Mother knows best.

I've discovered as of late, that I am an unconventional mama by western standards. Hayden is now almost a year and a half and he still nurses. It's trickled down to a few times a day now that I'm back at work, but we still enjoy some peaceful, cuddly moments in the morning and evening.

Now I'm perfectly fine with this arrangement. It allows me to eat what I want without gaining weight, gives Hayden some extra nutrition and fat and it gives us a special bonding time. What disturbs me about it is society's perception of our daily ritual. Somehow, those of us north of the equator have established bizarre guidelines for rearing our children. Strange ideas like: children must sleep alone, boys can only play with "boy toys," babies have to learn to self-soothe by crying themselves to sleep, nursing should only occur for the first year - tops. All very foreign ideals to me.

Hayden slept in our bed for the first year of his life. He didn't sleep one night in a crib until after his first birthday. And I don't regret a single minute of it. He now confidently falls asleep and sleeps 12 hours a night in his own bed without needing me. I think that knowing I'm always there for him when he needs me gives him the reassurance that he can do it on his own.

And as far as nursing past a year - it's the most wonderful thing to nurse a toddler. I was one of those naysayers before I had Hayden. I thought that if a child could walk up and ask for nursing, that child was too old to get it. But now I understand. I understand that with a busy boy, it gives you 10 minutes to just rest and cuddle. I understand that when owies happen, nursing is the best way to make it better. I understand that children have their own cycles and their own needs and you just have to listen. They will tell you when they're ready for a change.

The strangest idea of all for me is our stereotyping of what little boys and girls can play with. I got more than a few sideways glances when I bought Hayden his own kitchen. It didn't seem to matter that helping me in the real kitchen is one of his favourite things. While it seemed perfectly rational to me to offer him his own culinary space, I was barraged with statements that I might be effeminizing my son, turning him gay. Bullsh*t is all I have to say. If Hayden is going to be gay, he'll be gay. Buying him a kitchen is not going to change his genetics. And if he does turn out to be gay, he'll probably appreciate that his mum accepted him for who he was even before he had any idea of sexuality.

This is how I'm raising my son - by listening to his needs and guiding him when necessary. I'm not raising a spoiled child, but one who feels that his opinions and preferences count for something. I believe that his needs are way more important than society's views on what we should be doing. It sure doesn't hurt anyone else if we nurse for a few more months.

So to all you naysayers and those of you who just can’t help but give a mother your opinion on how she’s raising her child, just stop for a minute before you speak and consider that age-old adage, mother really does know best.

Bed bug!

Hayden and I have both been sick this past week with strep and scarlet fever (ya, I know, who the heck gets scarlet fever outside of novels from the 1800's). When Hayden gets sick, he gets clingy. Very clingy. And so, for the past week, he's slept more in our bed than he has in his own.

At first, I resented this little invader with his flailing limbs and persistent seeking out of nursies. I resented not having the freedom to flip over when my side was sore or being able to get up and pee without slithering out of the bed onto the floor like a liquid blob.

But then the other night he reminded me of why we had this co-sleeping arrangement for a whole year. He was having a particularly bad night and refused to even entertain the thought of going to sleep in his crib. And so I slung him on my hip and he kept me company while I got ready for bed. We climbed under the covers and instead of his usual giggling pleas for nursies, he climbed on top of my chest, flopped down so all four limbs were dangling to my tickly sides and promptly fell asleep.

I lay there for a minute, sure that he was just storing up energy for a melt-down before I realized that his breathing had become deep and even. And it was at that moment, as I kissed his wispy hair and breathed in his signature smell, that I remembered just how much I love holding him in my arms as we sleep. So I snuggled the heck out of him all night. And I'll keep snuggling him when he asks for it. I never want to think back and wistfully say "I wish I'd just held him more often. You know, back when he wanted to be held"

I love that Hayden is a cuddly child. I love that by hearing my heartbeat and feeling my breath, he calms and feels secure. I love that he still likes to sleep with his mama sometimes. These days are fleeting - soon enough he'll be taller than me and telling me how uncool I am. Till then, I'll keep him as my favourite little bed bug.

Motherhood uncensored

I stayed in the hospital for two days after Hayden was born. He had a cone-on-cone head from the vacuum and his face was pretty bruised, but he was perfect and he was mine. I learned how to change a newborn diaper (things like using the hospital-supplied facecloths for getting the tar off his bum instead of expensive wipes), how to nurse him (although for the first day all he wanted to do was lick my nipple) and how to distinguish his cry from the other dozen babies in the ward. I slept best when he was in my arms – which would become the norm. We had many visitors and I healed quickly and almost painlessly from the tearing.

The day we brought him home, it was drizzling and cool, but it was all sunshine to me. My mum was waiting at home for us and my husband surprised me by finishing Hayden’s nursery. He had spelled his name out with wooden letters and put some pictures from those first few days in the hospital in frames. It was a wonderful, thoughtful gesture and sent me into a flurry of tears.

My mum was our saving grace during those first few days. She fed us and helped us clean and took care of the thousands of details that go out the window when you’re new parents. She helped to keep me sane as my hormones adjusted and taught me all those things that you can only learn from your mother. When she left, I bawled at the thought of having to be a mum without my mum there to guide me. And being the great mum that she is, she told me that I was already a great mother and I’d be fine. And if ever I wasn’t, she was only a phone call away.

Hayden was not the easy-going baby you see in commercials or in the carefully edited Baby Story shows. He cried often and needed to be held constantly. After some research, we determined he was what the experts called “High Needs.” Dr. Sears had phenomenal information on how to help these sensitive babies to adjust to the world outside of the womb. Lots of love, lots of contact and responding to their cries as often and as quickly as you could.

One of my girlfriends bought me a sling as a gift and it is quite possibly the thing that transformed my relationship withHayden and his relationship with the rest of the world. With the sling, Hayden got that close comfort he truly needed and I got the necessities done (like brushing my teeth and eating)! I became quite adept at doing just about anything with a baby strapped to my chest.

About three weeks after I brought Hayden home, I began to break out in boil-like lesions all over my thighs. It started with one and within a week I had a dozen of these painful b@stards. After a trip to the doctors and a subsequent trip to the ER, I was diagnosed with MRSA: a highly contagious and drug-resistant infection that comes from the hospital. Somehow I had been infected when I gave birth to Hayden. I had to wear a portable IV drip for a week to get the massive doses of antibiotics into my body. It was truly awful. On top of tending to a wonderful but high-need baby, I now had tubes coming out of my arm, very painful open sores on my legs and I had to go back to the hospital with my newborn (who was nursing almost every hour) every few days to get the lines checked and blood work done. Every day the VON would come to change my dressings and change the IV bag. Really, it was a very stressful time. I look back now and wonder how I managed to get through it all. I think I was just numb. Numb and also blessed with a very caring and supportive husband.

Adam did everything for me and for the house after Hayden was born. He cooked, he cleaned, he did laundry, he gave me pedicures, he did the banking and the shopping, everything. All he asked me to do was to take care of Hayden. Adam gave me license to just love that little baby all day, every day. I spent every waking minute just tending to his needs and not worrying about anything else. It was wondrous.

Hayden and I slept together after a few weeks of failed cradle attempts. With him safely nestled in the crock of my arm, we could both fall into a secure dreamland. My poor husband had to learn not to throw his arms around in his sleep, as per his usual routine. While it only garnered me a painful knock on the head, his giant arms could do a lot of damage to a newborn. For this reason, I also slept in one position all night, keeping Hayden safely away from Mr. Flaily.

But I have to admit that sleeping with Hayden was one of my favourite things. Listening to his tiny, quick breathing, smelling that baby scent and feeling his warmth against me fulfilled my every hope of what motherhood would be. He lay ever so still when he was in my arms. Together we would sleep for hours on end until his belly told him it was time to eat. By the time he was a few months old, he was sleeping for up to five hours straight a night (though this wouldn’t last). Co-sleeping, as the experts call it, was one of my favourite parts of being a mum. Until he was a year old, we cuddled all night and I breathed in his fresh baby smell as I drifted to sleep.