Friday, July 1, 2011

bite me

Well, it happened.  She bit me.

Not that hard, and I'm about 99.9% sure it wasn't on purpose - she was almost done nursing and smiled at me and then absent-mindedly latched back on with her teeth (oops) - but WOWZA, that hurts.  I can hardly imagine what it's like if the kid takes a big ol' purposeful chomp down on the girls, which have been doing yeoman's work for the past eight months.

I took her off, said firmly, "OUCH.  NO."  And then we were done nursing for that session.  It happened again the next time, and we did the same thing again - OUCH. NO. DONE. - and, since then, she hasn't bit again.  On the other hand, I have totally stopped my half-dozing during nursing sessions and am, instead, keeping watch like a prison guard who's heard rumors about a jailbreak.

What do you think about taking an eight-month old on a camping trip?  My idea of 'camping' is 'Motel 6,' but my brother-and-sister-in-law are coming to visit, and they love camping, and there are a lot of cool places to camp around here.  Plus they have all the stuff for it which means we can try it for a night without investing a bunch of money in items for which we have no storage room anyway.  But wouldn't she get cold?  And she moves around so much during the night that I can't imagine a blanket would stay on her for more than ten minutes.  I'm not sure one sleep sack will do it.  (The last time we took her on anything like this, we stayed in a "cottage" which we later termed, with no affection whatsoever, "the shit shack," and she woke up every 45 minutes screaming because it was so freaking cold in there.  I have Post-Shit-Shack-Stress-Disorder from this.)

Last night, I was with a family as their 64-year-old husband and dad died from a lung disorder.  He had been diagnosed some three years ago, and he was ready.  It was time.  They took him off all the machines, and we waited with him as he began to breathe for himself, long, labored breaths, getting slower and slower, until finally he stopped.  There were a few startling moments along the way, and doctors and nurses hovering in case anything went wrong, and all the while it occurred to me that his work of dying was not so different than the work of giving birth.  A lot of frantic hurrying, interspersed with moments of silence and breathing and people waiting, holding your hand and telling you, "it's okay, you can do this," and I watched his three kids as they held his hands, and I went home and put my daughter to bed, and I thought:

someone told me once that, when you meet your child, you are meeting the person who will hold your hand when you die.

There are a lot of reasons that doesn't always happen, of course.  But many times, it does.  And it struck me that the holiness of both moments - birth and death - are deeply connected, and terrifying, and peaceful, and we are very rarely, truly, prepared for either one.

I realize this seems to have taken a turn completely different from where I started this post, but if she bites again, maybe (just maybe, no guarantees) I'll be able to keep it in some perspective.

14 comments:

  1. yikes, i didn't see those tears coming when i started reading this post! ;)

    hang in there on the nursing. Bird went through a few biting phases, where it seemed she was just testing the "rules," but they always passed in a day or two.

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  2. I second the above comment on unexpected tears.

    Watching my mother die from similar causes was entirely unlike the scene you witnessed. The staff totally left us alone.

    There's a Death Cab for Cutie song, What Sarah Said, about the ICU. "Love is watching someone die. Who's going to watch you die?"

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  3. This was one of the most intense things I read today. And profound. I am so sorry for that family. You have managed to make me view death in a different way.

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  4. Beautiful post.

    Hope she stops biting. :)

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  5. Eeek. Sorry about the biting. I hope you've managed to nip it in the bud!

    As for the death and dying aspect, I wonder if that is why I had Petite in the first place... so that someone would be there to hold my own hand. I would hate to think that is why anyone would have a child, but I know too we all want to feel that someone will be there with us and miss us later. Fodder for thought...

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  6. Yikes, you've been through a lot in the last few days! It's so good of you to be there for your friends.

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  7. Unexpected tears here too. Ignoring the cause of death, which I'm sure made those last breaths difficult, what a beautiful way to die with the people you love around you. There is no easy way, but to know that someone you care for has been ready to go can make a world of difference to being able to carry on your life without them there.

    On the biting, my daughter did that too. It passed fairly quickly, although it didn't feel like it at the time...

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  8. Here from the roundup. This is a gorgeous, gorgeous post.

    xoxo

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  9. Great post. I like your tying birth and death together and I do hope that one day my daughters will hold my hand while I die.

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  10. Wow! This post definitely turned on the waterworks!

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  11. What a beautiful, unexpected, post.

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  12. We tried camping in the spring and got completely rained out. It was really cold and we slept with W between us dressed in many layers, the last of which was like a fleece snowsuit with a hood. I say give it a try. And good luck.

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  13. Wow. You brought tears to my eyes.

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  14. The biting.... it certainly does make you very jumpy while they're nursing, yes it does. I have never been intentionally bitten, but sometimes when she is teething she gets sloppy with latching and scrapes.... yeouch.

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