On Being Fed: A Reflection on Mass and Mealtime at the Monastery -- with Ms. Marguerite!

It had been a while. A month at least, since I had stepped foot in the Visitation Sister's North Minneapolis Monastery. And goodness how my bones were missing the place! (While I have the privilege of writing and posting blogs for the sisters from my perch in St. Paul, it's not daily that I have the good fortune to spend time on the ground floor with these beloved women. This last month was a special exception, too -- for not being explicitly, physically present with my Northside crew -- as I had been blessedly holed up with my newborn daughter, Ms. Marguerite Marie Kiemde. Suffice it to say, our eventual visit to the Monastery last Tuesday evening was a special, sacred time re-connecting with my dear spiritual sister clan, and introducing Baby Maggie to the nuns.

In reflecting on the experience of taking my new little girl to meet the sisters for the first time, I back up and find myself asking:
What does a visit to the Northside Monastery entail?
What does my daughter glean from such an encounter?
What good energy eeks out and over and upon a child in this environment?
Who does she meet?
What gets discussed?
What does she learn?
How might she be changed?

And it occurs to me:

These are questions I could pose for any woman or man coming to the monastery for the first time!

As I work to compose this reflection, I note that what Maggie Kiemde encounters and is nurtured by, might be similar for those visiting and possibly discerning further alliance or membership with the blessed Salesian order.

On this particular evening, there was an intimate gathering of people for mass and the following dinner meal. Besides the sisters, my husband François, baby Maggie, and myself, we had one other lay visitor and our dear priest. Brendan was an Americorp volunteer, originally hailing from the East Coast, and returning to the monastery for mass and nourishment - having found the Salesian charism a welcome space for him in his Minnesota tenure. As a graduate from a De LaSalle institute, he felt at home in the monastery. I shook his hand and felt instantly like I'd known him for years. (He physically resembled another friend completing his Masters in Divinity out East.) Fr. Jim Radde, our Jesuit presider, as an old friend newly acquainted with my husband, was warm and deeply contemplative as he said mass, inviting us as usual into a spiritual space piercing both my heart and mind. ("What does it mean to really love yourself? How do fear and self-doubt impair our abilities?")

With our daughter Marguerite calm and resting in her baby carrier, I found myself at peace in the Fremont Avenue Monastery living room. In this chapel space, with these women, and in this configuration of blessed humans listening and reflecting together on scripture, I was at home. I took inventory of my bones, my limbs, noted my breathing, and exhaled realizing how much I crave this kind of experience, this community.

Our evening flowed from a mass with communal reflection time and space -- where each was invited to give voice to his or her prayerful thoughts, questions, hopes-- to a dining experience complete with charged, inspiring conversation.

Over a blessed meal at the table in the sisters' dining room, I heard from Sr. Mary Frances about a latest leadership initiative involving Northside community members. I took note as Fr. Radde, S.J. challenged Brendan about his peaceful communication practices as the young man prepares for employment with Pax Christi International in Belgium. I chimed in with my own questions and theoretical and applied knowledge of story-telling when Fr. Jim brought up his passions around restorative justice circles. I smiled as our own circle of stories intersected and overlapped while we enjoyed our pot roast and vegetables. Sister elaborated on the Leadership Initiative. Having come from a recent convening at St. Jane House, she shared some of the goals of the diverse group of participants:

"We are teaching principles of Salesian Leadership and inviting the members to pose their own goals for change. They will create action plans over the course of the next ten months."

Father disclosed his sadness having learned he wouldn't be making a long-planned trip to Uganda, but eeked of hope and enthusiasm around how his study of narrative practices would be persued in local urban classrooms. My daughter slept, my husband smiled and sighed. The sisters fawned over the resting presence of our little girl. I moved back and forth in my mind between Maggie's life here as a child, and an imagined space in proximity to the newly acquainted with Brendan going to Belgium. Oh, where would she be twenty years from now? Where might any of us be? How would we be "living Jesus," as the Vis sisters say?

What a room of people! What an experience of faith and community and love and hope! What a way to be fed!

As I close this reflection out, I'm grateful for the sisters' presence at 16th and Fremont (and 17th and Girard) in North Minneapolis. I'm mindful of how lucky my child is to even sit in the same space with these women, their friends, and to have a mom and dad who find such sustenance in visiting them.

Perhaps Marguerite will be called to be a nun someday? Perhaps she'll follow suit in some way as her namesake, Visitation Sister: St. Marguerite Marie Alacoque? Or maybe, she'll find her way in some fashion as her parents, living Salesian spirituality in their own subtle and intentional manners in the lay world? Regardless, Maggie is blessed, as we all are, to be in any proximity to this sacred monastic space called The Visitation Monastery in North Minneapolis.

LIVE + JESUS!

Melissa Borgmann-Kiemde
Visitation Companion

Breastfeeding Blues: Love and Letting Go

Note: The following contains anatomy-specific-discussion and descriptions of breastfeeding. Perhaps not for all readers.
***

My breasts are in mourning. Actually, almost my whole body is. After weeks of intense discernment regarding my daughter's "milk acquisition skills" I have decided to let go of this desire, this plan to breastfeed; it's a decision that has been nothing short of excruciating to make. I have milk. I have nipples. I have a beloved and brilliant baby girl. But somehow, we cannot make all of these blessed things work together to create a space of nourishment and mutual satisfaction. In fact, it's almost been the opposite: frustration, tears, seeming torture; ultimately resulting in a release of this expectation of myself (and the world?) to feed my child from my body.

Oh. Blessed be.

I sit to type this, and she cries. She knows the sorrow as well.

It's a tradeoff we have to make. Sanity, calm, a bit of the known, vs. insanity, anxiety, and a complete rollercoaster ride of daily, hourly emotions. In the end, it's not that hard to choose this route, but Good God, have the past 28 days been DIFFICULT!

My milk didn't come in initially. Not unlike many women who have c-sections, I waited six days after Marguerite's birth before I found myself with any fluids that might resemble substantial nourishment coming from my breasts. In those first days after her birth, we waited. I admit: I doubted a bit. I watched as my little girl lost more than ten percent of her body weight. I feared. We both cried. (Me, probably a lot more than she.) My husband stood by, as calmly and positively as possible, with his commitment to us both. The blessing and brilliance of Maggie's first week with us was that her dad might be a main provider of nutrition via this "SNS" method: whereby a small tube was taped to his finger, and our little girl sucked formula from the tip of his middle digit. (This was in lieu of a bottle, which we were trying to avoid for the sheer fact of "nipple confusion.")

But alas! Another detail that gave us a challenge, besides my lack-luster-milk-producing-breasts, was the fact that I had relatively flat nipples. Introduced by the lactation expert in the hospital as a solution to said "flat nipples" was a brilliant invention known as a "nipple shield." Cone-shaped silicone with a wide brim around the protruding false nipple, it was something I came to refer to as a "Mexican hat." All that lead up to its use, I affectionately referred to as the "Mexican Hat dance." Oh, blessed be!

The nipple shield was nothing short of a gift and curse to my nursing experience. I constantly wondered if my daughter would authentically latch on this man-made device. After a week of the SNS method, delivered solely by Daddy Francois, we resorted to introducing a bottle, as Baby Marguerite was still not quite getting the taste or sense of the silicone nipple without any milk coming through it. For nourishment's sake, sanity's sake, our collective well-being, a home-health care worker and lactation specialist advised on day 6 of Maggie's life to introduce a bottle to her. "Play around with bottle nipples," she said, "and continue to provide the breast to her as an option."

We followed the lactation consultant's advice, encouraged that our brilliant baby took quickly to a third form of nutrition via a "Nuk" nippled bottle, and hopeful that my milk would eventually sustain her via the old fashioned delivery method.

But enter CONFUSION! Enter frustration! Enter torture! As my "duct work" took its time, never fully flooding my breasts with the "milk and honey" promise land that I had believed would be undeniable for her. While Marguerite slowly gained her birth weight back by formula and pumped breast milk, we attempted to follow our lactation consultant's advice at each feeding.
Eight to fourteen times a day during the next two weeks, I would:

1. Acknowledge my baby girl's hunger cues.
2. Express milk from my nipple.
2. Introduce my bare nipple.
3. If baby didn't latch to bare nipple, I would introduce nipple-sheilded nipple.
4. If she still didn't latch, I would introduce Nuk-Nipple bottle with milk. I would get her to start sucking.
5. After a short period of satisfying suckling, I would remove the nuk-nippled bottle from her mouth, holding the silicone nipple shield carefully in place, and slip this into her mouth for her to continue suckling. (In the meantime: I'd pray that she remained calm, didn't scream, didn't feel like I was constantly tricking her or that I was destroying my chances to ever truly get my baby girl to trust me.)
6. If she still didn't latch, then I'd just give her the bottle and feed her until she was satisfied. (Register time here for these six steps: Anywhere from twenty five minutes to an hour and half.)
7. Then I would pump if she hadn't fed directly from me, so I would have something for her next meal, and continue to produce milk for when she did latch to my nipple shield and or hopefully, eventually, nipple. (Because she was going to latch eventually, right?!)


It just got to be too much. One in every seven feedings, the "Mexican Hat dance switcheroo" worked, and Maggie latched onto the nipple shield. When this happened, all was right in the world. World peace was possible. Maggie and I came up with solutions to the BP oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico. We had dreams about the West Bank and Gaza Strip that included white doves and fully honored people of all nations and races and religions and creeds. We were happy and calm and felt aligned with all that was right in the Universe.

When it didn't work, we both cried. I felt worse, like I was a failed mom and teacher, and that I was slowly, but surely, destroying any and all trust that I might have built with my new born daughter, as I tricked her with these inconsistent, alternating methods of possible milk acquisition.

The hope and promise of latching could have killed me. I'm telling you, it was so amazing when it did occur! Marguerite's brilliant little face nuzzled next to my skin, her red lips pursed around my own body part, and her tiny cheeks and throat working to reveal her slurping and swallowing. She was being fed! I was at the source of her satisfaction! We were doing as God and Nature intended!

But when it didn't work, every six of seven attempts, there were voices re-enforcing the tiny failed fact of my body and ability learned during labor: not all things I hope for and desire naturally are possible. (As my cervix had failed to ever dilate so that I might deliver my daughter from my body vaginally, perhaps my ability to breast feed was going the same way?) Undoing these voices of doubt takes a lot of work! Especially when reason and data proves that your hope may be false. As a woman of faith, I work in these small margins of possibility; I longed with all of my being to continue trying to breastfeed! However as a woman of practicality -- and a deep need for sleep -- I had to weigh reality and options for my daughter and I to move forward both as happy humans.

In the end, it was weighing Marguerite's need to master three different nipple skills that completed my discernment around breastfeeding: In order to feel successful and for this endeavor to be sustainable, Ms. Maggie would need to be able to move from latching on a Nuk nipple every time to a nipple-shielded nipple to my bare nipple. The sheer fact that I couldn't get a 100% success on a shift to the nipple shield from the bottle, was staggering. Facing my daughter's screams and outpouring rage and frustration as she watched me pull a working bottle from her mouth to insert a siliconed nipple, on 90% of these attempts, was enough to secure my decision. Yes, I wanted to breast feed -- but did she?

In the quietest of spaces, when I took this and other prayerful, beseeching questions to God, I heard one thing resoundingly:
There are many ways to nourish your daughter Melissa. Your food will not be literal, but something that shall sustain her in another life-long way.

I must trust this. Maggie and I join the ranks of children and their moms who provide nourishment via bottles. We are choosing happiness, finding it as we experience calm and hope in the spaces of other possible tasks and goals we will eventually conquer.

She is being fed. I am in love and finding lessons in letting go.

Marguerite Marie Kiemde's Welcome to the World

Friends, Loved Ones:
On Saturday, May 22, 2010, at 2:05pm, Francois, Gabby and I welcomed Marguerite Marie Kiemde to our family. The following are photos from her first few weeks with us. We share these with incredible joy for her arrival and presence among our burgeoning clan. Our hearts burst daily with love for this little one. We feel so lucky to welcome her, and to have such a community of faith and support to likewise embrace us all. Merci! Merci beaucoup!
Enjoy the photos! Post a comment! Stay tuned for more!
In love and creation contemplation,
Melissa Borgmann-Kiemde

She's here!
Introducing Maggie to her Grandma Borgmann, who shares the same blessed birthday:
May 22nd!

Meeting Grandpa and Grandma Borgmann
Marguerite would not be here without the support of Doula Colette DeHarpporte

HELLO WORLD!

With Auntie Jody Tigges

Olga Nichols arriving to feed us and swoon over Baby K

Cousins Izzy and Sylvia make Mag's acquaintance

Doll introductions are in order!

The Borgmann-Johnson-Kiemde's convene over Memorial Day weekend

Auntie Toni comes for a squeeze

Introducing Geert to Marguerite. "Touch nicely." lol

Melissa and Marguerite...Who looks sleepy? :-)

Sr. Jill Underdahl makes our girl's acquaintance

Auntie Ann in the house!

Sister Joy on food detail for Mom and Dad. We love the dishes!

Word.

A favorite position for these two loves in my life!

What I see when I look down...

Patio Club Pal, Cynthia stops by...

bringing her daugher Iris, born just six weeks before Maggie...
They are sure to be pals! :-)

Our first family outing to church: The Visitation Sister's 400th Anniversary Mass
(Photo courtesy of Brian Mogren)

Introducing Marguerite Marie to Vis Sister (and Melissa's longtime spiritual director):
Sr. Mary Margaret!

"Babies:" A bit of Inspiration for Kiddo Kiemde!?

Week 39. Day Four of contractions, intensifying from cramps on Monday to squeezing on Tuesday to bowl-me-over "Here we go!" pangs on Wednesday, to today's on-again-off-again rollercoaster "Let's do this!" lower abdomen ouchies! I distract myself sitting on my blue ball, working on blog posts for the Visitation Sisters, and imagining a delicious Davanni's pizza is about to arrive any moment and assuage my cravings. (If a pizza can magically be delivered, might a baby come on out and enjoy the party? Please!)

Something else to distract and entertain for the time being: A clip from this documentary about BABIES! Watch. Laugh. Giggle. Sigh. Weep. Imagine my child will soon join this beautiful ensemble of babies!




LOVE!
Melissa Borgmann-Kiemde

Blessingway Poem by Becca Barniskis

On Sunday, May 16th, sixteen women and one small boy gathered in my St. Paul living room to extend blessings over me and this child that I am about to birth. Lead by doula Alisa Blackwood, these women shared prayers, good thoughts, and poems aloud. The following is one poetic piece that arrived via email that afternoon. I share it now as a source of inspiration for not only me, but all expectant moms. I am grateful to the author, Becca Barniskis. Love!

Dear Melissa:

It is spring and your baby is coming.

As holy as God.

But more accessible than he.

Smoother, cuter, able to fit into your arms.

I wish for you a mind of prayer

when your baby decides he is ready.

I wish for you deep strength

and patience for yourself and your body.

I wish for you courage

to not doubt what your body is capable of doing.

And when Baby arrives

may you be awake and enlarged

by the experience.

May your love give you the energy

to figure out who Baby is

and what he needs.

May the journey be joy-filled.

You are a mother.

You are made to mother.

You will mother this child in the best way.

Love,

Becca

****

Becca Barniskis lives in Saint Paul, Minnesota, where she works as a poet, teaching artist and free-lance writer and consultant in arts education. She edits the Resource Roundup section of the Teaching Artist Journal and is a founding member of Artist to Artist.

She is the mother of Earl and Lulu. And someone I claim as dear friend.

Making Way for Baby K!

As we head into week 39 of this journey, Francois and I are enthusiastic to share more images from this period of preparing for Kiddo Kiemde. The following provide a window into our world making way for our son or daughter, revealing some of our cleaning, organizing, nesting instincts, as well as the amazing support of friends and family. (Oh! If we only had pictures of all of you who have been helping us along this path!) Do you know how excited we are to meet this child? Do you know how thrilled we are for you to share our joy? We recognize none of this would be possible without faith, family, our larger community and circles of support.

BLESSINGS! GRATITUDE!
Melissa, Francois, Baby Kiemde

Perhaps many new parent's friend? Target Store, USA!

Home with a baby crib to assemble!

My guy and directions!

Be Still My Heart! I love watching Francois in action!

The Living Room Corner BEFORE:
(On the heels of our documented "Spring Cleaning" work, we have some more re-arranging to do in order to make way for the baby and crib.)

From the office to the Living Room: The bookshelves find a new home!

Baby K's Crib! Yes, where those bookshelves once stood, is now our child's sleeping spot!

In case you are desiring a glimpse of me.
(Here at 35 weeks, just days before Kiddo K sinks into my sciatic nerve, and keeps me from walking properly upright. LOVE!)

What would Baby Prep be without a Baby Shower? Friends Jody and Ann arrange for many church friends to convene at St. Jane House. Here is some of the decor!

Friends from St. Philips, Kathryn, Mom Toni, Baby Geert and Leslie!

How to graciously receive so many gifts? This is my challenge!

Ann Shallbetter returns from St. Jane House to
Golf View Home to help organize the many gifts...

So much stuff for this lucky boy or girl!

A first official "toy box!"

Organizing clothes by months, sizes. Here, a container of new and gently used baby items from Friends and family, many courtesy of Gina Woods Mann.
Merci! Merci! Merci!

Meet our doulas: Colette DeHarpporte and Alisa Blackwood!
Oh, the support!

My "Rejoice" stone, received at the closing Discernment Workshop Ritual with the Vis Sisters: How could I not connect this with our child's upcoming arrival!?

Turning back to the Office/ Bedroom/Baby Room transformation:
Clearing wall space for Baby shelves.
(Do you see the original screen prints that must come off the wall? *sniff*sigh*smile*)

More help from Ms. Ann in making this transformation happen!

Channeling her Martha Stewart!

Watch out for a woman with power tools!

Can I get a "Woot Woot!"?
(Francois will be so proud of us!)

Shelves and desk spaces re-assigned. Printer to shelf, changing table to desk top.
Does it work? We shall see!

Part of the Baby K Libary: Books representing many cultures and traditions. It's never too early to start considering our child's literacy!

Precious toys!

Entering the multi-faceted space...

Office, Changing table, Baby Monitor...

There's that sweet crib again!

Can you see him or her resting their beautiful head?

Little details...

Mint chocolate bunny -- to represent the sweet and gentle spirit of this new life...

From the crib to Gabby's bed, over the desk, and just beyond those windows:
The Missisippi River.
Blessings!