The Big Test

Tomorrow morning I am going to wake up early--to the sound of an alarm clock--and be out the door by 6:45 in order to drive an hour, and then, if all goes according to plan, take a five-hour test.

I have been working towards this goal--taking this test--for 6 years. I hope I don't mess up (as in, get lost on the way there, or forget to bring my photo ID, or, perhaps most significantly: fail the test). I would really like for this all to end with 5 new letters after my name: IBCLC. Tomorrow, I am taking a test, and if I pass it, I'll be an internationally board certified lactation consultant. I will be able to build a career out of supporting breastfeeding mothers and babies.

For several weeks now (and really, I should have started months ago), I've been cramming: trying to flood my brain with as much breastfeeding-relevant information as I possibly can. There is just so much to learn, there's no way I could know it all. I just have to hope that I know enough, that the information I've actually absorbed is the critical information, that I will be able to, after studying images for many hours, recognize the appearance of a nipple damaged by a breast pump and distinguish it from a nipple damaged by a baby with ankyloglossia (half of the questions on the multiple-choice test reference photographs).

I won't find out if I pass the exam or not until mid-October, which is actually kind of a relief. I am looking forward to taking the test and then not thinking about it at all anymore for a couple of months. It has been a huge source of anxiety as of late. There are so many things I want to do--namely finish the kitchen/dining room remodeling project that I began a couple months ago and then abandoned, abruptly and only half-started, leaving us to live in a state of shambles since then--and it will feel great to not have this looming test weighing heavy on my mind.

I would very much appreciate any calm, confident and hopeful vibes you feel willing to send my way as I attempt to make this long-term goal a reality!

me, at the start of this journey:

tandem nursing Luke and Jaz in the park

UPDATE: Thank you so much for your well wishes! The test wasn't nearly as difficult as I feared it might be, and the time allotted was way longer than necessary (in reality, it was more like a two-hour test than a five-hour test). There were a couple of questions that I really didn't know the answers to, but for the most part I felt like I was well-prepared to take the test simply for having been working with breastfeeding mothers and babies for the past several years. I definitely encourage anyone who qualifies to sit for the exam next year to plan to do so, and not to stress about memorizing anatomical structures or terms, but instead to focus on acquiring practical knowledge, and studying photographs related to breastfeeding and babies, such as those in The Breastfeeding Atlas.

Sharing Sleep

I love sharing sleep with our children.

I more than love it. I believe in it, deeply. I am grateful for our decision to make our bed a family bed nearly every day*. I am absolutely certain that our children are happier and more secure for the time they've spent sleeping with us, and that I am a happier and more confident mother for having listened to my instincts in this regard (which is not to imply that children who don't sleep with their parents, or parents who don't sleep with their children, are necessarily any less happy or less secure/confident; I'm only referencing my own kids and my own experience). I would make the same choice again, if I had it to do over (and, notably: Lena would, too).

When I implied in my last post, somewhat facetiously, that having our kids in our bed might not have been the wisest choice, I knew that I would later have to write this post: about how even though choosing to have a family bed might seem like a sure-fire way to send one's marriage (and sex life) directly into the doldrums, that's not what happened for us.

It would be easy to assume that co-sleeping might result in reduced physical intimacy, romance, and connection in a marriage. But I think that doing so would be to "not see the forest for the trees." A truly strong physical, romantic and emotional connection would not suffer for the parents in a marriage choosing to share sleep with their kids. The reality for us is that as lesbians in a long-term relationship, as parents of small children, as lactating mothers, Lena and I have had to overcome a lot of obstacles, stacked against us in the bedroom. Did adding babies to our bed serve to compound those other potential issues? I suppose it could have, but I don't think it did. Co-sleeping has done so many positive things for us--as a family, as co-parents, as partners--that I think the benefits of our family bed have far outweighed any potentially negative side-effects.

First of all, we've gotten a lot more sleep as bed-sharers than we otherwise would have, and any marriage benefits from well-rested participants. Beyond that, we've gained self-esteem (for having trusted our instincts), we've suffered less anxiety (because I honestly cannot imagine how I ever would have not slept with our babies; I would have been in a state of panic), we've respected each other and each other's innate mothering skills, and we've gotten to appreciate each other as the nurturing people who we are (I still melt when I happen upon a scene of Lena snuggled around one--or more--of our kids). Waking up together as a family is intimate and cozy. It feels natural and genuine and invigorating. And it's some of the only snuggling time that we get with our bigger kids.

But, so, then, what is the solution? If we can't blame the family bed for our relationship struggles, what can we blame? What can we do differently as we begin the difficult work of trying to repair and rebuild our marriage? I think that the main reason why things began to deteriorate for us is because we failed to prioritize our marriage, forgetting that it wasn't something that would just automatically receive attention in our busy, busy lives. We were prioritizing a lot of things: the kids, our community and social life, laughter, our love of the natural world, our jobs, keeping the house in relatively good shape . . . and we somehow took for granted that our marital connection was intact and along for the ride. But, of course, this is a rather simplistic way of looking at it all, and in truth there were many different factors that all contributed to Lena and I losing each other in the way that we did.

We are not going to stop sharing sleep with our children. We hope to let them self-wean from the family bed, and we hope that they don't choose to do that all together for a long, long time. But we are changing some bad habits that we'd gotten into in relation to the ways that Lena and I had been choosing to spend our (limited) alone time together. And we are absolutely going to be prioritizing our need for intimacy--of all kinds--as we move forward.

This is a really hard time, still. We are struggling, daily, sometimes hourly, to see each other and to feel connected. But as I reflect over the choices that I've made, and that we've made as a couple, I find it helpful to point out not only the places where we tripped, or messed up, but also the things that we got right. And I think that the creation of our family bed extraordinaire falls into the latter category. Our bed has not failed us. If anything, our bed has been a kind of glue, keeping us together in the face of all so many challenges, reminding us every morning of what we want this life to be: soft, warm, colorful, welcoming, cozy, and with lots of room to spare.

*yes, definitely, there are days (or, more specifically: mornings, post restless nights) when I fantasize about sleeping 10 hours without anyone small touching me, breathing next to me, or tossing and turning beside me.

Journey

This evening, I photographed all four kids eating ice cream on the front steps.

Leo was quite pleased to have been entrusted with his very own (tiny) ice cream cone, and calmly sat beside his brothers, obviously feeling so big.

Leo, 12 years months old

It was just about 12 months ago when I wrote about eating ice cream for dinner. At the time, Leo was just a wee newborn; it was one of our first outings as a family of six. We had no concept of where this first year with our lion baby would take us, of the fact that we would be moving again so soon, saying goodbye to the goats, buying and painting a house, adding and subtracting a puppy, and settling into such a very different life from the one we had been living before our fourth baby was born. One might expect that Lena and I would have known to anticipate how quickly Leo would change and grow, but he seemed to shed his infancy even faster than his brothers before him, so eager to join their pack.

And somehow, amidst all of the excitement and chaos and joy, Lena and I lost sight of each other. We took our love for granted, and forgot to nurture it. We failed to prioritize our relationship. We neglected to even keep it on the list of "things to think about." And suddenly, something that we never imagined could ever be on the line--our marriage--was in question. We began seeing a couples' counselor in March, and at first we seemed to be making progress towards finding each other again. But then I got overwhelmed by the ocean of distance between us, and doubted that Lena and I could ever reclaim what we had once shared. I let myself slip further and further away, until I hardly recognized my wife--or my life--at all anymore.

Everything exploded a few weeks ago, when it became clear that the state of our marriage was such that we could no longer continue living as we were. Lena and Leo went to stay with her extended family for a week, while she and I both faced the full extent of the damage and let our hearts break. We realized that choosing to reconcile would mean choosing to start over anew, that our previous relationship was over, and that it would have to become something completely changed were we to remain married. And ultimately, we concluded that we will move forward together, that we will commit ourselves to the hard work of rebuilding a foundation of trust, and making our marriage stronger, better and more true than it's ever been. While it feels so good to be sharing my days with Lena again, to be seeing her and connecting with her for the first time in months, she and I are both wary of how easy it would be to let ourselves slip back into our old life without really addressing the issues that nearly cost us our marriage and intact family. We want to do this work, and we want to do it well: to be thorough and fully attentive. I hope that people will be respectful of Lena's and my privacy and not ask for details about all that went down between us this spring, but I am planning to write here about our new journey: the quest to really find ourselves and each other again.

"You know this means I'm ALWAYS

going to require my very own cone, right?"

Unabashedly optimistic as I am, I can't help but recognize the blessings that we've been gifted alongside so much pain, loss and devastation. Remembering my love for Lena, truly remembering her most amazing self, and choosing--once again--to commit myself fully to a shared life with her, to our vision of what we want our family to be, feels so inspiring and beautiful. I love Lena so much, and letting myself feel the full weight of that love--that completely crushed me when I thought it had been lost forever--takes my breath away. I am overwhelmed with gratitude to have been given this opportunity to make myself a better, more honest, person and partner. Lena and I get to be falling in love for a third time, now with new-and-improved self-awareness and conviction about what we will demand of each other and our relationship. The knowledge I have learned--and continue to learn--as I have awakened to my own desires and needs, and accepted my faults and failures, is not anything that I will be willing to give up, and is information that will help us to ensure that we don't repeat our past mistakes.

photo by Jaz

Thank you, readers, friends and family members: for continuing to check in here despite my blogging negligence, and for supporting my family and me through this stormy time. It was difficult for me to write--in this place of joy and love--while everything in our home felt so fraught and uncertain. But now I find myself wanting to write more than ever, to hopefully help other families to avoid the path our marriage suddenly took, and to inspire people to hold onto what they believe in--even when it seems that all hope has been lost.