What your mamma calls you (A poem)

(Just a few weeks ago Calyn turned five months. Four months was a time of great delights. She can now turn over both ways and gyrate herself in a circle around a blanket. She learned to blow raspberries, suck her toes, drink from a cup, and give kisses). 

At five months I wrote another poem in her honor.

What your mamma calls you

[Valentine's day: I love you]

Your mamma calls you Beauty.
Your hair, two ripples,
concentric circles,
leading through
a labyrinth with each sleeping breath.

My favorite toy

But she could call you Joy
when you cackle gleefully,
and flex your whole body,
to see the whole world,
and watch it jump.

She calls you Comfort
when you nestle;
a wave returning to shore,
a nut inside it's shell,
an animal curled in it's den.

February. Image by my friend Sandra Rodriguez.

And when you roll over
Look up
Set out
And go-
She'll call you 

Hope.

Breastfeeding: Beyond Beautiful

A dear friend asked me some questions about breastfeeding this week and what I replied was: I guess what I'm learning is that once you go down that breastfeeding journey go and encourage others to do likewise; to support their babies in the ways they can, for as long as it is mutually enjoyable.

I will admit, I wasn't always a big fan myself. Even though I am a very organic person, in every sense of the word, for some unknown reasons it seemed very overwhelming before my first child was born. I think I assumed we would try for a little while, but only because it was nutritious. It seemed so awkward, so demanding, so confining. I was positive I would always be uncomfortable. I would hate it. In fact, I was more afraid of breastfeeding then of actually giving birth naturally! I thought once you introduce solid foods that that is the end of the journey. (In the same way I thought I could just have a baby and go back to work 8-12 weeks later like it was no big deal). And I'm pretty sure I looked with outward raised eyebrows and inward condemnation at those who had toddlers (or older!) dangling from under their blouses like little pink hogs or coming to ask for it like little trained puppies. I've heard the rumblings about people who breastfeed too long being overprotective, clingy, smothering, or the all time worst:abusive.

Turns out I was wrong. About everything.