"Breastfeeding"

We had a baby.

What's been going on since then?

So much. So busy. So different!

I have always said that I wanted to breastfeed. I also told myself that I would not beat myself up about it. If it worked, great! If it didn't, it was not the end of the world and things would be okay. I was wrong. It was SO important to me. And it was SO hard. And it did not work.

We tried BFing right away, as soon as I got to the recovery room. It seemed like it was going to go well. But C had a small mouth. And a lazy latch. We worked and worked and worked on it. And after we tried her at the breast, I would always use the hospital pump to get some colostrum and we would end up supplementing with a syringe. Not ideal, but it worked. And the lactation consultants said it would get easier as she become more alert and aware and grew.

We went home. It didn't get easier. We went to see another LC and she helped us get C latched and sent us home feeling more confident. Except I couldn't make it work at home. C screamed for food, I cried. It was so disheartening. I pumped. She ate. We were "happy". Back to the LC. Nipple shield for Momma, recommended frenectomy for C (clip the "string" that holds the tongue to the bottom of the mouth. Hers was connected too far forward, making sucking at a human nipple hard work and tiring her out quickly.) Went to see the pedi, he did the procedure and we tried some more.

Throughout this I am pumping and feeding her bottles. Each time I try to latch her she massacres my nipple and I have to wait it out to try again because it hurts SO.BAD! I rely more and more on the pump and like it because I know exactly how much she is getting.

I get so frustrated and sad each time we try a "real" feeding because she is getting used to the bottle nipples and doesn't even want to try at the breast. She won't open her mouth wide enough and the latch is super painful. The pump is more and more appealing.

Over a few weeks, I slowly transition from trying to put her to the breast every couple feeds and then pumping, to just pumping. It's "easier".

And that is how it remained. It was hard. So hard. There were days I hated that pump. But I loved it at the same time. It gave me the ability to give my daughter breastmilk instead of formula(which as I mentioned, was way more important to me that I even realized). But I was chained to it every 3 hours (from start to start) a day for weeks on end. Then every 4 hours, then every 6.....and we are still in the weaning process (PAINFUL!!) now.

There are issues with pumping, too. I had bruised nipples until we switched pumps and horns. I have had horrible clogged ducts. I had to wash pump parts 6-8 times a day. We couldn't go out for more than 2 hours without me toting the pump along and pumping in the car.

I feel like I missed out on a lot. I pumped. Other people fed her. I pumped. Other people held her. I pumped. Visitors visited. I pumped. Every else (including her) slept.

We gave her her first bottle of formula a few weeks ago. I was so nervous. You know what? She didn't even blink. Sucked it right down.

Momma's ego was a bit bruised. My liquid gold, what I worked SO HARD for, is easily replaced with store-bought formula. Which is not the devil. Which is not bad for her.

And I still have about 4 months of breastmilk frozen, so it's not like she is done with it. I am proud of myself for working so hard for her. And I still feel like breastmilk is important for the immunities it gives her. But formula will give her the calories and the vitamins that she needs when she drinks it, too.

And you know what? As much as I love that pump for what it did for us......I think I might have a party when I send it back to the LC, ha!

Redirection

I need to get back into this, to redirect this blog into something that is not about infertility and our struggle to become pregnant, but about my life.

There are still struggles, good days, bad days, things to celebrate, things to vent about, I just need to do it.

So much has happened since I last blogged. First and foremost and most life changing......We have a daughter. A beautiful, perfect, healthy daughter. She is my sunshine. She is my life. I cannot imagine living my life without her in it. When I look back on my darkest days of struggling with IF, I can honestly say that although it was painful and I am forever scarred, she was/is worth it. Totally, totally worth it.

I guess I should begin with her birth story and move forward from there.

C was born on 2/14/11. 2 weeks early. By C-section (which surprised us). I started having contractions on 2/13/11 at 2:45am. They were consistently 10 minutes apart throughout the rest of the morning, shortening to 9....to 8...to 7, and then just when I am thinking, "Maybe this is it." They kind of calm right down . To 11 minutes apart at one point in time, at which point I stopped timing them.

I decided to lay down and take a nap. Wasn't happening, but I was able to rest quietly for a bit. My parents came over and we bbq'd steaks and had baked potatoes and sauteed mushrooms. We even had dessert (a love cake - Funfetti with a Valentine's Day theme). I was uncomfortable throughout dinner, but still not really having timeable contrax. My parents left and A and I went to bed around 8ish (I was tired from not really sleeping the night before and wanted him with me). As soon as I laid down, boom! Contractions started back up, right at 5 minutes apart and with great intensity. I sat on my workout ball and bounced around, which helped a bit, but they quickly became more and more intense. I was moaning and crying and feeling embarrassed that I was making such a fuss. I tried rocking on all fours during a contraction, which seemed to help also. Around 10:30 I begged A to call the doctor to see if we could go to the hospital. We got the go-ahead.

Grabbed all our stuff and drove in. Got checked in, moved to a room (this is around 11:30p) and a nurse checked me. (In the midst of this I threw up my love cake :( and now I don't really desire Funfetti cake, lol) She called another nurse to do a check also (me moaning and apologizing for it throughout the entire time) and the conversed quietly about how the doctor was hopefully arriving soon and told me I was at a 9. A 9! All I could think was, "Crap, now I can't have an epidural." (Which coincidentally, I hadn't wanted, but once I was to that point, I really, really did) The OB arrives (not my OB, the on-call, who I actually ended up liking better!) and he checks me and calls for an u/s machine. Turns out our baby was breech, which we were unaware of. Time for a c-section.

A suits up, they wheel me to surgery, and within about 30 minutes of getting back there, our baby girl is born at 1:20a on Valentines Day. She weighed 7lbs 1oz and was 19.5in long. Beautiful, with lots of hair, and dark blue eyes.

We didn't know what we were having, but we had names picked for either gender (1 for a boy, 2 for a girl). We named her, A went with her to get checked out and I got all stitched up and taken to recovery (where she was waiting!) and life has never been the same.