Detatched

Let's set the record straight. Feeding an infant is wildly inconvenient and often a royal pain in the backside. No matter how you do it. Formula, bottle, pumping, nursing, at home in your pajamas, or in public. The very nature of it is inconvenient.

However, as we settled into a routine I learned to like nursing.

During those first few days with Tommy while I whined and worried about nursing him, my mom told me that "one of these days, you'll feed him and he'll just raise his hand up and rest it on your chest while he eats." she sighed and got a far off look in her eyes.

She had no idea that wouldn't ever happen with Tommy. But I understood what she meant. "This will get more natural and go more smoothly. You are capable of caring for this child. You have what he needs." That was the intent. And she was right. I am capable of caring for that child.

So although I wasn't making much milk I was happy to be able to nurse John. It was wildly inconvenient, often painful and definitely a royal pain in the backside. But for the past month or so I've really enjoyed it. I like snuggling up to him with his arm wrapped around me. I like feeling connected and capable. I like it when he stops sucking just long enough to look up and smile at me. At me!

But I just wasn't making much. At all. And I couldn't face the pump again. And I was nursing and formula-ing and it wasn't worth it for him to get less than an ounce every feeding.

So I'm kissing the crappy nursing bras and wardrobe restrictions goodbye. Farewell to the accidental flashing of strangers, the struggling under a blanket and the awkward "did I just leak milk?" moments.

It's over little man. We had a good run, but now....

We're free.

Thank goodness! and Dang it!

The Best

One of the best things about being a Mormon is that people just randomly show up with full-blown meals at my door without even being asked.

One of the best things about those meals is that they are always good. It's possible that this is not the case everywhere, but our delicious-to-meal record is 3 for 3. Seriously, move into my neighborhood, you won't be sorry. I now have 3 new recipes of things that both of my eating boys like enough to lick their plates.

One of the best things about licked plates is not rinsing before the dishwasher.

One of the best things about the dishwasher is that it's currently not my job. Because my job is to nurse John.

One of the best things about breastfeeding is that it trumps all other jobs. Every. Single. Time.
"Sorry, I can't do the dishes, Johnny's hungry."
"The laundry needs to be changed and I'm feeding John"
"The house is on fire, can you carry me? Little John is eating right now."

There are loads of good things that come with a new baby, these are just a few of the best.

Nursing: The Long Story

Tommy is playing at Grandma's, Josh is at school (hopefully not failing his test on reading EKGs), Little John is snoozing and although I was up most of the night with him I'm sick of being in bed so I'm blogging instead of joining him for nap time.

Since breastfeeding with Tommy was an epic fail, I was nervous about even trying with John. Can my heart take another beating like that? But I reminded myself a thousand times that we'd try and if it worked great. But if not that would be OK. There are loads of advantages to formula. LOADS.

So in the hospital I told every nurse who asked how he was nursing that he was great, but that I was concerned about keeping up with him. I met with the new Lactation Lady and she recommended lots of the same things as last time. Herbs (Fenugreek & Blessed Thistle), pills (Reglan), nursing-on-demand (around the clock) and supplementing with formula when necessary. As an added bonus she told me she always recommends a breastfeeding stay-cation to moms who have had trouble in the past. She said if there was any way to swing it, spending all day in bed enjoying some skin-to-skin time (and a stack of great movies) and nursing anytime he wanted to would only help my cause.

I think she was joking since she knows I have a 2-year-old and that simply isn't possible, but I'm doing it today anyway.

John started off nursing in the hospital beautifully, usually for an hour at a time. The nurses were impressed with his natural knack for latching on and sucking his guts out. He's tapered off a bit since then - usually getting bored in 20 minutes or so. But in the evenings he eats nearly every hour.

So the truth is that breastfeeding is awesome. And I love it. And I'm so so SO thankful that I get to do it this time around (so far). There is nothing like his milk-drunk face when he's done. And feeding him a bottle of my milk might be the most satisfying meal I've ever made for anyone. Ever.

BUT

Oh. My. Gosh. Being attached to a child 24/7 is ridiculous.
My personal body parts have never been so abused. and I just gave birth.
However great nursing is, pumping is it's equal opposite. The arch nemesis. The evil horrible Jekyl to the Hyde.
Being the only person who can get up in the middle of the night bites.
Staying awake because "he'll probably wake up in the next XX minutes to eat anyway" makes for really long nights.

So I'm thankful and I love it - but it's certainly not all sunshine and unicorns - nor is bottle feeding.

Just one more experience to remind me that the opposite of something that breaks your heart can be hard. Difficult. Painful. Challenging. Even heartbreaking.

face-creases and pirates

Breastfeeding is probably one of the coolest things I've ever done in my life. Which is saying something considering I've been kayaking off the coast of Alaska.

One of my favorite parts of breastfeeding is what John's face does when it's smashed all up in my boob. His nose and lips get these crazy-deep creases and his bottom eye is smooshed shut. I can almost hear his pirate "argggg!"

But the best breastfeeding face he makes is the mouth-hanging-open fallen-asleep milk-drunk satisfied face he makes when he's through.

breastfeeding: round 2

i am doing it this time and it's going well

which leaves me a one-handed blogger

which leaves you annoyed by my lack of punctuation and me annoyed by my slow pace

My Lactation Lady can kick your Lactation Lady's BOOTY.

I was nervous about telling Lactation Lady the truth about breastfeeding because I was scared she'd be a boob nazi and insist that I try harder and not give up so soon.

But I had to talk to her because I needed to return the breast pump (aka "satan in disguise" and not a very good one) to her and I knew she'd ask.

I started thinking of all the things I could say that would be true but wouldn't really require the whole truth. And more importantly, things that would leave her with the impression that I was fixed and everything was working fine.

Phrases like "I'm going to keep breastfeeding as much as possible." and "I'm still taking the herbs." and "Thanks so much for offering the great advice so I could increase my milk supply" were on my approved list of things to say.

Phrases like "over my dead body." and "1/4 ounce after 15 minutes of pumping after 50 minutes of sucking just isn't worth it when my child is still hungry." and "I'm not doing that anymore." and "Formula probably has more nutrients than my pathetic excuse for milk anyway" were on my list of things NOT to say.

I was relieved when she wasn't there when I went to return the breast pump.

I was stressed when the phone rang and Josh said "Hi Sonya, thanks for calling......sure.....she's right here." But for some unknown reason, I told her the truth.

I was relieved again when she said "I think it's great that you've done the things that can help and even greater that you're OK with using formula. I always feel bad when new moms are a basket case because breastfeeding isn't working for them but they feel guilty about using formula." Thank goodness she didn't see the breakdown.

I was relieved more when she said, "Yep, I think you've made a great decision, a lot of people try to force it and they wind up making themselves crazy and still not feeding their children."

I wanted to kiss the ground she walked on when she said, "I understand completely."

My Lactation Lady is the best Lactation Lady there ever was. No doubt about it.

The truth about breastfeeding (dun duh duhhhhhhh!!!!!)

I'm really glad that God sent me to a family with sisters.

When my water broke I called Katy and asked her if my water really broke (partly because google didn't really know) she said it did. She was right. I probably wouldn't have gone to the hospital if I hadn't talked to her. My appointment with Dr. Man was the next day at 2:30 in the afternoon and I sorta figured I'd just talk to him about it then. Thomas was born at 2:19 the next day. Waiting for the Dr. appointment would have been a bad choice.

When my boobs weren't making milk I called Sarah and asked her what was wrong. Of course she could only tell me her experience, but it turns out that her experience feels exactly like mine.

When my milk came in I told my mom that my colostrum was getting watery. She told me that's because it was milk not colostrum.

And by "my milk came in" I mean "after squeezing and playing and pinching so I could to get the kid to latch on I was able to express almost a whole drop of fluid." I still haven't felt "full" or engorged or really even productive forget about leaking milk everywhere.

I spend 15-20 minutes pumping with the super-duper heavy-duty $1800 hospital pump and get a combined 1/4 -1/2 ounce of milk if I'm lucky. Sometimes I get nothing. Baby Thomas will eat suck for 30 minutes at a time, but I sortof don't think he's getting anything after the first 5 minutes. That's because when I pump I can see the milk coming out. Usually it's like 5-10 productive sucks then 20-30 unproductive sucks. But that's only for the first 5 minutes. After that it's nothing. He's just sucking because it's so dang much fun for everyone involved. He is always still starving after sucking for at least 30 minutes (usually more like 45 or an hour).

The milk I do get is the thickness of watered down soy milk.

Compare that with someone like Lindsey who has so much milk she needs to buy a deep freezer. Me? I literally spent 15 minutes trying to figure out how to get the 3 drops of spilt milk off my counter and into a bottle for him to be able to eat. Because those 3 drops were a big difference to me.

So, to every Lactation Consultant who will tell me that it's "just supply/demand" I say "mmhmmm.....and so is the price of gas." (snicker snicker snort - I'm so funny.)

Fortunately Lactation Lady never said any such thing. She's really supportive of anything I want to do and I don't feel like she'll tell me I'm a bad mom for using formula. And I'm not.

I'm not giving up, or quitting, and I know it's only been 2 weeks. But I'm no longer going to spend 2 of every 3 hours trying to feed my baby. I'm not going to invest in a $300 pump to try to suck 3 drops out of my boobs. I'm not going to deprive myself and my baby of a much needed good night's sleep. And I'm certainly not going to starve my child (I promised him I would never let him starve during my major emotional breakdown).

What I am going to do is give the kid a bottle when he's hungry and sick of sucking on my dry boobs. I am going to enjoy feeding him. I am going to hold him while I feed him and tell him that I love him. I am going to watch Josh feed him and remember that my baby is loved by his daddy. I am going to enjoy the freedom that comes in the form of a bottle of formula. (Josh, your turn to feed the kid, I'm going on a walk.) I am going to remember that the formula probably has more nutrients than my particular brand of water-milk. I am going to breastfeed him when I have something to give, but I will not deprive my child of food because I want my body  to provide him with everything he needs.

And all of that is fine by me.

The breastfeeding plan

So the plan to solve the breastfeeding problem is this. Each time I feed Thomas I get the distinct pleasure of:

• Making sure he empties both sides. This actually means massaging my boobs the whole time. Apparently I'm looking for hidden milk. As if I'd know if I found it.... The truth is I feel stupid doing this, but whatever. Seems like a waste of getting felt up if you ask me.
• Use the Supplemental Nutritional System (SNS) to feed him another ounce of formula. The SNS is a horrible device. It's a syringe with a hose coming out of it. The hose goes into his mouth along with my nipple and he sucks the milk out of it. The point? He's stimulating my breasts while he's getting milk. The problems? The hose hurts the nipples. The baby gets irritated by the hose and breaks his latch every few minutes. The husband thinks it's fun to squirt formula out of the syringe. 
• Pump for 15 minutes. You should see this. But because of my strict adherence to the law of modesty pride you never will. Unless you're my mommy. I get to hold the pumps up to me while I'm hooked up to the big hospital pump on wheels in my living room. It pumps and I sit there. Holding it and watching. 15 minutes has never seemed so long. In 15 minutes I pumped a whopping 1/4 ounce.

So, that combined with some herbs I'm taking (2 different herbs, 3 pills, 3 times a day) should increase my milk supply within a week. 

The problem? This whole process generally takes about an hour (if all goes as it should) and we repeat every 3 hours. Sometimes I have time to shower in between. Yesterday we had time to go to the Dr. AND I helped Josh make the bed. Pretty impressive day huh?

Emotional Breakdown Count: 5

It's funny how my brain sometimes works (or doesn't). When we got home from the Dr. and Lactation Lady visit and I spent the entire day crying not once did I consider that if my body didn't make milk I'd feed Thomas formula. I wasn't thinking "so we'll increase my milk supply or feed him formula" I was thinking "my body isn't making milk and my baby is starving because of it." I know it's not really logical, but that thought really didn't enter my mind and that's depressing.

Knowing that there is an alternative that doesn't end in heartbreaking death or destruction makes the whole thing seems less horrible.

I still feel like there's something wrong with me that needs to be "fixed" but at least I know my baby won't die because of it. Really there are a lot worse things wrong with me and Tommy and I will both be fine.

You'll also be glad to know that it's been 1 week since he came into our lives and so far the "major emotional breakdown" count is only like 5.

Sunday (the day we came home) I cried because I wanted my mommy and I didn't know what to do.

Monday my mommy came and spent the whole day and I cried because I still wanted my mommy. She was sitting no more than 10 feet away from me ALL DAY LONG. Why the tears?

Tuesday I cried because it hurts. Everything hurts. My back hurt, my uterus (which is quickly shrinking down to the size of a softball) hurt, my enormous cut hurt, my head hurt, my eyes hurt and my baby was beautiful.

Wednesday I cried because I'm broken and my baby was starving. Technically this breakdown lasted like 12 hours....I'm still counting it as 1.

Thursday (yesterday) I cried because my daddy came to see me in the middle of the day. That's because he loves me. And I still wanted my mommy.

So 5 breakdowns in a week isn't bad. Especially compared to Thomas who has at least 5 emotional breakdowns every other day.

All things considered I'd say we're doing pretty well.

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?