By the time I left the hospital, baby Sylvie had bit my nipple and swallowed part of it. It was bleeding and raw. We both had yeast infections, which my doctor didn’t treat so the pain grew more and more intense. Not only was I angry at my doctor for not knowing anything about breastfeeding, angry at the hospital lactation consultant for pushing her social agenda of “keep breastfeeding no matter what,” but I was also angry at my girlfriends who never told me how difficult and painful it was. I was terrified of my sweet little baby every time she had to eat. So instead of being happy and elated, I felt angry, stupid, scared and alone. Great.. But I was not giving up!

After breast infections, house calls from the amazing boob doctor Dr. Mona Gabbay and the illustrious Susan Berger, emailing photographs of my breasts to them both, weekly breastfeeding support group meetings at Real Birth, begging and paying our post-partum doula Tara Brooke to sleep over, having my dear husband latch Sylvie onto me (which was like waiting for the perfect wave), banning my unsupportive mother from coming over for weeks, and even pumping for two weeks to get of the mental hang-ups I had created, at exactly eight weeks and one day, it stopped hurting. And we got into a rhythm. And no formula! I won! But don’t get me wrong—this was my Olympic Event and no one else’s.

I learned that women don’t tell their pregnant friends how hard it is because they don’t want them to stop trying, give up or be scared. It’s like a gang initiation rite. I now give the Sears “Breastfeeding Book” at any and all baby showers. New moms look at it with an “oh….” and soon-to-be grandmothers look at it equally suspiciously, hoping for cute Baby Gap outfits. But a month after the babies are born, they’re all grateful!

I was so adamant about nursing my newborn and never having formula touch her lips that I told my husband that, should I be unconscious or writhing in pain, if he so much as hinted to a doctor or nurse that they could give our baby a bottle, I would harm him and then the entire hospital staff. This alone was reason enough to hire a doula, but my husband couldn’t understand why I didn’t trust him to honor my wishes. So instead, I taped little signs in her plastic baby warmer shoe box thingy that said “100% BREASTFED. NO FORMULA.” The store The Upper Breast Side actually had little index cards for that purpose.

At any point, you can say that this behavior is crazy. After four days in NYU Medical Center, I know the system. And they’re actually pretty good about the whole nursing thing, or at least wanting the new moms to nurse. My husband may opt for a doula next time around because I was pretty rough around the edges and the birth contract I drew up to review with my doctor, in hindsight, may have been a little crazy.

Long story longer, this is about breastfeeding, not about my birth. But I ended up having to have a C-section and in the haze of the post-op recovery room (which was literally a storage closet) I yelled and demanded my baby so I could nurse her for the first time. I had no idea what I was doing. Even though I had watched a breastfeeding video at Real Birth, and the most brilliant lactation consultant ever, Susan Burger, had drawn me diagrams of proper latching, which I brought to the hospital, I knew nothing.

Nursing killed. I thought of “American Psycho” and “24.” I was supposed to be thinking lovey-dovey things, but I was so freaked out, confused and hormonal, I had no idea if I was doing it right. The nurses couldn’t help—they all told me different things. I needed one clear voice, but realize now that the whole business of lactation support and instruction is a complicated soup of medical, cultural, social and personal issues.

I had to make it through that first night alone until the lactation consultant at the hospital could visit me the following day. However, even though she insisted I attend her support group, my legs were numb and I couldn’t walk for 2 days. So instead, I ate microwaveable Annie’s Mac’N’Cheese in bed and continued schooling myself in breastfeeding.

-Audra Hughes

In a very busy mommy world, it is easy to feel less than perfect, lost, or just “out of balance”. In particular for women, who do so much for those we love, work with, or feel obligated to, that we often forget to replenish our “wells.” Without sufficient replenishing we soon deplete ourselves of the essential elements that we need to function as “happy campers” and our “nasty evil twin” begins to rear its ugly head! Depleting ourselves can happen so unconsciously that one may not even recognize the signs until it has stripped away the vibrant person who we used to be and left behind a tired, dissatisfied, numb or angry version of our old self.

For those of you who need to add just a drop more fun and time for self-care or for those of you who need to be pulled, pushed and dragged out of the quicksand that your busy life has created, KIWI’s new Seeking Balance blogs are here for you!

Much wisdom can be gained by sharing your own challenges and success in the journey to live life fully with passion and balance, while maintaining an awareness on raising our families with an eye towards a cleaner environment and a healthy, natural lifestyle. Actively making time to feed your spirt is paramount!

The following starter kit of ideas can be considered little mini life jackets to use as you seek to obtain the balance that brings inner peace, glow and spark back into your life.

Give up perfection.

Find time to exercise.

Replace negative “self talk” with positive affirmations.

Stop apologizing for your feelings.

Do something fun that you used to enjoy.

Make a date with yourself to hear yourself think.

Don’t sacrifice your dreams.

-June Grushka-Rosen M.Ed. is a mommy of two, psychotherapist, and the owner of ExtraordinarYou, a life coaching and educational services business. To contact: June@URextraordinary.com

I had the benefit of working from home during my pregnancy.

Since I had only two pregnant friends ever, when I became pregnant I dove into research, becoming obsessed with things that had no prior relevance to me. My neighbor was an infant massage and prenatal yoga teacher so I devoured all of her books. I read everything, including out-of-print hippy-dippy books like the Wise Woman books, “Spiritual Midwifery” and “Our Babies Ourselves,” and the bestsellers with some good fiction (“Midwives”), and comedy (Jenny McCarthy’s “Belly Laughs”). I could talk the talk. By the time my husband Michael and I began our baby classes, I could have taught them! One thing was certain: I did not trust the medical community and I was obsessed with both breastfeeding and immunization policy. Unfortunately, the Sears “Breastfeeding Book” came along after my pregnancy, I can now recite it by chapter. If my next kid is a boy, his middle name may be Sears.

I have a hard time not being so forthright about nursing and pushing my social agenda because it’s consumed my life for the past two years. I could have an associate’s degree in breastfeeding at this point. I realize that ultimately and most importantly, a woman has a right to choose whether or not she wants to nurse. Some women physically cannot nurse (or have surrogates or adopt) and certain occupations make it very difficult to continue, so I try to be very respectful. But sometimes I’m not. (Sorry!)

-Audra Hughes

Celebrate National S’Mores Day With a better-for-you S’Mores Recipe

1. Gather your ingredients: graham crackers, chocolate and marshmallows.

2. With an adult’s help, put marshmallows on a stick and toast over a campfire or grill. If it’s raining, try melting them in themicrowave!

3. Place the melty marshmallow on a graham cracker, add a square of chocolate, then top with another graham cracker to make a sandwich. Enjoy—the messier, the better!

As parents and kids prepare for the beginning of another school year, it is a time of excitement and anxiety. For the more than 3 million kids with food allergies — and their parents — the back-to-school anxiety is particularly palpable. Understandable, considering that 1 in 5 children will have an allergic reaction while in school (Arch Pediatr Adolesc Med 2001: 155: 790-795). What is a regular day for most kids is fraught with danger for children with food allergies. If the peanut-allergic child sits next to a child eating PB&J or the egg-allergic child eats the birthday cupcake brought in by a classmate, the results could be fatal.

Parents worry: Will the teachers remember my child’s specific food allergy? Will the Epi-Pen® be accessible on the playground or on a field trip? What if substitute teachers cover lunch time and will they be prepared to manage an allergic reaction? The reality is they just don’t know…and that’s not good enough.

I know these fears all too well. My son is severely allergic to peanuts and tree nuts. A couple years ago, before his first day at preschool, I met with the teachers and school director, discussed his allergies, signs and symptoms of an allergic reaction and how a reaction should be managed. Two weeks into school, I walked him into class only to overhear the teacher tell another parent that the children would be making trail mix that day. I was astounded, as were the parents of the other two nut-allergic children in the class. At best, the children would have experienced hives and vomiting… at worst, anaphylaxis and death. And the questions followed: How can I make sure the people around my son are constantly alerted to his allergies? And, if there is an emergency, how can I ensure that they will know what to do?

The anxiety is shared by teachers, coaches, babysitters and others who care for allergic kids. They worry too: How will I remember each child’s specific allergies? How will I know if a child is having an allergic reaction? Will I be able to respond appropriately?

To keep your child safer this school year:

1. Clearly identify your child by his/her specific food allergies

2. Clearly label his belongings—lunch bag, backpack—with allergy alerts to prevent exposure

3. Make safe foods available for your child

4. Keep emergency medication available and accessible at all times; make sure that whoever is with your child is prepared to manage a life-threatening emergency

Communication is key… your child’s life could depend on it! Label your child’s lunch bag with his allergies to alert teachers and cafeteria staff. Get a kid-friendly allergy alert wristband that your child will actually wear. Provide the school with safe snacks for your child. Make sure that emergency medication and information is accessible at all times while your child is in school. By alerting others to your child’s allergies, making safe food available and having emergency measures in place, you can minimize the risk of an allergic reaction and maximize the chances of an effective response if one does occur.

Best wishes for a safe and successful school year!

–Robin Davison, MPH, JD, Founder of STAT kids, LLC (www.statkids.com)

My daughter Sylvie just turned two. For the past year, I’ve been trying to wean her, and guess what: I am failing. I am not in control.

This morning, my fearless toddler leaped out of her crib sideways as if jumping into a wave, all in an effort to coax me into the glider chair that has become my straight jacket. If I try to do anything else, she has a meltdown. What would happen if I got rid of the chair or put it in the family room so my husband could glide, drink beer and watch hockey? Well, we all know what would happen. I’d be sitting on the floor of Sylvie’s room while she wrangles my bra exclaiming “BOOBIE, BOOBIE, BOOBIE!”

So for a moment, I relax, and melt into her moody blue eyes that give me a special flirtatious wink, reserved only for me. A few minutes go by, I fall back into my morning panic, peek at the dog who is desperate to go outside and imagine the boob job I’m going to need in a few years.

I experience a hundred different emotions on a daily basis about breastfeeding. It consumes me. I have my highs and lows. Some days I feel empowered and loving, while other days I feel resentful and guilty. To be a Type-A control freak who is controlled by a baby comes with its own set of issues.

Hello, and welcome to The Boob Chronicles.

-Audra Hughes