Goodnight Mom

  On August 7th, I put Max down for his morning nap, grabbed my breast pump and sat on the sofa. I looked at the pump and suddenly was filled with dread. I really didn’t want to do this again. It was such a drag to sit there for 20 minutes for the smallest amount of milk. Such a bore, so much effort. Was it really worth it to keep going? At this point, for a number of reasons, I had stopped nursing Max and was only pumping twice a day. I wasn’t getting much milk. Every two days I had enough to feed him a full bottle. I was over it. It didn’t feel worthwhile. I started to cry. It was so hard to give this up, even at this scaled back point. I realized that I wanted to, so badly, but I felt immense guilt over not giving Max breastmilk for at least the first 6 months of his life. It brought up all the pain I experienced in the first few weeks (months in fact) of his life when I realized I wouldn’t be able to fully breastfeed Max. I texted my friend, my mom and my sisters for support. T...

Racism hurts all of us. White folks benefit from systemic oppression, and we also hold society back as a whole when we do not value Black and brown people’s lives the same way we value our own. This post isn’t here to convince you why “All Lives Matter” is ignorant and offensive, there are plenty of others out there explaining this . It’s also not about why we should defund and abolish the police; you can learn about those ideas elsewhere . This post is a reflection on my intentions & potential methods as a white parent of a white child to raise an anti-racist activist. All Black Lives Matter. Recent violent murders of Black people, including George Floyd, Breona Taylor, Riah Milton, Dominique "Rem'mie" Fells and Ahmaud Abery (plus too many more!), have shaken people around the world. For months, protests and anti-racist demonstrations have filled the news. People are still out there, demonstrating, protesting. Violence and state-sanctioned murder is still happening t...

It was recently father’s day and I wanted to write about my parenting partner, my husband Steve. But, you know I have a tiny child so I missed the “deadline”. This is fine though, because I truly believe Steve’s gender identity doesn’t define how great of a parent he is.  I also can’t be the judge of his skill as a dad, that’s for Max to decide. I can, however, share my reflections and gratitude for him as a co-parent. Steve & Max, hanging in the kitchen. I can’t imagine these past 3 months without Steve. I have a ton of respect and admiration for single parents. To spend every day at capacity, with few breaks, and nights full of waking up to feed. When do they eat? Who is there to cook for them? Who is there to hold the baby when all they want is to shower, or take a walk outside, or eat food in peace? These parents are made of something else, something so much stronger than I can imagine.  I could list so many things that Steve has done to support me...