My first F minus

I was sortof a good student. Like I took geek classes and got what I thought were good grades (except in AP Calculus my Jr. Year. I was busy rebelling and getting a B- one term). School wasn't hard for me, and I liked to learn things, and I happen to think that it's partly because I'm a reasonably intelligent person.

But the older I get the harder things are.
The more I learn people can do, the more I realize I can't.
As I find more opportunities to try new things, I find more things that just don't come naturally.
Maybe this is natural, or maybe it's me getting a much needed lesson in humility.

Either way it hurts.

Today I think I got my very first failing grade and my heart hurts.

Thomas was 6 pounds 14 ounces when he was born. I did a good job at getting him here (nurses I've never met hear my name in the hall at the hospital and say "you're the one who pushed him out so fast huh?"

I did a good job getting the epidural.

I did a good job of having the worlds most adorable baby (half those genes are mine! I'm taking credit for half of his perfection).

I started healing "beautifully" according to Dr. Man's creepy associate to released me from the hospital.

I followed the directions.

I stayed off drugs as much as possible (because really, who wants to be drugged for the first days of their baby's life?).

But when we left the hospital, I stopped being good at everything. That was OK because I had Josh on my team and he's a natural.

Thomas loves Josh more than anyone in the whole wide world (for which I am truly grateful). Josh is the one who can get him to calm down when he's screaming in the middle of the night. Josh is the one who is brave enough to clip his fingernails. Josh is the one who can change his tar diaper when he's half asleep and has one hand tied behind his back. Josh is the one who isn't scared of dressing him. Josh is the perfect daddy and I love him for it. He's also the perfect husband catering to my every need, cleaning the house, taking care of details, running errands, and generally making sure that baby and I have the things we need to recover.

Unfortunately I can't turn over the feeding of our baby to Josh. I'm sure he would excel at it. Not me though.

For the first few days we had a really tough time getting Thomas to latch on. He'd scream and scream and flail his arms and kick and scream and pull back and scream. And then somehow he'd latch on just fine and eat for 30 minutes. But he never wanted to eat. I had to wake him up every 4 hours and force feed him. (Except at night when he'd wake up but refuse to eat.)

Monday evening my milk "came in" and I thought things would be much better.

Tuesday went really well, I fed Thomas a lot of times. He was looking for food more often rather than me smashing his face into my boob and begging him to suck. He latched on easier and sucked more naturally.

Today the Dr. wanted to see him again just to make sure the jaundice level went down. It did (thank goodness). But so did his weight.

He's down to 6 pounds now, which means he's lost too much and we have to go back again tomorrow to see if he's gained anything.

We headed to the lactation consultant right after the appointment because I had made the appointment back when he wasn't eating much at all.

He latched on right away, but got bored/tired of eating after only 5 minutes. Lactation Lady pulled him off and  discovered that my milk was gone. I just don't have enough of it to feed him. Turns out he's been starving since the day he was born. I've been starving my baby for 5 days and didn't know it. Why? Because he's still a good kind happy beautiful baby. No thanks to me.

We talked about things to do, and left with a borrowed hospital pump, a list of herbs to get, and tears welling up in my eyes. Apparently it's pretty common when you have fertility problems to have milk supply problems.

I cried the whole way home.

We came in the house and I picked up Thomas went to bed and cried some more.

I told him I'm sorry, I'm trying. I wish I was better, I wish I had more. I didn't know he was so hungry. I didn't know I wasn't giving him enough. I haven't put him down since we got home. I sortof hope I never have to put him down again. Because maybe if I hold him and touch him and love him all day every day it will make up for  the fact that I can't give him what he really needs.

I feel like I was just given a failing grade. The Pediatrician was disappointed in his weight loss, Lactation Lady was disappointed in my milk supply and probably in my ability to tell what my child needs. She also said that my breasts weren't "as firm as we like to see by now". Rude. I bet her breasts aren't so firm either....but at least I had the decency not to mention it. Lactation Lady and Pediatrician were very kind and optimistic, but the bottom line is that I'm not doing a good job at the only thing I'm responsible for. Feeding him.

When we couldn't have babies and my heart was breaking every single time we weren't pregnant (which was a lot of times) I felt like a complete failure. I felt like I had let Josh down and I was holding him back because the man was born to be a daddy and I was stopping him from having that. Here was the man I love more than anybody in the world and I couldn't give him the things he needed.

Now I feel like I'm letting Tommy down. This child is perfect in every way. He came to me complete and whole. He came with 100% working parts. He came brand new and in perfect condition. After 5 short days in my care he's broken. Dehydrated, tired, starving, but still doing everything he can to be the perfect child.

Once again I'm holding back one of the men I love most in the whole wide world. He can't grow and develop and become because of me. Because I'm broken. Because something I'm doing is wrong.

With any luck at all, I'll spend at least 22 of the next 24 hours feeding and pumping and pumping and feeding and not doing anything else. Except crying. Clearly my body has no trouble creating tears. Why can't that energy be used creating milk?