. It's incredible - I'm blessed beyond measure, and so excited to journey with her as her mom for the rest of my life. Welcome to the world, perfect baby girl.

When You Think The Baby Will Never Come...

There have been a lot of tears in my house this weekend. Tears of frustration, tears of exhaustion and tears from a Vindaloo. There's an end in sight - I'm being induced on Thursday - but a lot of my upset stems from a rather stupid belief that my body is somehow not working the way it should be to deliver this baby. I feel like a complete and utter failure.

The baby is fine. Monitoring shows that Baby Ash is "textbook" - lots of movement, lots of increased heart rate when there's movement, and I've even tracked a couple of real, live contractions. They just haven't amounted to anything solid - even to open up just one centimeter more. So, the baby just isn't ready to greet the world... yet.

We've tried everything. Well, everything except for castor oil because the side effects scare me. However, last night's Vindaloo produced what I can only describe as comparable results to castor oil; there's a reason that the dish has "loo" in the name. What a stupid, stupid choice which resulted in a sleepless night and increased irritability. Still - desperate times call for desperate measures.

Everything seems to be able to piss me off (sorry about the language, I figure I can get a free pass at 9 days overdue, right?). There seem to be a lot of people due around the same time as me, and I've been seeing baby albums on Facebook and bursting into tears. At the hospital the other day, we saw two couples from our prenatal classes who were due one and two weeks after us respectively; one couple already had their baby, and the other were pacing up and down in the transition phase of labor. Tears again.

I know people are excited to hear about this baby. So are we. I feel like unplugging our home phone line and just ignoring the world. I have some wonderful friends and family, and I don't like feeling frustrated towards their excitement; I'm so glad that I have people who care about me and who care about this baby. It's clear that Baby Ash is going to have a lot of admirers and friends when it finally decides to break free (queue Queen music here). 

The truth is, sometimes I feel like talking to people and sometimes I don't. Sometimes I feel like laughing about being so overdue, and sometimes I wish people would just calm down and stop asking me (or my husband, mother, father, brother, grandparents, etc) if I've had the baby yet. Honestly, with all the connectivity that exists - especially in the age of social media and my high usage of it - you're going to know not only when we go to hospital but when we have the baby (except from Friday night to Saturday night, sorry folks) pretty sharpish. I'd like to blame my mercurial mood on hormones, but it's more like frustration than anything else. 

There's so much else going on in the world - so many people who are in much more dire straits than I am being over my due date - I use that to get back into my happy place. I just wish that I could keep that at the front of my mind when people, lovely as they are, look for baby updates. I hope and pray that this is my last baby-free entry. If not, I can only just keep on trucking, right?

Stop Asking!

I'm overdue. Waaay overdue. I'm probably the first person that recognizes this, and yet people feel compelled to tell me "wow, you're really overdue!"  

Shut up.

Seriously - I've arrived at a really good place around this baby's anticipation build-up. It's not helpful to tell me you think it'll happen anytime now (I know... that's the nature of being more than 40 weeks pregnant...) or that you know how I feel (especially if you're a dude... wtf?). I'm taking it unbelievably easy, not entirely by choice as late pregnancy has some interesting side effects (not to do with the baby or blood pressure, don't worry), and my husband is being supportive above and beyond what's reasonable even from an overdue wife.

So we're good. Adding to the "letting go" is the fact that, come hell or high water, I will be having this baby in a week. I'm booked in for an induction on the 28th, and have already had what seems like an effective sweep.

I appreciate your good thoughts, but stop with the asking or "feeling" like today is going to be the day. You're jinxing it, and getting me out of my relaxed and easy place that I've worked so hard to get to and stay at. My baby is unique, special and wonderful, and it'll be ready when it wants to be. 

Playing the Waiting Game

One day to go. One day until I can justifiably feel a bit fed up of playing the waiting game, and potentially one day to go until we can finally meet our firstborn child. Every little twinge, every sign makes us jump up and wonder if it's go time, only to be disappointed a couple of minutes later. 

Things are happening - I had my 40 week midwife appointment yesterday and the baby's head is fully engaged, just waiting for the rest of my body to catch up and the baby to release those wonderful hormones which signal that it's ready to make an appearance in the world. It's an update from last week, when the baby's head was still palpable and only 2/5 engaged. So, we're not stuck in limbo; there has been a lot of progress.

We've been telling the baby that we're ready, and trying to entice it out with promises of snow (figuring this half-Canadian baby might be coaxed by the white stuff). It's missed out on the snow, so maybe it's waiting for the big thaw to be complete before it makes a grand entrance.

The baby is apparently as big as a watermelon and can weigh up to 9 pounds, according to the WhatToExpect.com iPhone App. I'm not going to pretend that I can't remember a time when that counter said 30 weeks to go, or when the baby was as big as a pineapple or even a pumpkin seed. Still, it's gone sloooowwwwlllllly. I'm sure I'll look back on this time and wonder where it all went, but at this stage I'm carrying a watermelon and feeling pretty huge. I can't wait to see the baby, which I suppose is the reason I feel it's dragging along.

So, watch this space. Hopefully the weekend will bring not only progress but a tiny baby to call our very own.