Bad Mom (Part 2)

Picking up where I left off with my previous post, "Bad Mom (Part 1)", giving Lily her first bottle was both a blessing and a curse....

On the positive side, when she took a bottle I could see how many ounces she was drinking.  I knew she got enough.  Also, her dad could feed her too, which gave me some time for much needed naps. (It's not easy recovering from surgery in general, add to that no sleep and you've got a recipe for disaster.)

Anytime we were home, I would breast feed Lily until she decided she was done and then pump.  I knew that this was a good way to build supply.  At our bedtime she would take a bottle from her daddy while I would pump.  I would still take all of the night feedings and "top her off" with the bottle if she was still hungry after being offered both breasts twice.

A HUGE problem I had was that I couldn't feed her in public, or even when we had people over.  I have always been very shy, but I thought I could get over it for my baby.  I couldn't.  I tried... I would put on the nursing cover, unstrap my bra, get Lily positioned and then as soon as I would start to get the nipple shield in place, everything would fall apart.  The shield would wind up in the wrong spot, I'd end up with a blister, and Lily would end up screaming.  I kept thinking, this will be a LOT easier without the nipple shield!  I still think it would have, but that would never happen.  Even if everything worked out great and I got her AND the nipple shield positioned just right, I would never let down.  It just wasn't working.

By the time Lily was 2 months old, she was so used to the bottle that I was mostly pumping and bottle feeding.  The nipple shield was still a must.  Any attempt to nurse without it, Lily would push away and cry.  She would still nurse at night and a couple times during the day, but for the most part, she wanted the instant gratification that came with bottle feeding.

The amount of milk I could express with pumping topped out at 3 ounces in a session and worked its way down to 5 mL in a day.  Lily became less and less satisfied after each feeding until one night, I sat down to feed her, and she refused to take the breast.  I hand expressed some milk in hopes it would entice her.  She still refused.  Her fusses turned to screams as I continued to offer her the breast, and finally I broke down and yelled for my boyfriend to make her a bottle.  She finished the whole thing in no time, while I sat - attached to my Pump in Style, feeling like a cow.  It was over.  I failed.

Day after day, and night after night, I continued to offer my breast.  Occasionally, she would take it, and as a sense of relief would flow over me, she would break her latch and scream.  I spent countless hours writing back and forth with the awesome ladies at Le Leche League.  I tried everything they could suggest.  Fenugreek, Mother's Milk tea, heat, ice, a shower, bathing with the baby, visualization... the list goes on and on.  My desire to rebuild my supply and re-latch my daughter became an obsession.  I would sit up at night looking for ideas online.  I would mention it at every doctor appointment, only to be told that her health is great and to just keep her on the formula.  I was on the WIC program at the time, and they would say "it's okay, she's doing very well with formula."  My boyfriend was more than okay just knowing she was healthy.  I was dying inside.

Lily will be 6 months old this week. She eats solids twice a day and has a single bottom tooth (razor sharp, by the way!)  About 2 months ago I stopped being able to express any milk while pumping.  I can still hand express, but only the first "squeeze" produces a stream, so I can never catch it.  While I'm beginning to let go of that which I cannot control, I can't help but find myself wishing things were different, and even feeling a little envious of that nursing mom in the next booth over.

I still don't know exactly why I wasn't successful in breastfeeding.  I'm sure I made mistakes and I know there are many, many things I could have done differently and will do differently the next time around.  For now, I can only move forward.  I can't go back to the beginning and re-establish a better start at nursing.  But, I am NOT a bad mom.  My daughter is healthy, happy, growing at a steady rate and meeting or exceeding all of her developmental milestones.  She loves me and I love her.  We have a bond even without breast feeding.  I know it isn't this hard for everyone, and if it came naturally to you, that is AWESOME... but please, don't put down another woman who has a tougher time.  You haven't walked in her shoes any more than she has walked in yours.  For the moms out there like me, you are NOT alone.  You have NOT failed.  You are NOT a "Bad Mom".

Bad Mom (Part I)

While I was pregnant, I looked forward to breastfeeding.  I wanted to be that mom who could [discretely] whip out her boob in a crowded room, latch her baby, and feed her all she can eat, whenever she wants it.  I was determined  to feed and pump and do everything in my power to exclusively breast feed my little bundle of joy.

My mom couldn't do it.  My sister couldn't do it.  I thought to myself... "Maybe they gave up too soon."  After all, you go to the classes and they tell you if you do this, that or the other thing, breastfeeding is easy.

I call "bull"!  I had EVERY intention of breastfeeding my baby, and at nearly 6 months postpartum, I feel cheated.  I feel like I missed out on my natural right as a woman.  I feel like a failure.  I've asked myself again & again...  What did I do wrong?  I've even called myself a bad mom - all because I couldn't breastfeed. But, it isn't my fault.

At 39 weeks, 1 day gestation I was induced due to preeclampsia.  I was in labor for 36 hours before my water broke, then another 14.5 before Lily's heart rate dropped for a 3rd time and I was put under anesthesia for an emergency cesarean delivery.  (I'll post my birth story at some point.)  Thanks to the need for general anesthesia, I didn't meet my daughter until she was 2 hours old!  At 5:15 pm on Wednesday, August 28, 2013, I took in the view of the hospital ceiling through tear-blurred eyes as I was wheeled into my labor and delivery room where my boyfriend was waiting with our daughter.  By this time, the majority of the things I had asked for in my birth plan had been scratched off the list.  In a hurry to move me to a new room in a different wing of the hospital (all because I had a c-section!), my nurse suggested I order my dinner before the kitchen closed, performed my baby's first bath and other new born procedures they had put off until my arrival, and then - with only a couple minutes to spare before my time in the room was up - get Lily to latch for our first attempt at breastfeeding.  My plans for this moment were to go skin to skin and allow Lily to make her way to my breast on her own time.  This was what I thought our first 2 hours of her life on earth would be.  One more thing to scratch off the birth plan!  Running out of time, the nurse helped me to position baby to my naked breast, then - as I was moving her to my nipple - he placed a nipple shield and put her little mouth over it.

I was stunned.  I didn't know my nipples were considered flat!  My entire pregnancy, they protruded through every bra I owned and it seemed as if they could cut glass!  But they were flat?  I needed a nipple shield to feed my daughter?  I didn't want one, but if I need one.... OK?  It worked out.  She ate from that first breast and fell asleep on the job.  Then we were off to the new room.

In the wing we were moved to, we were assigned to a new nurse.  I ate my [now cold] grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup, took my first dose of pain medication, made my arm available for blood pressure readings and got ready to feed my girl again.  Again, the nipple shield was slapped onto the opposite breast.  The baby ate, and her daddy and I were instructed to make notes on the white board (which wasn't always easy, considering he wasn't always available and I couldn't walk again yet).

Most of the 48 hours I spent in the hospital post-delivery are foggy in my memory.  I had help from a lactation consultant who would say it was important to get rid of the nipple shield.  I would work at getting Lily to latch without it - she would cry and I would cry.  Then, a nurse would come and say we need to use the nipple shield.  It got confusing!

While Lily was under the bili-lights, I was instructed by the nurses to go 4 hours between feedings, so she could get what she needed from the lights.  Loved ones would come to visit and see the new addition and I would clam up and be unable to latch Lily.  Both of us were exhausted from our ordeal and would drift off to dreamland mid-feeding.  Challenge after challenge, I felt that I was losing some great battle.

At home we did well.  My milk came in at 5 days postpartum and I thought "OK, I've got this.  I can do this!"  We got into a groove and we made it work.  She was pooping and peeing the way "they" said she should and things were going well, except that I still couldn't get her to latch without the nipple shield!

At her first pediatrician appointment, almost a week after her birth (thanks to an insurance issue!), we were told that she had lost too much weight.  In addition, her jaundice had not left her system yet.  The doctor was concerned and suggested we begin to supplement.  I had prepared for this.  My boyfriend and I had discussed this.  We knew that breast milk is best, and that sometimes it is hard to get going, but we were going to give it our all before we supplemented.  At that moment, we both agreed to supplement.  We didn't want to starve our baby, or keep her jaundice from leaving her system.

That night, we fed Lily her first bottle - which was both a blessing, and a curse.

Valentine's Day

The posts on facebook are flowing in from all directions.  "I hate Valentine's Day", "Happy Single Awarness Day", "I don't understand why people only celebrate their love on this one day."  Well, I have some thoughts.   When I was a little girl, my dad always made Valentine's a special day for my siblings and I.  We would come home to a small present and eat our favorite foods for dinner.  Desert was an ice cream cake from DQ.  In high school, while my dad was still working hard to make it special, I would tell everyone I hated Valentine's Day.  Secretly, I loved the holiday.  The hearts, the pink & red, the flowers - not so much the boxes of chocolate with that gross coconut center - but you catch the drift.  There was something about it that just made me happy.
At 16, when I finally had my first boyfriend, and we were going to spend our first Valentine's Day together, he dumped me.  On Valentine's Day.  I was heart broken.  Still, I made the most of it.  I bought myself my favorite candy.  I flew to Arizona to visit my grandparents.  I exchanged Valentine's with them.  I sang songs about girl power instead of love songs.
At 18 I finally had another boyfriend (yea - I was shy, and was waiting for one guy to realize I existed - ha!).  Our first Valentine's came up and he wanted to buy me an engagement ring.  He had asked months earlier, but I didn't have a ring.  We went to Kay Jewelers.  He showed the guy a coupon and I tried on the ring.  I asked him how it looked and he got mad at me for asking and walked out.  I bought the ring myself (I  know, I know).  Happy Valentine's Day, right?  Ok - so that time it kinda sucked, but it wasn't the day's fault.  It was the guy's fault for being an ass.
At 21, same sorta thing, my 3rd boyfriend ever ditched me on Valentines day to hang with his buddies.  By that time I had learned to cope.  I took myself out to a movie, ate all the chocolate I wanted, had a  quiet dinner alone, and ended the night with a nice bubble bath and a glass of wine.  It was years before I had someone to share that day with again, and I learned that as long as I have love for me, I already have a Valentine.
There's something very calming about going to dinner and a movie alone.  Yea, haters gonna hate.  You get some dirty looks and strangers might come up to you and tell you they're sorry - umm, ok - but really, it is what you make it.

Today is the 5th Valentine's Day I have spent with the father of my child, the love of my life, and my [someday] husband.  Each year he cooks me my favorite meal, buys me a new wine to try, and surprises me with a rose. We always spend it at home.  The point is that we are together and we are making time for us as a couple - which isn't always easy once you have a baby!  The thing is, that aside from the "For My Valentine" sticker on the rose vase and the increased price on - well, everything - it is no different from any other random day we choose to share a token of our love.
The point is, that where there is love, there is a Valentine.  Everyone has one if they only look inside.

Those Not-So-Awesome Pearly Whites...

My lovely little Lily is nearly 6 months old!  Her poor little mouth is ready to expose those pearly whites, and nobody here is enjoying it!  Today was the worst day yet... I tried just about everything there is to try and my sweet baby could not find relief.  My normally wonderful napper slept no more than 20 minutes, and when she was awake she was mostly a cranky little mess, with the exception of some very precious moments.

(How cute is that little face?)

She wants all the things, and she wants them in her mouth... Sophie giraffe brings a smile for a minute, until she throws her in frustration.  The bug-a-loop gets a lot of use too, but she gets frustrated with that as well. If a finger goes anywhere near her, watch out!  She will take that finger and bite like crazy or scream like heck! Ora-jel made it possible for her to finish her bottle - slowly, but surely - and the 20 minute nap? Brought to you by Tylenol!  The list goes on... tomorrow we will try some frozen bananas in the mesh feeder. Thankfully, a day without her usual 3 hour nap led to an easy bed time.  So far, so good!  Now, this exhausted mama needs some sleep, before we do this all over again, tomorrow.

What's in a Name?

You never really think about the importance of a name until you need to think of one for another human being.  That name you choose is what they will be called for their whole life (or for the first 18 years if they really hate it and have it changed).  When Chris & I found out we were expecting and began thinking of names for boys and girls we found it to be quite the challenge. He hated everything I had on my list.  I found flaws in all of his ideas (really? James?  I'm Jamie, your cousin is Jamison/ Jamie... you want to add to the confusion? I think not!).  We decided to start listing off every name in our family tree.   For a girl we decided on Lillian Margarite.  My mother's Nana was Lillian Rebecca.  I have her middle name.  My Nana was Sharon Margarite. My daughter now has her middle name.  Yep, we had a girl!  And good thing too, because we were close to having a son named "Boy".

Once I decided to write this blog, I began thinking of names.  It was almost as difficult as choosing one for my daughter.  Every time I thought of a title that sounded clever and witty, I would google it and find some other blog with the same title.  I wanted something short, but catchy.  I tried "Mommy Wants Coffee" and "Imperfectly Perfect".... both taken.  Someone suggested I use mine or my daughter's name.  I didn't want some generic blog title, like "Jamie's Blog" or "Dear, Jamie's Diary".  I finally decided on mixing my daughter's nick name with a slang word for house or home... Lily (short for Lillian) and Pad (for home).  I preceded those choices with Life, because it is, after all, about my life.  And thus, "Life on the Lily Pad" was born. 
It's taken me a while to get a post up here, and I know I fell far behind with my previous blog "Every Day a Journey," but I am hoping to write quite a bit more.  So, please read and enjoy my little adventure as a mommy!