This might come as a surprise to some of you (or at least I hope it's a surprise), but I have a huge ego. Over my 31 years, acquiring new skills has come relatively easy to me. If I put my mind to something, I can usually figure it out fairly quickly. And if I apply myself, I can become really good at it. This is why, when I hit a stumbling block, I fall and I fall hard. Minor setbacks in achieving a goal can set me into a tailspin so catastrophic, that it nearly destroys me (or at least makes me ugly cry so hard, that even after I recover from the crying, my face is chapped and I am sniffling for the rest of the evening).
When I found out I was pregnant in June 2013, I was pretty sure I was going to rock this motherhood thing from the get-go (except for when I actually got so stressed out about our baby registry that I CRIED). I read books about pregnancy and books about labor and articles about breastfeeding and babywearing and vaccinations. I read mommy blogs that detailed the horrors of what happens AFTER labor. I went to childbirth and breastfeeding classes. I listened to the lactation consultant when she reminded the women in the class that breastfeeding can be hard. And I internalized that statement, but here is where my ego comes in to play. When I internalized that statement, it went something like this: "Breastfeeding can be hard (for everyone else)."
Fast forward to February 6, 2014. Henry arrived 2.5 weeks early, but deceptively looked like a full-grown, full-term little dude. There was no warning tag on him that said, "CAUTION, this kid's feeding skills have not yet fully developed!" I was so exhausted after giving birth, that I don't even remember his first feeding. There is a photo of my wonderful labor & delivery nurse, Tina, helping Henry get latched, so I know it happened, but I have absolutely no memory of the event. It's possible that it didn't go so well, especially considering what a hot mess I must have been.
I only vaguely remember feedings that took place after we were transferred to the postpartum recovery floor. I do recall that Henry could barely stay awake long enough to nurse for any amount of time and that he just kept losing weight. Enough weight that the pediatrician on-call was quite concerned. Enough weight that the phrase "failure to thrive" kept running through my head, though I didn't dare say it out loud. Over the two days we were in the hospital, more people saw and touched my breasts than in my previous 31 years. In return, I got all sorts of swag - a couple of nipple shields (Google it - it's not as awesome as it sounds), a syringe, some bottles of formula to entice Henry into sucking - and not one but two nurses had told me I had pendulous breasts and huge nipples (THANKS!).
Eventually they kicked us out and sent us home. I thought for sure they were mistaken - we certainly were not ready to be trusted alone with a helpless infant. Let alone a helpless infant who happened to be the incredible shrinking boy. What if he lost so much weight he disappeared and we couldn't. Even. FIND HIM?
We got home on a Saturday, and that Sunday, I got a call from Laura to schedule our first appointment with Carle's Breastfeeding Clinic. And thank goodness, too. By Sunday evening, my nipples looked like something out of a horror movie. I had no idea what was going on, but I think I was willing to accept it as my new reality. Apparently, "nipple blood blister" is something a lot of people Google, but not something that a lot of breastfeeding sites talk about.
At our first appointment with the lactation consultants, we discovered that Henry had a yeast infection on his bottom. But wait, I can top that. Because guess who had two thumbs and a yeast infection on her nipples?! THIS GIRL! Do you know what the treatment is for yeasty nipples? Wait for it...Lotrimin cream. Now, that brand name might sound familiar if you've ever had athlete's foot or jock itch (both afflictions that sound awfully sporty for my taste).
So picture this, you've just pushed an 8 pound 6 ounce bundle of joy out of your lady parts, all of the awful things that other ladies have written about extensively on the internet are happening in your bathing suit area, you have Googled "nipple blood blister" within the last 24 hours, and now you are told that you will need to apply jock itch cream to your nipples for what might very well be the foreseeable future. Am I painting a super sexy picture for you?
At that same first appointment, Henry nursed for 20 minutes. And when they weighed him to see how much he had eaten, it was only .2 ounces. Being somewhat naive, I had no idea how bad that was, but it was pretty bad. But you know what those fantastic lactation consultants did? They wrote up a plan. A personalized feeding plan. On a piece of paper. With instructions. On how long to attempt to nurse, and how to supplement, and when to supplement, and how much to pump. And I felt like we were on the path to getting everything under control. Even though things weren't great, there was a PLAN!
So we followed the plan. I would nurse (or attempt to nurse), and then we would supplement, and I would pump. Then ten minutes later (that might be a slight exaggeration), we would repeat the process. Over and over and over for what felt like YEARS. Things still weren't great, but Henry was starting to gain weight.
And then we changed bottles and all hell broke loose. At one of our appointments, Laura, our main lactation consultant, asked us what type of bottle we were using. At that point, we had just been using the straight Medela storage bottles with a crummy Similac nipple they had given us in the hospital. Laura kindly gave us a Dr. Brown's bottle and suggested we start using it instead. Within a week, we had gone from not doing so hot with nursing, to having the worst. Nursing sessions. EVER. Henry would shriek and wail and hit and scratch. I was pretty sure I was causing him physical pain. Joe thought that he had caught on that the bottle was easier than nursing - that he was waiting it out until the bottle came. I thought that theory was preposterous - Henry wasn't even a month old, surely he hadn't put those puzzle pieces together.
At our next appointment, Laura devised an evil plan. Take the Dr. Brown's nipple, and put it on a straight, unvented bottle. This kid was going to get his bottle, but it was going to be the hardest bottle ever. And what do you know? Nursing slowly got better. Sure, Henry crushed the snot out of the nipple and sounded like he was climbing a hill while he took a bottle, but nursing got better.
All the while, Henry was slowly gaining weight. At one appointment, he took 2 ounces in 20 minutes while nursing, and we were given the go ahead to stop supplementing with bottle feeds over the weekend and see how things went.
That Monday, Henry and I returned. Up until that day, Joe had attended appointments with us, so I had emotional backup if things went wrong and someone else to hear recommendations for when my brain couldn't process information. When we put Henry on the scale, he not only hadn't gained anything, he had actually lost an ounce over the weekend. And I was devastated. The lactation ladies reminded me that Henry hadn't even really reached his due date, he still needed to build up strength and become more efficient with nursing. He wasn't even supposed to be here yet, so it was going to take some time, but we'd get there.
I made it through the hour, got the new piece of paper with the new plan (including more bottle feeds), and on my way out, I stopped in the bathroom to cry. I absolutely fell apart. And then I cried on the drive home. And it was one of those times when I just wanted my husband or my mom. And Joe was still at work, so I cried on the drive over to my parents' house. And when I got there, I cried some more. And it felt like things were never going to get better or have any semblance of normality. Our lives were going to be a never-ending cycle of nursing, bottle feed, pump, nursing, bottle feed, pump.
It took my mom, my sister, and Joe to talk me down. I still felt defeated, but there was no point in giving up.
The weeks went by and Henry was still gaining weight. Slowly, Laura had us decrease the amount we were supplementing and he continued to gain weight. He was consistently taking 2-3 ounces when he nursed during our appointments. Things on that front were improving.
But I was still having to pump after every feeding. For those of you who have never had to hook yourself up to a breast pump, it is one of the most socially isolating activities you can participate in, and I felt like I was missing out on bonding time with my little man. Granted, I got pretty good at configuring the whole setup so I could meaningfully interact with him, but it's pretty hard to give belly kisses and good cuddles when you've got two hard plastic bottles jutting off from your breasts.
And then came the appointment when Laura uttered the words I had been longing to hear, "You can start getting rid of pumpings." I almost died of joy. Henry was becoming a champion breastfeeder, he was steadily gaining weight with no supplementation, and now I could start decreasing the amount of time I spent hooked up to a milking machine!? Yes, please.
So fast forward to yesterday, March 31. We hadn't seen Laura in two weeks, and things in the Hayworth house are about as normal as they can possibly get. Henry nurses when he's hungry, I pump twice a day (in the morning and right before bed), and the rest of the time is for cuddles and playing and naps and trips to Target and living life. And in those two weeks of normality, Henry gained an absolutely perfect 10 ounces, which pushed him up and over 10 pounds (10 pounds 2 ounces to be precise). And during our appointment, he ate 5 ounces in 20 minutes, which is 25 times more than he ate at his first appointment. We got the all clear to return to the Breastfeeding Clinic only if the need arises. Henry graduated and this mama couldn't be more proud of the progress we've both made. My kid is a total chow hound now.
And I'll be the first to tell any new mom, "Breastfeeding can be hard (for everyone
Also, in case you were wondering, my nipples are no longer yeasty and my Google search queries have mostly returned to normal.
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