A story I wish I read 4 or 5 months ago

I've gone back and forth about whether I wanted to blog about this. It is, after all, about my boobs. And being the good Christian girl I am, I'm not supposed to talk about my boobs to the general public. However, I wish someone would have shared this story with me. So many of my friends have new babies or are pregnant. I just want people to know it doesn't always go like what you read in books.

That said, if you're a guy, please feel free to skip this one if you want ;)

I wrote before about how I was meeting with a Lactation Consultant a few days after Lorelai was born. In the beginning, nursing sucked SO bad. Cracking, bleeding, tenderness. It was excruiating. I pumped or gave her formula just so I didn't have to nurse her. I dreaded feeding her. But I had my baby buddies to talk to and we all seemed to be in the same boat. It sucked for all of us.

What was different for me is that I kept telling my Lactation Consultant "I don't think my milk has come in yet". One of my baby buddies told me hers came in while she was in the hospital. That suddenly she bumped her boob and it was hard as a rock. I kept waiting for that moment. 2 weeks after Lorelai was born, I just had to accept that that moment was not happening for me. My milk was in. I just couldn't feel it. At all. I never engorged. I don't feel a let down. I don't know when breast is empty or full. I just have to guess. But everything you read talks about let down and women who leak at inopportune times and you HAVE to make sure you empty one breast before offering the next. I felt like everything I read or knew about breastfeeding didn't apply to me.

About 2 weeks after her birth I had a follow up appointment with my midwife. I explained to her the pain that I was feeling trying to feed and how she had a bad latch I couldn't seem to correct. She checked her mouth and said she had a really strong lip tie. She told me about her son who had one (that went undiagnosed) and how she nursed through it but when she became pregnant at 10 months, he wasn't able to bring her supply back up to continue nursing. Then when he was older he had to go through 2 years of speech therapy. I knew that even if it didn't solve our nursing problems I wanted to get it fixed. It may save us some speech therapy down the road.

So I suffered through nursing until we could get in to see the doctor for her lip tie. It never ever stopped hurting. In fact, when we went to Vermont before Christmas they started hurting again so bad I thought I had an infection. They also started bleeding again. Other than that, I just got used to the pain and accepted that that was how it was going to be.

I always had this nagging feeling about my supply though. I always felt like I was making just enough while everyone else gets this great abundant supply in the beginning (I'm sure women who suffer from mastisis wouldn't use "great" to describe it- goes to show you there's always 2 ways to look at things). I was so nervous about going back to work. I always felt like my breastfeeding days were numbered. Like any day was going to be the last day I could keep up. I built up a small freezer stash of extra milk. Sometimes it would take me 3 days to pump enough for one bottle. Sometimes I could put back two bottles a day. It was never consistent. When I started work, I had 28 bottles worth in the freezer. It sounds like a lot but considering she would need 5-6 of those per day if I wasn't nursing, it's not that much. If I could pump enough for 2 bottles each day, I could nurse her on my lunch breaks and I wouldn't need my freezer stash. But if I only pumped enough for one bottle, we'd have to use a freezer bag. I only had enough to do that for about a month. So every day I had this pressure on me to pump enough for the next day. For the first week, I did it. Then the weekend came and I actually had an extra bottle or two. Slowly, after a few weeks, I was actually 5 days ahead and got to start freezing again. I was ecstatic. I could breathe. I wasn't under so much pressure to get 10 oz/day.

Then my grandpa died.

While I halfheartedly pumped in Ohio, it wasn't like when I pump at work. When I pump at work, it's during times when Lorelai would be nursing. So when I'm with her, and I'm nursing, I don't really have the opportunity to pump. Not much anyway. I did manage to freeze two bags when I was there. Those got us started my next day back to work. But a week of being off scheduled really wreaked havoc on my supply.

Oh and did I mention she decieded to have a growth spurt in the middle of all this?

So last week was my first week really back on schedule. Pumping was no going well. During my morning pumping session I was only getting 3-4 oz, where I used to get 5-6. I had to pump twice a night to make up the difference so she had milk for the next day. My supply wasn't bouncing back. And then, the daycare needed to use two of the freezer bags because she was so hungry two afternoons she needed an extra bottle. And then Friday. Friday I only pumped 1 1/2 oz that morning. I went home Friday with 3 1/2 oz. It looks me until 3 AM Monday morning to pump enough for her to take to daycare yesterday.

Yesterday morning I pumped less than 2 oz. I sent her to daycare with only one bottle today. It was a very humbling moment for me.  I was talking to one of my friends about this yesterday. It hurts my ego more than anything. My elitest mentality. I knew so much about breastfeeding before I actually tried to do it. I was so cocky. I read all the literature. Everything you read makes it sound so simple. Everyone can breast feed. It just takes work. Drink this. Take that. Do this. Then all your problems will be solved. Even the LC subscribes to this idealistic, you'll pump as much as she eats, scenario that just hasn't been the case for me. My breastfeeding story doesn't sound like everything I've read. And honestly, I don't know what it's like to be bad at something I really want to do. 

Want to know what I've tried. Well here's the list I sent the LC:

-Nurse on demand

-Skin to skin

-Baby wearing

-Different nursing positions

-Manual pump (Medela)

-Dual electric pump (pump in style)

-Hand expression

-Not wearing an underwire bra

-Not wearing a bra

-Drinking 100+oz of liquid every day with 64+oz of it being water

-Fenugreek

-Mother's Milk tea

-Lactation Cookies with oatmeal, brewers yeast and flaxseed meal

-Eating oatmeal for breakfast

-Pumping while looking at pictures of Lorelai

-Pumping while watching videos of Lorelai

-Massage breast while pumping and nursing

So last night I scheduled another appointment with the Lactation Consultant.  Honestly, I don't think she can tell me anything I don't already know. But maybe she has some new herb for me to try or something. Or maybe I'll respond better to a hospital grade pump. I'm going to give it one more try. But now, more than ever, I feel like my days are numbered. You know, because I numbered them. On a calendar. 34 more work days until Lorelai is 6 months old. 25 more bags of milk. 

And I'm really trying hard not to struggle with the idea of her having formula, because I fully support other moms who decide to formula feed and I realize now that there's a lot that goes into deciding to give your baby formula (at least for some women). And some women don't have much of a choice at all. But I can't get over that "breast is best" mantra playing in my head. And it stirs up all those feelings of inadequacies from my childhood and if breast is best than, by god, Lorelai needs breast. Because she is going to have the best of everything  because I didn't and I had to work really hard to prove myself and to make people accept me. 

And it's absolutely baseless- I know that in my head. I just can't convince my heart that she will be ok, just like every other baby in the world who was fed formula. There are lots of smart, healthy babies who had formula. And I'm not even talking full formula. I still plan to breastfeed as much as I can. And it's not like she hasn't had formula before. I supplemented in the beginning. In those hard days. And I was nothing but thankful for every doctor and formula company who sent me those samples that I snubbed my nose at before she was born. But it was a convenience. I didn't HAVE to. Now I feel like I'm being forced into it. I just hang out here in limbo between being relieved by the burdon of trying to make this work and being really disappointed in myself because I can't make this happen. It has everything to do with me and hardly any to do with Lorelai.

On the way to work I kept thinking about how I could only give her one bottle today. And "Need You Now" by Plumb came on the radio and I realized I hadn't surrendered this to God. I've been trying SO HARD to make this work by myself. I just need to let it go.

So I'm sharing my story. In case someone else is struggling like I struggled. I'm giving myself, and you, permission to let it go. As a mommy, it's my job to make sure that baby's tummy is full. Whether its fast food chicken nuggets or organic grilled veggies. Sometimes you just can't cook dinner. Nourishment. That's the end game. Not my ego.

"Standing on a road I didn't plan
Wondering how I got to where I am
I'm trying to hear that still small voice
I'm trying to hear above the noise

How many times have you heard me cry out
"God please take this"?
How many times have you given me strength to
Just keep breathing?
Oh I need you
God, I need you now."

Teach your parents well

DISCLAIMER: This is probably one of those topics I'm not supposed to share with other people. Aren't we all supposed to pretend like things are shiny and perfect in our lives? Well, here's a bit of honesty for you. Well, I guess it's really more for me. But it's not my most shining moment, I'll say that.

I've spent the night cleaning. The mood strikes me every now and then I the piles that I normally pay little attention to suddenly need to be cleaned up immediately. That struck me about 5:30 tonight- I needed everything clean.

As I was lifting the cowhide rug in the livingroom to give it a shake and sweep the floor, I started thinking of my mom. She bought it for me the Christmas we moved into the house. I asked for it specifically. I always wanted one. Craig hates it and I love it. Mom thought it was an odd request, but one she granted, none the less.

So as I thought about Mom, it struck me: I miss her.

That may sound odd, since she died almost 7 months ago. Honestly, I blocked so much of that because I was pregnant that I haven't really felt much about it. I didn't really allow myself to process it. I couldn't dwell on it because I felt like the fact that I didn't have parents anymore might just consume me. I had to focus on getting a baby safely into the world. I didn't have time or the energy to fall apart. It felt weird that she wasn't here. I felt shock. Disbelief (big time). I feel a void. I thought of her often. I felt urges to call her. But it was hard to say I missed her.

Honestly, it's hard to grieve for someone you've already grieved. My mom was never the same after her third DWI. Her husband and I have talked about it and we both believe some sort of permanent damage was done. She would talk in circles, telling you the same thing over and over or asking you something she already asked you. And she wasn't always able to come to logical conclusions on things. It was more than our normal not seeing eye to eye. She was different. And it was hard. And she was very depressed. And lonely. She had been my entire life, but it had increased in severity the last several years of her life. I honestly can't count the number of times she threatened to kill herself. And I tried and tried and tried to get her to turn things around. To get out of the house. To volunteer. To get a job. To start a hobby. To stop taking all the pills. To stop drinking all the diet coke. To stop drinking. To eat well. To love herself. But I couldn't. She had to make all those decisions for herself. And she wouldn't. So I stepped back. I put up walls. I came to terms with the situation- this is how she is. This is how she's always going to be. This is how she chooses to live her life. All I can do is support her when she makes good decisions and hope they stick. And unless she asks, I'll try not to say anything about the bad. The mom I knew who baked hundreds of cookies at Christmas and dressed nice and fixed her hair and makeup everyday and loved to dance and have a good time- she wasn't there anymore. And though she said she told everyone she knew how proud she was of me, she used to talk about me to my dad or my brother. Resentful of the things I achieved or did. She said I was spoiled and she thought that I thought I was better than everyone else. Holier than thou, she liked to say. She started to hide things from me if she knew I didn't approve of them. Not well, mind you, but there was a definite wedge between us.

So when she died, I was shocked. I was sad. But it was hard to miss her. It was hard to miss so much bad.

But as I swept the hallway this evening, I realized it's been long enough now. I've healed some. I miss her.

I told Craig when she died that it was kind of a blessing in disguise. There's no question that both of my parents had their faults. And it broke my heart that Lorelai would never know either of them. Would never see me in either of them. Would never understand. But now, she just gets to see this shiny pristine memory of them. She gets to know them by the good stories we tell. The pictures of happy times. She won't be awakened by phone calls at midnight like I was sometimes. She's spared from all of the yucky stuff. She only knows what we tell her. Wouldn't it be nice if people only knew the good things about you?

When my dad died, the memory of his frail cancer filled body was so fresh in my mind that I didn't think I would ever remember him healthy again. I couldn't- I tried. When I thought of my dad, it was a shell of who he used to be. Then slowly, I started to remember him happy and full of life. And all that bad is still there. I don't think I'll ever forget that. But when I think of my dad, it's all good things now.

The same was true when Mom died. When I thought of her, I thought of the bad, even though we had had a couple good weeks towards the end. But I'm finding it easier to remember her kindness. Her love. And I miss her. I don't know that I'll ever feel closure about it. She was gone too soon. I never had a chance to say goodbye. But I can say, without hesitation now, that I miss her.

I've said since Dad died that time doesn't heal all wounds. But maybe it does heal some of them.

8 weeks later

Well, I started this blog 2 days ago, when she was 8 weeks old, but she had other plans in mind. We've had a few sleepless days in a row. She sleeps great at night, but unless we take her on a car ride, she does not nap during the day for longer than 5 or 10 min at a time. I like that she's awake but she still doesn't have much interest in toys and she can't sit up and doesn't want to sit in her swing or bouncer long, so it means a whole lot of snuggle time, which is a sweet but makes it really hard to get anything done. Friday I wanted to make chicken spaghetti and she was giving me a hard time. I had her in the carrier, but it's hard for me to reach things when I'm wearing her and I figured boiling water probably wasn't safe for her to be that close to, haha. She was screaming at me when Craig walked in the door. I said "oh thank God! Here!" and handed her off so I could stir and hold the bowl at the same time, haha.

Two weeks from today will be my first day back at work. I thought I was coming to terms with it, but I had a mini panic about it last night (you know, at 1:30 AM- when you think rationally about everything). It overwhelms me to think about trying to keep her on breastmilk while I work. I can't pump enough at one time to cover what she eats at one time. We nurse fine. She gets plenty. She's gaining tons of weight. We're all good there. I hate that I need to jeopardize that so we can live more comfortably. I don't want to. I want to keep living in baby land, where we stay in bed till 9 AM, and I don't have to get dressed if I don't want to (or she doesn't want me to, haha) and we can nurse, and read books, and pretend to play, and cuddle all day long. Because soon she will be playing. And crawling. And learning so much about the world around her. I want to teach it to her. I want to be the one who shows her new things, takes her new places. I want to be the first person she crawls to. I don't mind that the sink is full of dishes and there is laundry on the couch and that sometimes I have to lay her on the rug in the bathroom just so I can pee. I would take all of that any day over being at my office 8 hours a day.

And I don't even know who just typed that. That's not me. That's not the Alison who graduated in 3.5 years because she worked her ass off all the time (21 hours my last semester!). That's not the Alison who had dreams of wearing a pantsuit and heels and carrying a briefcase into a downtown high rise, making the big bucks and driving a fancy car. I always, always wanted to have children. But I never tried to merge those two worlds. I always pictured myself as a really successful businesswoman and a great mom, but not at the same time. I don't know why. It never crossed my mind that I had separated them like that until now. I never pictured what my life would be like as a working mom. And I think it's really unfair that I have to do both now.

Have to is a strong word. Craig and I have always been fairly conservative financially. When we bought a house, we made sure it was one we could afford on one person's salary, just in case. But we pictured that as an emergency situation. Something temporary. And we have goals now. We still need to pay off our cars. We want a boat. If we still live in Louisiana, I want to put Lorelai in private school. All of Craig's family lives on the other side of the country- we want to see them occasionally. That all takes money. And I want to see my husband. I don't want him to work around the clock. So I tell myself that I have to sacrifice something good for something better. Life will be much more comfortable if I have an income. And maybe one day when we don't have car payments and we don't have to pay mortgage insurance on our house, we'll have more breathing room and I won't have to work so hard.

Or maybe by then I'll have it all figured out. I'll enjoy living in both worlds. Most women seem to. I thought I'd be one of them. I thought I'd be one of the ones who said "oh by 6 weeks I was ready to go back to work!" But I'm not. I like my job. I like my coworkers. The company I work for is fantastic. I still feel like I finally have everything I worked so hard to get (and I don't have to wear a pantsuit and heels!). I just don't want someone else to raise my child.

We travel to Ft. Worth (again) tomorrow for her lip tie procedure. I had one of those ah-ha moments last week when I realized my benefits have all reset since it's a new year so now I can use my Flex Spending card for the procedure instead of cash. It was one of those moments that I really felt like God orchestrated. The procedure is a little over $500. We originally had it scheduled for the day before we flew to Vermont in December. The horrible ice storm kept us from making it to their office though.

So we flew to Vermont and on our way home the next week, I got a text from our office manager saying she had to talk to me that day. So I called her from the Houston airport. There was a misunderstanding in my Short Term Disability payments. Basically, instead of receiving 6 weeks of pay while I was out, I was only going to receive 4, because they counted the first 2 weeks (in which they don't pay you so I had taken vacation time). I had already planned to take 2 extra weeks unpaid. This meant I would have to take 4. I had had approximately 3 hours of sleep the night before and had just gotten off a 4 hour flight with my newborn. This news hit me so hard I was ugly crying in the middle of the Houston airport. According to the disability company, I should be coming back to work 3 days later. The thought of going back to work that soon, and losing out on money I had meticulously budgeted for was so overwhelming in my sleep deprived, emotional state.

But we got home, I ran numbers, and I saw that we would be ok. And I breathed. But it made us tighten up.

So when I realized I didn't have to use our cash for her appointment, the lightbulb finally went off. I was so upset when we couldn't get to Ft. Worth that I had to hold back tears the whole way home from Dallas (I cry a lot these days, haha). But it turned out being a blessing in disguise because money ended up being tighter than I thought and because I couldn't get back in until after the first of the year, now we don't have to use our cash for the appointment. A blessing in disguise.

So I'm going to try to savor these last weeks. And keep telling myself I'll still have weekends. Craig works Saturdays so every Saturday will be Mommy Daughter day. And keep begging my boss to change my schedule to 4-10s so I have an extra day at home with her.

She is growing like a weed. She rolled over 2 weeks ago at my friend's house, which I read she isn't supposed to be able to do for a few more months! She had done it the night before too, but I had her chest laying on a pillow on her tummy time mat so I thought she had just used the pillow for leverage. The girls at the office think she's teething too. She's smiling more every day, but I still can't tell if it's intentional or not. She stares at toys, but won't reach out for them or hold them yet. She loves being read to. We read a lot of books. And she has a great bedtime routine. We swaddle her, I make sure her tummy is full (before or after the swaddle), then put her in her bassinet. I read her a story, then turn on some white noise and give her her paci. She doesn't always go right to sleep, but she lays there content until she does. No crying. We're not a "cry-it-out" family. She's way too young for that. If she cries, it's because she needs something (usually food!). She usually sleeps from around 10 or 11 until 5 or 6 before she needs to nurse. She nurses for 8 minutes or so then goes right back to sleep for about 2 hours. Works great for us. Like I said, it's just during the day where she doesn't want to sleep.

Speaking of which, someone is up from her carseat nap...time to eat!