Thursday, May 26, 2016

The End of Nursing My Toddler?

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A few nights ago, we'd had an okay day, but I was so grumpy. All the posts I've failed to finish on here have been about my health trials and tribulations since last June. Injury, illness, injury, illness, surgery gone wrong, more illness, then another illness. I was feeling the worst of last said illness.

This last illness is mastitis. Pretty sure it was from my new venture of trying to learn to run properly (as opposed to the clusterf*ck that was me trundling through a half-marathon in September without adequate training...) with my new sports bras. Those puppies squished the girls so much, my milk ducts on ole righty decided to reply with anger and pain. For those unaware, mastitis is basically a brutal boob infection.

The chemical content can change in breast milk during mastitis and the baby/toddler may not like the taste of the milk. While this was surely happening with Baby D, I also felt pretty sure she was approaching self-weaning from my milk. I decided 2 years ago that I would let her decide when to stop nursing, but I felt this sad dread that those moments of our lives would be over soon.

But I digress.

On antibiotic #2 for mastitis, I was so so bloody tired and run down.
Weak, with no patience.
That night I realized all I had done was criticize and basically be a bitch to Baby D all day. I crawled into her bed while she slept so beautifully... so peacefully. I looked at her angelic face and her tiny nostrils flaring, ever so gently, and realized that she doesn't deserve the wrath of my health woes. She didn't ask me to start running, or to lose weight or do anything other than be her mommy. But yet she gets the brunt of my bad mood and short temper when I am once again down and out.

I cried. Like a real little bitch. True sobbing, but the kind a mom does so no one can hear. Like holding a tornado inside of your body. I shook her pillow unintentionally. She roused slightly as I stroked her face and hair. I planted a kiss on her tiny forehead and thought about how she will master this world, that no one can or should keep her down (most of all, ME), that she is going to do incredible things in her lifetime, and I thought of how pure and wonderful and HAPPY she is. And that this would be the last night I put my 2 year old to bed. Maybe the last time my little toddler would nurse had already happened.

I felt sad and scared of the world, yet full of love.

As if sensing my upset, do you know what my fiery little snowflake did, as if on cue?
She dug her finger so far into her nostril that I'm certain she found gold.

AND IT WAS BRILLIANT.
It was what I needed. A reality check. A slap of BE HERE NOW, WOMAN!
And I giggled. Watching her pick her nose in her sleep was just utterly perfect.

It doesn't need to be all about my pre-disposition-to-all-things-depressed-and-extremely-anxious.

It was so cute and fitting.

She rallied up there for a while, then her hand fell back down on the pillow beside my face. Gawd I love her. I left her room with a smile.

I realized that she's going to keep close to me and keep me on my toes, no matter what comes our way. Not much I can do on the health front... I'm trying my best. I just have to remember to keep trying. And remember that she'll be 3, and her place in this world matters far less to her right now than boogers.

And it's kind of wonderful that way.

____________________________________________

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Sunday, January 31, 2016

1 Billion Rising: Rape Doesn't Work Like That

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*Trigger Warning*

In a world where 1 in 3 women will be beaten or raped in their lifetime, a call to action is a must. I do realize that there are female rapists, but for the purpose of this blog I am addressing the male rapist/female victim scenario that is all too common).

I happened upon this short video yesterday and learned about the 1 Billion Rising movement.

Drawing attention to an important issue like that should be commended. However, I can't help but feel rage and disbelief that they could, would and did depict an attempted rape scene as they did.

As I began watching the video, I could feel my body tensing up at the violence on the screen. As both a survivor of assault and rape, I felt the nausea immediately when I saw the man's hand over the woman's mouth as he held her down (among the many other atrocities in the video).

It was sickening, and it happens all too frequently.

The video description reads:
Published on 20 Sep 2012
*Trigger Warning* A film by Eve Ensler and Tony Stroebel.
Please spread far and wide w/this tweet: Rise up on 2-14 to end Violence against Women in a global event!

If you want to watch the video, I've posted the link right here.

My anger stems from the uprising portion of the video. Yes, you read that right.
As women unite around the world, taking a stance against the abuse and assault, there is a projected sense of increased energy; power. STRENGTH.

This is awful. And incredibly misleading. (Source)


It appears that the woman who is being raped frees herself, only when she seems to feel the strength and energy to push harder and be stronger. I watched it again with my husband, to double check, and I thought that perhaps the male becomes unconscious or something, but not clearly defined. He felt it portrayed the same message that I did.

As a survivor, this is what the video tells ME:
- If you want to escape rape you must realize how strong you are and fight back with your power.

READ: Hey, you were raped, guess you didn't fight hard enough/be strong enough/realize you didn't have to be raped, dumbass.

Additionally, I'm pissed off because of the younger kids, teens, and many women who will watch this video, they will watch it once. It may or may not imprint on them, but if it does, what a message to send. What an atrocious message to send.

RAPE IS NOT a matter of strength on the victim's part.
RAPE IS NOT prevented by the victim.
RAPE IS NOT one woman, or many women, or all the women, or all the women in the world's responsibility to stop.

Yes, awareness of this epidemic is necessary. Yes... we, as a united world, men and women need to raise our collective voices to shout at the governing bodies that the sentences and consequences for rapists are not intense enough, that victims' voices need to be heard and respected during reporting, investigation, prosecution, and that society's general silencing of the frequency and seemingly acceptable occurrences are not. Mothers and Fathers need to teach their sons that raping is a disgusting, unacceptable and horrific violation of a woman and her body. Schools need to take it seriously. Every single occurrence. Every single child, girl, teen, woman, man.

BUT,
and I cannot add enough BOLD text or underlining to make this CRYSTAL FRIGGING CLEAR:

RAPE STOPS WITH THE RAPIST. 

I don't give a shit for any "yeah, but..." sentences. Don't imply I should rise above. Don't imply the onus is on me to be stronger. Fiercer. Louder.

If a woman (or man) says NO.... or STOP. Or is too compromised to consent (through intoxication or blackout) (yes, folks, that's also rape).

RAPE STOPS WITH THE RAPIST. 

END OF STORY.

__________________

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Thursday, January 21, 2016

Ew

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Do you ever just look at yourself in the mirror and think... EW.

?

Or Eeeeeeew. Gross.

?

Just curious.

Sidenote: It appears that 2016 is not my bitch. At all. Not at all. It would appear that so far, 2016 is leading me around on a leash. Check back soon. I'm sure that all this malbec, merlot, and upcoming surgery will SURELY improve my chances.

Peace out.

________________________
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