Can Exercise Hurt Your Breast Milk? [A Study in Mother Guilt]

A mother's love - they say that nothing is more powerful. (At least if you believe Harry Potter, which of course I do. I'm a sucker for green eyes.) So if this is true then I know the second most powerful force on the planet: A mother's guilt.

Whether they hand it to you as you exit the hospital, a neat little package of the shame you carry for sending your precious infant to the nursery to spend his first night on the planet alone amongst the bright lights and loud noises or whether you don't discover the little box hidden like a pipe bomb under the baby seat that you realize you've installed incorrectly and yet have been using it to tote your fragile baby around for months, it is an inevitability. It hits you like a knife to the stomach twisting your innards as your mind races to all the what-could-haves and thank-God-it-didn'ts as you repeat the Happiest Baby on the Block like so many nursery rhyme Hail Marys in an effort to prevent the worst by imagining all incarnations of it. Once the guilt has finished consuming you from the gut upward in its fiendish flames, it settles in quietly, rock-like, deep inside your person. Some mothers carry their neutron-star guilt in their stomachs perpetually churning with acid, others in their heads in the migraine spot right behind their eyes, but I, I carry mine in my heart. With every beat of my own I can feel the pulse, like an echo, of the hearts of each of my children. From their utmost beginning their hearts have beat inside me - how could I not still be swayed by their rhythm?

I shall tell you all the facts. There aren't many, it won't take long. Indeed, on the grand scale of parental mistakes this one is perhaps minor. But it is the thing that it represents that so wounds me: my ability to hurt my children even while doing my best to protect them. But I am ahead of myself.

Anyone who has had a baby, seen a baby, read about a baby or just happens to have breasts will know what a contentious topic breast feeding is. Breast is best! The zeal imbued into this cannot be overstated. It's healthier for both mom and baby - it is a magic elixir that prevents health problems now and in the future! Plus, it's free. And yet, knowing this as all of us breast-endowed women (and most men too, I'd wager) do, how is that the vast majority do not breast feed? Or if they do, they don't do it for long?

I'll tell you why. It's hard. It may be a natural process but it sure doesn't come naturally. At least it didn't for me. Nobody told me how much it would hurt - like rug burns with the scabs getting ripped off every 2-3 hours around the clock - until the baby's suckling finally turned my nipples into pencil erasers. Nobody told me of the yeast infections passed back and forth like some insane game of hot potato but where the winner gets their mouth painted purple with gentian violet. Nobody told me of the stage where infants turn piranha and, literally, bite the one that feeds them. Nobody warned me of the nursing strikes, the engorgement, the clogged ducts, the cumbersome nursing bras, the mastitis, the banning of all medicine except worthless Tylenol, the double pump milking machine that is so similar to the ones they use on cows that you can't help but moo, the spontaneous public let downs at the mere thought of my baby's cry. (On an airplane, wetting a stranger's head no less! The only thing that could have made that flight more perfect was if my last name were Joad.)

I don't tell you this to discourage you from ever nursing but rather, having been through all of this multiple times, to explain to you why nursing means so much to me. I have fought so hard to do this simplest of things. To be the mother who can feed her baby.

But now for the facts I promised you. The Jelly Bean was born hale and hearty at 8 1/2 pounds, by far my smallest baby but fairly large as babies in general go. She took to nursing right away and at first all seemed to go well. She was back up to her birth weight by two weeks, just as expected. She pooped and peed like a champ. But along about 3 months, something changed. She stopped gaining weight. The doctor wasn't overly concerned. "Bring her back in a month for another weigh-in." I did. But at that check-up and every check-up that has followed, her weight percentile has continued to drop. Eventually the doctor suggested a lactation consultant who in turn suggested a number things of which I all tried. While she still didn't gain any weight, I comforted myself that she was meeting all of her milestones and seemed happy and healthy in every other measurable way.

And then she weaned herself. Or perhaps my milk gave out. I think the problem might have started with my breasts. I began to notice her fussing when it came time to nurse and despite her frantic sucking, the milk would not let down. Eventually she stopped trying to suck all together, straight-arming me and crying whenever I laid her down to nurse. I, always stubborn, refused to let the nursing go. I went for days trying to keep feeding her only to continue to be rejected. Finally, after a particularly teary session on both our parts, I gave up and made her a bottle of formula. She didn't like that either. At my wit's end, I called the beleaguered pediatrician again who said I either had to get her nurse again or to take the formula and it had to be done now. My milk was finished. I enticed her to drink the bottle by adding a sprinkling of Strawberry Quik powder to it (desperate times call for artificially flavored measures!).

I am happy to say that Jelly Bean loves her formula now (and we no longer have to spike it with Quik to get her to drink it). I am also happy to report that in the few weeks she's been on formula her weight bounced up to the appropriate percentile quite quickly. All's well that ends well. Right?

Those are the facts. Now for the questions. Was my milk compromised because of my obsession with losing the baby weight? Was her failure to gain weight due to my early and intense return to exercise? Or because of my very restrictive diet? It was during those middle months of my being a no-wheat, no-dairy calorie-counting vegetarian that she lost the most ground. Was my tumble into sane eating too late? The question that haunts me: Did I sacrifice my daughter's health on the altar of my own vanity?

My guilt may be misplaced. There are other explanations, other narratives I could tell for this story. (At the very least, the process of weaning has called down a hellstorm of hormones that alone could account for my angst.) And yet the guilt gnaws at me. I carry their very lives in my hands - how could it not?

If you're a mom - how did nursing go for you? Were you able to nurse and exercise with no problems? If you aren't a mom, what do you have irrational guilt about? Or are you one of those rare women (whom I envy) that is impervious to guilt?

Tips for Losing the Baby Weight - That Really Work!

I am ten days past the scream-n-push Bodily Fluids Festival of '09 (Marilyn Manson should take notes) which means, of course, that it's time to talk about losing the baby weight. No, not because I'm feeling overly anxious about it - I'm too busy being anxious about being anxious! - but because I've gotten a ton of e-mails about it. Being officially The Nicest People on the Internet, none of you readers have been pressuring me but rather just wondering if I've found anything that works. Weight loss being the crapshoot that it is once you mix in genetics, socioeconomic status, general health, age and a host of other factors, nonetheless I have found a few tips that genuinely seem to make a difference. So far. (Please note I am only 10 days post partum and will not even come within five feet of my box of "normal" clothes yet.)

1. Have the baby. Okay, so that was a liiiiitle tongue-in-cheek but seriously when else in your life can you say, "I just lost 15 pounds in ONE DAY. Take THAT Jillian!"? Word.


Okay, from here on out, I'm serious. I swear.

2. Wear a belly wrap. I have a Taut (holla to also-momma-of-4 Brooke Burke!) but there is also the Belly Bandit, a host of medical compression bands and the low-tech-but-cheap Ace bandage method. At first blush, this seems like a bunch of hooey: Wear a big elastic belt and get a flatter stomach!! Except that many cultures have been doing exactly that for centuries. Women who have just given birth are in a special (read: anatomically freakish) place with their core. Your organs get all squished to weird places, your abdominal muscles detach from each other, all your ligaments get loose and your hips act as if they can't stand to be in the same room with each other. Using a compression belt helps bring everything back to its proper place and hold it there. My delivery nurse, a lovely woman from Trinidad, told me that the fact that Americans don't typically belly wrap after birth was a huge shock to her as everyone in her country did it and felt that not only was it more comfortable but it was medically advantageous. She was very impressed that I was doing it and even showed me a few tricks to use it properly (lay down when you put it on, start at the top and fasten it downward).

I'll admit I first bought the Taut hoping to flatten my abs faster after birth but when I first put it on in the hospital, I gotta tell you it felt good. Really good. It supported my back and my stomach and put just the right amount of pressure on my hips. The website also claims it helps the skin reattach and tighten up faster. Who cares if my stomach still looked 6-months pregnant? It felt awesome! And, yes, I honestly do think it has made my stomach flatter faster than it would have been otherwise. After having 5 children I feel like I'm in a position to compare. This is my first time using a compression band and I feel like this is the fastest my stomach has ever deflated. Besides - have I mentioned this already? - it feels so nice!

Downsides: it does make you sweaty, the velcro sticks to your underwear and can rip it, and they can be pricey. Also, just to manage your expectations, a belly wrap is not a corset or Spanx - it isn't meant to give you a smooth, flat silhouette. In fact, it looks a bit bulky under tight clothing but who's wearing tight clothing at this point, anyhow?

3. Eat your probiotics. This one works not just for preggos and post-preggos but for everyone. I first found this tip in Fit Pregnancy magazine in a blurb summarizing a research study that found that pregnant women who ate (or took via pill) probiotics every day had 47% less belly fat 6 months post-partum than women who didn't. You know I love my homemade yogurt so I figured this one wouldn't be hard to try. While the results are less easily observed in myself as a) I'm not 6-months post-partum yet and b) I'm a study of one, the original research was quite convincing and probiotics have been shown to help with not only weight loss but stomach health and even gum and dental health! Not to mention that yogurt - especially Greek yogurt - is a good source of protein and calcium. So unless you are lactose intolerant or allergic then this is probably one of those things that wouldn't hurt to try.

4. Lay off the intense exercise. At least at first. I've talked about this study before but research has found that initially for post-partum women, returning to intense exercise right away does not speed weight loss. Mostly I'm reiterating this here for my benefit, especially after Gym Buddy Krista threatened to roundhouse my butt if I returned to Turbokick too quickly. (And girlfriend kicks hard.)
5. Breastfeed? Pregnant women hear this advice ad nauseum (and really isn't there enough nausea already going on?): Breastfeed and the baby weight will melt away like magic! While breastfeeding does have a host of benefits for both mom and baby (my fave: it's free! I'm nothing if not cheap), the jury is still out on weight loss. For me in the past, I find that the weight comes off pretty easily in the first six months. That is until I get to the last 10 pounds. At which point my body decides it had better keep my thighs really well padded, you know, in case of famine or the need to double as Kim Kardashian. There is nothing I can do within the realms of good health to get those last 10 pounds off until I wean the little sucker. My goal this time around is to learn to enjoy my hips and boobs for the short time I actually have them rather than trying to fight those last ten pounds. That's what I have the rest of my life for, right?

For other women it is different though. I have one friend who actually complains that she gets too thin while nursing. Either way, they say nursing burns about 500 calories a day. Like a calorie deficit from exercise, your body strives to maintain equilibrium and will make you hungrier to compensate. (Seriously, you have not seen starving until you've seen me eat when my milk comes in. Small animals hide in fear.)
Conclusion
I am not not not telling anyone, no matter how pre- or post- or even non- partum you are, to worry about your weight. If you must worry, worry about being healthy. However, I know many of you girls think about this. I think about this! It's practically unavoidable in our culture. So I share these sensible tips less like a lose-weight cudgel to the head and more like a help-a-sister-out hug. Pregorexia is never a good idea.

Did I miss anything? Any of you have a great weight-loss tip?

Trendwatch: How to be "Skinny Pregnant"

Thanks to Laura for the pic!

It was awkward. And I have no one to blame but myself. There I was, surrounded by several of my good friends who took me out to remind me that I am actually a person and not just a non-exercising baby incubator, when this happened:

Friend: Oh you look so adorable! You're all belly!
Me: Oh no, really I've gained a ton of weight.
Friend 2: No! You look fabulous! Your face isn't puffy at all.
Me: It just looks that way because I straightened my hair. Trust me, it's puffy.
Friend 3: But your legs look great! Exactly how they do non-preggo!
Me: No, no, you're just distracted by my huuuuge belly. Once this is gone then you'll see how massive my thighs and hips have gotten!
Friend: (smacking me sharply and yelling) SHUT UP!

Actually she didn't smack me. They're all way too nice for that kind of Scarlett O'Hara dramatics (which is probably why we're friends) but they should have. I even annoyed myself. Many women, myself included, have a hard time accepting a compliment with a simple "thank you." ("What? Oh no, my hair isn't fabulous at all! And by the way I wear colored contacts, I have Spanx on underneath this dress and my house looks like it was cleaned by blind orcs with Lego diarrhea.") Not only does this tendency not go away with pregnancy but it seems to get worse. Why is this?

Because pregnancy makes even a normally confident gal insecure. And the rest of us who are normally insecure? Self-esteem havoc.

It shouldn't be this way. After all, we are performing a normal and some might even say necessary biological function. So why, after millenia of gestating and birthing, are women suddenly freaking out? I blame this:

Khloe Kardashian, famous for being the sister of a sex-tape star, recently got married and, natch, immediately had to field questions about future babies. She responded to the weirdly intrusive queries by saying,

"I want to be a skinny pregnant person, like how my sister Kourtney looks so cute pregnant. I can't be a house [after] I just lost weight." She adds, "Well, I am always fat no matter how much weight I lose. It's like I can never have a good body. But I have a really strong sense of self-esteem." (Charlotte's note: Sure you do, sweetie! That's why you and your strong self-esteem just launched a dubious diet aid!)

It's not just Khloe. It's Sarah Michelle Gellar's "stunning post-baby body just 1 month after birth!" It's Lisa Loeb (remember her??) "showing off her tiny baby bump." It's Trista Sutter's "Bikini Bod [only six months] after Baby Number Two!" Don't even get me started about Ellen Pompeo. At least Heidi Klum was honest about "exploding" at the end of her pregnancies - even if she is famous for losing all that baby weight and more in time to walk the Victoria's Secret fashion show mere weeks after giving birth. And those are just the top stories from this past week.

Ladies, in case you missed the memo, not only are you expected to be a MILF both while gestating and not (bring on the hawt pregnant chicks in bikinis!) but now you are also expected to be "skinny pregnant." This means of course that you gain exactly the weight of the baby plus the placenta and amniotic fluid and not one ounce more. Your hips should not widen. Your butt should not expand. Your arms must remain perfectly defined. And your cheeks, while they should "glow," should not be round.

There was a reason that Mary, of immaculate conception fame, was described by her bible biographers as being "heavy" or "great" with child. Skinny Pregnant is an oxymoron!

And yet, weirdly, I have internalized this message as much as anyone. I hate to admit it but I do feel really fat. And it depresses me. Enter Claire Mysko and Magali Amadei, the authors of Does This Pregnancy Make Me Look Fat?, with their sensible girlfriend advice on how to be a healthy pregnant woman in our skinny pregnant girl culture. I got this book in the mail not one moment too soon and read the whole thing in one afternoon. My only complaint was that there wasn't more of it! When I finished I wanted to run after them and fling myself around their ankles crying, "Don't leave me alone in this!" This book has tips on everything from how to deal with pregnancy weight gain when you have a history of eating disorders to snarky retorts for nosy people who insist on asking you ridiculous questions like "How quickly do you plan on losing the baby weight?" (Answer: I plan on losing it in one week! Sadly, in the immortal words of Winona Ryder, reality bites.) I think I just found my new favorite baby shower gift.

I know I'm not the only pregnant woman who struggles with body image issues. Lisa of Workout Mommy - due just a few weeks after me (read: I will pluck my nosehairs with baby nail clippers if you have your baby first, girl!) - recently wrote a very poignant post about her pregnant body image issues and the help she also found in this book.

What do you guys think about the pressure to be thin, even while pregnant? If you have had kids, how did you manage your fears about your body changing? If you haven't had kids, does the fear of getting fat hold you back?

Confessions of a Pregnant Compulsive Exerciser

Yeah, this poster has a typo. Several actually. Kids these days.

I have the feeling that eventually this will be one of those Turning Points in my life that I'll talk about later with great insight. But living it thus far has felt anything but profound. Unless you mean profoundly depressing.

Backstory: Wednesday morning I did Turbokick, per my usual. Halfway through the class, the little girls' room called and I headed out. There was blood, people. A lot of blood. Which is never a good thing when you are pregnant, much less eight months pregnant. Trying not to panic, I raced back into the studio, grabbed my stuff and headed for the nearest stairwell to call my doctor. (The stairwell because the Y has a no-cell-phone policy and I was not having this conversation in the lobby.)

I was on the phone with the nurse and the receptionist for about 5 minutes and on hold for 15 minutes listening to their delightful conver-adver-tisements. (What ever happened to muzak? At least then I can get my James Taylor fix without the embarrassment of having him show up on my iPod. Come on, everyone needs to go "to Carolina in their mind" sometimes!) At first they said they couldn't see me that day. Um, whaaa? Did I sound too calm or something? But then I told them I was coming in anyhow. Right now. And camping out until somebody saw me. Which is exactly what I did, right after grabbing my kids and bribing them with an entirely scandalous amount of sugar to walk fast and stop asking questions.

Condensed for the squeamish: The baby is fine. I am fine. The doctor concluded that the blood was from either an infection of some sort or "trauma" brought on by my, um, exercise routine. Unfortunately, there was too much blood (!) to test for an infection without sending it out for a culture. So to be safe my doctor decided to treat it as both. I'm on a one-week course of antibiotics. I'm also forbidden to exercise - at all - until the baby is born. When I started quizzing my doctor on what exactly that entailed ("Can I lift weights?" "No." "Yoga?" "No." "Walking??" "Not if it involves a track or a treadmill.") I received a very stern lecture. While she was treating the possible infection she said given my history - she was the one who diagnosed my suppressed thyroid from compulsively over exercising, after all - and what I'd been doing that morning and the fact that I had no pain, she rather thought the bleeding was brought on by... too much strenuous exercise.

I know. I did it again. I can't believe it either.

My first reaction was total denial. (Okay, my firstfirst reaction was a lot of mental cursing and not of "the little green apples" variety.) I indignantly told her that it's not like my body isn't used to this level of exercise and I exercised through my last pregnancy with no problems and I was trying to keep the intensity low and and and... And then I realized: blood is blood. First it was pneumonia and now this. I think my body might be trying to tell me something. Yes, other women run marathons up until their due date. But they are not me. And for whatever reason, my body needs me to slow down.

My next reaction was to get really depressed alternating with self-flagellation. How selfish/silly/insane am I to possibly jeopardize my baby (who is fine by all accounts - they checked) just because I'm too stubborn to listen to my own body? How many times do I have to butt my head against this wall? Where are my priorities??

Today I'm trying to be practical. What this means is that with 6 remaining weeks of pregnancy + a couple of weeks recovery, I have at least a good two months off of exercise. Yes I'm going to miss the first Turbo Jam that my YMCA finally gets to host. Yes I'm going to miss the new releases in my favorite classes. Yes I'm going to gain fat and lose muscle and yes that totally freaks me out. And yes I'm really really going to miss all my friends at the gym.

What I realized today is that I don't know who I am anymore without exercise to define me. And maybe it's about time I figure that out. For my daughter's sake.

PS> Prayers are always appreciated, if you are the praying sort:)