A Story of Blessings, a Baby, and Breasts.

 

 

*EDIT: I forgot to add this within the story, and I just want to make a note that I did have blood work done in November when I was first struggling with low supply.  Nothing of concern was noted.  I also had more blood work (hormonal levels and thyroid) checked in March at my annual physical, and again, no concern.  I do realize this does not MEAN there are no physiological reasons, but these were explored and so that is why I am at such a loss!  Thank you for reading – I am overwhelmed with the response to this post, and I feel SO honoured to hear so many stories from amazing mamas.  <3 

When I was pregnant, one of the biggest themes present in my crazy, extremely vivid pregnancy-style dreams was that of breastfeeding.  My baby, in my dreams, was faceless, but beautiful.  I didn’t know if my baby was a boy or girl, because we had decided not to find out, let nature run it’s course, and find out when I gave birth to our child.  In my dreams, it was the same, I didn’t know if it was a boy or if it was a girl, and sometimes, it was a boy, and sometimes, it was a girl.  But for the most part, when I would dream about my baby, my baby was simply that – a baby.  But MY baby, a beautiful tiny little being, full of life, love, and full of dreams.

Just like I was.  I frequently had dreams about my unborn baby, and I would always wake up and tell Kyle what happened that previous night in dreamland.  Most of the time, it was nothing new.  Most of the time, it was simply that I was holding my baby, rocking my baby to sleep, and breastfeeding my baby in my arms.  Simple, right?

Throughout my pregnancy, and for any of you that have been pregnant I’m sure you can relate, one of the hot topics is how you are going to feed your baby, except it is not asked in such a way, it is asked of you if you are going to breastfeed.  It’s just one of those natural things, right?  Right.  I had done a lot of reading about pregnancy, birthing, and breastfeeding (however, not NEAR as much as I do now, the birth junkie that I am) and so I felt like I had a good handle on it.  I was not fearful of the labour or birthing process, in fact, I was looking forward to it.  I was amazed that my body was going to take over, with the aid of my brain and my baby, and we were going to do something miraculous, yet totally normal and happens all the time.

For the 9ish months that I was pregnant, I was waiting for my breasts to change.  I was waiting for them to get ginormous, to say the least, and it never happened.  I knew that this didn’t always happen, but I never really experienced much in the way of breast changes.  The only time I remember any pregnancy symptom that was breast-related, was in the summertime, being in the hot sun and going for dunks in the lake, and having the sorest most tender nipples EVER.  It was uncomfortable but secretly I was cheering inside because I had always wondered up to that point what was up with the lack of boobie changes?  On more than one occasion, did I wonder out loud if I would have issues with not being able to produce milk for my child because my breasts were not showing any evidence of this whole pregnant deal.

Cade was born on November 3 at 8:08pm and as most of you know, it was the most beautiful and transformative experience of my life.  Cade was born and I was born as a mother.  Just like that.  It still blows my mind, really.  He was immediately placed on my chest for me to introduce myself (though he had known me all along) and love all up.  I was in a state of complete bliss, and perhaps a slight amount of shock, but most of all, I was ecstatic and beside myself.  I couldn’t believe it.  ”Oh my god, Oh my god!  I can’t believe this!  I can’t believe you are mine!  You are so cute!  Oh my god!  You are so beautiful!  I love you so much!”  I wish, to this day, that the moment that Cade was born was video’d, because it was incredible.  And not only that, but my declaration of love was, am I allowed to do this, flippin’ AWESOME.  I was over the moon for this little being!

And while I was beside myself, blissed right out, it did not cross my mind at that moment to breastfeed my son.  I don’t know if it crossed anyone’s mind, because it didn’t happen right then and there.  I wonder to this day if it would have made a difference, and I don’t THINK it would have, but I’m a sucker for not knowing.  I held my son for quite awhile, and Kyle and I gushed over him like mad.  I don’t remember timelines exactly, I don’t remember when he was taken to the warmer, Kyle right beside him for the whole time, and I don’t remember when they wrapped him all up, but I know that we had skin-to-skin for awhile.  I have tried not to have any regrets about this moment, because I know in my right, rational mind, there is nothing I can do differently about it, and having regrets is unhealthy.  So I don’t regret it, but I use it as a learning tool.  I would loved to have delayed everything, the “cleaning” of my son (rub that goodness right in!), the weighing, you name it, and I would’ve wanted us to attempt the breast crawl right off the bat, to initiate eye contact and bonding in such a way.

It wasn’t until we were up on post-partum, after I had showered and cleaned up, and after Cade had been wrapped in blankets, warmed right up, and had a bath, did we attempt breastfeeding.  He knew exactly what to do.  I remember the nurse that was helping me, bless her heart, said “look, wow, he knows exactly how to do this, he is a pro.”  I believed her and we went on with our night, as rough as it was.  Cade cried most of the night, despite frequent attempted feedings, cuddles, and skin-to-skin.   Kyle and I were both exhausted, and I broke down at one point because I “didn’t know what to do and I was so tired” and the nurse swaddled Cade up tightly, rocked him a bit, and handed him back to me.  It was not until 6am that he finally got some sleep, and so did I.

I always say that the beginning of motherhood is so insane.  You start off after going hours, days without sleep, and then you are thrown into a whole new wild world of breastfeeding, caring for a baby, and trying to heal, physically and emotionally from everything that just took place.  That’s exactly where I was at.  I could barely lie in bed without my perineum aching, and not only that, but I couldn’t pee due to the epidural/IV combo I had been infused with.  Toss in sore and cracked nipples into the mix and I’m spent.

The next day I remember being a bit calmer.  I would frequently breastfeed Cade, and I felt that things were going well.  I was in a sleep-deprivation induced haze, but was over the moon and in love with everything.  The tears poured out of my eyes over any and everything.  I was tired, so I cried.  I was in love with Kyle as a father, and so I cried again.   I remember the nurses in the hospital telling me to rest up that day, as baby’s second night of life was usually chaotic and they wanted to be up eating all the time.  I felt somewhat prepared, but that didn’t really happen.  That night, actually went off without much of a hitch.  Cade would wake up every 1.5-2 hours to feed, and would then go back to sleep.  Kyle and I woke up feeling somewhat refreshed, but still extremely exhausted.  Mostly, we were excited to be taking our little boy home, as that was the plan.  They tested his bili levels and they were fine, he was not jaundiced, and so we were able to go home.  That morning, I remember asking a nurse for the help of a lactation consultant, to ensure that everything really WAS going well and that we were latching.  The nurse basically denied me this request, saying that the LC’s were usually reserved for individuals who were struggling and having breastfeeding issues.  At the time, I accepted this, especially because she told me she had a passion for breastfeeding and offered to help me out.  I thought this was fine and dandy, and she really WAS of great assistance and showed me different positions to ease my achy nipples, however, looking back, I do think this was wrong.  I should have not have been denied the support of a LC by any means, and while I don’t think this affected our journey at all, I just think it’s unfortunate.

So homeward bound we were, and we couldn’t be happier.  I was on a strict regiment of having 2 baths a day, and to feed my son on demand, which I would do anyway.  The thought of using formula never crossed my mind.  I thought things were going quite delightful actually, until that night.  The sun went down and the evening reared its ugly head.  Cade turned into a nightmare, and in turn, so did his mama.  I must say, thank goodness for the best father ever, because he really was our rock at this time.  I’m sure there were times where he wondered who he should comfort first, though obviously that answer is pretty clear-cut.  Cade screamed.  All.  Bloody.  Night.  Despite constantly nursing him.  Despite endless cuddles and swaddling.  We swaddled him with an additional blanket.  It was shortly after that that he stopped crying and slept.  That was around 7am.  And I must say, we were pretty proud of ourselves.  Oh, so THAT was it. He was just cold, well DUH!

But it wasn’t just temperature regulation that was the issue, oh no, because he lost his mind the next night too.  And I felt oh so bad for this poor little boy.  What an entrance to this thing called life.  He screamed.  He screamed some more.  He cried.  He yelled.  He wailed.  I cried.  Kyle rocked and swaddled and patted and rocked and cuddled.  I think it was about 8am that Cade finally crashed for a couple hours.  Kyle and I were absolutely zonked.  I knew in my heart that something wasn’t right, and Cade looked a little on the yellow jaundicey side of things, and so I called the Healthy & Home nurses and demanded that they come for a home visit that day.

It pains me so hard, it breaks me into pieces, and it hurts my heart to think what COULD have happened if the nurses didn’t come that day, if something wouldn’t have told Kyle and I that we NEEDED to seek out support immediately.  I was starving my boy and I didn’t even know it.  Except, I did.  I knew something was wrong, and it was only after 2 nights of solid screaming did I wonder if perhaps he wasn’t getting enough to eat?

I was in tears on the phone with the nurse.  They sensed my urgency and they came over within an hour and a half.  They weighed my poor, sad, hungry little boy, and he had lost a pound of his body weight, which totalled 13 % which is a major red flag.  He hadn’t pooped in a couple days, and I really don’t remember his wet diaper count, but it wasn’t good.  I know that some major lactivists might say I was booby trapped after I say this next point – and maybe I was and maybe I wasn’t – what I DO know is my boy HAD to eat and he was a completely different baby after we fed him formula.  The nurses with Healthy & Home are lactation consultants as well, and Cindy, oh dear Cindy, was a kind, compassionate soul.  She understood my deep desire, my need, to breastfeed my son, and she understood my need to nurture him, with love and with nutrition, and she understood that he HAD TO EAT.  This was not an option, and I was not producing enough for my poor, sweet boy.  When we came to this conclusion, I was heartbroken.  I burst into tears, I had a million questions, and Cindy was amazing.  I swear, I should’ve sent her flowers.  I don’t know if it’s because she was the first nurse we encountered after going home or what, but she is the only LC’s name that I remember, and there were I think 5 different LC’s that visited us at home within a few days, to check on Cade’s bili levels and to provide breastfeeding support.  (Actually, this is an aside, but I think I am going to contact Cindy and let her know how much I appreciated her. )

Cindy basically demanded that we had to get some calories into this boy asap.  She asked if we had some on hand, and sure enough, WE DID (go on lactivists, attack me for not tossing out the free formula samples).  I saved everything we got in the mail, why?  I don’t know.  I remember thinking when I got the formula samples “oh, well, I’ll never need these, in the closet they go.”  I showed her the only bottle we had on hand (also a free sample), and she encouraged us to try the Supplemental Nursing System if we wanted to continue breastfeeding as well as getting formulas into our boy at the same time.  I remember the method seeming petty and confusing, and WORK.  But we agreed to try it out, and she showed Kyle and I how to team up and make it work.  It was complicating and stressful and just thinking about it gives me a lump in my throat.  Basically, we would fill a syringe with formula, attach a tiny sterile tube to the syringe, and then place the tube alongside my nipple as Cade latched on.  We were still trying to perfect the latch, so adding an extra step in caused much grief, but we did it.  For nearly 4 weeks, every feed, we would use this tiny little tube and place it as Cade latched, so that he would still nurse and hopefully stimulate my breasts to provide milk and increase my supply, but that he would still get substantial calories as well.  I remember feeling increasing anxiety as it came time for Kyle to go back to work, because how the hell was I supposed to do this on my own?  It took my tears, many tries, until we figured out a system that (sort of) worked.  When the tears got to be too much, I would just use my finger and feed the tube along my finger to feed Cade, after breastfeeding him.  I was scared of the bottle and we avoided it for as long as I could stand to.

After going in to the Breastfeeding clinic to meet with an LC there, Cade’s suck was evaluated and determined to be great.  The LC checked out his slight tongue tie, and also determined it to be very slight.  Our doctor has said the same.  This is still something to this day I wonder about.  Everyone has said it would not affect breastfeeding because it’s so slight and far back, but I am skeptical, if only because I am searching desperately for answers.  At one point when we met with the LC, I was breastfeeding Cade, and the LC was doing hardcore breast compressions to attempt to get the milk flowing.  And it still didn’t flow.  It just would NOT flow, stubborn supply.  The plan was to rent an electric hospital grade pump and attempt to pump after every feed for approximately 10 minutes per side (or all at once if using a double pump).  Needless to say, this was exhausting, but we did it.  The pump became my worst enemy.  I felt overwhelmed and intimidated by the pump.  We were not friends and I don’t believe this helped to increase my milk supply either.  I began to despise the pump, everything about it.  I hated washing out the pump parts a million times a day, I hated sitting there with the flanges on my breasts, making the “werr, werrrrrr” noise with every suction.  I hated anxiously watching the bottles that would catch the pumped milk, waiting to see a bottle at least half full.  I hated seeing next to no milk come out of my pumped breasts, my breasts that were so desperate to be full.  I’m sure one day I will regret it, but I wanted to experience hard, aching, full of milk boobies.  I felt envy and jealousy when my friends would have to slip in a breast pad because they were leaking.  I wanted to leak.  Shit, let me leak all over my shirt, let’s soak it up.  It never happened.

I attempted to take Fenugreek and Blessed Thistle, two supposed galactagogues, but the only thing they did was give my body a sweet and spicy odour.  I took these in combination with Domperidone, a prescribed medication used to treat stomach issues with the sometimes fortunate side effect of inducing lactation.  Again, I’m not sure it did much, though I did take it for about 6 months.  After 4 weeks of feeling in my heart that I tried everything I could to increase my supply, but to see really no improvements, I retired the SNS and revamped our routine to 1) Breastfeed Cade for as long as he would latch and suckle 2) Give him a bottle with formula to top him off.  This worked and I felt like a huge amount of pressure was eased off of me.  The SNS created stress and I began to cry at almost every feed.  Was it worth it?  Was Cade benefiting from a depressed and completely worn-down mother?  Eventually, I returned the pump.  I held onto it for a very long time, because I couldn’t bring myself to take it back for fear that it was signalling I had given up.  I hadn’t used it in days, and it was sitting there, taking up space, it was almost daunting in a way.  I returned it, and I felt a twinge of sadness, until I realized why I was returning it.

It took me a long time to realize what our feeding routine was doing to my son, and to myself.   I was completely worn out, I was stressed, and I was depressed.  I had begun to question if I really did everything I could, surely I missed something, right?  But when I realized that I did everything I could, and when I realized that it was worth it for our feeding routine to change, was when I felt a complete let-go of the stress that had been bogging me down.  I felt this within myself, and I noticed a change in my son at feeding.  He took to the bottle like a champ, and he took to the breast like a champ.  There were no issues with him going from breast to bottle and back.  Was it so important to me to not use a bottle because it might mean failure, even when it might have meant not so pleasant things for my son?  He truly thrived when I was happy, and I didn’t realize that in the moment until we had decided to change our routine, for everyone’s sake, but mostly Cade’s and my own.   Cade needed me, he needed his mother, to be happy, and to be content, and to feel GOOD about the time spent feeding him.  I was not feeling good about this, and what was this doing to him?  Did I want to transfer so much negative energy to a sweet little baby?  Of course I didn’t, so why I was doing that for so long, I don’t know.   I have determination and I have perseverance, and because I knew in my heart that that was one of the best things I could do for my son, was breastfeed him.

This was what factored into my decision to keep at it for so long.  I understand that everyone has a choice to make, and that choice is truly their own.  I respect each woman’s choice, and I do believe that decisions are made for a reason, based on past experiences, life issues, and the like.  The choice that I made, that we made, as a family, was for me to continue to breastfeed Cade for as long as we could sustain it.  Even if it was a teaspoon of milk he was getting from me.  Even if it was a drop.  We had become pros at breastfeeding, and it was part of our routine, so we kept on keeping on.  Gradually, he started to get more formula and less breastmilk, though there were times where he would breastfeed and did not want to take a bottle after that.  Those times?  I felt happy.  I felt good.  I felt like that was a huge success for us, and it was sort of a gift, a karmic gift, after the breastfeeding struggles we had endured.

We kept on with this routine until Cade was about 8 months old.  Eventually, it had turned to where he would only breastfeed in the morning when he first woke up, before having a bottle, or in the middle of the night when he would wake up to eat, while waiting for the bottle to warm up.  He got to an age where he got so distracted, and nursing was not on the top of his priority list, and so we went with it, and we excelled at that for awhile too.  Around 8 months old, he lost his interest in nursing, and it sort of happened gradually, which I am thankful for.  I remember thinking that I had to prepare myself for the end of this rocky journey that we had had, but because it just dwindled off, I am just now mourning the conclusion of it, pouring it all out there.
Truthfully?  I feel okay with how things went.  I had to come to terms with it, and I still have many what if’s that cross my mind, sometimes on a daily basis, but not as much anymore.  Do I wish that things would have went differently?  I do.  But I have learned so much based how things did go, and they went according to the agenda in which they needed to go.  Not only have I learned an insane amount about breastfeeding, pregnancy, birthing, and how the birthing process can affect breastfeeding, I have learned even more about my son and myself.  My son is patient and determined.  He possesses these traits like no other, and while some might argue that I can’t determine that since he’s so young, I CAN and I know that he will fight for what he wants, and if he wants it, he will get it.  I feel like at such a young age, only 8 months, he already knows exactly what he wants and how to go for it.  When my son is old enough to understand, I want to talk to him about our journey, and I want to thank him for being patient with me as I learned, and for helping me to learn.  He taught me the gift of patience and perseverance.  He taught me to believe in myself, and to be strong when times were tough.  And really, by simply being born, he has encouraged me to conquer my fears, to take on anything.

Still to this day, I don’t know why we were not able to exclusively breastfeed.  I don’t want to say that we weren’t successful at breastfeeding, because the way success is measured can be so trivial.  We were successful in ways that we had to be.  Was it the tongue tie?  Is it because I was induced and my body just wasn’t ready?  Was it the epidural and intense infusion of IV fluids?  Did the pitocin have something to do with it?  Should we have done skin-to-skin sooner and commenced the breastfeeding journey right then and there?  Do I have insufficient glandular tissue, a physiological condition that can prevent a sufficient supply of milk?  There were times where I wanted to be more successful, and around 6 months old I seriously considered attempting the process of ‘relactating’, but aptly decided that I would be doing more damage than good by taking on that.  That’s just a whole other ball game.

Just like any other mama who breastfed once but is no longer, I miss the feeling of my beautiful little angel’s tiny hands on my chest, resting on my breast, as he nursed and looked at me, or nursed and got so comfy he dozed off.  I miss being skin-to-skin and having his warm and so very soft tummy pressing against my own.  I miss his little “hmm” noises he would make when he was latched on.  I miss the feeling of nutritionally nurturing him, knowing I am providing him with the antibodies that he needs and his body desires.

I had many moments where I felt extreme amounts of guilt.  I didn’t want to feed him in public, because pulling out that bottle meant that I had failed breastfeeding, and so obviously I had failed as a mother, right?  WRONG.  I learned that breastfeeding did not equal perfection, nor did it equal motherhood.  Was it a huge component of motherhood?  Yes it was, but it was not the be all and it was not the end all.  In the end, I was doing for my son what I needed to do for him.  We learned along the way.  I’m hoping with future babies (probably only just 1 ;) that breastfeeding will work out, and that I will be able to use the tools that Cade taught me, in order to be “successful.”  But that’s for another time, and for now, this is where we’re at.

But most importantly, I am proud of where we were and where we have come.  I feel blessed that we were given an obstacle, a hurdle, and we flew right over it, with a little bit of turbulence along the way.  I know that my experiences might seem trivial compared to other’s, but the fact is, this is our story, and it does matter.  Our story might help others, but most of all, it has helped us.  It will make us better people, more empathetic, stronger individuals.  I feel like I have a surge of compassion that has been injected in me because of it.  I feel better able to understand other’s experiences with breastfeeding.  I never realized the emotional intensity of a breastfeeding journey and all that goes along with it.  I now do, and I think that that is beautiful and such an important part of the life that I want to lead.   My boy is thriving and I am happy and as healthy as I’ve ever been.  We work as a team, and this was only the very start of it.  We are in for a very wonderful, a very fulfilling, and a very triumphant ride.

Reflections of a Day.

I am on a total health kick, except this time I feel like it’s for real.   I can only say that now, because I’ve experienced the feeling of health kicks that feel like they may only be momentary.  But this shit feels real, and that’s why I’m blogging about it, because I think I’m on the right track.  Could also be that runner’s high people speak about, but I’ve only done the C25K once, so I doubt that.

My biggest motivator in wanting to be healthy, overall (in mind, body, spirit) is my dear angel, Cade.  I want him to see his parents living an active and healthy lifestyle, and with us being his biggest role models (at least ’til the whole peer thing kicks into gear), I want him to adopt some of our healthy habits and ways of living.  I want him to feel good about the things that his body CAN do, not should do.  I want him to feel confident, and have a super healthy level of self-esteem, which he can use as a nice and secure grounding for everything he does in his life.

Honestly, I see my little boy moving about so insanely, so manically, and I want to do the same.  I’m going to have to do the same, because once he really gets crawling and walking, there is no stopping him, and I may have to be on the chase.  I’d really love to be able to be on that chase without a cherry-red tomato face and a lack of breath, and the only way I am going to be able to do that is to train my body and train my mind to believe in my body.

While the thought of him becoming active and never stopping is a little bit daunting, especially as I sit here at 11:00 o’clock at night, telling myself that my legs don’t hurt (they are aching so bad) and that I won’t be tired in the morning when I get up at 7am to do my run (I likely will be, but once I get going I’m sure I’ll be fine.. no, I will be fine), I would much rather have a child who is active (can’t say it enough, in body and mind) than one who sits in front of the silly television and watches super lame shows and plays crappy video games all day long.  It’s common knowledge that children are spending less and less time outdoors and engaging in human-to-human interactions, and I don’t want Cade to be one of those statistics.

I want to be a healthy mom, but more than that, I want to be a healthy woman.  I want to feel good about the activities I engage in, the food I put into my body, and the words and pep talks that I give myself on a daily basis.  What I put into my body almost directly and immediately affects how I feel about myself.  I want to allow myself some freedom though, too.  A girl’s gotta treat herself sometimes!  I want to feel what my body can do.  I carried my son for nearly 9 months, I nurtured both of our bodies while doing so, and I birthed him into this wonderful world.  I can surely do anything.  Birth is so incredibly empowering and has opened my eyes to the beauty of being so self-aware, and believing in the power of my own mind, my own spirit, and in turn my own body.  But that is for another post.

For now, what my body needs is rest and sleep.  It has been a busy day, socially, mentally, and physically.  We have visited with dear friends, walked around the neighbourhood and played on the ground, and I have studied for an upcoming interview, and to say the least, it’s draining and exhausting the crap out of me.  I don’t want to fall short on my run tomorrow, and since it’ll be an early one, I ought to call it a night.  Goodnighty night my friends, and if you’re doing the C25K, or another running/exercise program, let me know, comment, talk about your struggles, whatever it is.  I know there’s a few of you who have started the program and that makes me ecstatic beyond all belief.  We’re creating a revolution, y’all!

June.

One of the most difficult aspects of blogging, for me, is coming up with a Title, so because of that, today we are going for simple, boring, obvious and non-descriptive.

The post might even fall under one or all of those labels as well.  Bear with me.

First things first, this is one of my most favouritest pictures of my sweet angel.  He fell asleep while getting burped, and almost nothing could wake him up.  Beautiful little boy.  They just so dang cute when they’re sleeping.

I’ve seen a ‘thing’ on several blogs, where the author will post sites and articles that interested them for that particular day or week, and because I love to share the wealth and spread the love, I’m going to start doing that too.  Not on a daily basis or anything, but once a week I will give a nice little shout out to things that have spoken to me.

Today:

• This is the most beautiful birth story I have ever read.  Seriously is so eloquently written, so raw, and so honest.  It also has 1300 comments, so I think that speaks for itself.  Love reading her blog in general, the way she writes, the way she captures images, just lovely, so lovely.
• As inspired by this post, I think I am going to take on a huge challenge and push myself to complete it successfully.  It’s called the Couch to 5k and it is essentially a jogging program that promises to get couch potatoes jogging 5km in 9 weeks.  Of course, it’s a gradual process, but I need something to challenge me, I need something to give me a nice, swift kick in the rear end, because this gym thing just ain’t cutting it the way I want it to.  My health isn’t just about me anymore, it is about my son, role modeling a healthy lifestyle, and I’m not doing that as I should be right now.  I don’t want him to struggle with weight ever.  I don’t want him to have issues with food ever.  And so I need to get my ass into gear.  I haven’t decided if I will start on the treadmill or just go outside, but I likely will do the treadmill thing, because I don’t do super well with hot weather.  Or running.  Or running in hot weather.  Disclaimer: I AM NOT A RUNNER. I AM NOT A JOGGER.  By any means.  But I am slightly envious when I see people jogging.  I’d like to be there someday.  Hell, I was even thinking about posting on this here blog that I will run a marathon in 2012.  Going too far?  Perhaps.  But goals need to be set.  I’m not setting that goal just quite yet, because I believe in starting small, being realistic.  So for now, it’s the C25K.  I’ve already loaded up my iTunes with TONS of podcasts to keep me going.  They even have prompts for when to jog and when to walk.  So awesome.  If anyone is interested I’ll post links to those as well.
• A shout out to Plus Size Mommy Memoirs, both the blog and the Facebook page.  She has created quite a following, and quite a supportive community of plus size mamas, trying to conceive, pregnant already, or navigating through parenthood.  I enjoy her posts and I enjoy the different discussions that take place on the wall.  It’s supportive and I think a piece of the pregnancy and childbirth puzzle that needed to be filled.
• One of the funniest and most entertaining blogs I’ve been reading lately is Rantsfrommommyland. It’s seriously SO good.  I don’t laugh out loud that often while reading things, but I can barely get through a single post without busting a gut.  Bravo mamas.
• And of course, can’t forget the most precious little Shiba Inu pups ever.  I suspect they will be going to their forever homes soon, since they are almost 2 months old.  They’re so cute and getting so big.  Playful little stinkers.

I think that’s all I’ve been creepin’ on lately.  Well, I’m sure there’s plenty more, but that’s what sticks out.  Check them out, post some feedback, and by the way, I have a major stalking statcounter now, so I know when you visit.  At least say hi, will ya?

Oh, and I’m going to attempt a post every day in June thing.  We’ll see if I can do this.  Geez, I am awfully committal this month.  First the jogging, then the posting.  Maybe they’ll go hand in hand.  You can hear about how I nearly collapsed on my first day of C25K.  That ought to be entertaining.

Happy hump day my friends.

SNOOPY SUNDAY.

RULES:

1) Every Sunday, I will post an answer to a question from a reader.   You can ask me questions on Facebook or by commenting on my blog.  The question I choose will be random – I will put the questions in a hat and pick one out; that will be the question I answer.

2) Once I answer a question, I will visit your blog or your Facebook and ask you a question in return.  I will also link to your blog when I write the answer to the question you asked.

3) I don’t know if this is exactly a rule, but I will encourage my regular readers who have blogs to also participate on Snoopy Sundays.  Let’s make this fun, shall we.

4) Questions can be relating to anything, although try to keep it somewhat appropriate.  I cannot police how you interpret appropriate, so be nice.

Chandra was nice enough to shoot out something like 4 questions for me so I got the pick of the litter, and this time I chose: Do you think after the experiences you have had, are you more inclined to have more children or less?

Honestly, I guess I picked this one ’cause I thought it was an easy question.  Call me a copout.  I slept on a camping trailer-style table-bed last night, and my hips still get achy from giving birth, so my sleep was a little on the not so great side, forgive me please and let me just have my moment.

The short, super simple answer is, my experiences have not really changed my mind about how many children I want.  Not really.  For the first 3 months post-giving-birth, I was totally on the fence because I was down in the dumps about my experience in terms of my perineal tear and not so fun healing process, breastfeeding struggles, and the cryfests of 2011 that turned into late-night (think 4am) parties that only technically involved 1 of us as the 2 adults and 1 dog were basically were walking zombies, sleep-deprivation induced mania, if you will.   But guess what?  Things are looking up.  My hormones were all over the map and so I was upset and sad about every and anything.  I know that it’s not the worst thing that could have happened.  I know that.  I am fortunate.  Things could have been more hectic, things could always be worse.  Always.  But, it’s all relative and I must give acknowledgment to my experiences and how they have shaped us.

So with that being said, I could not believe that I would be going through that whole journey again.  Give birth again to another child?  Yeah right.  As beautiful, amazing, empowering and wonderful as it was, the after-part was the sucky part, and it scared me to think that we would trudge through those murky waters ever again.  However, look at us, we made it, and I’d say we passed with flying colours.  But then again, I’d say every parent does because parents are wonderful beings and can take on the world.  Especially some parents, whom I am so blessed to say, I know some of those people.  And they are fricken’ amazing.  They take on challenges like nobody’s business.  They possess the kind of strength those silly UFC fighters would be jealous of.   Anyway…

So yup, we made it through the 4th trimester. The 4th trimester is one thing a lot of people fail to talk about.  Seriously, I think instead of trying to fear-monger every pregnant woman with war-like stories of birth, let’s talk a little bit about the stuff people seem to ignore, like the 4th trimester, realistic breastfeeding tips, how to heal yourself physically and mentally, sex after childbirth (which may or may not happen in the 4th trimester, depends on how brave you are, really), what to do when you seriously feel like you just might lose your mind and never ever EVER find it again, and maybe a good tip for partners: how to deal with your baby when your baby is screaming at 3am and mamabear is screaming louder than the baby.  NOW we’re talkin’.

Ok, I keep getting off topic.  4th trimester…. yup, made it, and it seems after that 4th trimester, well, give or take a couple months, I found myself slowly creepily climbing back on the baby bandwagon.  Read that carefully people, BABY BANDWAGON, NOT BABY-MAKING BANDWAGON.  Instead of being all, omg, how will I go through this again, I was all, yeah.. I could totally do this again, and even, I want to do this again.  Yes, want, as in, desire.  K and I for sure want at least one more child, possibly two, and if you asked K, possibly three, though that seems a bit hectic and chaotic panic-inducing to me.  The thing is, I have one sibling, and always thought it would be cool to have one more (sorry broseph, you’re like, really cool and all, but…).  But then three siblings is an odd number, but four, while an even number, seems just WILD.  And expensive.

Another thing about my experience (and I’m merely talkin’ labour/birthing experience here) is that since I’ve given birth, I have been a crazy lady with research, reading birth stories, watching birth videos, reading birth plans.  I have already begun to create a birth scenario and birth plan for our next one.  I have visions of home births (or at least, doula-accompanied and major talked about “natural childbirth” plan with lovely doctor style hospital birth) dancing very rhythmically in my head.  But with that being said, there’s things I need to do, personally (physically, emotionally, etc) before we bring another life into this world.  There’s also this thing called time and age gap, both of which we want a decent chunk of.

Personally, I can’t imagine just having one child.  And I say that without any judgment (seriously!) on people who choose to stick with just one kiddo.  I just picture Cade and his brother(s) and/or sister(s) playing in the yard, setting up forts with miscellaneous items, and of course, with the aid of nature.  I picture them creating games and implementing their own rules, each helping the other how to figure out fairness and justice via an awesome game that they imagined and then put into action.  I picture them fighting and tattling on each other.  It makes my heart glow and beam so, so, so much.  I know we’re in for still more challenges and just ’cause we’ve made it through the 4th trimester (and well, an additional 4 months after that) it’s not that I think we are just totally good to go.  I just know that we can take on whatever challenge that this little dude is gonna present to us.  You deal with what you’re dished out, right, isn’t that how the saying goes?  Some people’s dish is piled high with medical needs, some people’s dish is piled high with super active toddlers who might as well be nicknamed Crash, and some people don’t even just get 1 dish, they get the whole friggin’ buffet.  Whatever it is, whatever it may be, we can do it, and you can too.  So with that, I say, bring on the kidlets.  But not too soon, will ya?

Mamabear.

I am planning a big whoppin’ six month summary post of my boy’s first half of a year journey into Tangible Life.  I’m thinking it may be an emotional one for me to write and reflect on, because I simply cannot believe this little monkey is growing into a boy who responds to goofiness, totally knows who mama and daddy are and again, responds accordingly, and also, who has such clearly defined likes and dislikes.  He is being shaped, he is constantly developing as an individual, and while he is still a baby, he is not a teeny, fragile newborn who needs his head supported.  You try supportin’ my boy’s head and he contorts and twists and squirms because he just wants to GO.

Almost every day I remind myself that I am a mom.  It’s not that I forget, but it’s that I have to remind myself because, at least to some extent, I am still in shock that we created a beautiful life, a life who has thrived from day one, a life who has made me proud, who has played a part in shaping me into the woman I am today.  No one could have prepared me for what pregnancy, birthing, and subsequently becoming a parent have been about, and I appreciate that.

I appreciate that it has been at times a rough journey, at times a journey that I never thought I would make it through.

I appreciate that this has helped me to become a survivor of my own story and experiences no matter what they are.

I appreciate that I have shed an amazing amount of tears, an amount that I didn’t think my body could create.

I appreciate that my muscles have grown as my boy grows and never thought lifting 20 lbs could be so easy.

I appreciate that I have never felt closer to my family or my friends and truly feel an indescribable connection to them.

I appreciate that while I may not have been able to fully breastfeed the boy, I have been able to provide him with as much of my breast milk that has been physiologically possible, and that we have created a routine, a breastfeeding relationship, based on what my body can and has given him up until this point, and also, that as a result of establishing and coming to terms with a routine that works for us, my boy no longer has to deal with a crying and emotionally drained mama at each feed.

I appreciate that I am now a pregnancy and birth junkie and am slightly addicted to reading birth and mama blogs and envisioning how my next birth experience will go.

I appreciate how while there are certain aspects of my birth story that, looking back on, I would know to do differently next time, I would not change a thing, because everything that happened resulted in the birth of my amazing and beautiful boy, and the flowering and growing of my relationship with my husband.

I appreciate that on top of all the rough moments, the non-stop 4am crying sessions, the nursing troubles, my boy is healthy as can be, and at nearly 6 months old and nearly 20 lbs, that speaks for itself.

I appreciate that I was able to feel comfortable with my body to do what it needed to do, and, albeit needing a little bit of, er, medical assistance what with the induction and all, I trusted myself and I felt comfortable in my body to labour and experience intense rushes and waves which resulted in the amazing birth of the boy.

I appreciate that I have never felt as assertive as I do now, but not so much so that I have crossed the line of being able to be respectful, because I think respect is one of the most important lessons I can teach my son.

I appreciate that Kyle and I are individuals and have our own beliefs and personalities and as a result, will be genuine role models to Cade, in hopes that he too will express himself in such a way.

To sum up the past 6 months before I properly reflect, it has been the most trying, sleepless, tearful, emotional, happy and beautiful months of my life.  I have never experienced such highs or lows, and I have never been so happy to say the same.

The Post-Partum Pantry.

… if there was such a thing, this is what would be in mine (inspired by the top 10 at The Birthing Site):

1. Prunes, Fruits, Vegetables & Whole Grains: Basically any high-fibre, go-poop foods, really, to help combat the terrifying and almost trauma-inducing first post-partum poo.  It is not fun and you feel like you are going to tear to shreds.  Again.  Also, it makes it even more difficult to go than it already is, when you’ve got a crying baby in the background.  Just picture it, you’re sitting there on the dreaded porcelain thing, trying to relax your sphincter muscles so you can try to poo with as little tragedy as possible, and then all of a sudden you hear your baby starting to wail and wail.  Then my mind starts wandering and I think, why am I trying to relax?   OH YEAH, because I had a baby, and that baby came out of my vagina, and now I’m sore and my perineum is insanely painful and that’s why I’m trying to relax.  But in order to not be one of those people who tries to scare every pregnant woman, it’s not that bad once you actually go.  And once you go once, typically it just gets better and better.   However, do make sure you have prunes, fruits and veggies on hand to help with the post-partum constipation, which I did not know would occur for a couple months post-partum.  Which brings me to…

2. Stool Softener: I used Colace.  When I was in the hospital, they gave me a stool softener with my meals, but it didn’t do shit (oops, not even trying to make a stupid joke there) because do you really think I was going to feel relaxed enough in the hospital for the softener to take full effect?  Nope.  Not even for days after being at home did I feel okay enough to attempt It.  Prior to leaving the hospital I asked if I should continue with a stool softener at home, and the nurse said I didn’t need to.  And I listened to them, until two days later then I thought, uhmm, screw this.  Colace and I became really great friends for a few days, probably almost a couple weeks, just to ease my nerves.

3. Peri-Bottle + A Comfy Bath: I can only speak from the perspective of a vaginal delivery, but I made the Peri-Bottle and the bathtub two of my greatest, most trusted friends for a couple weeks.  Actually, because of my granulation tissue, I ended up using the peri-bottle for several weeks, until I realized something wasn’t right and the peri-bottle was not helping.  PEE BURNS, people!  And you do not want your urine irritating your already irritated perineum and bottom.  Use the peri-bottle and use it to its full advantage, whatever that may be.  Just douse your perineum with warm water as you pee, it will help things and at least relieve some of the discomfort.   And take advantage of those baths, too.  I was ordered to have 2 a day, and I did and it was great.  It is so important to rest in order to promote healing, and sometimes it is hard to do so when you’re in the midst of learning how to care for a baby, try to catch up on sleep, and deal with those crazy post-partum hormones.  At least in the bath you are by yourself and can use this time to re-energize and work on healing.  Plus, it feels really, really good.

4. Glamourmom Nursing Tanks: I splurged on two of these tanks (brown and black) at Cravings Maternity & Baby Boutique and I am in love.  Still.  They’re practical, super easy to “use” with one hand, and they claim to have a ‘belly-flattening’ effect for those darn post-partum bellies.  I do think they do have a bit of a flattening/slimming effect though, and I’m not complaining.  These tanks run at about $60 but are so comfy.  You can get ones with a built-in full bra, or ones with just a built-in elastic “shelf bra”.  The bra part just flips down and flips back up easily.  They’re great for layering and will be awesome in the summer, methinks.

5. Pre-Made Frozen Meals: The weekend before I was induced, I went into major nesting cooking housewife mode.  I whipped up a couple spinach and feta quiches to freeze, and several batches of frozen meat sauce, stew, chili, and soup.  They all came in super handy, especially when it came time to Kyle being back at work.  It was so nice to just reach in the freezer, grab a meal, thaw it, and eat.  Minimal preparation or cooking utensils to wash, either.  When you’re majorly sleep deprived, learning to breastfeed and care for an infant, and trying to take care of yourself and heal, composing a meal and cooking is the last thing you want to be doing.

6. Ibuprofen: I’ll admit, when I was in the hospital I popped Advil like no one’s business.  If it was an hour past the time when I was ‘due’ for my next dose, I was the annoying one buzzing the nurses to drug me up with another dose.  Ibuprofen was another one of my good, trustworthy friends during the post-partum period.  The liqui-gels seem to be more quickly effective too, so I’d suggest picking up that type.  I’m sure acetaminophen would work well also, I’m just a fan of ibuprofen in general.

7. Lansinoh Lanolin Cream: When rubbing a little bit of expressed breast milk or colostrum on your nipples to combat nipple soreness just won’t cut it, use a cream of some sorts.  The stuff I chose, based on recommendations, was the Lansinoh brand, but I do believe they are all similarly composed.  I used this stuff religiously after every feed.  It helped with the nipple soreness during the beginning weeks of breastfeeding.  The bonus is that it is safe for mama and baby and does not need to be washed off prior to breastfeeding.  I say bonus because I mean it, when your nipples are hella sore, the thought of washing off this life-saving cream is dreadful and awful.  The one weird thing is it is very sticky, and so you only have to use a little bit.  It’s kind of a pain trying to get this off your fingers too.

8. A Support System: SO IMPORTANT!  Be it your partner, your friends, your pet, your children, the lactation consultants, your doctor, your midwife, your doula.  Make sure you’ve got people in place who’ve got your back.   This is especially helpful if you are having some struggles.  I am pretty certain I cried to every single Healthy & Home nurse that came to our house.  And they were all so kind and caring, just the type of people you want around you in those early post-partum days.  I don’t know if I would have been so persistent with continuing to breastfeed had it not been for them helping me remain calm, supported, and educated.  Of course, all of the other awesomeness in my life helped as well.  There were days I thought I would not survive.  I thought I would go crazy.  I thought I didn’t know what I was doing.  But every important person in my life reassured me that a) I would survive b) I would not go crazy and if I did it was okay, just get help and c) I was doing what I knew and it was working and my baby was thriving.  The baby blues can be nasty, and the mild to very serious post-partum depression that may follow, can also be raunchy, and you want to be as prepared as possible, in the event that you need to seek out extra support, or just somebody to tell you that you are doing a good job.

9. Some type of pads that don’t feel like ginormous diapers: When I was pregnant, so many people told me I might as well just go buy the Poise ‘disposable underwear’ type pads because the lochia was going to be that intense.   I’m not a big fan of pads, so I was kind of dreading having to wear the semi-truck of pads, that is, Poise.  I decided to just purchase some ‘Overnight’ style Always pads, the ‘Infinity‘ version (gotta love pad branding) and I didn’t look back.  In the hospital, they give you gigantic diaper-like pads and some sexy mesh underwear.  It totally works and does the trick, but unfortunately they don’t let you take the mesh undies home, though you can take some of their pads, if you choose to.  I took a couple, but once I got home I realized that if I was going to be bleeding and in a fair amount of discomfort, I at least wanted to sort of feel at least kind of comfortable, read: not wearing a bigger pad than necessary.  I suppose some women may require the Poise-style, but if you don’t need to, I highly recommend the Infinity – they’re apparently more absorbent than even the normal Always style overnight, but thinner, which is a plus in my books.

10. A Comfortable Wardrobe: Especially pants!  You’ll want something stretchy so you can maximize comfort in any area possible.  You’ll also want something probably not too super expensive, in case the aforementioned lochia decides to visit your pantaloons.  Whenever I’m at home, I typically live in my lounge-wear, so this was an absolute must for me anyway.  And while it may not fit into this category, maybe have something on hand you can make into a make-shift donut, in case it’s not comfortable to sit.  Since you’ll likely be doing a lot of sitting, this is critical.  I took some towels, rolled them up, and made myself a donut on the glider chair where I pretty much glued my ass to for a couple weeks.  It worked fairly well, and it also worked well for claiming the chair as my own!

I’m likely forgetting something important, but those are the major things.  I also had on hand: easy snacks to grab, magazines and light reading (for in the tub), TV series to watch while rocking baby to sleep or breastfeeding (though of course there is nothing quite like looking into your little one’s eyes as he or she munches away!), slippers, kleenex for my ridiculous amount of tears, a cordless phone, and the Internet, just to satisfy my harmful Google addiction.  I’d love to get my shit together and make up post-partum gift packages for all the new parents in my life.  To me, that would be a super fun business venture.  Going to happen?  Likely not.

One of the most important non-material post-partum things that I need to have, looking back, is some form of coping skills and self-care.  That can be super hard to attain when you’re a new parent, but it is critical.  Calmness is key, and while it is normal to get frustrated, upset, sad, angry, you’ve got to figure out a way to deal with this in a healthy manner.  Your baby needs you, and your baby feels your energy, so you want to ensure to reflect a good balance.  I know there were times where I was crazy, and thankfully, Cade has an amazing dad, who not only ‘stepped in,’ he took hold of the reigns and ran with them, he ran really fast, and there were days I would have crashed hard had it not been for him supporting me, loving me, and ensuring I had at least a little chunk of me-time to recuperate, heal, and get back on the track to being the best parent I could be for mister Cadester.

What were your post-partum essentials?

10 + IChallengeYou.

I’m trying to build a little community here.  And plus, who doesn’t like knowing people are reading and taking in their schtuff?  I know I certainly do.

Because not every post can be an in-depth analysis or reflection on my life as a woman or my life as a momma, I am going to post about 10 things I’m currently obsessin’ on.   THINGS.  Not people, not places, things, food, drink, interests.  Purely materialistic.  Purely probably consumerism.    So in order to balance out this corporate-ish inspired list, I’m asking you, my dear readers (and I know there are several of you) to post a comment, letting me know who you are, where you’re at, and one thing that would be on your list.  And ’cause I’ve said it so any times, if you blog, TELL ME, so I can come e-visit you. 

1. LONDON FOGS aka EARL GREY LATTES: I’m on a mission to dramatically reduce/cut out dairy (mostly dairy containing lactose) and so these suckas have got to be made with soy milk for me to fully enjoy them.  And fully enjoy them I do.  Kyle has learned how to re-create the Starbucks version so that we can try to adhere to a budget, prepare them at our own convenience, support our own kitchen more than Starbucks’, and control the nutritional value of them.  Kyle’s version has 1 Earl Grey tea bag, 1/2 the mug with soy milk, 1/2 the mug with water, 1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract, and then a varied amount of sugar in the raw – I usually aim for less.

  2. PRAIRIE INK RESTAURANT’S CITRUS & FETA SALAD: I never thought I was a lover of salad that contains fruit (except for pure fruit salad, which I craved big time when I was with child).  However, this all changed when I tried the salad at McNally’s in-house restaurant.  It’s got greens, olives, mandarin oranges, feta cheese, red onions, grilled chicken breast, and topped with a… ranch (I think?) dressing.  Delish and I want it now now now.

3. ERGO CARRIER: Kyle’s parents recently purchased an Ergo baby carrier for us and we love it, but more importantly, Cade loves it.  It’s super comfy to wear, supportive for my little guy, and portable and convenient.  We pop Cade in it when we’re grocery shopping, browsing at the mall, or like today, checking out a ‘baby show extravaganza.’  It’s so nice to have him close by, and most of the time, he’ll fall asleep in it.  I cannot wait until this horrid weather pisses off and we can use it to go for our daily dog park visits. 

4. FACEBOOK: Not gonna lie, I’m a fan.  I probably spend more time on it than I should, though that amount has dramatically decreased since the little stinker man arrived.  I used to make it a priority to play Wheel of Fortune, so I could get my free spin.  Super pathetic?  A little bit.  Now I just creep, and network, and post photos and stories of my own life.  Some may say I am exploiting my child, my dog, and my family.  I don’t see it as that.  I am sharing my joy with other people in my life that I care about.  I love being able to stay in touch with people. Yes, this is possible without Facebook, and yes Facebook just makes certain things more convenient, but I’m okay with convenience. 

5. The BUMBO CHAIR: Cade loves it.  LOVES IT.  If he didn’t like it, we obviously would not sit him in it.  He looks so sweet, his little thighs in between the chair legs, and it’s safe and practical.  We took it out to the restaurant tonight and he sat in it while we ate.  It’s the perfect place to seat my little guy if he is getting bored of hanging out in my arms, or any other position he likes to chill out in.  We can have great little chats, and he flashes me his perfect little smile.  Life is good.

6. PREGNANCY, BIRTHING, POSTPARTUM: Ever since going through this most amazing, beautiful (yes, nausea, swollen feet, intense contractions, bowel movements, struggles, crying and all) it is all I want to talk about.  I love being able to relate to all of these amazing women who have given birth and been through these experiences.  I love having friends who are going through these stages of life at the same time as me (and those that aren’t, I love you because you’ve been incredibly supportive).  I love reflecting on my own experiences, though sometimes it is emotional and a struggle, for varying reasons.  I love learning about birthing wisdom, women’s bodies, and how we are meant to give birth and how this experience can be influenced.

7. BLOGS: I don’t watch TV; I read blogs.  I don’t write in a journal; I blog.   I am a lover of all things blog!  I wish more people in my life blogged.  I wish I didn’t have writer’s block so often so I could dream up amazing topics and present you with wonderful, humorous posts.  I try though.  Some days I think I’m doing an okay job, and some days I look back and scoff.  Mostly it’s a chance for me to purge my feelings, however strong and emotional, or mild and seemingly unimportant, they may be.  I love commenting and making new friends via the blog world.  One of my favourite new blogs/websites which I have to give a shout out to, is The Birthing Site.  There’s a forum and the women who have created the site are support supportive and are constantly putting up new articles and videos on pregnancy, birthing, and postpartum information.

8. FERTILITY AWARENESS: I’ve talked about it lots, but I’m really into Toni Weschler’s book.  It should be incorporated into school curriculums as mandatory learning.  Toni’s book fits in there with the likes of Our Bodies, Ourselves by the Boston Women’s Health Collective, Women’s Bodies, Women’s Wisdom by Christianne Northrup, and from what I’ve been told, Ina May Gaskin’s work as well (whom I’ve yet to read but she’s next on the list).  I’m excited to begin the progress of learning even more about my body.  I thought I knew lots, but I’m not even a quarter of the way into the book and Toni has already taught me lots.  You’re likely to read about some of my experiences into this new world, and I’d love to hear from more people who have learned more about their bodies through this method (or other natural methods) as well.

9. PODCASTS: For the bus ride to my mom’s (where we’re at now), I downloaded a wack of podcasts to listen to on my iPod.  Most were from the Pregtastic and New Moms, New Babies podcasts.  From what I could tell, the Pregtastic podcasts all start out with a round table discussion of pregnant women talking about the ups and downs of their pregnant experience thus far.  Obviously, if you read back to number 6, you will know that of course I appreciate and love this.  On both podcasts, they also have guest speakers, and each show has varying topics.  Because the iTunes store is wonderful, you can basically find any podcast you want, and lots of them are free too.  CBC has tons of great talk and indie music podcasts that I’ve got as well, including some of my favourite work out podcasts, Sweatin’ to the Indies.

10. EXERCISE: I know this one seems lame, and it kind of is.  But I’ve been hitting the gym as part of my get-fit-and-healthy routine, and I love it.  Not every day do I want to go to the gym, but once I am there and sweating, I feel so fabulous.  It is true what they say about exercise being a great way to reduce the negativity in one’s body.  I feel great after I’m done too.  Not only that, but it’s a wonderful way for me to have some ‘me’ time out of the house, and for Kyle to have some father and son time, inside of the house.  I think if I hadn’t started to exercise more, these silly post-partum hormones would be sinking deeper and deeper, rather than getting better, which is what I THINK they’re doing.  At least most of the time. 

That was actually a lot harder than I expected it to be.  I guess I don’t have as many obsessions as I thought I did?  Not any obvious ones anyway.  I’m a fan of lists though, and they’re easier to trudge through than a hearty post, particularly when I’m not feeling introspective enough to put together anything too big.  Now that you’ve hopefully and not too painfully made it through that list, re-read the first paragraph of this post and make my heart happy.  Much love to you, my lovely audience.  xoxo.

Indulgence.

If you read through my archives and know me well or at least to some extent, chances are you can skim over this and not learn a thing.  But I’m going to try and keep this interesting and new.  I’m going to attempt to dive deep into the depths of my heart, soul (to the bottom of my toes) and reach for some facts that may interest some and possibly bore others.  Let’s see what we can come up with:

1. I used to be a boy.  Except – not biologically.  I was a total tomboy throughout most of my elementary school years and most of my high school years.  I wore boy’s clothes and had short boyish hair.  I realize I am total sex-stereotyping the male species and I’m not trying to do that I am merely using ‘the boy’ (a common, ‘average’ iconic image of a boy) as a point of reference for my former identity.  A lot of this can be chalked up to the fact that I was extremely self-conscious, not at all comfortable in my own body, and so I hid behind baggy, boyish clothes so as to not draw attention to the fact that I was a female who sucked at loving herself.

2. Eating noises make me turn into the crazy person that resides deep within the darkness of my soul.  I feel terrible for Kyle, because he is the only one that makes me comfortable enough to spaz out on in regards to eating noises.  By eating noises I mean the awful smacking when chewing bites of cereal, the excessive clinking of the utensil against the serving dish, the horrible breathing noises (even worse when the particular individual is congested), and the all-encompassing Mouth Open Whilst Chewing phenomenon that isn’t so much of a phenomenon for some people as it is a potential death sentence.

3. I have really great friends and family members. I may not have busloads of friends lining up to see me every day, but the few friends that I have are really really really amazing and genuine.  Not about to name any names (what are we, 10?) but if you are reading this thinking you are one of the above-mentioned, then y’all probably are.  Pat yourselves on the back because you deserve it and much much more.

4. I got pregnant while using the Flexi-T copper IUD as a form of (apparently not) contraception. I’m pretty good friends with my body (now, though not so much when I was a boy) and I knew when something was wonky about it.  Turns out things were wonky because point A led to point B which ultimately led to point C.  Point A being that my IUD fell out of my uterus which caused point B, a pregnancy, resulting in the amazing point C for my beautiful little Cade.  Would I still recommend the IUD?  Yes.  Am I still considering getting another one?  I am.

5. My family consists of Kyle, myself, our son Cade, and our Maltese Yorkshire Terrier Lily. I would not ask for anything more, ‘cept for a few more dollar bills.  We live in a rental home in the Buena Vista neighbourhood in Saskatoon.  A perfect neighbourhood for leisurely walks, parks, families, and pooches.  We’ve lived in our current home since July of 2008, and from July 2008 – July 2010, one of my besties Jenna also lived with us.

6. I have had post-partum struggles.  I know I’ve blogged what seems like incessantly about this topic but that is because it is a topic that is/was at the forefront of some of my days.  I don’t know if it is to the extent of PPD, maybe it is, maybe it isn’t.  I don’t know that a label is important at this stage in the game – I am taking care of myself and my family and I am overall feeling okay.  I have days where I feel like crap about any and everything and I am sure to talk to Kyle on those days about what I am feeling.  I feel like I talk the subject to death but yet often have trouble talking about it because I feel like it is minimal and I need to step up to the plate and get over things.  I am considering seeking out a therapist (I really should stop talking about this and just do it already) to work through some things and just to get me on the right healthy healing track.  All post-partum talk aside, please don’t worry about me just because I said I’ve had struggles.  I’ve got a great support system which, if I didn’t have, I really wonder how these struggles would have played out.  But ’cause the support is there and because I know what I need, I’m not worried.

7. I love my dog more than I ever thought I could love an animal.  I never understood the love for a pet until Lily graced our lives.  She does that every single day, except for those moments of the day when she pees on the carpet, or wrestles with her doggy-friend on our bed when I am trying to sleep.  She is the funniest animal I know, so caring and lovable, and so so so funny.  Thinking about the day when she will no longer be with us makes me want to puke.  Which is why I don’t think about it often.

8. Giving birth was probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but the most rewarding. Think of the hardest workout you have ever had to do and multiply it by a trillion.  I imagine that is what giving birth is like.  It’s hard work, it’s exhausting, and it doesn’t always feel super great physically, but emotionally and spiritually I was above the moon for probably the whole time I was in labour and when my little guy plopped out of me.  I say plopped because that is literally what happened – none of this head first, then shoulders, then body.  After an hour of pushing and bringing Cade down the birth canal, Cade was born in one gigantic push.  Yowsas.

9. I am slightly OCD.  I like to have things just so and organized.  If there are things on the coffee table, that sort of annoys me, but if that is how it is going to be, I at least have to straighten them up so they aren’t angled weirdly or crooked.  This includes but is not limited to: books, game controller, remote, Kyle’s glasses.  They have to be just so, and cannot be scattered about the table, but rather stacked neatly on the corner of the table.  Since having Cade, I have not been able to be as much of a neat freak and have had to let things (read: messes) go for a lot longer than I would like.  It is hard but I think I am getting a bit better at this.  Still doesn’t mean I like it, it’s more so out of necessity. I am also OCD about my hair straightener and have been for years and years.  I am always paranoid I will leave it on and burn the house down.  One Christmas a few years ago, my brother and I were taking the bus to Yorkton, and while at the bus depot late at night, I had a panic attack that my straightener was on and the apartment was going to burn down.  I remembered one of the names on the apartment buzzer list, and so looked in the phone book for their phone number and called them to get the landlord’s phone number so she could go to our apartment and check.  So crazy.  And do you think the straightener was actually left on?

10. I have been blogging for many years.  It all started probably in 2003, with a Blurty account, which then transferred over to a LiveJournal account, and then an account over at Blogger.  I believe those accounts were all private because I was too chicken to share some things with the world.  I’ve always loved to write and have had paper journals prior to online journals.  I wish I could blog/journal more, and it’s not that I can’t, it’s just that I don’t.  I get writer’s block far too often and sometimes feel that what I have to say does not need to be written out for the world to see, mostly because it’s too boring.  Turns out when I go back and read it years later, I am thoroughly entertained.

I couldn’t complete this post until I came up with 10 things.  They’re not as interesting as I had planned when I first started this post, but so be it.  Sometimes I really like to talk about things in my life so changes are good that you will see another post like this in the near future.  Today I challenged myself to blog every day in March, but then later dismissed that because I thought it impossible.  Should I attempt it?  We shall see.  I put too much pressure on myself to blog about heavy issues, when really, when I go back and read my little musings, they are often the best and most entertaining posts I’ve written.  Where shall this challenge take me I do not know.  Could take me to a daily March blogging adventure, or it could not.  Goodevening & goodnight! <3

Breast Blog.

Now if that didn’t get your attention…

I blog as an outlet.  As therapy.  As a record of my thoughts and emotions.  I feel like sometimes I’m overdoing it in the whole talking about breastfeeding all the time area, but because this is for me and not necessarily you (though it is in a sense, let’s build communi ty!) I’m going to talk about it some more anyway, because I want to and because I have to.

As I write I am that much closer to figuring things out, though not always even close, but closer. I’m grieving a loss right now and that is the loss of a goal I had been striving towards the second I found out I was pregnant.  In the dreams I had while pregnant, I would be holding my to-be-baby, breastfeeding him or her and in a total blissful state.   That was the predominant theme in my pregnancy dreams – breastfeeding, breastfeeding, breastfeeding.  I’ve never dreamed about boobs so much!

I’ve blogged about my journey, somewhat.  I’ve skimmed over it in a sense.  Just as I do when I’m talking about it with people.  Some days I feel okay with the reality that I cannot exclusively breastfeed, and other days I feel jealous of every other breastfeeding mother, angry that I can’t give my son only my breast milk, and obsessive about why things went wrong and if or what I could have done something differently to change our breastfeeding outcome.

When Cade was born, motherhood was born inside of me.  That was a transition in itself.  But toss into that mix struggles with feeding my son the way that I thought was natural and maternal and therefore would come sort of easy but not without challenges?   I’m not that naive, I knew breastfeeding had a learning curve, I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but I knew it was somewhat instinctual, in that as soon as Cade was put to my chest to feed, he essentially knew what to do.

The first month with Cade was extremely difficult physically and emotionally.  I had basically started off this new life with minimal sleep, a couple hours over a several-day period at best.  There is something about the natural and beautiful high in a new mother that makes that whole bullshit sleep deprivation thing not quite AS bad as it really should be, though.  (Til’ that high sort of starts to wear off, that is.  Then you wanna talk about sleep deprivation?  Oh, we’ll talk, alright.)   When we came to the conclusion, along with the help of a wonderful lactation consultant, that I was not producing enough milk to solely nurse Cade, we had to supplement.  It was basically an order.  Cade had lost nearly 1 lb in 3 days, had not pooped in several days, had a yellow tone to his skin and was screaming for hours, despite my frequent attempts to latch him on to my breasts to feed.  Parental instincts told us something was up and we requested the LC to come to our house and weigh Cade/check his bili levels as soon as they possibly could, which was THANKFULLY that day.  Bili levels were low and jaundice was now in the picture.  Made sense as we had basically figured that out, anyway.

When we started to supplement with formula (and no I am not going to refer to it as the all-mighty poison, instead, I like to tell Cade that after boobs he gets his Formulatte), we used a supplemental nursing system (PDF info sheet here) in hopes that it would stimulate my breasts and increase my supply within a few days.  Fast forward 4 weeks later and still no luck on the supply front.  I didn’t want to give up and I didn’t want to feel like a failure.  I desperately wanted to nurse my son, full-time, all-the-time.  That’s it, not really asking for a lot I didn’t think.  But something prevented and still prevents me from doing that, and I’m still clueless as to what that something is.  I had my thyroid and hormonal levels checked, I took Fenugreek and Blessed Thistle (herbs that can increase supply), I took (and am still taking) Domperidone, a medication used to increase lactation, I did a ton of hand compressions, frequent feeds (every 2 hours for a few weeks, along with waking Cade to feed rather than on-demand feeding), pumping with an electric hospital-grade pump for nearly 6 weeks, I met with lactation consultants several times so they could watch a feed and ensure we had a good latch going on (we did and do, Cade is a pro-latcher), and on top of that – I shed a lot of tears.

My whole point of this particular post was to say that for the first month, I cried a lot about breastfeeding.  I cried because god DAMN did it hurt.  My nipples were cracked (but not bleeding! +1 for me!) and achey.  I dreaded each feed and I cried in between feeds knowing what was to come.  I cried because I felt bad about dreading the feeds, because breastfeeding him was all that I wanted.  I cried because my supply just was not increasing and I had no idea why, and I was sad, depressed and frustrated about it all.  Then I developed what I think was Raynaud’s Phenomenon which caused my nipples to turn blueish/whiteish and burn and sting after each feed and whenever I was cold (hello Saskatchewan winters great having you around NOT).  This did not help with the whole Dreading Every Feed thing.  At all.  However, warm air and warm cloths helped and after about a month this too subsided.

Oh yeah!  The crying thing.  So for the first month I cried a lot.  Did you get that?  Then each week, hell, each day, got a little bit better and a little bit… easier?  I hate to toss that word around ’cause shit nothing about this journey has been easy, except for that whole business about the crying.  And I am proud to say that on Monday, February 14, I cried about breastfeeding for the first time in a very long while.  I cried and oh did I cry.  I cried because Cade would not latch.  Typically our routine is for me to nurse him on each side for as long as it takes for him to empty each breast (doesn’t take long – I gauge this by doing a “squirt test” aka hand expression and/or by him pulling off of my breast).  However, there was something different about that day.  I don’t know if maybe he just got extremely ravenous and hungry to the point where he would not mess around with slow flow real nipples and wanted straight, fast, efficient Tommee Tipee artificial bottle nipples.  But he just wouldn’t latch on, and instead would cry.  Which makes absolutely NO sense to me because dude, you can cry and cry and cry yourself crazy while you wait for me to heat you up a bottle, or you can at least latch on and have an appetizer to tide you over until The Feast.  Baby brains work in very mysterious ways.  So then he wouldn’t latch and he cried, and then I cried and cried.  Thank the dear sunshiney sky that Kyle was home because honestly?  Cade and I looked like the biggest pile of Crying Messes ever to cry on this earth.  Disgusting, really, if not for the fact that there is a tad bit of cuteness when he cries.  Til the cries turn to the bloody awful screams of course.

My spell-o-cries started a series of “it’s my fault” “I should have tried harder to make this work” “I feel like a failure“.   That is the recurring theme – I feel like a failure.  On one hand I know I did tons to try and make this journey work, and it just didn’t.  I am one of those ‘rare’ cases of breastfeeding honestly truly not working out.  Or at least that’s what the LC’s tell me, and that’s what I think, because I really don’t know what I could have done more or differently, and still been emotionally present and sane enough to have a relationship with my partner, my son, and my pooch, and not be admitted to a psychiatric ward.  On the other hand, I feel guilt and I feel shame when we’re out in public and I pull out that handy, convenient bottle of Formulatte (except not handy because a) have to go to the store and get it rather than reaching inside of my shirt and b) sterilizing bottles and nipples and water need I say more? IT GETS OLD and c) $$$$$$$$$$$$ and d) did I mention $$$$$$$$$$$).  I feel like everyone is judging me for using formula.  I feel like I want to wear a billboard on me, or at least a shirt with a story printed on it, about the struggles we had and why I am using the dreaded bottle.  I feel like I have to defend myself and explain every single detail to anyone that asks about breastfeeding.  Do they care?  No, they probably do not, but I know there are some hardcore lactivists out there probably shaking their fists at me as they are getting ready to latch their babe on.  I know this because I do too much reading and too much googling and some people are crazy about breastfeeding and feel it is the only option.  Sigh sigh sigh.  Human decency is a beautiful thing.

Sometimes I even feel jealous when I see other moms pulling out their Udder Covers (or their Hooter Hiders, or their Booby whatever they’re called, or nothing at all and just going for it – so awesome) and nursing their little ones.  Even though I do this too, it’s just not the same, because after I pull out the Udder Cover and it takes all of 2 seconds to nurse Cade, I get to pull out The Bottle.  Blasphemy!

So as much as I think I am okay with not being able to exclusively breastfeed, I’m not 100 % okay with it.  I mean, I am okay with it because this is how it HAS to be, I do not HAVE a choice, you hear that lactivists, LOUD AND CLEAR I DO NOT HAVE A CHOICE.  This is not how I want it to be.  I guess we have the best of both worlds, but as far as I’m concerned, the only good thing /”best of the formula world” is that Kyle can help out in that regard too.  I know that it is okay to use formula, it’s not that I think formula is bad, because obviously people use it for a reason, personal choice, or out of necessity, and I don’t want to get into a debate about why breastfeeding is best, because we all know Breast is Best, but there are tons of reasons why women either don’t or choose not to breastfeed.  I know that for myself I need to acknowledge the emotional pain of not being able to breastfeed, how much it hurt me and still sometimes does.  The other day I had lunch with a friend who is pregnant.  She was mildly aware of my breastfeeding struggles and so I further filled in the missing pieces.  After listening to me talk about my challenges and my feelings surrounding these challenges, she said “That must have been so devastating.”  Maybe it sounds weird or self-fulfilling, but it was positive to hear that, and reassuring.  Instead of always hearing that “formula isn’t bad, it’s okay that you have to use formula, formula babies grow up to be just as healthy and smart as breast fed babies!”, it is supportive and encouraging to have people close to me recognize that this is a loss, something I need to grieve, and something that IS devastating (and she wasn’t the first that had responded in this way, it just got me thinking more this time – after having a couple months to work towards healing the emotions surrounding this).   Along with feeling supported, it definitely opened me up to talking about it more, feeling okay with the fact that I am still grieving, and further acknowledging that this is a journey in which I have further healing to do.

 

The 4th Trimester – Part II.

It took a few days but here I am with an update on the 4th trimester.  Er, not so much of an update as a continuation I s’pose.  I saved the ‘heavier’ section for this part, mostly because I needed time to process how I was going to translate my brain-stuff into actual word-stuff.  I still really don’t think I have mastered it because (and I’m not trying to sound all elitist up and uppity) it’s complex, and even I am still trying to figure it all out.  Also, the other post was just getting too long and I’m always searching for new post material so might as well split one post into two.  Yup.And of course what would a legit post be without photos of Your Favourite 3 Month Old.  He’s a growing boy, tipping the scale at approximately 15 lbs.  I have so many things to write about him, about our life together, about how he’s changed me.  I totally ‘get’ parenting blogs now.  Cade has consumed my last 3 months in the best way possible.  I’m still trying to make time for myself because I need to make sure I’m in tip-top shape (holistically) to be able to be the best momma I can be for my little dude.  However, the ‘me’ time is not exactly the same.  Granted we’re only 3 months in to the best ride of our life, so things obviously are not the same and will never be.  So it’s that I don’t have other things to write about or talk about, though sometimes it feels like that!  It’s just that this is the most important thing in my life right now, being a mom to Cade, being a partner to Kyle, being a family with Kyle, Cade & Lily.  It’s great, really.

So now where we get down to the nitty gritty.

I feel like I should combine the last two sections – spiritual and emotional.  They essentially go hand in hand for me, things that affect me spiritually in turn effect me emotionally and vice versa.  I really don’t know if I could write about one without writing about the other.  We’ll give it a combination whirl.  Aaannnd post-partum healing journey take 2:

Spiritual + Emotional:

Hormones are running marathons around my body, and I don’t feel the same.  I’m not a huge pile of depression or anything, but I have my off days.  The first week home after being blessed with this little boy was crazyemotionalridehormonalhighhormonallowrushnosleepcrazycrazymanic!  I could not have loved Kyle more, he was the greatest person ever.  It was such a weird and amazing feeling.  It still comes from time to time.  Oh my god that sounds terrible, obviously I think he is wonderful and amazing (and he really really is, such a fantastic father and partner, I could not ask for more, well I could but…) – but there’s just this euphoric rush that I experienced after giving birth.  God.  I bawled walking out of the hospital.  On the car ride home.  Pulling up to our house.  Walking into our house.  Changing his first diaper at home.  Having my first bath at home.  You name it, I cried during it.

Those first post-partum weepy days dwindled – thankfully.  There was a point where I thought they never would.  Couple the post-partum hormones with dealing with physical post-partum pain and you’ve got yourself a fantastic cocktail.  Not fun.  Having a sore bottom made every single thing a hundred times more difficult.  Some days I attempted to tell myself I could not get out of bed.  I think there was one night at 3am where I cried and cried, and told Kyle that I could just not do it, I could not wake up.  Sleep deprivation is absolutely insane and does mean, terrible, nasty things to your brain.

Looking back on those first rough weeks (breastfeeding struggles, pain, a HUGE life adjustment that you cannot prepare for, hormones) I wonder how we survived.  I remember thinking that I wouldn’t get through it, how?  It was not possible.  Obviously it was because here I am today.  That gives me such relief because I have days now, albeit different struggles, where I wonder how we will make it.  There’s always a way.  There’s been days where I’ve felt like my heart has been grabbed out of my chest and mangled with.  I mean that in a good way, if that is even possible?  I can’t accurately explain myself here.  Somebody came and took my heart, rewired it to give me all these ooey-gooey feelings and put it back in and here I am, all lovin’ up and everything.  In simpler terms, I cannot believe how much love and nurturing and protection I have in me.  I’ve always been a kind soul, generous, genuine, a good friend.  I’ve always had lots of love to go around and I’ve always been a peacemaker.  But I wish I could step back from my body and watch me in mom-mode, because it’s pretty cool.  When I was pregnant I was terrified that I knew nothing and how would I be a parent if I knew nothing?  Turns out I knew at least something, because we’ve made it this far, and clearly my boy is thriving.

So as good as I feel there is still some negativity, some ‘hardness’ floating about in me.  I have things on my mind and they keep poking and prodding at my mind, confusing it, telling it that it is okay, and then telling it that it is bothered.  I’ve done reading about birth trauma and convinced myself that I don’t have birth trauma.  I had an amazing labour and delivery experience, such great supports, was in wonderful spirits, and no life-threatening complications.  I tore pretty bad (3rd degree – can I talk about my perineum any MORE than I have these last couple weeks?) and the stitches was the worst part, the part I still think about and I think that is somewhat traumatic for me.  My doctor did not stitch me up – she had an OB who was in the hospital do it.  Him and a student.  It took forever, or at least it felt like it.  The doctor was not sensitive and at that point my emotions were running amok, I just wanted to spend time with my son and my family, and I was in pain.  So much for freezing, because I don’t feel like it helped.  Even the epidural wasn’t helping.  The stitching was the most painful part of my journey and like I said, I still think about it.  I think about the awful parts, of how I was in pain and so sensitive at that point and asked him if he was almost done.  His reply?  “No, it will be awhile yet.”  Really?  Can you not have been a tad bit more sensitive?  Like say, maybe… “We’ve still got awhile to go, I know it’s probably painful but I want to make sure that we can do this right so you don’t have complications from it.”  And I must have been tense and squirmy – not I must have, I WAS – because I remember him saying “do you want me to fix you up or not?”  and telling me to relax and what not.  REALLY!?   I thought he was joking but I really don’t know now.  I did not get good vibes from him or his insensitivity.  I wish that some of those doctors could realize things.  (I should also give a shout out to my doc – she is amazing and the best doctor I have ever had.  She is calm, caring, nurturing and respectful of my family and I.  We give her two thumbs up!  The OB and some of the other hospital docs though…..?  I just don’t know…) He was fixing my most sacred, intimate, personal area of my body.  An area that had just been traumatized.  (I should clarify that I have a hard time seeing it as trauma.  I have a hard time acknowledging that this was possibly traumatizing to me, because I see trauma as totally life-changing AWFULNESS.  However, it was an injury that I sustained, and people often struggle with trauma after injuries.)   And then I can remember him saying “I just have to put a finger in your rectum” I don’t remember the reason, but I’m thinking to feel the muscles/tear and to establish how it was going to be repaired.  And then I remember him doing that a couple times.  I know it’s something he had to do but it’s just all these no-fun things rolled into one ball of plain and simple NO-FUN.

And of course, I already wrote about my issues with healing afterwards.  I finally am starting to feel normal, but not 100 %.  I’ve still got weird sensations in my perineum at times.  Will it ever feel ‘normal?’  I have no idea.  Will I ever feel normal about it?  I have no idea either.  At this point I am terrified to give birth again.  I can’t imagine tearing again, I can’t imagine healing again.  I feel like I just want to ignore that ever so special sacred part of me at times.  That is an awful thing to feel and I don’t think I really mean it, but it sort of feels easier than the alternative – dealing with it and getting on with my life.  I don’t want to even attempt sex, I don’t want to attempt tampon usage.  It freaks me out and I’m sorry if this is too much information, but I’m kind of not sorry because it is my reality and hopefully that is what you’re here to read.

My body image has been toyed with as well.  The last couple of years I have done my own personal healing and inner work to come to terms with who I am, and to attempt a sort of ‘love’ with myself that I never thought possible.  Not that that has gone down the drain, but that ‘love’ is not as prominent as it used to be.  I feel like I’ve taken a few giant steps backwards and I’m not sure how to go forward again.  I’ve got a soft and squishy belly that I poke at regularly, almost in disdain.  I am constantly asking Kyle if I look ok, if this shirt is alright, etc.  I am way more sensitive to how I look and how I present myself.  I look at my stomach and feel sad, but excited that it held this little being who is brightening my every day.  It’s a weird dichotomy and I’m not really sure how to come to terms with it.

I still feel (fill in choice word here, I can’t quite thing of the perfect word to capture how I feel) about my breastfeeding struggles.  I tried to hard.  Sometimes I wonder if I could have done more, but I know in my heart that I did everything I could.  I did so much.  I’m still breastfeeding, but we do have to top up with formula.  Mostly he gets formula, I think?  It’s hard to tell, but he takes 2-4 ounces of formula per feed, though some morning feeds he won’t take more than an ounce of formula.   I wish it could have worked out completely, but it didn’t.  There is nothing I can do about it.  Hell, I even tried making ‘lactation cookies’ last night.  I’ve tried the herbs. Pumping. Frequent feeding. Waking Cade to feed. Warm compresses. Medication (which I am still on).  Cookies.  SNS tube at the breast to stimulate the breasts. Switch nursing. Lactation consultants.  Doctor consultation.  Message board.  Tons of research on my own.  Breast compressions.  I constantly feel (not because anyone makes me feel like this, but because of my own insecurities around the issue) that I need to defend myself, that I need to explain this to everybody – why I am giving my son a bottle.  When I pull out a bottle of formula in public, it often will cross my mind that somebody is likely judging me.  But why do I even care?  Why does it matter to ANYBODY else how he is being fed?  He is at least being fed, he is growing. That is what should count.  There are so many issues around breastfeeding/formula feeding and the ‘lactivists’ that I could write about but won’t, at least not now.  Simply put, I couldn’t and can’t exclusively breastfeed, at least not with this child.

I am scared of discrediting anyone’s stories or experiences by saying that I feel ‘traumatized’ by something that probably seems super minor.  Sometimes I feel like I am overreacting, and since I can pinpoint what my issues are, I feel like I should just deal with it, move on, and smile.  Maybe once I do that I can feel okay about things.  When Kyle and I were talking about this a week ago and when I was really bringing everything to the table for the first time, I found myself in tears, having to end the conversation because we were having supper out in public.

I’m sure a lot of this is hormonal related.  I’ve never been this sensitive really, and I know my body has gone through a big change – an amazing change at that.  I don’t think I have ‘diagnosable’ postpartum depression, but I’m keeping an eye on myself and how I feel.  On a day-to-day basis I feel typically fine, good even.  Cade is a lovely and needy (let’s just say, spirited :) little guy, so I don’t get much me time during the day until Kyle is home.   Then when Kyle is home, our interactions mainly revolve around the little guy, so when we were able to get out, all of these feelings and thoughts poured right on out.

A woman on a message board I frequent mentioned that her therapist suggested all women who have given birth should talk to a therapist or someone in a ‘caregiver’ position, as birth changes women and it is helpful and positive for women to talk about their experiences.  I’m deeply considering this, it’s just a matter of finding someone with experience in working with post-partum women.  I think it would be helpful, and honestly?  I’ve always wanted to go to counselling.  There’s things I could hash out – for instance, the fact that I have stuff I could hash out but choose not to because I feel like I can handle it on my own.  That’s mostly it.  Then I trudge along dealing with people’s baggage.  So true though – the life of a person in a caring profession.  We’re all going to burnt out, strung out if we continue on this path that I am choosing!

I’m all over the map with this one, and I should go back and read this over but it’s late and I’d rather just sleep.  Hopefully when I decide to proof this in a day or two it will make sense and it will do justice to everything that I’m feeling and thinking.  Thank you for letting me share my story and thank you for supporting me by reading this, even if you think I’m out to lunch.  I’m doing my best and this is it!