I Finally Feel Like a Mother. (My Birth Story)

My birth story is fairly simple. An induction that went as smoothly as it could have! I was beyond excited to meet our daughter. She is my first child. I was scared shitless of labor. I literally had nightmares about it. So when it came time that Sunday evening to jet off to the hospital I was borderline puking. I made the hubs stop on the way for popcorn chicken and mozzarella sticks. So we added heartburn to the mix. We checked in and my nerves tripled. Once Cervadil was in place it finally hit me. We’re having a baby. I was all smiles. And then I remembered this pesky little fact..I have to push this baby out of me. Talk about buyers remorse.

So here’s where it gets foggy. I remember taking Ambien. And then getting injected with Nubain when the Ambien made me hyper. Then I crashed. I woke up at 7 am the next morning. Exhausted. Fully contracting and only at 2 cm. This is when it gets fun. They start the Pitocin. Holy hell. That freakin hurt! I remember being administered Nubain a few more times during the day. Each time I fell asleep immediately after. And I got emotional. Horribly emotional. I progressed rather quickly for this being my first baby. I had my water broken at around 3 in the afternoon. I’d say within fifteen minutes I was asking for an Epidural. Not because of the pain. But because I was scared of the unknown! I remember kicking my husband and grandmother out of the hospital room. My grandmother kept patting my knee and foot. And with the Epidural that felt horrible! At 5 I felt the pressure. I then labored down for two, almost three hours. At 7:45 p.m. I stared pushing. At 7:51 p.m. My 7lb 19 3/4 in baby girl was born. She latched right away.

I didn’t tear. I didn’t bleed a whole lot. Breastfeeding was fairly easy to master. And yet I feel so incredibly guilty. I am missing chunks of my labor. And what I do remember is terribly fuzzy. Because I was so drugged up, it took me almost a month to have that moment with my daughter where I fell in love. Instead when they laid her on me, skin to skin I felt nothing. For two days afterwards I was a robot. I nursed her. I stared into her eyes. I felt nothing but a void in my heart.

Breastfeeding saved me. It forced a closeness and a bond to form between my daughter and I. Even though my nipples cracked. And bled. Even though my breasts were as hard as rock. And horribly painful to the touch. Those moments in the first few months are precious to me. When I latched her on, and looked at her tiny wrinkled body, into her unfocused bright blue eyes; I slowly warmed to her. Each time we nursed I loved her more and more.

If I hadn’t breastfed, well honestly I don’t want to think about that.

My daughter is a healthy chunky 22 lb, 26 in baby girl. She is all about boobies. She still has those bright blue eyes, but now they’re focused on a million things at once. She sits up by herself. Throws her toys. Yells and laughs! She owns the house.

And I finally feel like a mother.

Doctors (DON’T) Always Know Best

Doctors know best, isn’t that what we are told? We are raised not to question them. After all, they are the health professionals. To them we are the problem. The enemy. The woman who researches too much. Why is it so hard to find a doctor that encourages dialogue. That sits with you to answer your questions. We had that. We lost it. Due to my husband being in the military, we moved.

The on base doctor was a far cry for our civilian family practice doctor. Our original family physician was wonderful. He sat with me to figure out the vaccination schedule that worked for our family. He was incredibly well informed about breastfeeding and its benefits. He was supportive, accessible, and perfect for us.

Fast forward to the on base doctor. She waltzes in after we wait for what feels like forever. Sits her happy ass down at the computer desk. Doesn’t even glance our way. She proceeds to refer to my daughter as a male for most of the appointment. The computer crashes. She then seems to be lost. She asks the same questions over and over. Then she asks about the vaccination schedule. She passes the normal amount of judgment, quoting the CDC’s guidelines. Then, out of nowhere she brings up vitamin D. She tells me over and over that my breastmilk has no vitamin D. That I need to supplement her or switch to formula. I decline politely. After that I leave the room because I have to go to an appointment of my own, the doctor turns to my husband and tells him:
If you don’t start your daughter on vitamin D drops she will likely need a bone marrow transplant when she’s older. Or she will develop Ricketts.
Classic scare tactic. Get out of here with that. It gets worse.

A few days ago we took our daughter to the Pediatric Emergency Room at Johns Hopkins. (In retrospect we now know she was only teething, and she popped her first tooth the next day!) After a night full of screaming nonstop, no sleep, fever spikes, and a horribly congested nose we get in the car and go to the ER. The triage nurse was nothing short of amazing, we thought that was a great sign. With a screaming baby with a temperature of over 102 we settle into our room to wait for the doctor. Truthfully I have not a clue as to how long we waited for the doctor to come in, babes and I had fallen into a fitful sleep shortly after getting to our room. The doctor finally comes in, a very young woman. As we tell her our daughter’s symptoms she listens carefully. She checks Hattie out, and tells us it’s a viral infection and we caught it early. She is adamant that it could not possibly be teething, that the symptoms combined do not add up to teething. She gives Hattie Tylenol. She then asks about vaccinations. You can visibly see her attitude change when I tell her we settled on a delayed vax schedule. Immediately after I explain this to her she orders three blood tests as well as a urine analysis. Simply because my daughter isn’t on the normal vax schedule. At this point my husband and I have been awake for the entire night, sleep deprived I defer the decision to him. Not knowing any better, and feeling extremely pressured by our doctor my husband says yes. While waiting for the nurses to come in and do the tests my stomach was churning. I knew in my heart that this wasn’t right. My baby, six months old was about to have a catheter inside her to perform a test, that was beyond unnecessary. By this time her Tylenol had kicked in, and she was our happy baby yet again. Once the nurses returned she was laying on the hospital bed playing with them. As they picked up the catheter I started to cry and refused the tests. The doctor came back in, and used the all too familiar scare tactic on us. This time I held firm. I knew my decision was right for us. The doctor proceeded to tell us that breastfeeding wasn’t enough. That my baby wasn’t protected by my antibodies. That by delaying her vaccination schedule we were determining a future of sickness for our daughter. That by saying no to these tests, if by chance she had a blood infection or UTI, our daughter would die. Mind you, the symptoms for a blood infection, or UTI were not the symptoms my daughter displayed.

Breastfeeding is the safest, best option for my daughter. I know that by doing so she has much less of a chance of getting sick, or getting ear infections. Doctors should be supporting mothers. Not scaring them. We should be able to say no, without fear of attack. Standard of care should be a positive thing. Not something put in place to keep from being sued.

I may research too much. I do question doctors. I will not settle for mediocre care. Why? Simply put, I am the advocate for my daughter. Doing what’s best for her doesn’t just stop at breastfeeding. I am my daughter’s warrior.

Cheers

Post Partum Depression

I don’t think I realized how hard it would be not to fall victim to ppd. How is it possible to distinguish the difference between baby blues and ppd? It’s almost impossible to do on your own! I’m so glad I had the support around me, and when I realized I was slowly falling down a slippery cliff, they were there to catch me. One day it went from blubbering about eating the last piece of pie. No joke. To realizing colors were dull. To me life was no longer vivid. I was vacant. A shell. I felt as though I were moving in slow motion. Nursing seemed to burden me. I dreaded each time my baby needed nourishment. I was irritable with my husband. Overly so. I snapped at everyone and wallowed in my feelings. I had a rain cloud over my head. I was lucky enough to seek out help. It wasn’t easy. I swallowed my pride. But I did it. I took Zoloft for a few months. I am so glad I did. Now I enjoy being a mother again. I enjoy colors. I enjoy music. And I treasure nursing! So please. If you’re feeling down after having a baby. Don’t wait. Get outside take walks in the sun. Keep yourself busy. And do not hesitate to reach out to a health professional. There is no shame.

Cheers

Poop, literally.

So here’s the scoop on poop. For months after my daughter was born I obsessed over her poop. Every little dirty diaper seemed to indicate that something was wrong. It was too yellow. Too orange. Too green. Too runny. Too solid. Too leafy. You name it, I probably thought it. It consumed so much of my time. Looking back on it now I can giggle. Poop caused a shitstorm in my life. I worried whether she had enough to eat. Too much. Gosh, it was stressful. One day there came a time where I just thought to myself, stop. Shut up. Get over it. You’re worrying about poop. Trust yourself. It wasn’t easy. But day by day I trust myself a little more. And now, poop, is a thing of the past.

I think poop was just my worry manifesting itself. I didn’t trust my body to provide for me baby. Doctors didn’t help me. I didn’t help myself. I worried constantly. Now I know that I am what my baby needs. And I believe in myself.

Cheers

Breastfeeding Sucks

Yeah. It’s true. Breastfeeding sucks. It blows. At the same time it’s a beautiful thing. Why doesn’t anyone talk about how hard it is? It’s a struggle. For some, daily. There are so many roadblocks, and obstacles that breastfeeding women deal with. Mastitis. Blocked Ducts. Milk blisters. Over supply. Low supply. No supply issue, but stressing about it. Lack of poopie diapers. Too many poopie diapers. Not enough wet diapers. Too many wet diapers. Not enough sleep. Too much sleep. You name it, a breastfeeding mother goes through it. We worry about poop, almost obsessively. Don’t even get us started on sleep. Why do we worry about this? It’s bullshit. In the midst of all our worry, somehow we forget to look down and stare in awe at the little miracle our bodies created. And then there is the anxiety that goes with being tethered to your couch, all day. The fear that comes with leaving the house. The fear of being criticized for nursing our children in public. So here is a brief list of things I wish I knew before starting off with my breastfeeding journey. It goes as follows.

-It hurts. Like really hurts. Like tear inducing pain.

-You get super hungry and thirsty while nursing. Stock up on snacks.

-The hormones flow freely while nursing. Do not be alarmed if you soak your baby in tears at one point or another.

-You will be annoyed by the slow motion way your partner changes the diapers you worry so much about, it will pass.

-The stares you think you get while nursing in public don’t matter, what matters is that beautiful baby in your arms.

-Mastitis knocks you on your ass. For weeks. Once the fever is gone the exhaustion sets in, good luck getting out of bed.

-You will fall asleep while nursing, get used to it.

-Once the overwhelming milk supply has regulated itself, you will worry about your supply. Don’t. Stress causes low supply.

-Don’t worry about not showering, it’s over rated.

-You’re going to sweat. A lot. Like a lot a lot. And smell. A lot. A lot a lot.

-Your baby is going to eat. A lot. And use you as a sucking mechanism. A lot. It’s fine.

-Trust your body. And baby. It’s hard. But your instincts will rarely be wrong.

-Cosleeping. It’s easy for nighttime nursing. You get more sleep. Baby gets more sleep. Do it safely. Don’t worry.

-Don’t research everything.

-Have fun. Treasure it. It flys by.

Love you guys! Enjoy your day!

Cheers

Nursing in Public and the Military

Nursing in public. NIP. It’s a pretty controversial topic as of late. All over the country women are being shunned. They are being kicked out of store after store. Restaurant after restaurant. Shamed for covering. Shamed for not covering. Asked to nurse in bathrooms.

Federal Law states:

Notwithstanding any other provision of law, a woman may breastfeed her child at any location in a Federal building or on Federal property, if the woman and her child are otherwise authorized to be present at the location

.

This doesn’t state that the woman is only allowed to nurse in bathrooms. Only allowed to nurse with a cover. This doesn’t state that the woman is only allowed to nurse the way others deem appropriate.

State law varies. Some states protect the mother. Some don’t have specific laws in place.

Nursing on a military installation is completely different. We recently moved onto Fort Meade, MD. Before moving a month ago I had never lived on base before. It’s a different world here. Different people. Different laws. Restrictions.

Some bases will protect a woman’s right to breastfeed her child in public. Some bases won’t. The federal law that we cherish and hold as our armor in case we have to enter battle is wishy washy in this department.

This is something a few women discovered while nursing their children in the commissary at Schofield Barracks, in Hawaii. In separate instances women were approached about their breastfeeding in public. They were asked to cover themselves, or to use the nursing room available to them. Respectfully they denied these requests. They were then asked to leave. One woman in particular posted her situation on the Garrison Commander’s facebook page. The comments from other women ranged from supportive to negative. The Garrison Commander then replied to this post and arranged a meeting with the woman and her husband. His response disappointed a multitude if women. He let it be known that these federal laws didn’t apply to the base he ran, if he didn’t want them to.

How backwards is this? These women, and women all over the world breastfeed. It is a peaceful thing. It is cementing a bond between mother and child. It is a relationship between mother and child. Not mother and universe. So pack away your comments. Your stares. Stop your judgment. Let mothers nurse in peace. Let the babies stare into the loving eyes of their mamas.

And for you outsiders. Get over it. Stop complaining. Stop judging. Stop being so close minded. Open your mind to the love. Open your mind to the bond. You will understand the need someday. Maybe just not today.

Amber’s Story

This is another wonderful fan share! What a powerful story of persevering through many obstacles! You are an inspiration! You are warrior mama! I hope you enjoy!
Cheers

I’ll share mine. I’m 29 and a mother of three. Out of my three kids, my youngest daughter (4mo now) is the only one I’ve been able to breast feed with any measured success. With my son (the oldest -he’s 5), I dried up before I even got started, and no one could tell me why. Three weeks post partum and BAM, no milk. Just done. With my middle child (she’s 2), I was DETERMINED to breast feed. But she didn’t latch well… and I had to have an emergency c-sections, so I didn’t get the chance to hold her for nearly 6 hours after delivery. But I was going to do it, damnit. So I did, I used the nipple covers, I bled, I scabbed, I bled more, I cried, I pleaded, I winced, I thought that I wouldn’t ever get feeling back, I even started to dread it. THEN I started to dry up just 4 weeks post partum. SO I pumped, and pumped and pumped .. 20 minutes after every feeding … teas. supplements. constant blog reading. tips. tricks. lactation consultants (and still they told me that there wasn’t any reason.. but she was SCREAMING after each feeding because she was hungry). I didn’t leave the house. so at 8 weeks I just couldn’t make any more come out, so I dried up again. When baby #3 graced us, I again had to have an emergency c-section, but when it came to nursing I said “if I can, I can.. if I can’t, then I can’t.” … and here we are 4 months and counting. She latches well, she coos, she smiles, we snuggle, I nurse when we’re out, when we’re at friends, we co-slept for the first 3 months, and now she sleeps through the night like a miracle. When I’m not having a good day, I supplement her, but I almost never need to more than one feeding. I don’t let where I am stop me, because I’m thankful that my body is letting me feed my daughter. The moral of my story? Take care of yourself and be honest about what you are able to handle. If it’s not working, then change it, but don’t let misconceptions guide your path. It took me three babies to get it right – but I am so glad I didn’t give up!

-Amber Lynn Wyatt-

F is for Fabulous

I’m four, almost five months into our breastfeeding journey. I thought it would be easy by now. Less overwhelming. I wouldn’t get touched out. My breasts wouldn’t ache. My nipples wouldn’t be sore. I would have a schedule. My daughter would sleep in her own bed. I was wrong. I am touched out. I am overwhelmed. I am tired. My breasts ache. My breasts tingle painfully with every letdown. I get nervous each time I NIP. I’m not sure why. I do it every time we go out. In fact I’ve last track of just how many times I’ve nursed Hattie in public! I’m one of the lucky ones. I’ve not yet had a negative experience while nursing Hattie out and about.that being said, I haven’t really had a positive experience either. I haven’t really had much of an experience at all. Don’t get me wrong, I have had the occasional negative comment from friends and family. But never an attack while nursing. Never a compliment while nursing. I’m not that upset either. I know that not everyone I encounter is so passionate about this. I didn’t think I would be so passionate about this. I am all about boobs. And babies. Babies and boobs. At the same time, my boobs have never been more normal to me. I’ve never had such a sense of purpose. I’ve never been so comfortable with my breasts. They mean something. They feed my baby. I have a purpose. A dream. I am finally going to persevere, use my stubbornness as a positive thing.

Of my many obstacles with breastfeeding I have found one of the biggest to be myself. I doubt myself too much. At every turning point I question my decisions. I wish I could know for certain that the decisions I’m making in regards to my daughter are the right ones. I wish for perfection. I fear screwing her up. I want to set my daughter up for success. During my moments of doubt I realize that it’s not about her. It’s about me.

It’s my fears to become the f word. A failure. I guess if you look at it that way I fail at pretty much everything. I fail to find a good balance between mommy hood and being a wife. I fail to clean. I fail to do laundry. I fail at keeping my composure. I fail at balancing my home life with my advocacy. I fail as a mother. As a wife. And as a friend. I fail daily.

But on the flip side I don’t. If I just change my focus slightly I don’t see a failure at all. I see a champion. A warrior. A person stitched together by imperfection trying her best. I see a mother enthrall end by her child. Not wanting to miss a thing. I see a wife trying to love and support her husband. I see a friend being forgetful. Making honest mistakes. And compensating for them with love.

I see a woman on the floor, trying for hours to make her baby laugh. I see a woman cautiously pulling out her breast, to offer it to her hungry child. I see a first aid kit. I see a comedian. I see a chef. I see a woman of many hats, looking ridiculous while balancing it all. I see a shapeshifter. I see myself. I see you. I see my friend. I see my mother. My grandmother. Aunt. Cousin. Sister. Myself

I try to balance it all. But the thing is….I am all of these things at once. Trying to balance makes me fall. I will not say fail or failure again. Don’t look at that side of the spectrum. Look at your baby, your husband. Love them unconditionally.

Love yourself.

Forgive yourself.

Release yourself.

Give in.

Live naturally.

Cheers

<a

L is for Love

The scariest moment I have ever gone through as a mother happened today. Nakey Hattie baby wiggled, and slid off the bed after her bath. Luckily I was right there to catch her moments before she would have landed on a pillow. A pillow that was on the ground for days that the hubs and I kept meaning to pick up. Thank God for small miracles. Hattie is safe, snuggled in my arms, where she belongs. I’m safe, survived my mini heart attack. I marvel at the power of my love for her. I would move mountains for her. No matter what I will be there for her. And I definitely won’t let her wiggle off the bed.