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	<title>WIRL Project &#187; Girls</title>
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	<link>http://www.wirlproject.com</link>
	<description>What It&#039;s Really Like.</description>
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		<title>Let Kids Be Kids!!!</title>
		<link>http://www.wirlproject.com/let-kids-be-kids/</link>
		<comments>http://www.wirlproject.com/let-kids-be-kids/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 31 Jul 2015 09:00:03 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Ashley]]></dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Family]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Life/Leisure]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Love/Relationships]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Style/Beauty]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Bruise]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Bullying]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Children]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Dirt]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Dirty]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[explore]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[get dirty]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Girls]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[kids]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[let kids be kids]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Little Girl]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Mean]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Motherhood]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[parenting]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Playing]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Playing Outside]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Sweat]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.wirlproject.com/?p=6256</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[If you can, think back to your younger years, maybe when you were grade school age, or even younger if you can. What were you like? Did you have fears and worries and doubts or anxiety?? Kids can be cruel. Let&#8217;s face it, adults can be cruel too. The world isn&#8217;t by any means a perfect place, it&#8217;s far from it. But as a parent, you want to try to instill good morals and selflessness and sensitivity. You want your child to be kind to others, to not make fun of another kid because of their clothes, toys, or choices even. Often times we hear about kids getting bullied in school or kids committing suicide because they had no friends, nobody who understood them or cared enough to try to get to know them. It&#8217;s sad! I have an almost 3 year old daughter and she loves princesses, but she also loves getting dirty, and sweaty and running around covered in filth and food. She almost always has stains on her clothes because she likes to get into things, she likes to &#8216;help&#8217; her daddy fix things (which usually ends up with her covered in cuts, scrapes, and bruises). And you know what?! I&#8217;m fine with that. I&#8217;m okay with the way she is. She&#8217;s happy, outgoing, lovable, kind-hearted, sweet, selfless, hysterical, and most of all&#8230;she&#8217;s my daughter. &#8230;she likes to &#8216;help&#8217; her daddy fix things (which usually ends up with her covered in cuts, scrapes, and bruises). And you know what?! I&#8217;m fine with that. I&#8217;m okay with the way she is. Normally when we take her places, within 5 minutes she is covered in sweat, her face is beat red, and her clothes are barely hanging onto her body. She&#8217;s amazing and adventurous! I love the life in her eyes and the gentleness of her soul. To me, she&#8217;s perfect. But there are still those people that make comments. I have had people refer to her as a &#8216;hobo&#8217; because of how she&#8217;s dressed. They&#8217;ve said she looks like she belongs &#8216;in a trailer park&#8217; because she was outside, in just a diaper, and someone told her she was a &#8216;hot mess&#8217; because she was sweaty and wearing raggedy, dirty play clothes from Wal-Mart that were covered in food of some sort! In what world do people think it&#8217;s alright to speak to a not even 3 year old like that, let alone a little girl?! Self esteem can be broken so easily. It really angers me and even breaks my heart to know that one day I&#8217;m going to have to answer some pretty tough questions from her and I pray to God that I can be strong enough to be honest with her and at the same time sensitive to the subject at hand. I pray that we will raise her right and she will be strong enough on her own to stand on her own two feet and know that people sometimes say hurtful things that aren&#8217;t true. They&#8217;ve said she looks like she belongs &#8216;in a trailer park&#8217; because she was outside, in just a diaper, and someone told her she was a &#8216;hot mess&#8217; because she was sweaty and wearing raggedy, dirty play clothes from Wal-Mart&#8230; I, of course, do not know what the future holds, but I pray for the future of ALL of our children. That they be kind and wise in their words and actions and that their parents teach them the difference between right and wrong. And parents, even though a child may not fit into your perfect mold that you have set, please also be kind with your words and actions and consider that child&#8217;s feelings before saying such hurtful things. Just let kids be kids!! It&#8217;s okay!!]]></description>
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		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Twin Life: What It&#8217;s Really Like</title>
		<link>http://www.wirlproject.com/twin-life-what-its-really-like/</link>
		<comments>http://www.wirlproject.com/twin-life-what-its-really-like/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 03 Jun 2015 21:00:00 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Guest WIRL]]></dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Family]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[WIRL Challenge]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Birth]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Girls]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[nausea]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Nursing]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Pregnancy]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Sisters]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[that twin life]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Twins]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[WIRL Twin]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.wirlproject.com/?p=6711</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[My toddler and I had a great thing going. We napped when we wanted (yes, we). We came and went as we pleased. I had a kid-friendly, work-from-anywhere business that I could do with him in tow. 18 plane rides by the time he was 2, and monthly 4ish hour car rides to see mom and family in DC – he was used to being on the go. We had fun. We loved the non-stop adventure. Thankfully, my husband was pretty understanding. We did it with relative ease. And then, I hit the jackpot with a twin pregnancy. They tell you it’s going to be hard. Who, you ask. Everyone. Parents of twins, doctors, family, friends, random strangers at the grocery store. Guess what, it is. All of it. The pregnancy, the delivery, the breastfeeding, the sleepless nights, the napless days, the general speedy blur of the first year. Now, I’m not downplaying a singleton pregnancy, delivery or home-life. (By the way, singleton is a word I never thought I’d be using. Ever.) It’s not easy. Every parent knows that. But I’ll put it to you this way – almost every person that found out I was having twins asked one question, “Do you have help?” My response was usually a casual, “yea, mom and in-laws will be in town for the first few weeks.. we’ll figure it out after that.” Okay people, I get it now. I totally and completely get it.  They tell you it’s going to be hard. Who, you ask. Everyone. Parents of twins, doctors, family, friends, random strangers at the grocery store. Guess what, it is. All of it. Help would have been really nice as early as the first trimester. How is it that most people feel the absolute worst before most people even know they&#8217;re pregnant? The nausea. Completely debilitating for 3 months straight. Having nausea so bad you feel like you’ll pass out at any moment. To move from bed or even think about food was virtually impossible. ‘Double the nausea’ – and they’re not kidding. Trying to keep an extremely energetic toddler alive and entertained, survive myself, and eat to nurture two energy-sucking blessings that had yet to enter the world.. probably the most difficult task of the century. At least, up until that point. Sex. Who&#8217;s having sex? By the time you feel like you won’t vomit at the thought of movement, you feel bigger than a house. That’s right, a house. (My poor husband.) But get this, you feel like a house only for the mere fact that your belly is growing at twice the speed of a normal pregnancy. You’re not a house. Yet. Yup, just when you think you can’t get bigger, you do. I remember this from my first pregnancy – but it is to the 50th power in a multiples pregnancy. I marvel at the fact that the human body can expand, shift and retract that way it does. Sex. Who&#8217;s having sex? By the time you feel like you won’t vomit at the thought of movement, you feel bigger than a house. That’s right, a house. Which brings me to labor and delivery. I had a cesarean with my first. That’s a story all in itself. To be brief, I was all gung-ho about a natural and intervention free delivery. 22 hours of natural labor, a baby that was not cooperating with his position, and I ended up with every intervention possible. Not at all my dream delivery. So, fast-forward 3 years a month and a day, and we&#8217;re ready to bring the girls into the world. My dream delivery, a VBAC. I had an amazing doctor who was known as the ‘if anyone will let you attempt that, she’ll be it’ doctor. She had the experience and the willingness to take risks other doctors would not take. But that being said, she was also known as the ‘that doctor saved my life’ doctor. So, she was really really good. I had to be induced at 37 weeks. Strike one. (The fear that lingers after a previous cesarean delivery is hard to deal with. And the fear is often what takes us right back to where we don’t want to go. I did a lot of praying. And He did deliver.) The girls were doing great, but I wasn’t progressing as fast as the doctors like to see. Water (one) was broken. (Yes, one. Remember, there are two in there. Twice the everything.) Contractions unbearable. Epidural. Strike two. Once we got to the point of pushing, it seemed to take forever. They tell you the epidural doesn’t help with the very end. But my gosh, I swear they turned that thing down because it was hard. All of it. Vaginal delivery is no easy feat. Even with an epidural. Abigail was born healthy and thriving. Miracle number one for the day. There is something to be said about ‘delivering’ your child. It was very different for me than the cesarean. I had my moment. Then, crap, there’s still another baby that needs to come out. Ultrasound to check positioning. Crap, she’s breach. Strike three. Attempts to flip her were unsuccessful. Strike four. I had to sit and not push for 45 minutes. That was even harder than pushing was. That is, until I had to push out a Frank Breach baby. That’s right, butt first. I’m still in awe at the fact that my doctor even attempted this. But we were both determined to get that baby out without a cesarean. We did. It was merely impossible. With shear determination, the grace of God, and a lot of encouragement from a supportive husband and doctors, we did it. Selah only needed a little bit of oxygen to be safe – but not at all like your typical &#8216;less than thriving&#8217; breach baby. A true miracle. Another testament to the wonder of what the body is capable of, pushing out a butt-first baby. And I even got to delay cord clamping for both of them. Amazing I tell ya. There is something to be said about ‘delivering’ your child. It was very different for me than the cesarean. I had my moment. Then, crap, there’s still another baby that needs to come out. Feeding and breastfeeding, the first month. Pumping, there was a lot of pumping going on. Pumping and breastfeeding and feeding. It seemed like it never ended. I was determined to have enough milk for twins and to not give formula. I had no idea it would be so much work. But we plugged along. There was no ‘oh I’ll just pump and have mom or Ben (husband) feed them when they wake. And I can continue sleeping.&#8217; That’s not possible. Why? Because I would have to pump again while they were feeding them with the bottle I pumped earlier. They were gassy. They cried. They wanted to be close to me. To be held. By me, by anybody. They wanted to be close to each other. There were many nights I only got one full hour of sleep. And that was ‘with&#8217; help most nights for that first month. I was determined to have enough milk for twins and to not give formula. I had no idea it would be so much work. There’s so much more to tell. But for the sake of keeping this from being a novel, I’ll close with this. Chaos ensues. And then, we up and moved to Switzerland. Crazy? Yes. And the blessed chaos continues on the other side of the Atlantic.  &#160; Join the conversation! Easily contribute your story here. &#160; About the Author… This WIRL was contributed by Kimberly Whitfield. Kimberly can be found via Email or Instagram.  &#160;]]></description>
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		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Apparently My &#8220;Girls&#8221; Just Want To Have Fun</title>
		<link>http://www.wirlproject.com/apparently-my-girls-just-want-to-have-fun/</link>
		<comments>http://www.wirlproject.com/apparently-my-girls-just-want-to-have-fun/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 05 Mar 2015 20:00:23 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Sara Brennan]]></dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Family]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Baby]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Breastfeeding]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Breastmilk]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Girls]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Mastitis]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Mom]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Motherhood]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Pumping]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.wirlproject.com/?p=3793</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Until I had a baby, my boobs were fun! They gave me curves, looked great in my tops/dresses/swimsuits and they probably enjoyed resting nicely in pretty bras from stores like Victoria’s Secret. But, when I needed them most, when they actually had to be put to use; they were worthless! I prepared for this, I swear I did; I read all the books on breastfeeding, even attended a class on it. I knew all the positions and techniques, but I still struggled. My baby had a great latch, we talked with several lactation consultants in the hospital and I went home feeling rather confident about my abilities to breastfeed. But then, it all changed! I quickly found out that when it came time to put my “girls” to work, they just weren’t having it. About a week after coming home from the hospital, I started to feel pain, burning and I even saw blood when I nursed; these were things I’d never read or learned about in my books and classes. I am bull headed in some ways, so I was not going to let a little pain get in my way; finding a way to get my son the breast milk was my number one priority, primarily because of the health benefits. My struggle started with the burning I felt during my “letdown”. This was also rather shocking to me because even though I was fairly educated on the topic, I was not prepared for this. When my body would make milk, it would actually burn and tingle in my boobs really badly (not fun), usually followed by a nice flow of milk that soaked my shirt. You would think this would be a good sign, but it would happen at the most inopportune times; like when Mason would start crying in a store, or if  I saw a cute baby on TV; hormones are amazing things and they’r really revved up at this time I guess. I called my lactation consultants (who were now on speed dial) and they said it was pretty normal. I guess my body produced too much milk and this was a side effect of doing so. Go figure, I would produce “too much” milk…some women can’t make enough, but oh no, not me! &#160; So I got used to the letdown pain (and took care of the leakage by wearing breast pads in my bras), but a week or so later I started to notice other pain along with having the chills. I had a fever and my boobs were HOT (not the sexy hot) and painful. After a trip to the OB I found out that I had mastitis, which is a bacterial infection of the breast tissue, typically caused from breastfeeding. Great! I was put on an antibiotic and told to put ice packs on my breasts (it actually did feel great!) and I did start to feel much better. My husband actually did some research and found that you’re supposed to put cabbage leaves on your breasts to help ease the pain…I did this, but it was very strange and I can’t say it really helped at all. My next hurdle was cracked nipples, they pretty much split right down the middle, were very sore and bled very badly. It got to be so bad that one time Mason spit up (he spit up a lot) and it was the color of Pepto Bismal! (WHAT?!) I rushed him to the doctors office and they said the blood was coming from me, not him. So, I aggressively applied Lanolin after each nursing session and we kept going. About two weeks after this was when I hit rock bottom, every time Mason would latch on I would feel as though a hundred needles were being pushed through my nipple. The pain continued to get worse, and things like wearing a bra or standing in the shower…forget it! Anytime my nipples touched anything I was in pain, to the point that tears would roll down my face as I nursed my hungry baby. I learned that this was the result of a yeast infection on my breasts. There were no signs and the only symptom was some redness and the obvious pain. So I put anti fungal cream on my boobs (yep, the same stuff you put on athletes foot…gross!!!!), took another prescription and kept plugging away. Then the whole yeast/thrush thing happened again about a week later and I broke down. I felt like such a failure! In the old days, mom’s didn’t have a choice, they had to push through it if they wanted their baby to eat. I kept saying to myself, if this was 500 years ago, would I just let my baby go hungry? Was I weak? What was so wrong with me that I could not do something so natural as breastfeeding my baby?!? But I was not going to give up, that’s just not what I do! So, I my Medela Breast Pump became my new best friend (or enemy). At first I pumped just a few times per day and tried to let him latch on for the other feedings and this worked for a while, but it was still painful to let him nurse. So I started exclusive pumping and my pain eventually went away. I decided that the whole breastfeeding just wasn’t going to work for me, but as long as my baby was getting breast milk, it didn’t really matter how he was getting it. It turns out that my journey is not uncommon and women go through these things all the time, but the books and classes don’t do a good job of explaining it. These said books and classes actually make you feel terrible about NOT breastfeeding or choosing to stop. Everyone is different and I wanted to keep going, I really did, but I just couldn’t. And why put myself through all that pain when there was another way. I was fed formula pretty much from day one and I’m fine! There’s no shame in making the choice to stop breastfeeding, especially when it was affecting my quality of life so much. I ended up exclusively pumping (about 6-8 times per day and through the night) until Mason turned 6 months old – watch for a post on this soon from Lauren. And just as Lauren wrote about a couple weeks ago, you will feel Mom Guilt for everything. I felt so guilty when I decided that I was going to stop pumping and give my baby formula, but to be honest, Mason thrived once I gave him formula. He grew so much and was so much happier (we both were). I no longer had to haul my pump with my to the mall and sit in Nordstrom’s (fancy) bathroom and pump, just so I could get out of the house for a few hours (its the little victories in life)! I wanted to write this post to let other moms out there know that it’s alright to call lactation consultants or your doctor if you are having trouble; its actually a great idea, even if things are going well! It’s alright to pump and it’s even alright to “give up” if that’s what works best for you and your baby. I would have never thought Mason would be happier on formula, but he was! So don’t beat yourself up about things like this, I know how you feel and being an exclusive pumper deserves some king of award (I think). So keep on keeping on with whatever works for you and stand by the fact that you’re doing the best that you can! And if your “girls” aren’t happy when you put them to work, fine. Let them “go back to normal” again and have fun! This WIRL was actually a blog post from my last venture as a mommy blogger. *The featured image came from: http://blogs.theprovince.com/2013/10/20/the-breast-is-yet-to-come/]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>4</slash:comments>
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