Confidence Is Underrated

Two weeks ago I sat in a WIC class surrounded by approximately ten mothers and one mother-to-be. The leader of the class asked the mothers who were still breastfeeding.

I immediately reminisced about my first visit to that very class when I sat determined to breastfeed for a year and one mother sitting in front of me turned to me and said, “Oh, honey, if you’re like me you won’t make it past two weeks. It hurts too much! Naw, that’s not for me!” 

Honestly, I’m not still breastfeeding my daughter who weaned herself just two months prior to the class. . . but I lied. No other mothers in the room raised their hands when we were asked who was still breastfeeding and I wanted to show the mama-to-be that it is possible to have a successful breastfeeding relationship. I raised my hand and said I was still breastfeeding my 16-month-old daughter. The leader asked what I liked about breastfeeding. The question caught me off-guard and I stammered something about not having to get up in the middle of the night to prepare bottles while my daughter waited, crying. If I’d had more time to prepare, this is what I would have shared with the class.

There was certainly a learning curve, and it wasn’t always comfortable, but breastfeeding has fulfilled the lives of my daughter, me, and my husband more than I could have ever imagined.

The gifts that breastfeeding gave my daughter are obvious. Breastmilk was gentle on her stomach, unlike formula. Breastmilk comforted her when she felt poorly. Breastmilk sustained her and helped her grow. Breastmilk kept her healthy and protected her from the germs I brought home from work.

Breastfeeding gave me sweet, beautiful times to cuddle my daughter and look into her beautiful eyes. It gave me time to slow down, stop, and enjoy her company. It taught me patience and perseverance. It gave me a greater sense of purpose. It gave me something about which I could be passionate. Breastfeeding gave me a sense of accomplishment that I’d never known – after all, not only did I help my beautiful girl grow in my belly, but I also helped her grow once she met the world for the first time.

I would have never guessed that our breastfeeding relationship could have been a gift for my husband as well. After I told him the benefits of it he was on-board. He was able to see my commitment to our daughter. He was able to see a mother nurture her babe in every sense of the word. He was also able to gain his protective, father-bear instincts when it came to defending us and our choice to breastfeed.

Little did I know when I made the decision to breastfeed that it would be the best decision I’ve ever made.

More importantly?  

Breastfeeding helped me learn my body and trust it. . . and gave me confidence in myself.

Favorite Breastfeeding Moment

Every part of breastfeeding has endeared me to my daughter. (Yes, even the torture of sore, cracked, bleeding nipples at the beginning brought me closer to her and enforced my desire to breastfeed.) My favorite nursing memory, however, comes at the end of a very trying 3.5 month-long nursing strike.

I was almost at the end of my rope. Every time I held my sweet six-month-old daughter at my breast, she screamed like I was trying to hold her up-side down by her toenails. It seemed the very thought of getting near the breast upset her. I didn't know what to do. I was exhausted from working a 40-hour week and keeping up a killer pumping schedule.

One night with a heavy heart and heavy eyelids I brought my beautiful daughter upstairs to call it a night. I put her on the bed and undressed (always sleeping topless so that she had an all-access pass to the breast). When I finished I picked her up and hugged her. I told her "I don't understand why you don't want Mama anymore, Puddin'" (it's near impossible to not take a nursing strike personally), "but I'm right here if you want to cuddle and nurse." As we laid down together on the bed, something great happened. Before I could even position myself on the mattress, my little girl reached out to my breast with both hands. I laid down beside her and she smiled, took it hungrily, and nursed herself softly to sleep. I thought my heart would burst!

At this point my little girl will only nurse through the night and I'm still pumping like crazy during the day to meet her needs, but that one evening was enough to lift my spirits and let me know that my little girl loves me - she just loves her independence as well.

Circus Act

I've always considered myself a strong person. I've been proud of how much I have tolerated and still managed to come out on top. (Well, not necessarily on top - but I've been able to keep my head relatively above water and make the most of any situation.) Part of the reason I never wanted to be a mother before I conceived Tori was that I knew I'd be responsible for another little human being and I was sure that would push me past my limit.

When Josh and I conceived Tori, I was petrified. Instantly. Life as I knew it was over. It was time to shed my old skin and re-emerge as someone completely different - as a mom. Sure, I had almost 10 months to prepare, but 10 months is nothing after you've been concerned with sustaining only yourself for 27 years before that.

I read everything I had time to read about motherhood. I took a childbirth class. I took three breastfeeding classes. Did I feel more prepared? Nope. I felt more terrified. I had days when I wondered, "How will I do this?" Some days I thought, "What was I thinking?" On others I simply felt amazed at what was going on within my body. Pregnancy is truly a miraculous experience. Over time I became more and more nervous about labor and delivery.

When the morning of August 2nd came and my water broke, I busied myself with laundry while Josh got his last couple hours of sleep as a non-parent. I spoke nervously to my tummy. "Do I get to meet you today, little one?" I asked as I stood in front of the washing machine and rubbed my bump tentatively. Tori didn't answer me but my heart fluttered. As it turns out, I didn't get to meet her that day but I did the next - August 3rd at 12:07 a.m., after 17 hours and 37 minutes of easy labor. Then life truly changed.

Suddenly I was no longer April - daughter, sister, college graduate, employee, wife. Suddenly I became a circus act - a juggler. I became all the things listed above, plus mom.

Now instead of going to work, paying bills, coming home, spending time with the husband, and going to bed - I'm getting up, taking care of Tori, being "moo-mie" (making milk), going to work, paying bills, making doctors' appointments, being moo-mie again, running errands, paying bills, coming home from work, and then again being moo-mie, taking care of Tori, orchestrating baths and showers, grabbing a quick bite to eat, and then settling to bed with my favorite snuggle-bug.

I sure am busy . . . but life is wonderful.

Relactating

Unfortunately I don't have new news to report. My production hasn't gone up anymore since that initial jump. Hey - the great news is that it did go up! Little one is still being supplemented with formula, but at least it's not the majority of her diet anymore. It seems my experiment worked.

Now I'm back to taking the Mother's Milk Special Blend liquid to see if it helps bump my production up any more. Here's to hoping!

Progress?

I had the Mirena removed Thursday. I didn't even know when Doc removed it - it was completely painless. I had a tad bit of cramping afterward, but nothing terrible. Now the true test comes - did that help my production?

Lately Tori has been getting between 15-20 ounces of formula on any given day. At my 9:30 a.m. pump I usually yield only 2.5 ounces of Mama milk. Saturday she only got 2 ounces of formula at at 9:30 I pumped 4 ounces of Mama milk! On Sunday she only got 5 ounces of formula at at 9:30 a.m. I pumped 3.5 ounces of Mama milk. Today I don't know how much formula she's gotten but at 9:30 a.m. I pumped 4.0 ounces of Mama milk again!

This is looking promising folks!

Foreign Entity

When I was pregnant with T, my doctor's office asked me what I had planned to use for birth control after I had her. I hadn't thought that far ahead to be honest. I started talking to a lady at work about her experiences with Mirena - they were all positive, so I brought that up at my next visit.

I let my doctor know how sensitive I am to hormonal forms of birth control. I told him how many different kinds of birth control pills I'd tried, only to have to change the prescription in just a little while. I told him about my horrid experience with the Depo-Provera shot. I asked him what he thought my success rate would be with the Mirena knowing all those things; I was especially concerned since it contains the same hormones as Depo.

Doc told me not to worry. He told me that the hormones in the Mirena were so low that I shouldn't have any problem whatsoever. That rested my mind. I planned to have Mirena inserted.

Fast-forward a couple of months. I had a few breastfeeding classes (yes, a few - I was serious) and I learned that hormonal forms of birth control can mess with milk production. I asked the doctor about that right before he was about to insert the Mirena.

Doc told me not to worry. He told me (again) that the hormones in the Mirena were so low that I shouldn't have any problem whatsoever. Again my mind was rested. I told him to go ahead.

The Mirena was inserted about the time I started working again.

When I started working again I was keeping up with the amount of milk T needed, though it meant I had to pump seven times a day. I had to deliver the milk I'd pumped in the morning when I went home for lunch and that was T's supply for the afternoon. It was difficult - but I was able to ensure T was only drinking Mama milk.

A few weeks later I noticed a little drop in my supply. I went and rented a hospital-grade pump (which had helped increase my volume previously). This time it did not help. On the night T turned three months old she had her first taste of formula. From that point she roughly had one bottle of formula every other day; the rest was Mama milk.

By the time T was four months old, it was commonplace for her to have two bottles of formula a day. By this point I had rented the hospital grade pump (again) to bring up my production with no results. I had started taking fenugreek, an herb that makes you smell like maple syrup, to boost my supply. I made sure I was well-hydrated. I was getting as much rest as I could possibly get. Nothing worked.

When T turned five months old, she was having upwards of three bottles of formula a day. I turned my focus toward her nursing habits. When my production initially decreased she went on a nursing strike and refused the breast all the time with the exception of nighttime. I knew that a baby nursing will increase production better than a pump ever will (because they're such efficient little suckers) so I decided her refusal to nurse *must* be the reason my production continued to drop. With a whole lot of patience and a lot of trial and error I got T to start nursing more often. My production didn't increase. J said, "I thought nursing was supposed to increase your production." I said, "Honey, I did, too." At that point I was praying we could last until she was six months old so that she would fill up a little more on solids and we would have to supplement less with formula.

By T's six-month birthday our initial ratios reversed themselves. By this point T was only having two to three bottles of Mama milk a day and the rest was formula. She had hit her growth spurt and even though she was getting solids for the first time, her reliance on formula didn't decrease. I cried. A lot. My first job as a mother was to nurture this little one inside my body almost 10 months. My second job as a mother is to nurture her and give her the best start I possibly could with my own breast milk . . . and I was failing. I ordered an expensive herb tincture online and tried it for one month. Other moms raved about its effectiveness. I saw no positive result.

T is now seven and a half months old. As of last Monday she was still only getting one bottle of Mama milk a day - two if she was lucky. It had gotten ridiculous. There was no way I could continue pumping for 20 minutes seven times a day to yield one to two bottles. I cried more because I wanted to give up - then I called a certified lactation consultant.

The lactation consultant told me that YES, Mirena can absolutely effect production. She told me that breastfeeding moms who have had their Mirenas removed have seen a rebound in supply. She also cautioned me - that she'd caught moms and had them remove their Mirenas when they've only had them in for upwards of two months. At this point I've had mine for five and a half.

With a heavy heart I explained everything to J. J told me "If it helps your production to remove the Mirena, I'm all for it - but more importantly, you know your body, and if you think it will help you then go do it." I made the appointment. It's today at 2:15. The funny thing is that ever since I had that conversation with J and I made the decision to remove it, my production has rebounded a tad. It's almost like my body is relieved I've made the decision to remove the foreign entity from it and it's thanking me already.

Tomorrow starts the hard work. I'll be following the rules of re-lactation which means a ton of water, a ton of pumping, nursing whenever possible, being religious about taking the production-enducing meds, and perhaps the purchase of some more of the expensive herb tincture. I'll be exhausted, but if this works I should see an increase within two weeks and I should get the full result within four weeks. If this doesn't work I'll be horribly disappointed - but at least I'll know I've tried everything I can try. If I can continue to nurture my little girl with my breasts as my mother did for me I'll be elated.

Let's see how it goes . . .

Lactivist, continued.

Let me clarify my position here.

Those of you close to me already know that I'm an extra-special version of both an introverted and extroverted personality type. I may put myself out there . . . but I usually have to push myself to do so.

(Surprising considering the ex-profession, yes?)

If a mother doesn't breastfeed I'm not going to bash her head in. I'm not going to scold a mother over choosing formula.

What I will do is this: I'll patiently ask any and all questions about breastfeeding. I'll support a mom in continuing her breastfeeding relationship. I'll talk openly about nursing my daughter. I'll openly carry my pump bag around work with me and answer anyone who asks what it's for. I'll nurse in public (discreetly, of course, and if Tori allows). On a more global format, I'll keep up with breastfeeding in the news. I'll join causes to increase breastfeeding awareness, to enact laws to protect a mom and babe's breastfeeding rights, to stop formula companies from telling mothers (untruthfully) that formula is just as ok as Mama's milk. Oh - and I won't shut up about my own accomplishment - breastfeeding Tori (with some supplementation) for seven and a half months.

Lactivist

I have to wonder if I’m driving some of my Facebook friends crazy with the amount of breastfeeding information I’ve started to post in the last couple weeks. Since some of the lovely ladies I’ve seen on the La Leche League website have joined my Facebook page, I’ve been much more informed about breastfeeding in the news.

I always knew if I had children I would breastfeed. Mind you – I didn’t know I would have children – but I did know that if I had them I would breastfeed. I grew up knowing heartfelt stories my mother shared with me about the time she nursed me. I knew she enjoyed the closeness we shared. I knew she enjoyed the convenience of breastfeeding. I saw the results of being breastfed on my immune system myself. I knew that breastfeeding was the best start a child could have to his or her life.

I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised to find that breastfeeding rates are so low, but I am. Most everyone I know quickly opts for the “ease” of formula rather than breastfeeding. While in a WIC breastfeeding class the instructor asked, “How long do each of you want to breastfeed?” When I answered “At least a year,” a woman in front of me said, “Good luck with that – I just barely made it two weeks – I couldn’t stand it.” Fast-forward to what I know now – the national average reflects these same sentiments. 75% of women do start breastfeeding, but it usually only lasts a few weeks before Mom is reaching for a can of formula.

As I learn more and more about the benefits of extended breastfeeding, I find myself more and more committed to my choice to breastfeed. I also find myself in awe at the amount of mothers who think formula-feeding is easier (trust me, it’s not) and the amount of moms more concerned about the condition their breasts are left in than what is best for the little human being they are raising.

I suppose the point of this blog is to state – firmly – that I have found I am a lactivist – a lactation activist. I’m finding it more and more important to spread the news of the importance of breastfeeding. If that means I have to pester my Facebook friends about breastfeeding, I will.

Oh – and ask me for breastfeeding help if you need it.

Adventures in Mommyhood

I was told that I would develop tunnel vision for my little girl once she was born. I was told I wouldn’t be able to think of anything else. I was told that my priorities would change greatly just as soon as she came into the world. I was told that I would never experience a love quite as deeply as that love for my child. I can’t say that I was skeptical, I understood that there was no greater love than that between a mother and her child, but I also didn’t think that my experience would be the same. Even throughout my pregnancy I feared the true emotions I would have once she arrived.

Cue the grand entrance of Miss T . . .

Everyone was right. This little girl quickly became the light of my life.

There were, however, things that no one told me.

No one told me I would smile when I found poo on my hands. No one told me that I could survive for months on end with very broken sleep because her whimper or grunt or cry would give me the energy I needed. No one told me that my heart would almost burst with love when she looked up at me, nipple still in her mouth, and grinned a huge grin.

This little girl, at just under two feet tall, has me in the palm of her hand. And I couldn’t be happier.

A brief birthday story . . .

Since I have no idea how much I'll be able to be on or how much I'll be able to write . . .

Sunday at 6:30 a.m. my water broke. J and I headed to the hospital at roughly 4 p.m. By the time we got settled in, the contractions had gotten quite noticeable. By about 6 p.m. I'd gone into what we'll call true labor. I did really well with the breathing exercises I was taught.

At about 9 p.m. the real pain started . . . I had gotten to 6 centimeters when I was sure that I was going to end up hanging from the ceiling from my fingernails. The nurse gave me a low dose of Statol to take the edge off the contractions, so I suppose I didn't have give birth 100% naturally, but folks let me tell you . . . ALL it did was take the edge off, just barely.

J was the most excellent childbirth coach a girl could ask for. He knew exactly when to help me with my breathing, just when to back off, and he knew just when to whisper into my ear "You're doing SO well Baby, we're almost there. We're really close. You've almost done it!"

At 12:07 a.m. T came into this world. There were no complications; we just had to use a bit of caution because the cord was over her neck, but Doc unwrapped it as soon as she was born, no problemo.

She was born 6 lbs. 6 oz. and 18.5 inches long. She's perfect. =) She looks almost like a carbon copy of her dad minus her furrowed brow which is the only recognizable facial feature of mine that she's got! Go figure! She's got my fingers and toes too, though. She's being an excellent baby, only fussy when she absolutely needs something. She's also taken incredibly well to being breast fed. I'm proud of her for learning so quickly. Of course, now my nipples may be the most sore things on the face of the planet but that's ok, too.

So here she is, folks . . . thank you for all of your well-wishes, prayers, thoughts, visits, and love!