Body image after baby is a struggle for so many women. And while mine is still far from perfect, I’ve learned to appreciate, and even love, the one I have now.

My precise, detailed, handwritten birth plan was tucked neatly into an accordion file folder stashed away in my hospital bag. Nestled alongside it were toiletries (can’t forget my Nature’s Gate toothpaste and sulfate-free shampoo), a birthing gown, essential oils, a crossword puzzle (Seriously, Jamie?), extra clothes, my daughter’s going home outfit, and a bazillion other just-in-case things I could cram into the suitcase. We had the pamphlets, took the classes, knew the timing for contractions, and felt super prepared.

But, as in life, my entire plan was quickly blown to smithereens. And not just sort of. When labor finally happened I was progressing so fast for a first timer, that if we had listened to the on-call doctor, I would’ve had a home birth. So at seven centimeters dilated, and wearing the hospital-issued smock, someone finally wheeled me to a room. Once we arrived upstairs I was nine centimeters along, which gave me barely enough time to suck down some nitrous oxide, much less get an epidural. And even though I swore like a sailor, screamed bloody murder, and attempted to convince the nurse to give me some drugs and a C-section, much to my chagrin, the only thing that really went according to plan was my hope for a natural birth.

It’s been almost six months now since having my daughter, and one thing I’ve learned about being a parent is that absolutely, positively nothing goes as planned. Like, ever. In fact, similar to my delivery debacle, breastfeeding struggles, and dealing with more blow-out poopies than I care to remember, most things are just downright ludicrous.

So when I looked in the mirror after all of the stretching, drooping, and shifting, not to mention the sheer horror and loss of control that can only be instilled by the journey a pregnant body takes, and didn’t hate the reflection staring back at me, I was pleasantly surprised. As a few more weeks passed postpartum, I actually began to like my body (minus all the phantom pregnancy farts) even more than I ever thought possible.

1. I feel stronger

The sheer empowerment I felt after making it through hours of toe curling pain, pushing a tiny human out of my body, and doing it all naturally made me feel like Wonder Woman, dammit. And while that initial high is no longer lingering, my ability to power through breastfeeding issues, continue to work and care for my baby from home, and deal with the daily struggles that parenting presents, helps me to remember that if I can give birth, I can make it through anything.

2. I feel healthier

I may be a vegetarian, but before becoming pregnant, I didn’t always eat right. I skipped meals, chose quick, processed foods over fresh, was underweight, and committed all sorts of other nutritional sins. My pregnancy cravings were off the chain (I still cringe over the amount of gummy bears and Canada Dry ginger ales I consumed), and 32 pounds later, those yearnings, along with that niggling case of indigestion, finally disappeared.

However, when it came time to breastfeed, I wanted to consume the healthy calories my body required to feed my baby well. I ate better, slept as often as I could, tried to relax my mind more often, and actually feel just fine hanging onto those ten extra pounds.  

3. I feel sexier

My body’s curvier, my bust is fuller, my booty is squishier, and although things have definitely changed a tad down there, the boosted blood flow is out of this world. Some of these things may be temporary (I’ll miss you, big boobies), but I’ll be damned if I won’t enjoy them while they’re here. Filling out clothes is spectacular, and I’ve definitely enjoyed the extra cleavage.  

4. She deserves it

It’s not just about me anymore. Surrounded by sexism, stereotypes, impossible standards of beauty, social media, and so much more, I quickly realized that my position as the most idolized female role model in my daughter’s life is paramount. That is, until some pop singer swoops in on her wrecking ball and takes my place (please, sweet Jesus, be Taylor Swift). But until then, I need to present my baby girl with a positive-minded, self-loving, and confident mama with a body image to match.

Feeling good about myself is still an imperfect science. Just like anyone else, I have good days and bad, but my daughter serves as the best reminder of why I need to keep on appreciating the body I have.

How has your body image been since baby? Let us know your thoughts on the EcoSalon Facebook page!

Related on EcoSalon

I Ate My Baby’s Placenta …On Purpose

I May Have Lost the Breastfeeding Battle, But I Won the War

The One and Only: Is Having an Only Child Better for Parents and the Planet?

Image of Mother and Baby via Shutterstock

The post 4 Ways I Have a Better Body Image AFTER a Baby Came Out of Me appeared first on EcoSalon.

Our bundle of joy was here, and I couldn’t wait to feed her. I knew breastfeeding was difficult, but nothing could have prepared me for the challenges I would experience.

On April 2, 2016 at 5:11 p.m., my life was forever changed. After nine months of waiting, 12 hours of labor, and 45 minutes of pushing, I was finally able to cradle my sweet, delicious, little girl in my arms. We were immediately encouraged to cuddle and breastfeed. She didn’t hesitate to latch on, and was a voracious eater from the time she was born. My heart was full and so was her belly.

I made a conscious decision to nurse early on in my pregnancy, and after researching, reading, and even taking classes, I knew that we were ready to begin this long term journey. Although I felt tremendous joy, accomplishment, and closeness with my daughter, the first several weeks weren’t all sunshine and roses. After experiencing pain, oftentimes toe curling, a plugged duct, and what I eventually found out to be an incorrect latch thanks to Patty, a certified consultant from La Leche League, my little peanut and I were finally able to move forward.

My supply was great. Too great, in fact, as I had an overabundance of milk for quite some time which lead to engorgement. However, with research and trial and error, I found that block feeding did the trick. Relieved, I thought the worst of the issues were behind us. Little did I know they were just beginning.

As we were breezing into her third month of life – time really does pass too quickly – breastfeeding was going beautifully. The closeness I felt with my daughter was undeniable. Seeing her gaze into my eyes, knowing that her nourishment and well-being depended on me, was at once the greatest and scariest feeling I’d ever experienced. Yet, as I watched her sweet little hands knead and flutter every night while she slowly drifted off to sleep, everything felt right in the world.

About two weeks into month three I noticed my daughter becoming increasingly fussy at the breast. So much so that her crying was almost incessant if she wasn’t nursing. And within a few days, she would unlatch, toss her head back, and wail. She couldn’t even settle during a feeding session and I hadn’t noticed a letdown since the morning prior. Meanwhile, her father and I tried everything we could think of to soothe our baby girl.

I began to fear the worst – that despite all of the articles I had read telling me otherwise, I simply wasn’t producing enough milk.

Frantic, I thought back to what had changed. What I could have possibly done wrong. I loved my daughter, so why couldn’t I have a letdown while imagining all of the sweet things I adored about her, especially while she was right there in my arms. I pictured my ducts swelling up with milk, so full that they had no other choice but to empty out into her mouth, flowing like a stream of water. I tried massage, stimulation, compressions, deep breathing. Nothing worked. I began to feel like a horrible mother.

And then, it dawned on me. About three weeks prior, after much internal debate, I decided to take the mini pill, a form of progesterone-only birth control, that was given to me at the hospital.

Heartbroken, I knew that the pill, coupled with her reduced diaper output and distress, meant I would have to supplement with formula. But nothing could have prepared me for the emotions I felt. That first day I cried, nearly uncontrollably, for hours. And every time I saw her unhappiness at the breast between formula feedings, I felt more and more like a failure. “Stupid, stupid,” I thought to myself, “Why didn’t you trust your instincts and avoid the birth control?”

I continued down this path for the next several days. The only satisfaction I had was seeing my daughter full, content, and happy again. With many more months of milk-based nutrition still ahead, I worried about more than just our connection, but also her health.

After discontinuing the medication immediately, and eventually coming to terms over a few very sad days that one of the most meaningful experiences I’d ever had was probably over, it was time for me to put on my big girl pants, because the blubbering mess I had become was the last thing my daughter needed. Rather than give up, though, I decided to do everything in my power to bring back my milk supply, to at least prove to myself and to her that I won’t give up that easily.

Shortly thereafter, along with the unwavering support of her dad, I began feverishly taking supplements, drinking powders,  eating oatmeal, upping my fluid intake, using an electric pump, using a manual pump, and when those didn’t work, learning to hand express. I would typically only extract a measly half ounce, and would rejoice at a full one. I began to feel defeated. This continued for several more days, until I was advised by the nurse and her pediatrician to rent a hospital-grade double breast pump.

Armed with this information, and never veering from my supplement taking course, I met with Mary, the owner and certified lactation consultant at Sweet Songs Breastfeeding, to pick up the only pump she had left in stock. Mary took her job seriously. I could tell it meant a lot to her, and after giving me some advice, I began to feel empowered. Hopeful. Like I could do this.

In the couple days that I had used the pump, I managed two and a half ounces in one sitting, which was the most I’d ever expressed at one time. You can imagine my elation over that. But, much to my dismay, the next session paled in comparison.

I knew it was only the beginning. That I would have highs and lows. Yet if I didn’t try, if I didn’t give it my all, how could I ever expect the same out of my daughter one day?

So for now, I’ll take the comfort nursing she requires in order to sleep for as long as she’ll allow it. I’ll continue to bask in the joy of every smile, every milestone, and every cuddle. I’ll drown in the intoxicating smell of her sweet scent, relish in her bath time excitement, and continue our early morning “talks.” With all of these beautiful moments and experiences, even if I never get my supply back, I feel like I’ve already won.

Have you struggled or triumphed with breastfeeding? Share your story with us on the EcoSalon Facebook page.

Related on EcoSalon

Go On, Attach Yourself to Your Baby: It’s a Win-Win Situation
Extended Breastfeeding Yields Smarter, More Articulate Babies
The Pictures of Olivia Wilde Breastfeeding are Perfect… and So are Yours

Image of Mom Breastfeeding Baby via Shutterstock

The post I May Have Lost the Breastfeeding Battle, But I Won the War appeared first on EcoSalon.

Want your baby to smell more baby-ish? Dolce & Gabbana are coming to the rescue with their new perfume…for babies!

Here’s one for you: Italian fashion house Dolce & Gabbana has just released a new fragrance; but it’s not for you or your sweetie. It’s for your newborn baby.

From the D&G website:

How can babies smell even sweeter than they already do? That familiar smell associated with babies that melts our hearts will only be accentuated by this Dolce&Gabbana fragrance.

The company claims it’s a fragrance formulated to “enhance” your baby’s delicious newborn scent: “We all know that children smell beautiful, and there’s no need to cover up their natural scent,” wrote lifestyle editor Valentina Zannoni on the label’s web magazine. “In fact the Dolce & Gabbana Baby Fragrance has been designed to accentuate that natural baby smell.”

It’s not the first scent targeting toddlers, either. Burberry, Bulgari and Johnson’s all have specially formulated lines of fragrances designed for your baby.

According to Stefano Gabbana, the scent, which includes bergamot, honey and musk, was inspired by “the softness of baby skin, the freshness of baby breath, a mother’s sweet hug, [and] the first smile.” While the fragrance is alcohol free, perfumes can contain dozens of harmful chemicals not listed on the ingredients. It’s an unregulated system, allowing for the use of chemicals that have been connected with allergies, reproductive issues including sperm damage, and hormone disruption—which has been connected to some cancers, obesity, diabetes and thyroid diseases.

Keep in touch with Jill on Twitter @jillettinger

Image: Nina Matthews Photography

The post Oh Baby! Dolce & Gabbana Launches New Perfume…for Babies appeared first on EcoSalon.

An exclusive EcoSalon playlist for moments of birth.

Because sometimes… you just gotta reach for the baby.

KK by BehindTheWalk-In

Download the entire playlist for free here.

Tracklist:

1. Genesis – Grimes
2. BREAK UP (SINGLE EDIT) – PETE SAMPLES
3. I Belong In Your Arms (Japanese Version) – Chairlift
4. ◯ – Slow Magic
5. Beez In The Trap ft. 2 Chainz – Nicki Minaj
6. I’m On One (Shlohmo Remix) – Drake
7. Putty Boy Strut – Flying Lotus
8. Until We Bleed (Niconé Remix) – Lykke Li
9. La Ninya (Afrodub Version) – John Talabot
10. The Pining pt3 – Clark

Like what you hear? Check out our entire 10 Songs series. 

Image: fabrisalvetti

The post 10 Songs To Help You Pull Your Baby From Your Vagina Like Kourtney Kardashian appeared first on EcoSalon.

ColumnWhere celebrity becomes conscious.

As my grandmother used to mysteriously intone over her crochet needles, “Even kittens can scratch.” Are we really inferring that the adorable, cuddly spawns of joy positioned on celebrity hips everywhere are anything but angels from above? No, the innocents of Hollywood’s loins are blameless. But the media detailing their every move for our tabloid pleasure? There’s some Rosemary in that baby. The cult of baby is careening out of control in Hollywood, and I’m calling for some deprogramming before it’s too late.

You can’t click on a blog these days without seeing a Shiloh, Suri, Kingston, Cruise, or Stefani modeling a new faux hawk or splashing about a swimming pool with their mother. People Magazine has an entire online section devoted to the progeny of celebrity. Headlines such as “Jenna Fisher is having a boy,” “Pink was looking forward to a natural birth,” and “The Beckhams introduce [daughter] Harper Seven” leap from the screen, daring you to click on the private lives of celebrities. And like moths drawn to the adorable flame, we click, we post, we comment. But why?

There is perhaps nothing more intimate on the planet than the act of giving birth. Up until the 1930s, childbirth was essentially one drawn-out Dark Age, often shrouded in grim statistics of low infant survival and high mother and child mortality. Organized medicine and germ theory stepped in, bringing births out of the home and into hospitals. But this meant the birthing process became a sterile event often involving excessive drugs and isolation.

As Discovery Health writes of the mid-20th century birthing process:

The fear of infection, a major killer of mothers and babies, led to such practices as taking away all a woman’s personal belongings when she entered the hospital; shaving all her pubic hair; administering large, uncomfortable enemas; prohibiting fathers and other loved ones from entering the maternity area; keeping babies in nurseries, away from their mothers; and handling babies as little as possible.

Thankfully, times have changed, and women are much more in control of childbirth at the dawn of the 21st century. So when someone else invites us into their birthing process, there’s a secret elation at seeing what was previously forbidden. We want the gory details. Photos? Put them up. C-section or natural birth? Tell it, sister. Perhaps this explains what’s driving the celebrity baby industry, especially exacerbated since the arrival of the internet. It’s the dawning of the Age of Overshare, and our broadening online village lets us feel like we’re personally invested in, say, Victoria Beckham’s newborn daughter.

Not to mention, we get the details and we get to have an opinion. As Brianne posted on People’s celebrity baby blog regarding another celebrity (and former Spice Girl) pregnancy, “Mel, I can hardly wait for this baby to get here! Emma and Jade had their second son, Tate, in May, and Harper Seven Beckham is 8 days old! Boy or girl, I’m SOOOOO happy for you and Stephen, so all the best!!!” There’s nothing wrong with someone’s obvious enjoyment on weighing on the impending birth of a person she’s never met. (We assume apologies to Brianne if she’s a close personal friend of said Spice Girl.) The fact that we get a voice at all now seems expected or even natural to us. Ultimately, we seem to have crossed a line where we’re eager to place ourselves into the most intimate components of stranger’s lives as a form of entertainment.

Actress Isla Fisher and her baby bump on the red carpet.

And then there’s the fantasy factor. Motherhood can be one of the most powerful experiences on the planet. So when it is touted on the red carpet, latest maternity fashions on hand, we feel like we’re getting a glimpse of what it means to be perfect and pregnant. Our current celebrity culture is just a reflection on our ideals or thoughts on fashion, style, and ultimately social acceptance. So we, and by extension the media, are making mountains out of celebrity diapers. Celebrities are supposed to be our cooler cousins, our fantasy extensions of the self. So are their pregnancies, and consequent children, part of the fantasy? Or do we really just want to see them struggle in a parking lot holding a baby carrier and an overloaded diaper bag?

How do celebrities feel about this? It’s hard to imagine Jennifer Garner calls out the paparazzi for her Brentwood family jaunts any more than Reese Witherspoon invites photographers to her children’s birthday parties at Disneyland. Just like us, they likely enjoy taking their children out of the house and into public spaces. This simple act can be a terrifying event – I’ve been caught in a paparazzi crush several times on the streets of Hollywood, and I feel like I’ve barely lived to tell about it. So what does an experience like that do to a child? Only tattered security blankets may tell the tale.

Even the celebrities invite attention to their children. TV actress Elisabeth Rohm blogs regularly for People Magazine, recently detailing how she and her child dealt with the loss of her favorite stuffed animal. 90210 actor Ian Ziering does the same for celebrity fathers. Its mommy-blogging gone Hollywood and it’s no different than the Facebook forums and WordPressed articles we’re sharing amongst ourselves.

Let’s say you decide to forgo the baby bump in Hollywood? You are still risking the ire of the public. Last year, the bloggers at Babble infamously asked us to consider “The [Jennifer] Aniston syndrome” by investigating the soon-to-be barren wombs of some of Hollywood’s leading ladies. After creating a storm of controversy, Babble apologized and pulled the blog, but not before I wrote about it, as well as did several other disgusted bloggers.

Hollywood’s baby coverage is just business as usual. Outside of the confines of Tinsel Town, women regularly wrestle with the decision to have kids, career, or both. With a distinct “damned if you do, damned if you don’t” mentality, we’re applauded for having babies. And if you’re childless? Everyone wants to know why. After all, we’re entitled to know – aren’t we?

So really, Hollywood is just one giant Thanksgiving dinner table filled with your nosy aunts and inquiring cousins. When we endure the “when are you going to have a baby?” question casually tossed over the gravy bowl, we’re really just standing in a supermarket checkout line eyeing the tabloid headlines detailing the adventures of the Jolie-Pitt child crew of six. Once again, we’re playing out our own fears in one big cultural Meta monster. Except this monster breeds.

This is the latest installment in Katherine Butler’s column, Shade Grown Hollywood, where celebrity becomes conscious. “Shade grown” refers literally to shade grown coffee, a farming method that “incorporates principles of natural ecology to promote natural ecological relationships.” Shade Grown is our sustainable twist on Hollywood.

Image: lsuchick142/Flickr

The post Shade Grown Hollywood: The Dark Side of Hollywood Babies appeared first on EcoSalon.

Rather than raise our voices, we girls at EcoSalon prefer to write about it, because if you need to scream, my guess is you aren’t so certain what you have to say is worth hearing.

And really, who wants to hear a grown woman roar?

In the past few months at EcoSalon, women have taken center stage with subjects ranging from brazen to, well, more brazen. If only we could change the world with our steadfast, unwavering commitment to talking about what matters.

Oh yeah, we are.

So what have we been discussing lately with regards to women? The question should be, what haven’t we?

We talked about getting older – why welcoming 30 and reaching for 40 with gusto is a reason to celebrate. Although with age comes the need to decide short versus long…hair, that is.

Is there ever a good time to talk about infertility? But we did. Then we tossed around the wild proposition that we don’t need a baby to feel happy and fulfilled. The horror! Which brings us to contraception and the dirty, sexy pill.

While we’re on the subject of sex, we want our cake, and to eat it too. I mean, why should we have to choose?

Speaking of choices, why are being pretty and smart mutually exclusive? We can have it all! Right?

Wrong. It’s time to face the cold, hard truth. Our fantasy lover is not showing up to sweep us off our feet, because he doesn’t exist. Reality checks can be so annoying.

And so is the office flirt who makes her way to the top using her sexy. But it seems she’ll pay the price once she gets there.

Sticks and stones – but names can be controversial. Gal, chick, girl, lady or ma’m? You decide.

And finally, it’s a relief to know that there are at least nine things we don’t need in order to be happy, and that after all this talk, a little silence and a good book can be a girl’s best friend.

Images: squacco, sleepishly, Vivian Chen, quinn.anya, Samdogs

The post Women’s Roundup, Hear Us Roar appeared first on EcoSalon.

Don’t accuse me of sacrilege by pushing babies as mere accoutrement, but I see so many adorable baby slings out there, who needs a pretty purse with a pet chihuahua?

In fact, I’m almost ready to ready myself (and my uterus) for one of my own just so I can pick out a cute baby carrier. Almost.

With all the hoopla about attachment parenting and the positive potential for better everything if you carry your baby in a sling – how could I resist? But seriously, holding your little warm and cuddly close to your heart does sound sort of sensational, does it not?

It makes perfect sense that mommas everywhere are wearing their babies up close and personal. The benefits of babywearing include baby crying less and learning more – because living at mom and dad’s eye-level can’t help but involve and stimulate a baby more than laying or sitting in a crib or stroller.

Mod Mum Sling (above) – fawn&forest, $54.

How many times have you leaned down to interact with a baby? And if you aren’t leaning down, what does said baby experience? That’s right, your legs and a whole lot of nothing else. Being in a baby sling engages a baby rather than leaving it lonely.

And yes, I’ve read about the recalls and all I can say is tragic and troubling but please don’t throw away a wonderful way of connecting and being present for your baby without serious thought.

I believe being present is the best way to prevent such accidents from occurring, so please, if you plan to wear your baby in a sling, pay attention and stay connected, which is really the point, isn’t it?

Okay, now let’s have some fun and pick out the perfect accoutrement for your most precious accoutrement.

Market Sling (above) – Serena & Lily, $129.

Maya Wrap Ring Sling (above left) – Maya Wrap, $65.95.

Hemp Baby Ring Sling (above right) – Pretty Momma Sling, $92.

Mod Mum Sling (above) – fawn&forest, $54.

If the sling thing isn’t for you, ERGObaby makes a slew of front-carrier options that achieve the same positive effects as the sling.

ERGObaby Organic Carrier (above) – ERGObaby, $120-$148.

Moby Organic Stretchy Wrap (above left) – Peppermint, $59.95.

Beco Gemini Carrier (above right) – Peppermint, $129.

Market Sling (above) – Serena & Lily, $129.

Whether you fancy a ring, pouch, sling, wrap or front carrier, attaching your precious cargo to your body, leaving your hands free and fully focused, is simply smart and very present parenting. Try it with care.

The post Baby Wearing: Do You Sling? appeared first on EcoSalon.

A for Apple, B is for Beluga, C is for Chullo. Pretty baby!

Parents on planet Hollywood and elsewhere are headed in that fruity, foamy and woolly direction in declaring devotion to Mama Earth via naming their young.

In the roaring Nineties, when real estate and dot comers were soaring, we saw a return to the Old Testament with the names Sarah, Jacob, Rachel and Eli in vogue.

“Eve and Adam, please leave the great room until Mommy is finished closing her Genentech deal.”

Now that resources are scarcer than ever, green is the rule for everything cool. Nature-bound moms and dads can reference all good things from fiber foods and soothing teas to fair trade crafts and endangered species in getting that family branding just right.

Here is an A-to-Z reference guide on the eco-friendliest labels for your bouncing baby Gore:

Acai (boy) Agate (girl)

Boho (boy) Bark (girl)

Corky (boy) Coral (girl)

Deepak (boy) Dibbler (girl)

Energy (boy) Etsy (girl)

Free (boy) Flax (girl)

Gore (boy) Glacier (girl)

Hemp (boy) Henna (girl)

Indri (boy) Ivory (girl)

Jungle (boy) Jute (girl)

Kale (boy) Kharma (girl)

Leonardo (boy) Laurie David (girl)

Marsh (boy) Mauritius (girl)

Nash (boy) Nectar (girl)

Otter (boy) Oolong (girl)

Prius (boy) Polar (girl)

Quince (boy) Quantum (girl)

Rooibos (boy) Rummage (girl)

Stevia (boy) Sprig (girl)

Tiger (boy) Teak (girl)

Urban (boy) Urial (girl)

Vegan (boy) VivaTerra (girl)

Wolf (boy) Watson (girl)

Xeri (boy, girl)

Yosemite (boy) Yurt (girl)

Zen (boy) Zona (girl)

*For catchy middle names with eco associations, we at EcoSalon suggest: Bradley, Sara, Amy, Heather, Scott, Vanessa, Barrington, Derby, Fitzsimmons, Leigha or Katherine.

Share with us what you have namestormed!

Each week here at EcoSalon, the editors choose a post from the archives that we think you’ll love. The original post can be found here.

Image: Will Foster

The post Name That Eco Baby! appeared first on EcoSalon.

Recently, an issue so-powerful-it-could-only-be-emailed was batted around the hallowed halls of EcoSalon. The issue was complex, kind of like asking 24-to-39-year-old women to name their favorite Jonas Brother. Sure, the middle one seems a bit cute, but is it really okay to have an opinion on the matter? And while we’re on the subject, could our own Stiv Wilson be dreamier while reporting on insanely important issues around the globe? Probably not, and let’s get back on target. (Seriously, people!)

Rather, the EcoSalonistas were debating another topic – and that was men having children past 50. As some of us saw it, people will go all monster judgey on women having kids over 40, but no one bats a fake eyelash over men doing the same. NBC’s 30 Rock is gravely exploring this topic as 50-year old Jack Donaghy has a baby with his younger girlfriend. He tells Liz Lemon, “50 is the new 40 for men. 50 is still 60 for women.” To quote the great Tina Fey via the great Liz Lemon, “Whatever, Tony Randall.”

Men often remarry or have children late. Aforementioned actor Tony Randall has his last child at age 78, while Charlie Chaplin had his last at age 73. Yet bring up a woman having children into her 40s and you’re going to hear some hooting and hollering on the matter. Recently, the bloggers over at Babble raised a spectacle on the web when they mocked a group of 30s-to-early-40s actresses who dared to risk aging out of their barren wombs. (The original article has since been taken down, but luckily our friends at Jezebel still have it cached.)

We responded by looking at the issue of fertility drugs for the plus 35 crowd o’ women. But what about the boys and men? Do men worry about older paternity? Or do they fantasize about changing dirty diapers alongside young girlfriends who look like Elizabeth Banks? We polled a few, prodded some others, and found the following.

PROS OF OLDER DADHOOD

“Derek” (names all changed for privacy aka “How many people are going to read this now?”) thinks older fatherhood enables more financial security and a better life for his kids. Stephanie’s husband is 16 years older, and she tells me that he’s very attentive, calmer and nurturing with their kids. And research backs this up, as “older dads are three times more willing and more likely to share in the daily child rearing tasks, including diaper changes, feeding the toddler, and putting the kids to bed.” Steve said he’s not ready to settle down anytime soon (Steve is 42) so it’s either older fatherhood or nothing. Probably nothing. Thank you, Steve.

CONS OF OLDER DADHOOD

Mike thinks older fatherhood means “more cash, less ass.” Quippy, and as Captain Obvious might point out, indicative of the fact that some people believe children cost money and can hinder your ability to sleep with women, sexually or otherwise. David says “having less energy” and “uh, DYING” as a con of being an older father. And Mitchell told me that he doesn’t want to be mistaken for his kid’s granddad.

Image: Courtesy of NBC

The post When Are Men Too Old for a Baby? appeared first on EcoSalon.

The saying “there’s an app for everything” has become part of our cultural vernacular, and while some apps serve great purposes and provide handy information, the one I’m referring to in this post should have never been created, as it reduces parenting to dismissive gadgetry. Sadly, now you can use your iPhone to monitor your baby’s “cry-it-out” sessions. Adding insult to injury (such as the possible ensuing brain damage that the cry-it-out method may cause a child), the app bears the blasé title: “Ciao Baby.” How can any parent think it’s okay to give their baby the kiss off in such an insensitive manner?

In case you’re not familiar with what letting a baby “cry-it-out” means, it is a sleep-training concept that was introduced by pediatrician Richard Ferber, in which babies between four to six months old must learn to self-soothe in order to fall asleep. This often takes hours upon hours of screaming, crying and hysteria that sometimes culminates in vomiting and convulsions and may affect a child’s psyche by producing “lifelong emotional scars” and abandonment issues.

And “Ciao Baby” can help you achieve all of the above! Since the CIO method means that parents must put their baby in their crib awake, and then periodically check back in on them after certain increments of time, patting their back but not picking them up or – god forbid cuddling or holding them, the Ciao Baby app times and logs a baby’s outbursts and keeps track of the “time until next settle.” Wow.

Renown pediatrician Dr. Sears advises against letting a baby cry-it-out, imploring parents to “consider baby’s cry as signaling a need – communication rather than manipulation.” For those of you reading this who think their babies only had to cry-it-out for a week before getting the picture, Dr. Sears suggests that they simply became apathetic, they didn’t learn what you were trying to teach them. What a great first lesson to teach a child about life: fight for your needs, and then give up, knowing the one person who is supposed to care for you has turned his or her back on you.

I am certain that there are many parents out there who would staunchly support the CIO method, and have successfully and guiltlessly let their babies “cry-it-out,” achieving the end result of a baby who slept through the night at any early age and is perfectly well-adjusted. But as an advocate of attachment parenting, I deplore this practice with every fiber of my being. It is fundamentally wrong and unnatural to let your child suffer in order to achieve a convenient end for yourself. I’ve known parents who have shut their baby away in their crib so they could enjoy a movie, dinner or a glass of wine in the other room “in peace,” yet their child is screaming bloody murder within earshot and they are unfazed. And if you aren’t hard-wired to respond to your child when he is in need, why bother having a child in the first place?

Proponents (parents who use) the CIO method will argue that if it’s practiced responsibly and done correctly, that letting your baby wail their lungs out and go ignored is perfectly fine. But these are just excuses to make a parent feel better about not tending to their child’s primal need to be held and comforted. Or, these excuses resemble regurgitated theories from doctors and books that parents advise for information as they stray away from what feels right for them instinctively.

What would the world become if we simply said “ciao” to those in need and timed their cries for help on our iPhones? I shudder to think anyone is buying this app to help them better monitor their neglect.

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