Thanksgiving Weekend

Well, here in Spain, Thanksgiving obviously isn’t a big deal.  I have tried to keep up the tradition of celebrating it, though, anyway.

In the past I have made more of a Thanksgiving dinner, with lots of other side dishes.  The first years I tried, it was difficult to find a turkey this time of year.  They don’t sell frozen turkeys at the supermarkets, so we went to a few butcher shops looking for a turkey.  You would have thought, by the way they looked at us, that we had asked them for dog meat.  I guess turkey isn’t very popular unless it is for Christmas dinner.  Eventually, Mauri’s mom ordered one for us from her butcher each year, and I would make Thanksgiving dinner- at night, after work- for all of the family and a few friends.  Last year, though, with Eric so little, I didn’t take the time to make Thanksgiving dinner.

This year, though, I wanted Eric to be able to celebrate it, but didn’t want all of the work of the full-blown Thanksgiving meal, so I decided I would make a mini Thanksgiving dinner.  I bought turkey drumsticks, which are easily found in the supermarkets this time of year, and made them along with mashed potatoes, gravy, cranberry sauce and pumpkin Cheesecake pie.  Eric did try some of it, and ate a couple of bites of mashed potatoes; what he liked best, though (surprise, surprise), was the pumpkin pie.

I was actually feeling pretty on thanksgiving, which was a bit of a surprise after the way I felt the day before.  I had woken up to my back being out of alignment, and the whole left side of my upper back was hurting.  I could barely move, and was very thankful that Mauri had had the day off because of the storm, so he was able to help me out with Eric.  I was going to take some ibuprofen and wait it out, but at one point it was hurting me so much that I could barely breathe.  So, we decided that it might be best for me to go to the ER to see what they could do for me there.

I always have my doubts when I head to the ER, and usually wait until I have no other choice, but I was desperate for whatever help I might get, so I headed on over.  Due to the bad weather, there weren’t as many people as there usually are waiting in the ER, but, for some reason, even though there were only two other people ahead of me, it took quite awhile for my turn to go see the doctor.  Last time I went, I had the beginning of mastitis, and the doctor told me, in contrast with all other information I had read beforehand, that I should stop breastfeeding until it went away.  (Most places recommend breastfeeding as much as possible to help cure it more quickly).  This time wasn’t much different.  The doctor had wanted to give me a muscle relaxant, but seemed very surprised when he heard I was still breastfeeding.

“Isn’t he a bit old for that?”  The doctor asked me as he looked at Eric.  “How old is he?”

I explained that he had just turned 14 months old, and that it was recommended to breastfeed until at least age two, if possible, and/or for as long as baby and mother want to continue. 

“Who recommends that?” 

“The World Health Organization,” I responded a bit annoyed, and in disbelief that I was having to defend myself to a doctor that should be promoting breastfeeding and not criticizing it.  As Eric gets older, I’ve already gotten “the look” from many people who have heard that Eric is still breastfeeding.  (“You know at his age he needs other foods”).  I guess people think I’m stupid and am exclusively breastfeeding my baby, who happens to love to eat all sorts of foods.  I try not to even bring up the topic, but other people talk about it or ask.  I haven’t breastfed outside of the house in public for many months, either, which helps to avoid some of the stares and comments, but I guess it can’t be completely avoided.

Eric never wanted to use a pacifier, much to the dismay of Maite who wanted to buy him pacifiers with his name on them. So, apart from it being a source of nutrition for him, he has also used breastfeeding as a way of comforting himself.  I enjoy the closeness too, and think that as long as he wants to continue with it, so do I.  I see no reason to make him stop, especially when breastfeeding helps keep his defenses up, and is beneficial to both of us health-wise.  It’s frustrating to think that it will only get harder as Eric gets older to deal with the people who don’t understand it, and I don’t really have a plan about when I should stop.  It just doesn’t make any sense to wean him now, though.

Anyway, the doctor informed me that if I’m breastfeeding, I can’t really take any meds, and that all I could take was 1g of paracetamol (US= acetaminophen (aka Tylenol)), after and not before breastfeeding; and that I should supplement it with warm compresses, and a pain relieving cream.  I made a comment about how the Denia Hospital has a website with many medications that breastfeeding mothers can use (that doctors and mothers from all over Spain consult when needed), but the doctor didn’t seem to catch the hint.

So, I wasted the morning waiting in the ER only to feel judged by a doctor and to come back with a prescription for a high dose of Tylenol, wishing I had just taken my ibuprofen this morning.  So, we went out for coffee, and I did some online research on my cell phone’s internet connection to find a muscle relaxant that breastfeeding mothers could take.  I found a mild one, that was low risk for breastfeeding mothers, and we went to the pharmacy to get it.  It turns out that luckily it was also the only one that is available without a prescription.

As the day went on, my back felt a little bit better, and I ended up only having to take the muscle relaxant twice, and it helped me get by the worse part of the back pain.  The next day I didn’t take any meds, and as the day went by, it got much better.

In hindsight, I wish I had listened to my instincts and had never gone to the ER.  My experience with the lottery of doctors there just hasn’t been very good lately.  Oh well.

On Friday I went to the Escoleta with Eric.  I ended up not leaving him there because he has been pretty clingy lately and kept crying every time I stepped away from him.  I think it has to do with the fact that he’s starting to get more teeth in again; it looks like several of his lateral incisors are starting to try to push through.  He worked on a Christmas project there, using his handprint to make a Santa Claus, and used a crayon to color the hat in all by himself.  As soon as it is finished, I will post his work of art here, of course.

As for walking, at home he has been letting go and taking steps by himself more and more often, but he still prefers pulling himself around on the floor.  It’s fun to see him taking his first steps, but I am in no hurry for him to be running around because he’s already too quick for me sometimes!!