A Letter to My Sister

I love being pregnant. This second time around has been even more joyous because my sister is pregnant, too. We've been best friends for nearly 29 years and have shared so many milestones with each other. So far this one is probably my favorite.

Even though you and I don't share that kind of history, we have both experienced the fears and hopes that are part of anticipating motherhood. I'm hoping you'll hear my heart in this letter and tuck away the bits that resonate with you.

Dear sister,

I've been ruminating on so many things that it's difficult to sort through them and find words that are as cogent as the way they seem when they are just thoughts in my head. I will do my best though.

I remember so vividly the day you called me to tell me your big news...and the day I called to tell you mine. Lots of "aghhh!" and "oh my word" and "I am SO EXCITED!" And in the months that followed there was lots of "What do you think about..." and "What did you guys do for..." Your firsts have often followed mine, but the exciting thing about this first is that it's not just my footsteps you can use as a guide. You are being ushered into an ancient legacy, one much bigger than the sisterhood we share. Women the world over have experienced this anticipation and though each of our experiences is unique, they are all the same, too. It's a beautiful gift, one I know you thank God for daily. It's also an enormous responsibility, one that can seem heavy at times. You have so much on your mind these days; there are a few things I want you to know.

You think about labor and delivery being just around the corner. I know how strong you are. No matter what happens, I have complete faith that you will kill it in that delivery room while the rest of us wait outside, praying and cheering you on. Natural birth, medications, c-section, whatever...you will come out the other side as a mother and none of it will matter.

You think about what you'll need as you sift through gifts and check off your list. Pack your bag. All the other sorting and organizing is nice to have finished, but not a necessity. Be sure to slow down these last few weeks and savor some alone time with your husband, some alone time with yourself, and relish the ability to run into Kroger for 2 minutes to grab a gallon of milk.

You think about the hard seasons you've seen me and other moms go through, especially at the beginning. I know the stories of raw nipples and sleepless nights can seem intimidating, but those tough days are temporary and far outnumbered by days full of joy. In anticipation of the challenges you may face, I promise to tell everyone that if they truly love you, they will bring you food. Tuck away this little gem and this one...they are two of the most helpful resources that kept me sane in those chaotic moments when I doubted myself. It felt like such a relief to know I wasn't alone...that what our new little family was experiencing was normal.

You think about whether you will be a good mom. I know without a doubt the kind of mom you'll be. You're an enthusiastic aunt, a genius game player, a compassionate listener, an affectionate friend. You see people's problems as an opportunity to love them better. Your best qualities will be just what your little guy needs to learn about the way he should go, and your shortcomings will be an opportunity for all of you to grow.

You think about the love you know now...the love of your creator, your husband, your family, your friends. Just wait. I know the feeling you'll experience when you meet your sweet baby will help you understand true love better. Like a friend told me once, it's Big Love.

You think about the unknowns, the big decisions, the uncertainty ahead. I know that you are blessed to have a steady and supportive husband and many loving friends. Surround yourself with people who know you well and respect your goals and dreams, whether they are about breastfeeding, parenting, nutrition, etc. I want you to know that I am here, too. I am ready to listen, to pray, to advise, or simply just be with you whenever you need me, as only a sister can.

Sister power 4 lyfe.

Love you,

La

...But You Can't Make Him Drink

Yesterday I shared some things I've learned about asset based community development (ABCD). I told you a couple stories. I took you to Honduras and brought you back to Ohio.

So what in the world does this have to do with breastfeeding? Well, please take a moment to read yesterday's post first, then hop back here to find out.

If you've read anything on this blog before then it's likely you know that breastfeeding in the US is the exception, not the rule. Incidents pop up in the news every few months about breastfeeding moms who are chastised for nursing their babies in public. Here in Ohio, only 21.6% of moms are breastfeeding their babies at all at 6 months. It doesn't take more than a few conversations with other mom friends to hear about advice they were given from their pediatrician or OB that doesn't align with current best practices for breastfeeding.

This is the bottom line: our culture is impoverished when it comes to knowledge, passion, and compassion regarding breastfeeding.

Please please don't hear me wrong. I'm not saying an individual mom is "poor" because she doesn't breastfeed. I'm simply saying that anecdotes and news articles and statistics show us that we are a culture that doesn't value this practice. We believe myths about it. We compare it to defecating. We don't understand it, and in some cases maybe even fear it.

When there is poverty, do you remember what works? Asset based community development.

Yes, there is a need for systemic change. Better education in WIC programs. More baby friendly hospitals. More lactation education in med schools. ABCD can be implemented at those levels. But as I go down this list, I can tell you pretty quickly that I have next to no pull in any of those fields. My sphere of influence consists of my friendships with other moms.

Change will come from grassroots efforts manifested in real relationships. I am passionate about advocating and educating and rallying around the breastfeeding cause, but like I shared yesterday, sustainable change will come when I am willing to let go of that cause long enough to grab onto a close relationship and hang on tight.

I'm digging in for the long haul, just like my wise friend Tracy. I'm not trying to dispense advice or dispute myths in every conversation. I'm striving to be a better listener and evaluate what my friend is showing me she needs instead of starting with what I have to offer. I'm ready to acknowledge that sometimes my friend may simply need to be heard and cared for instead of admonished or corrected. Instead of focusing on everything she doesn't know about breastfeeding, I'm going to simply be present so I can notice what a great mom she is and how much she loves her kids and tell her how much I respect that.

And after listening, after building trust, after I've spent time focusing on her instead of me, I will be ready if she asks me for help. I will be there for her as a collaborator instead of a teacher.

The way I can make a difference in our impoverished breastfeeding culture is by investing in true friendships because I value individual moms. And the payoff is way bigger than the freedom to nurse anywhere in public without criticism, or having bosses who are knowledgeable about your pumping needs, or L&D nurses who understand how crucial it is to have baby at your breast soon after birth. No, these are possible offshoots of this change, but they aren't the ultimate goal.

The victory will be evident in the community we will have cultivated. Moms who are empathetic and truly care about each other's tears, triumphs, and tatas. Moms who value each other not because of a breastfeeding cause, but simply because people matter.

You Can Lead a Horse to Milk...

Today's post ambles a bit. I know it may seem at first glance that poverty alleviation work in Honduras and Ohio don't seem to be related to breastfeeding, but if you're willing to keep reading, I'll get there. I promise.

Homemade corn tortillas?
Yes please!

Four years ago my husband and I took a trip with a ministry called Heart to Honduras. Since then we've made it a priority to learn more about healthy ways to get involved in community development. The too-quick summary of asset based community development (ABCD) is twofold:

1. Poverty is about broken relationships, not just about money. This means every single one of us is impoverished in some way in our lives.

2. Healthy, sustainable, long-term development starts with looking at assets and working in partnership to build on those assets.

Before my first trip to Honduras, I went to the doctor for a check-up. When I told him about the trip we were planning, he scoffed. "Honduras?! To build a house? For crying out loud. People go down there all the time year after year to build houses. And there's always more to build. Why do these people still need us to build houses for them?"

At the time I was incredibly offended by his insensitive remarks. But years later it's clear that his frustration makes sense. If I continue to throw money and time at a problem and it isn't resolved, wouldn't that indicate I need to try something different? What kind of message am I sending to people I'm "helping" when I say: "Hey, just take a step back, I'll be able to fix this wayyyyy better than you can." What am I believing then about that person's value or their competence?

Kaleb and Naun slashing that grass

Since that first trip I've been able to spend time in Las Lomitas, Honduras, not fixing or building or teaching, but simply being and learning. When I was simply present I learned how to grind corn into cornmeal and make tortillas. My friend learned how to mow the soccer field with a machete. Roasting delicious, fresh-picked coffee beans, crafting jewelry from trash, maintaining a clean home with only erratic running water... Once I stopped scratching the itch to always be fixing it was so much easier to move from a deficit focus to an asset-based one.

I've learned a lot about ABCD over the past few years, but time and again I'm reminded of how much I have yet to learn. Recently I overheard a conversation a friend of mine, Tracy, was having with someone in our poverty alleviation group here in the states. Let's call this other person Andrew. Andrew was venting about an issue one of his kids was having at school. It was clear he was frustrated with the teachers there. In fact, it seemed like he was frustrated about a lot of things. Tracy gently asked him if he had considered talking with the school counselor. "She doesn't help with stuff like this," he replied shortly. Tracy responded with sympathy and continued to listen.

What!? I exclaimed in my head. As a former teacher I knew that the school counselor would, in fact, help with this issue. I can't believe Tracy isn't telling Andrew how to contact her! I mulled that conversation over in my head for days. How on earth did she have the patience to sit there and listen when she knew the solution to the problem? More importantly....why?

I played out an alternate scenario in my head. One in which I kindly corrected Andrew and gave him some advice about how to approach the counselor, as well as a few other resources on the issue at hand. In this hypothetical conversation, I even shared a personal story about a student I'd had in second grade who had dealt with this very situation and how I helped the family resolve it.

Believe it or not, the scene didn't end in my head with Andrew showering me with gratitude for sharing my wisdom. It didn't end with him contacting the school guidance counselor.

It ended abruptly when he politely listened to me ramble, then completely shut down. As my imagination moved forward, in the future weeks he would greet me every Tuesday night, but wouldn't ever share what was really on his mind. He wouldn't ever again trust me enough to be vulnerable with me.

And it dawned on me: Tracy had played this scene out in her mind before. Heck, maybe she'd even made a few mistakes along the way and lived it out: the dispensation of advice, the taciturn response, the loss of trust. Tracy knew this wasn't true development.

Tracy listened and empathized because she's in it for the long haul. She's patiently backing up far enough to see the whole picture. She's not trying to fix one problem today, she's trying to be a small part of sustainable development in a person's life over time. She recognized that Andrew didn't need advice at that moment.

He needed a friend.