I took the class offered by the hospital, I read the books, but my downfall was putting my trust in the wrong people.  I had a great at home support system.  But, I’m a first time mom and I expected the experts to, well, be experts.  So, here is my journey from preparation to failure to acceptance to hope.  It’s LOOOONNNGGGG.

My husband and I took the hospital class as part of our childbirth prep series.  The instructor was awesome and I was prepared for it to hurt a little in the beginning, for it not to be easy, but for it to work out if I persevered and had support.

Eventually the baby, Alison, came!  She latched on quickly and it felt awkward and hurt a little.  The nurses assured me that her latch was just fine and I’d get used to it.  Every time she needed to eat, I buzzed the nurses in to make sure we were getting a good latch (I remembered that it was important to get it right from the start!).  They said everything looked good and that the hospital LC would see me soon.  Each nurse came with different suggestions on how to get her better at latching and sucking.  One nurse said to give her a pacifier to make her learn how.  The next nurse told me never to use a paci, but to use a nipple shield when nursing.  And so on, and so forth.  Suddenly it was time for discharge… and I still had not been seen by a LC.  There was apparently only one on duty since I delivered late on a Friday night.  The LC never came, despite my asking repeatedly to see her on Saturday.  My nurse called one of the LCs who was off duty and let me talk to her on Sunday before my discharge.  It was not very helpful because I didn’t even know what to ask.  The LC on the phone spoke to the nurse.  I overheard the nurse tell the LC that Alison was not tongue-tied.  I left the hospital with some sugar water and a syringe and the instruction to put some sugar water on the nipple shield to encourage her to latch well.

So, home we went.  With a baby.  Without a clue.  Alison wanted to eat every 2 hours, which is normal for a newborn.  She would nurse 30-40 minutes on each side.   So we were left with 40 minutes to an hour before we started this all over again.  Around the clock.  And did I mention that I had a long and painful labor that lasted 30+ hours?  So, I arrived home with a teeny tiny little baby that takes forever to eat and I haven’t slept in days or physically recovered from the marathon labor.   Thank God my mom was with us for that first week… then my husband’s mom… then my sister… then my college roomie.

It did not take long before I felt completely defeated and exhausted.  We took her to the doctor and she had lost more weight.  Nobody was terribly concerned.  We went back to the hospital to (finally) meet with a LC.  We were worried because she hadn’t had a bowel movement since her transitional stool.  The LC told us that Alison was tongue-tied (even though the nurse said she wasn’t!).  So, off we went to see an ENT.  He told us the tongue-tie was super mild and would stretch out.  He also said he could release it if we really wanted, but didn’t think it was necessary.  So, when the surgeon told us he didn’t think he should do it… we decided not to do it.

By now my milk had come in.  I had one night of relatively painful engorgement, but never had the squirting or leaking you hear about.  Back to the LC we went!  This time she asked me a ton of questions about my pregnancy, my miscarriage and menstrual history.  She told me that my milk supply could be negatively affected by my PCOS.  (I later did some research and found that it can, in fact, affect prolactin levels in either direction.)  She weighed the baby, had me nurse, and weighed her again.  After nursing on both sides, she did not even gain half an ounce.  She told me that supply would always be an issue and that I should pump after each feeding and mix my pumped milk with the formula that was now necessary since Alison wasn’t gaining enough weight.

I went home half encouraged and half defeated.  I was relieved that this particular LC didn’t seem to fit the mold of others I had heard about.  The ones who will tell you to sell your soul to make breastfeeding work.  She talked to me like a normal person.  She told me it wasn’t my fault I didn’t have enough milk and there was nothing I could really do about it… but really?  Pump for 20 mins after nursing for an hour to an hour and 20 mins!?  AROUND THE CLOCK?!  Or I could try power-pumping and pump for 10 minutes more often.  I decided instead to do a hybrid of the two.

We entered into a frenzy of nursing, followed by someone else giving a bottle, and me pumping.  Over and over and over.  It wasn’t long before we turned the night feedings into bottle only.  For the love… someone needed to get some sleep.   Eventually this switched to EP and bottle feeding.  You can only handle cracked and bleeding nipples for so long…

And then all the help was gone.

The family and friend who came to help were back to their own lives, as they should have been. It was me, my little bit of milk breasts, a hungry baby, a pump, and lots and lots of feelings.

I felt completely overwhelmed with simply trying to function.  In addition to my help being gone, I also no longer had to pretend to have it more together than I really did.  Yes, I realize how stupid that was… but I didn’t even realize I was doing it at the time.  Hindsight is 20/20, after all.  What followed were many days of not showering, wanting to cry when the baby cried, not having lunch, and not pumping as much as I should have because I just couldn’t get it done.

In addition to the nursing struggles, we (still) have an anti-napping baby.  So that is where the lack of time to pump (and eat) came in.  I fell into that new mommy mold of “I must entertain the baby while she is awake and not eating” and then she was refusing to sleep if she wasn’t being held… so my chest was just not available for the pump.  Everyone in my life was telling me it was OK to quit pumping because I was holding on so hard and it clearly wasn’t working.

My milk supply dwindled.  Of course it did.  And then I started to get upset about it.  I just couldn’t let it go.  I was feeling completely betrayed by my body.  My body that I have worked so hard all these years to take care of was failing me.  It failed me in the miscarriage and it was failing again.  After my milk was gone and Alison was doing just fine, I still wasn’t.  So, I eventually decided to attempt relactation.  I reached out to some postpartum doulas in the area and contacted LLL.  Turns out the LCs at my hospital do not have a great reputation in the area.  I gathered their advice and moved forward.  I did not tell my friends and family about this because I felt like they had all closed the door on that chapter and I didn’t want to have to justify all my feelings.  Only my husband and my online mommies knew.

I ordered domperidone and started pumping again. ALL. THE. TIME.  Sometimes I would get drops… sometimes I would get nothing at all.  By the time the domperidone arrived I had been taking the normal supplements for weeks and I was feeling really hopeful.  Alison would latch and/or lick drops off of my nipples occasionally.  She was already showing major improvement from the early days by sticking her tongue out past her lips and all that.  The drugs came on a Thursday and I started taking them immediately (on top of starting the old supplements of Fenugreek, Blessed Thistle, drinking Mother’s Milk tea and putting Brewer’s Yeast in everything I could tolerate to consume it).  I did not notice a change in output.

The Saturday after I started taking the domperidone, I completely forgot to take the pills and to pump.  I was just so caught up in being a mommy and a wife.  We had a fantastic day as a family of 3.  I wasn’t sad during bottle feeding.  It was a real turning point.  When it went upstairs to go to bed and saw the pump next to the armchair in our bedroom I had a huge pang of guilt.   I got back to pumping and taking the pills the next day.  But, I started feeling crappy physically.  I had a nasty headache that Tylenol was just not kicking.

I had no change in output.  I spent some time Googling domperidone and found out that headaches are a side effect.  I stopped the pills for a day and the headaches subsided.  Took them again, headache returned.  The decision was made.  I packed up the pump and all the nursing bras.  It was over.

At that point I finally, really, mourned the official end of our breastfeeding relationship.

A few weeks after that, Alison started showing symptoms of teething and so I really got in her mouth and poked around.  Noticed that her tongue-tie is pretty mild, but she also has a top lip tie… which wasn’t mentioned by the LC, her pedi, or the ENT.  She also has a very high palate – also not mentioned.  Naturally I turned to my best friend, Google, who told me that all of these things can cause major breastfeeding issues, including a lack of supply establishing (maybe it WASN’T my PCOS?), lack of latching (which we knew), and can lead to eventual speech impediments, etc.   We will definitely be discussing this at her next check-up and may have to have these ties released eventually.

I am still sad about the whole thing, but I have hit the stage of hope.  If we decide to have more kids, now I know what these things look like and you can be certain that if there are signs of these ties, they will be released immediately.  Perhaps if we had done that with Alison, I would be typing one handed while nursing instead of squeezing this in while she is (sort of) napping.  We will also look for a new OB (probably a midwife, actually) that can deliver at a different hospital with highly reputable LCs and doulas.  I am a little disappointed about that because I do really like my doctor. However, she only delivers at the one hospital… and that kind of makes the decision for me.

So, take my word for it.  Breastfeeding is hard.  It can defeat you even if you have the support.  If it does, it’s OKAY!  If you have a great breastfeeding relationship with your baby, AWESOME!  I am happy for you and also jealous.  No matter what you are putting in your baby’s belly, formula or breast milk, and no matter how you are getting it there, you are doing a great job!  You are a great mom!  Your baby loves and needs you!

I sincerely hope that you truly believe that sooner than I did.

Hey there, it’s Cassandra. I have been thinking a lot about what I wanted my next blog post to be about. Food, family, baby sleep routines, parenting paranoia, getting my pre-baby body back, how I got my body back the first time, traditions, toddler toys, etc…I couldn’t focus on any one subject and so I just decided to put it off, until yesterday. I started thinking about how much I love my girls. That is usually a major theme for me as a mother. I have turned into a giant sap. I still wish I was working, but I enjoy being a mother more than I ever dreamed would be possible. I wasn’t always this way, and I think in exploring the change that I went through these past three years will hopefully help some of you moms who are going through this out.

First off, here is my beautiful baby after some mango.

Get ready to hate my guts after looking at this adorable girl and reading what I am about to write.

When we decided to start trying for a second baby, I thought I was ready. Lucy had gotten so easy, everything just flowed. We had settled into a routine that fit and I felt like adding a second one would be easy as pie. After a few months and a miscarriage, I found out that we were expecting our second daughter. I am very tall, and so even though I was very pregnant, I didn’t look it. Lucy was blissfully ignorant and I was taking advantage of her awesome three hour nap to get in my workouts and naps. Around month 6 or 7, I realized that I was going to have a newborn around the house and reality sunk in. Oh my goodness, what did I do? How was I going to take care of two? Moreover, how was Lucy going to react to playing second fiddle to this new bundle of joy that’s entire life’s purpose was to exhaust me and take up all my love? I suddenly realized that I didn’t want another baby. I wanted to give all my love to Lucy, end of story. On top of my horrible realization, I started showing and Lucy got really clingy. She stopped pooping in the potty, only wanted me, and got really weird about baths. We always took baths together and she played, but that turned into her clinging tightly to me and refusing to play. By month 9 I was fine staying pregnant forever. That way everything would be fine and I wouldn’t have to confront my mistake head on. That’s right, I said mistake. (Insert horrible mother photo here.)

When Norah arrived, I was still in shock. I hadn’t worked through my issues and here I was, sitting in the hospital after a whirlwind birth, about to introduce baby #2 to baby #1. I loved Norah, but it wasn’t that tug at your heartstrings, love at first sight kind of love that I felt I should have for my child. What kind of horrible mother was I? All I could feel was guilt at the fact that I didn’t cry when she was born. I thought if only I had a VBAC, things would be different. Having one meant that I would have that special bond so many mothers talk about. Why was it missing?

Fast forward four months and I am a completely different mother. Looking at Norah wiggle around on her mat, try to chew off my chin, and how she lights up when her sister is near gives me all of those feelings I was missing the day she was born. Sometimes, I stare at pictures of her and she makes my heart ache. I am talking sixteen year old girl, my life is over if Justin Bieber doesn’t know who I am heart aches. The kind that make you cry yourself to sleep.

I have come to two conclusions after adding number two to the mix. The first is it’s okay to not have the same parenting reaction that society expects of you. We are all different and we take to this job differently. Adding another person to a family is not a trivial thing.  Even though babies are cute, rarely are those “cute babies” that everyone loves from the commercials a newborn. Newborns are tough and sometimes, they leave you at your wits end. Every parent has had the “Why did we do this again?” moment at least once. If you have that baby that never cries, puts itself to sleep, eats like a champ, and you left the hospital in your pre-pregnancy clothes, good for you. Just be sure to keep that to yourself for a few years. At least until I am through with the baby stage. Mentally, I am not capable of hearing about your perfect baby.  Just remember, the rest of us are out here in the trenches, cleaning the latrine with a toothbrush and grinning from ear to ear, saying, “This is the best time of my life.”

The second thing I learned is more personal. Norah has taught me more about how I love. I used to fancy myself a romantic, but now I know better than that. I need time to fall in love, and that is okay. My mother is a total sap and said she cried the moment she saw me. It was “love at first sight” as she says. Lucy and Norah aren’t as lucky to have a mother that has that open of a heart. I do, however, love them now with all my heart, soul, mind, time, and body. I would die for them. I sometimes pray at night that I want to take their place if ever anything happens to the family. I would gladly give my life for them in an instant. I want to.

Norah has won me over with her smiling eyes, her coos, her snuggles, and gentle disposition. She is such a sweetheart. I don’t know how someone as cold hearted as me could have a baby this loving. My point is, if you are worried about having baby number two, don’t worry. You will love the second child. You may be a heartless mother like me and it might take you a few months, but you will love them. Then you’ll be writing a blog about how you couldn’t imagine your life without both of them. Don’t just take my word for it, get going.