One Little Word

I've seen my friends participate in this in the past, and this year, I feel like I need a little guidance, a touchstone if you will. 2013 was rough. It was beautiful and exhausting. I've come out the end of it tougher but wiser. But it's left me feeling that this year needs to be a little more fulfilling. I'm tired of just getting by. I want more.

So this year, instead of a traditional resolution, I want something a little more flexible, a little more encompasing. One Little Word was created by Ali Edwards, and was exactly what I needed. Instead of a particular goal, you choose a word that will shape your year. Something to come back to repeatedly and to help you shape your goals throughout the year. This year I wanted our family to DO more things. I want to spend less time and money on things, and spend them on experiences. Charlie is going to be one in February, and we will be able to be out in the world more. So this year I chose the word (drumroll please):

Experience

I want to experience more things as a family.

I want to experience my kids growing, learning and changing.

I want to experience at least two new things. Something I've never done before.

I want to be in the moment and experience my life, instead of it just going by.

My word of 2014 is Experience.

I'll be updating more about my experience with experience this year here. I hope you'll join me!

Mother's Day

It's that day, the day when the flower shops and the jewelry stores and the card companies tell you it's time to thank your mother for all the wonderful things she's done.

I may sound cynical, but actually, I love mother's day. I have loved it since I was little, and looked forward to celebrating my own mom every year. As a kid I loved making homemade gifts, cards, and picking my mom's own flowers to make her a bouquet. As I got older it came to be about truly expressing to her how much I appreciated and loved her. Trying to put into words what she meant to me through adolescence and young adulthood.

Now as a mom myself, I really like spending this day with my kids. I don't want to escape to the spa, or have breakfast alone... I want to spend time with Bekah as she reads a book, and Charlie as she's just starting to laugh. I want to snuggle with my sweet husband and just soak in the love that grows and grows in my home.

I learned so much from my own mother. Like how homes that are full of books, and laughs, and crayons are the happiest ones. That sometimes the best gift you can give is your time and attention. That kids thrive when they are respected and taught the rules at the same time. I have learned so very much from my mom, and just hope to have the kind of relationship with my own kids that I have with her.

Thanks, mom. Thank you for teaching me how to be a good mom by your very loving example.

The Grind

Well my first week back to work has been stressful, to say the least. I expected to miss my baby terribly, to struggle with adjusting to 6 hours of sleep, a 6:30 wake up time, and getting back into my work groove. I also thought my coworkers and supervisor would be supportive of this transition, but alas, no. 

On my first day back I was disciplined for too many interrupted shifts before I left for maternity leave. One of those shifts mentioned was the day I went into work in active labor, and left after 7 hours because it was getting strong and regular. My baby was born less than 18 hours later.

Two days later I got a surprise audit. Luckily I am great at procedure and know my stuff, so I passed with flying colors, even after a 6 week hiatus.

But I find myself asking, where was the support? Why wasn't my supervisor asking how he could support my transition back to work with a newborn, instead of berating me for missed work while I was 9 months pregnant? Where was my welcome back cake? (Ok, I wasn't really expecting cake, but it would have been nice, right?)

My poor husband is not only dealing with two kids at home (damn you spring break!) dishes, cooking, and new duties dealing with a newborn, he also gets to deal with tired, zombie-like, stressed out me. And I find I’m not always the nicest person when I’m tired and stressed. I tend to lash out, and expect him to just know what I need without me having to ask. Yeah, I don’t like her much either.

Sex? Forget about it. Last night he snuggled up to me and I couldn't even mutter an apology about being too tired before I fell asleep.

I’m so exhausted. And I can only hope that it gets better. My stomach can’t handle 3 large cups of coffee every morning forever, and my marriage can’t survive a zombie wife forever. How do working moms do this? Last time my baby was 6 months old when I started work. She slept through the night, and was the easiest baby. C is easy too, but still so little, still waking up once or twice a night to eat, and it’s just HARD.

I want to say it out loud (typing counts, right?): being a working mother is HARD. It sucks a lot of the time. And even having a stay at home partner, it’s still different than being a working dad. It just is. It is so hard to disconnect and leave home behind while at work. I’m still thinking about diapers and gas drops, and has dinner gotten started yet? Our mommy minds never stop, which is part of what makes us great at multi-tasking and communicating in the workplace… but it also makes the guilt just pile up and up while we’re here.

Hopefully things look up, baby sleeps more, work gets less stressful, and our money situation will get better too. I can do this, I have birthed babies with no drugs. I am a creator. I am a warrior. I am a Mom.

Do you read PostSecret?

I sure do. And this week there was a very poignant secret for me...

Women all over suffer with issues like IGT, inability to make enough milk, and the simplicity of being uncomfortable breastfeeding for any number of reasons. For this to be this woman's secret is, I feel, a statement on our culture of mommy guilt. I too was relieved when my mourning started to wane. I felt like I was finally free. I could pass the baby to my husband to feed, I could feed her in about 20 minutes instead of an hour. I could see she was happy and full, and growing. What a relief!

Breastfeeding is not for everyone, for many, many reasons. And formula is a great substitute when it's all you have. I wish I could reach out to this mom and hug her. It's ok to be relieved. It's ok to be a bottle mom!

For the rest of this sundays secrets, visit www.postsecret.com

Exhaustion

I'm tired. The kind of tired I didn't know I could be.

I forgot how tired I would be with a new baby. I forgot what the endless nights feel like. I really did forget. Last time around I was younger. I was 21, and all-nighters were something I was used to. The last couple of years my bedtime has steadily gotten earlier and earlier. Less than 8 hours of sleep and I'm a zombie. So this broken sleep thing is killing me.

I forgot how things like "alone time" go out the window. My alone time is stolen moments, usually in the bathroom. Sometimes I just sit in there and do nothing. Or read a book. Remember books?

Just over a week left until I go back to work. I'm starting to look forward to it. I love being home, and I love taking care of my kids full time, but I need to get back to work. I'm a much better mom when I work. I'm more patient with everyone. Plus I miss having something to talk to my husband about. When we're home together all day conversation is something that just doesn't happen. We talk about immediate needs of the kids, or what to have for dinner, but not a lot else. I miss having separate days and things to discuss at the end of them.

Oh exhaustion and boredom. Days and nights of sameness. Welcome to parenthood.

The reason for it all

My baby girl <3 <3

No more boob.

I'm writing this blog at the suggestion of my mother. She has been my very supportive and vocal rock these past couple weeks as I have struggled with, and inevitably stopped, breastfeeding.

It was a difficult decision. One fraught with many tears and sleepless nights. Days when my baby just wouldn't sleep unless she was nursing, and she was always nursing. Her 3 day checkup when we found out she'd lost a pound. More than the 10% weight loss considered normal for a breastfed baby. And she was never satisfied, never full. Finally, we gave her a bottle. She guzzled down almost 3 ounces, and slept. Blissfully. For hours. I was able to go to the bathroom, take a shower, eat, sleep.

I started to come out of the postpartum fog, from the unbearable sense of being completely overwhelmed that I hid from those I loved. Everyone said how good I looked, but I didn't feel good.  I felt broken, frustrated and deficient. Every woman can breastfeed. I read books, took classes, practiced. I googled ways to help my sore nipples, and bought a huge bottle of fenugreek. I started prescription meds that made me start twitching. I did everything I could to make more milk. And I didn't. I figured she was getting less than an ounce per 30 minute feeding. 30 minutes for less than an ounce? What was wrong with me?

I'd heard of something called hypoplastic breasts and had suspected for a couple of years I might have it. I started researching, looking at pictures of breasts that looked just like mine. Reading stories from mothers who also failed to breastfeed, reading their symptoms and warning signs, and it was like reading my own story. I wasn't bad at nursing, my body actually had a deficiency.

Why did none of my doctors, midwives, or pediatricians ever talk to me about this? I struggled to nurse with my first daughter and gave up after just 2 weeks. She was so much happier on the bottle, her jaundice went away, she was pooping more normally. She was a happy, healthy baby. Why didn't any doctor screen me for this? Ask me a few simple questions about my breasts, changes during pregnancy, and look at their shape and structure? Nobody did. I diagnosed myself.

What was worse, was the lactation consultant completely brushed off my suggestion that I might have hypoplastic breasts. She told me the issue was probably that I wasn't letting her nurse enough. That my milk would come in soon (this was day 5, milk comes in around day 3) that I needed to keep at it, and that every bottle of formula I gave her was sabotaging my efforts. Supplementing, she told me, would end my breastfeeding chances period. Wow. I thought these women were supposed to support mothers, not berate them. After a 20 minute conversation, during which I sobbed the entire time. I felt hopeless and lost. I must be broken.

There is a myth that every woman can breastfeed. And it's almost true. Insufficient Glandular Tissue, or IGT is a truly rare condition. It is suspected that about 1 in every 1000 women has it. (This may be under reported as many women never try to breastfeed and it may not be caught) even at that number, that means about 4000 babies are born every year to mothers who will not be able to exclusively breastfeed, or breastfeed at all, yet no one is talking about it, and no one seems to be screening for it. There is so little support for women with IGT.

As of today, I am no longer just supplementing, I've stopped nursing all together. I suspect my IGT affected my milk, as I had a lot of foremilk, and very little hindmilk. This caused C to be painfully gassy and have a hard time pooping. 48 hours with no breastmilk and she has been much more comfortable, I've been able to stop the gas drops and she's pooped A LOT.

I cried over the decision. I am mourning what I thought would happen, how I thought things would work. I am finally accepting our new relationship, and trying to not feel guilty about it. It's ok that my baby has formula, and I know breastmilk is best, but I'm doing my very best too. She is a happy, beautiful, healthy baby. I get to cuddle and snuggle her all day since I'm on maternity leave, and we have a wonderful relationship. I miss the closeness that nursing brought, but I'm glad she's comfortable, and fed.


Nobody talks about WHY they stop breastfeeding, in fact a lot of moms don't say they stop at all, yet it is happening. According to the CDC, in 2012 76% of women initiated breastfeeding in the hospital, but by 6 months only 47% were still nursing. That's a huge drop! We are not alone! Breastfeeding is like any other function of our body, it doesn't always work flawlessly. And thank goodness for formula that helps babies grow big and strong, without making them sick. Thank goodness for milk donors who can donate to mothers who struggle. There are so many options out there.

I wanted to write this in case anyone out there is feeling similar feelings of guilt or sadness over a lack of breastmilk supply, not being able to exclusively breastfeed, or not breastfeed at all. If your baby is happy and healthy, you are doing the right thing.

You are not alone. We are women who wanted to nurse but for any number of reasons, couldn't. Did you give your baby any breastmilk? Great! She got benefits from that. You nursed for 3 weeks? 1 week? 3 days? Fantastic. You are giving her the greatest gift. You have done everything you could for her. Good job moms.

Here are some links I found very helpful for my situation:

http://www.mobimotherhood.org/MM/portal-lowmilksupply.aspx
http://noteveryonecanbreastfeed.com/pb/wp_dec103bd/wp_dec103bd.html (this has a great list of warning signs before/during/after pregnancy for IGT)
http://www.bestforbabes.org/risk-of-invalidating-moms-who-say-they-cant-breastfeed/ (Great article!)

C's birth story

It's been a while, and this is a good post to get back to blogging with. Baby C's birth story. Although I did not get my home birth, and I had to get a new midwife at 34 weeks pregnant, everything went as well as could have been hoped for in the situation. I am very happy with this birth.

C’s birth story.

Sunday February 17^th: I’d been having lots of contractions that had started to feel kind of serious. But I knew better. I knew that they were probably not the real thing, because it was 2 days before my due date, and I always go late. I figured I had another week, at least. We decided to go to Ikea to give me some good walking, and take my mind off of the never-ending contractions.  They continued through Sunday, off and on. So I took a hot shower, and went to bed.

Monday February 18^th: Around 1 AM I got a very strong contraction. Strong enough to wake me up, strong enough I moaned through it. They continued, far apart but strong. I got up about 4, unable to sleep anymore thinking perhaps we were in labor. I timed them all morning. And they were crazy irregular. From 6 – 15 minutes apart. Sobbing, I got dressed and asked Mark to drive me to work. I wasn’t sure  I was in labor, so I didn’t feel like I could call in (again), but I couldn’t drive while having these contractions either. I went to work, and worked 7 hours. Finally at 2:30 I couldn’t stand the pain anymore and came home. All evening the lack of pattern continued. 6 min apart… then 15 min apart. Still moaning through them, I took a hot shower which suddenly made them 20 minutes apart. Frustrated I took a Tylenol PM and went to bed. I continued to wake and moan through my contractions all night, but they were still pretty far apart. Work tomorrow, I concluded.

Tuesday February 19^th (my due date): At 3 AM, I wake to moan through another contraction. In the middle I hear the strangest pop noise from my belly. I sit up… was that my water breaking? Gush. Yep. I wake Mark up and let him know my water broke. I figure we’d labor at home for a bit, but go to the bathroom to clean up first. Then I notice my fluid is green. Uh oh, meconium. Guess we’re going in now. I call my mom, call my midwife, call my doula, call the hospital. Tell the troops we’re a go. During this the contractions suddenly get regular and STRONG. I’m not just moaning through them I’m bouncing, and leaning into mark. Eat a banana, they won’t let me eat there and I know I have hours and hours of labor ahead… grab the bags (packed for weeks) kiss Bekah goodbye (my moaning woke her) and hug my mom. Off to the hospital we go. The roads are empty this early, and that’s good. The contractions start coming about 3 minutes apart. Holy crap they hurt in the car!

We get to the hospital and Mark goes to park while I make my way up to L&D. Stopping to have a contraction by the elevator, stopping in the empty lobby. I finally make it in. While I was undressing, Mark came in, then Marcie, our doula. The midwife hooks me up to all the machines and swabs my fluid (definitely meconium) into a labor room we go. I am so glad we got one with a tub! They have to put an IV in, but I get a hep lock pretty quick. The contractions are moving fast and I want to make sure I can get into that tub! Wireless monitors hooked on, Marcie’s shower cap on, we get in the tub. Ohhh the hot water. My contractions slow, so does baby’s heart-rate. Try a new position? Nope baby doesn’t like the tub, time to get out. But the water feels so good, I’m in control in the water.

I stand up and dry off. Oh gosh I feel LOTS of pressure. I need to push something out. The midwife checks me. Yep, she’s low but no pushing yet you’re not there yet. Marcie suggests we get on the bed, in hands and knees position. Ok, that sounds doable. I can hold the pillow and feel secure. As soon as I get in this position, everything changes. The contractions are so close together, and I don’t really get breaks between them anymore. I need to push. But they keep telling me to pant through them. I try. Pant, pant PUuuuuush. I can’t pant anymore I need to push push push. The midwife has left to deliver another baby next door, but I can feel baby’s head coming out. I tell Mark and Marcie and they keep saying to pant. I think, I can’t pant, there is a baby head right HERE! I feel like I’m climbing the walls. It hurts so much and pushing feels so amazing.

The midwife walks in and says “Oh I see a baby head!” I laugh, because I’m so relieved, I wasn’t crazy, there is a head there and I can push her out! Mark looks so relieved, and Marcie smiles. You can push now. Finally! I give it one big push and feel the ring of fire. Pant pant pant, let her slide out a little and PUSH. In one push she’s out. Midwife literally had to catch her. I take a deep breath and just can’t move.

They tell me to roll over and hold my baby. Oh yeah! I carefully get on my back, and baby is on my stomach… can’t reach any further! She is just covered in meconium and vernix but I don’t care. Let me see her face! Let me see her toes! Let me see those privates… yep still a girl! They tell us the cord cut can’t be delayed because she’s got a bit of fluid in her lungs. It stops pulsing, Mark does the dad thing and cuts it. So cool, he tells me later.

She’s whisked to the corner to have some suction done. She didn’t inhale any meconium, she’s just a little mucus-y. Mark stands by her while they suction. She cries so loud they laugh. Her lungs are just fine. I just lay there in bliss, while I get checked up. Little too much blood, so I get a dose of Pitocin just to close things up. I tore my cervix a little bit, but no stitches needed. No other tears, everything looks good. All of us get wrapped up together and go upstairs. She was born at 7:11 AM. 7 lbs, 4 oz. Perfect.