Why I Love My Sarong Sling

How did I survive a two-hour walking tour with three boys under seven?

I don’t quite know. But I’m sure my sarong sling had something to do with it. Months ago I wrote a comparison of the baby carrier and sarong sling. Since then Aramis has outgrown the carrier, but the sling is still extremely useful as a baby hands-free kit

The more interesting comparison now is between the sling and a pram. Although the pram is less physically demanding (I don’t have to bear the baby’s weight), I’ve come to the conclusion that most times, the sling wins hands down. Here are 5 reasons why:

Botanic Gardens: Lushness!

I had a rare morning off work today. So after dropping the boys off at school, Aramis and I had a little date at the Singapore Botanic Gardens.

Now gung-ho as I was, I thought it would be wiser to attempt this only after having some caffeine in my system. (Despite my earlier bravado about weaning, I am, I’m sorry to say, still nursing at night. We don’t call him Suckzilla for nothing….)

And here is where I start my rave about the newly renovated Botanic Gardens.

Coffee Connection

I wrote about my decision to start weaning in an earlier post.

Now that I am down to about 2 or 3 expressions/feeds a day, I felt that The Time had come. No more Milo or herbal-infusion-of-exotic-plant for breakfast. This week, after 21 long months of abstinence, I, Pilgrim Mom, was going to have a COFFEE.

On the way to work, Pilgrim Dad and I stopped off at the venerable Killiney Kopitiam for breakfast, where I declared, probably a little too loudly,

Why I Am Weaning

Last week, Grandma gave Aramis aka Suckzilla his first ever bottle of formula, and so began the process of weaning.

Why?

I hadn’t really been thinking about weaning, except that 11-month-old Suckzilla, who usually nurses like so:

…last week decided to adopt this position:

Maternal Multitasking Mayhem

All mothers are consummate multi-taskers. Just ask anyone who’s ever had to change a poopy diaper on a squirming baby without the help of a change table.

But tonight, I took multitasking to a whole new level of achievement. I was having dinner and Athos asked to play chess. Then Porthos, who was struggling to finish his dinner, asked to be fed. And then Aramis wanted his snack too. So there I was – feeding myself, nursing my baby, supervising my middle child and playing chess with my eldest.

Pilgrim Mom takes a bow and curtsey….

I would celebrate except that science has told us multitasking is terribly inefficient…  At least now I have an excuse for losing to a 5-year-old at chess!

Crying Over Spilt Milk

Pre-motherhood, I used to wonder about the idiom “Don’t cry over spilt milk.” It didn’t make sense to me because, for heaven’s sake, why would anyone cry over spilt milk? Unless you lived in crushing poverty, just wipe it up, get a new glass, or drink OJ….

Of course, that was then. When Athos was born, I experienced huge difficulties with breastfeeding. One night, during a period when my milk supply was very low, Athos woke up in the middle of the night to be fed. To give me some rest, Pilgrim Dad did the honours. He went to the kitchen, warmed up some expressed breastmilk, brought it to the bedroom, whereupon in his bleary half-awake state he knocked over the bottle and spilled half the contents. When I saw the precious stuff all over the floor, I promptly burst into tears. And Pilgrim Dad, the dear (barely awake) man, responded “Don’t cry over spilt milk. Haha.”

Suffice to say he will eternally regret the joke.

Anyway, all this is simply to say I now have an intimate and intuitive understanding of the idiom. And I’m also starting a new category called “Spilt Milk” for about the travails of motherhood. We read to know we are not alone.

Things That Go “Mom” In The Night

Our new year began not with a bang but with a whimper.

Several whimpers, to be precise.

It started with Aramis and his midnight feed. His lower front teeth are just about to break through so he nurses more intensely these days – Athos has christened him “Suckzilla”! – So even though he was done with his feed, he would wake every time I tried to unlatch. It was frustrating.

He finally slept, and I crawled gratefully back into bed. But just as I was about to fall asleep Porthos stomped in – it seemed a mosquito had decided to use him for target practice and he was itching in several places. So I bring him back to his room and dutifully help to scratch him here, there and everywhere. He kicked and fussed, tossed and turned, and after what seemed like an eternity, he finally calmed down and fell asleep.

Again I crawled back to bed, thoroughly exhausted by now. And again just as I’m about to fall asleep, Athos comes in saying that he’s wet himself. I couldn’t believe it. After settling him, I went back to bed, and before I could sleep, Aramis awoke for his next feed. By the time I was done, it was 4am and I hadn’t slept at all.

I can see why sleep deprivation is an effective form of torture…. Amid the festivities, it’s a good reminder to me of what I should be prepared for in the new year.

A Mother’s Reflections At Christmas

As far as motherhood goes, this past week was rough. I’m sure there were good, even transcendent, moments, but the ones that really stand out are:

Solids and the Passing Phase of Mammaries

Aramis has just turned 6 months! We started him on solids about a month ago – in part out of desperation because my milk supply wasn’t keeping up with his insatiable appetite. His first morsel of food was mashed banana. Just a wee teaspoon which seemed to amuse him though he couldn’t quite swallow it.

Since then, he’s had apple, papaya and brown rice, and he seems to be taking it all in his stride. He now takes solids twice a day. I know it’s a matter of time before he, like his brothers, will no longer need me to supply his meals.

Part of me looks forward to stopping breastfeeding. But another part of me whispers that this is a role I’m unlikely to reprise. I think of those times when he’s suckling and gazing at me intently as I talk or sing to him, and I know that those are moments I wouldn’t give up for the world.

Nursing at Work

Let’s face it – bringing my pump back and forth every day, plus cooler bag, bottles and icepack, not to mention having to tear myself from work every so often, washing, sterilising, refrigerating – frankly, nursing at work is a chore. No wonder the average duration of breastfeeding in Singapore is just 13 weeks.

A few weeks ago, my work schedule intensified and I didn’t have the time to express properly. As a result, my milk supply dipped precipitously. I was close to buying Aramis his first tin of formula.

Then I recalled what my lactation nurse had told me all those years back – to pump regularly every 3 hours to stimulate supply. So I did. It was slow-going at first, and the more frustrated I got the worse it went. But I persevered. I even got up in the middle of the night to express what Aramis didn’t consume.

I’m thankful to be breastfeeding Aramis 5 months down the road. But I totally sympathise with women who want to give up once they get back to work. I’ve been close to giving up a number of times (most recently last week….)

Here are some things that have helped:

• A supportive work environment – Physically, we have spare rooms that can be used for nursing, and a pantry with a freezer and sink. There is at least one other nursing mother, and my colleagues have been nothing but understanding.
• Nursing-friendly clothes – An absolute necessity. I have some nursing wear, but front-buttoned blouses and stretchy wrinkle-proof shirts work just as well.
• Portable equipment – I use the Medela Mini-Electric, which is small and light enough to be carried back and forth, though the suction is not as strong as I’d like. I’ve used the Medela Pump-In-Style which is expensive, bulky, but very effective. If you can afford it, get a pump just for the office.
• Breastfeed baby as much as possible – nothing like the real thing! On weekends, I try to breastfeed exclusively, which helps with the supply.

Also, here are some website that are really helpful:

• Breastfeeding Mothers’ Support Group – A local group with an information-rich website and even a hotline.
• La Leche League - an international non-profit. Their website was a reassuring resource for me when I was struggling with breastfeeding Athos.
• Breastfeeding.com – a US site with a particularly good section on working moms.

Raffles City – Nurse in Style!

I’ve walked past the Baby Room at Raffles City Shopping Centre many times, and finally went in today.

Prominently located on the 3rd floor near Robinson’s, I was delighted to find that the room had seats, change tables, an inner chamber with its own door, and a sink. Three cheers for Raffles City!

Sleep, sleep, my kingdom for some sleep….

Last night was one of those nights that remind me why people stop at two.

Or one.

Or none.

After several glorious nights of sleeping in 6-hour stretches, Aramis (aged 5 months) decides to go back to a two-hour schedule. So there I am, bleary-eyed, at 2:30am…

then 5am…

then 7am.

I feed him lying on my side in bed because it’s just too tiring to sit up. And most of the time I’m somewhere between sleep and wakefulness.

Then it happens. Without warning he stops suckling. He looks at me intently. He gives The Grunt. And then he smiles a slow happy smile and  continues to suckle.

And as for me, I smell something that makes me less than happy. Not wanting to look but having little choice, I lean over as far as I can without disturbing his breakfast, and confirm my worst fears. A spreading goo trickling out of his diaper onto the sheets. No, no, no….

I struggle upright, and the cleaning begins. I try not to wake Pilgrim Dad. Pulling off and washing bedsheets is not my idea of how to start the day right. Not when I’ve barely slept. I’m feeling very sorry for myself.

But then I see him – the little guy fed and diapered, and perfectly, happily, sound asleep. And for a few brief moments, sleep is a mere commodity, something I am glad to trade for another thing of infinitely greater value.

Twin Births

“When I was single I had six theories about raising children. Now I’m married, have six kids and no theory.” – Earl of Rochester

A few months ago, I gave birth to my third (!) son (!!!). It was wonderful how some things became easier, like breastfeeding. But many other things didn’t, like interrupted sleep.

Still, amid the hullabaloo of our household, the journey of parenthood is one I mean to reflect on and savour. It won’t be long before the kids are grown up, and I’ll find myself wondering where all the time went. And so this blog is born, a space to pull back, contemplate, and share what I’m experiencing, our joys and struggles, and the daily adventures we have with our three boys, herewith called Athos, Porthos and Aramis.

Welcome to Pilgrim Parent!