The welcoming presence of normalcy

I’m still in shock that Willow adjusted so easily to the bassinet. The night adaptation went OK, but surely naps will be a struggle I thought. Nope.

For the first time I can gaze down upon her sleeping. She sleeps with both arms raised over her head, the same way I have for the past few years. While the trip may well mess things up, as well as teething or other things I can’t yet foresee, I’m hopeful that we’ve made it through the rough period. That both kids are now on a schedule, and our lives will now operate on a calmer flow.

Breastfeeding is now easy, natural and enjoyable. I can cradle her in my arms, feeling the heft of her growing, but still tiny body, as she flicks her tongue against my nipple, and think of nothing but appreciation for her presence in my life. It’s hard to believe how very difficult it was and how long the problems endured. Like labor, it’s almost hard to remember what the pain felt like. I just know it was bad, that I wouldn’t wish anyone to have to go through that, and that I’m pretty amazed we made it through.

Speaking of normalcy, I met a friend’s mother at a birthday party this weekend who seemed to have definite opinions on what is normal and what is not. It seemed she didn’t consider me part of that category.

First she commented how her grandfather has the same name as River. Her grandfather is the same ethnicity as the country the name comes from.

“Are you?” she asked. No.

Upon hearing me speak Spanish, she asked if I was Spanish. No. At that point her eyes crossed.

She asked if I’d been in the Peace Corps. Yes. “You seem like the type who would do that,” she said.

Then she asked about my husband.

“Where is he from?”

I told her.

“That’s boring.” Then she asked what he did.

“An engineer? That’s so normal. How did you end up with him?” She paused. “Well, I guess a family can only handle one like that.” Like me, she meant. How does one answer that?

Tracking

I am a sucker for data, dangerously so. I get a strange pleasure from collecting information (and I waste too much time doing it) and seeing it presented in concise, graphic summaries.


I also waste too much time collecting information that might some day be useful. So I’m suspicious of when people tell me to track things for my infant. It drove me crazy when the nurses at the hospital would ask me when I last fed Willow and for how many minutes on each side. I don’t know! I’m barely conscious – you expect me to keep count? I feed her when she’s hungry! The diaper count charts they gave us to fill in went in the garbage. Beyond the very early indications of whether or not the baby’s system is functioning, why in the world should we care how many pees and poops she has?


There is also the danger of too much information. Our pediatrician tried to get us to use formula due to insufficient poopy diapers. I know several people who have stopped breastfeeding because they couldn’t be in control of how many ounces their baby was getting per day.


So when someone gushed about Trixie Tracker on an online forum I belong to, I thought that was something I didn’t want to get sucked into.


Then Mark and I watched the Sleepeasy Solution and decided we want to wean, or at least reduce the number of nighttime feedings. But in order to do that, we should have a good idea of when the feedings are taking place, so I can choose the best times for her advance feedings. I want to make sure she’s not truly waking up hungry and I’ll feel more confident about that if I base our plan on data.


Also, it is nice to see whether or not this intervention results in more sleep. Whether or not she continues to nurse a similar amount. And if she transfers her nursing to the day instead of the night. All of this is easier to see with data.

So perhaps this could be useful for a few weeks while we attempt to make these changes.


But then I think about my return to work just over two months from now. It would be nice to see a pattern of when the nursing happens, so that I can try to organize my schedule to be home for the most important feeds. Again, a chart does wonders.


It’s also cool to be able to compare your charts with other user’s children of similar ages. Is my child an outlier or not? Am I more sleep deprived than the average parent of a four-month old? Of course, I can’t count on the fact that every other user is entering data correctly. Nor is a Trixie Tracker user a representative sample (probably overinvolved, obsessive parents are overrepresented). But it’s still nice to have something to compare our situation with, as it can feel kind of isolating getting up every hour or so in the middle of the night and wondering if anyone else is going through this.


You also find out random, but interesting facts, such as I spend 200-236 minutes per 24 hours nursing Willow (that’s where all my time went), or that she spends 10.5 hours per day awake. I can see graphically that she is a short, but frequent eater, with feedings ranging from 8-20 minutes, but occurring 10-12 times per day. Could I live without this information? Yes. But it gives me a little more clarity on where we are and how I spend my time in what seems like a daze of feedings, changes, and naps.

So I’m now on day 2 of using Trixie Tracker and will probably be hooked for a couple of months.  Only the first two weeks are free, unless you want to track only diapers (why, I have no idea).  There is all kinds of stuff you could track. You could go crazy and spend your life tracking every single diaper, bottle, nap, solid food, nursing, and medication your child ever experiences.  You can waste a lot of time getting averages, scatterplots, and probabilities.   Or you could have a need to track certain things (a child with difficulty accepting solids, sleep problems, a burdensome medication schedule) and tracking these particular items might make things more clear, or might reveal patterns that can illuminate what is and isn’t working. 

Yes, a pen and paper works. But for me, having the data tranformed into charts and graphs makes things more clear. And being the data geek I am, this clarity gives me an unwarranted sense of having more control. 


Do you collect data on your child’s schedule? If so, how and why?

The calm phase

I think I can finally say that breastfeeding has reached a normal stage. Hooray! It only took about 3.5 months and a heck of a lot of pain and struggle, but we did it! I’ve been off the nifedipine for over a week now and while I still have some blanching of the nipples due to Raynaud’s, it’s not painful enough to do anything about it. I’ve stopped attending the weekly breastfeeding support group, and kind of miss it. I’ll probably drop in closer to the time I return to work to get some advice on pumping.
I am so very grateful to that hospital-sponsored group. It was a lifesaver to know that once per week, I could get some non-judgmental feedback, specific advice and support to continue on.

Now I can hold my baby as she suckles and focus on the increasing heft of her body, the brightness of her young eyes, the changing patterns of acne, eczema and scratches on her forehead, the softness of her cheeks and the precious movements of her little ivory hands. These are moments that I try to mentally photograph, videotape, put safely in storage.

Sleep seems to be going a little better. Though she still wakes up many times per night, I’ve gotten at least two three-hour chunks of sleep for the past two nights. Though it doesn’t seem like much, it makes a big difference.

We’ve got her sleeping in the swing, with the toy bar over her legs to secure her. She goes to sleep there and I return her there after the first few feedings. Somewhere around 5 a.m. she gets restless and I take her into bed with me to feed her while I lie on my side. Often we’ll both fall asleep for at least a little while.

This morning Mark came in to tell me he was leaving for work and that River was at the table eating breakfast. Willow lay against my chest. I looked down at her closed eyes and her softly rising chest, and realized we were sleeping in the exact same position. Both of us had both of our arms raised above our heads.

I know I have to get her out of our bed in order for us both to get better rest. But I must admit I do enjoy those first moments of gazing upon her in the mornings and enjoying her first smiles upon waking up and seeing me.

The calm phase

I think I can finally say that breastfeeding has reached a normal stage. Hooray! It only took about 3.5 months and a heck of a lot of pain and struggle, but we did it! I’ve been off the nifedipine for over a week now and while I still have some blanching of the nipples due to Raynaud’s, it’s not painful enough to do anything about it. I’ve stopped attending the weekly breastfeeding support group, and kind of miss it. I’ll probably drop in closer to the time I return to work to get some advice on pumping. I am so very grateful to that hospital-sponsored group. It was a lifesaver to know that once per week, I could get some non-judgmental feedback, specific advice and support to continue on. Now I can hold my baby as she suckles and focus on the increasing heft of her body, the brightness of her young eyes, the changing patterns of acne, eczema and scratches on her forehead, the softness of her cheeks and the precious movements of her little ivory hands. These are moments that I try to mentally photograph, videotape, put safely in storage. Sleep seems to be going a little better. Though she still wakes up many times per night, I’ve gotten at least two three-hour chunks of sleep for the past two nights. Though it doesn’t seem like much, it makes a big difference. We’ve got her sleeping in the swing, with the toy bar over her legs to secure her. She goes to sleep there and I return her there after the first few feedings. Somewhere around 5 a.m. she gets restless and I take her into bed with me to feed her while I lie on my side. Often we’ll both fall asleep for at least a little while. This morning Mark came in to tell me he was leaving for work and that River was at the table eating breakfast. Willow lay against my chest. I looked down at her closed eyes and her softly rising chest, and realized we were sleeping in the exact same position with Both of us had both of our arms raised above our heads. I know I have to get her out of our bed in order for us both to get better rest. But I must admit I do enjoy those first moments of gazing upon her in the mornings and enjoying her first smiles upon waking up and seeing me.

A little foray into the professional world

This weekend, Mark was nice enough to take the two kids and to allow me to attend a professional conference. Since I didn’t want him to use the frozen milk when I was still close to home, he carted the kids to a parking lot near the conference during the breaks and I darted out to breastfeed. That worked out pretty well. I learned a couple of things:

1. It’s a lot easier to limit the number of daily feedings when I’m just not around. I was gone from 8:45 to 4. Mark brought her to me for two feedings during that time, and she was OK. If I’d been home, she certainly would have received more than two feedings. So perhaps it’s better for me to be out of the house more often?

2. I don’t mind breastfeeding in public. At all. And breastfeeding around men doesn’t bother me either. But I’m not so comfortable breastfeeding in front of male professional colleagues who I know and am likely to have contact with in the future. I did it, but it wasn’t pleasant.

3. I’m still excited and invigorated by some of the topics discussed. And at times, I thought perhaps it would be worth it to leave my kids more often, to dedicate more time to work, and to travel. One female colleague with a 13-year-old daughter told me how she sometimes considers making a change from her current administrative position. “I tell my daughter that perhaps when she finishes school, I’ll go to Afghanistan. She says, ‘Why would you do that mom?’ and I tell her that before her, I had a different career and it involved travel!” I could hear wistfulness in her voice, that she missed the excitement and immediacy of international work. I do too. But I’m still in the process of trying to keep my international interests alive while also developing some domestically-oriented skills and interests that are a better fit for my family situation. It’s a constant work in progress.

4. While the topics interested me and I’d love to have some more time to read further, to research them, and perhaps write about some of them, I’m not anxious to get back to work. I’m starting to crave more intellectual stimulation, but I’m focused on self-directed things that can be done on my own schedule and in the paltry little chunks of time I have. In terms of answering to someone else, I’m glad to wait another three months.

5. It’s no fun getting dressed up when you are 30 pounds overweight.

Formula feeding envy

For whatever irrational reasons, I am extremely committed to breastfeeding. Perhaps because I like challenges and following through on goals, and I set a goal to breastfeed this baby until she’s one.

Last night Mark saw me pump. I showed him the measly two ounces I got and reminded him to NOT TOUCH THE FROZEN MILK, since one 8-ounce bag is an hour and twenty minutes of my time. This is a stock for when I go back to work, not for when I get back a little too late from a short excursion.

“I think six months might be all the breastfeeding Willow needs,” he said. I think he has a better perspective as to the tradeoffs between the costs and the benefits. He thinks the benefits will only outweigh the costs for another three months or so.

“No way,” I said. “After all I’ve been through, now that it’s no longer painful, I’m breastfeeding her for a year.” My irrational self answered.

This was the same day I took a walk with a friend who is breastfeeding, but not exclusively, her five-month old baby. We weren’t able to walk far because Willow became hungry, started to cry, and there was no choice but to go to a café and feed her. So much for exercise.

When my friend’s baby became hungry, she whipped a little container of formula out of her bag, put two scoops in a prepared bottle, shook it, and fed it to her baby. He was done in a fraction of the time it took Willow to eat and they were ready to go on with their lives.

Just a teensy weensy bit of envy there. But the greater envy is at her ability to leave her children and go have wonderful adult experiences. Recently she and her husband spent a week together in another city. Next week they are going to Morocco (for two weeks!), leaving the kids with the grandparents.

Morocco? I want to go to Morocco. Forgive my whining, but I spend a lot of time around a whining toddler these days. And I love, love to travel, especially international adventures. But Morocco is out of the picture. I’m feeling grateful for a month to explore Minnesota, Iowa, Wisconsin and Illinois.

I also think back to the woman from my pre-natal yoga who had her baby about six weeks before I did. When I saw her at the library story hour, I had Willow attached to me, I had selected my clothing based on what would make it easy to nurse and I would halt my schedule the moment Willow needed to eat. I saw this woman pull a bottle out from her purse, feed the baby, and then sit back and relax, knowing that he wouldn’t be hungry for another good chunk of time, and she could go ahead and think about other things.

Things like exercise. Things like work. Things like her book group.

I’m sure I’d be in better shape if I weren’t breastfeeding. Despite claims that breastfeeding makes you lose weight, it’s doing the opposite for me. I’m convinced my body has the evolutionary impulse to consume every calorie possible and to hang on to every fat cell available as long as my baby is in need of food.

I’d be able to exercise more if I could leave for longer periods of time. I could do more things, focus more, and think more, if I could let someone else give her a bottle. I’d get more sleep at night and would be better rested and perhaps more patient. I’m planning to attend three conferences in April and it sure would be nice to be able to spend all day there rather than darting in and out, running back home to feed my baby.

I’m sure Mark sees all of this, and therefore doesn’t share my commitment to long-term breastfeeding. I also see it and wonder sometimes if I’m being a dope, overly influenced by the social forces that equate breastfeeding with being a good parent. But there is something in me that says no matter what a pain or inconvenience it is, I’m going to do my best to nurse her and to try to nurse her exclusively for as long as possible.

I don’t really understand it.

maybe we’re doing better after all

At my weekly visit to the breastfeeding support group, I bared my nipples for the lactation consultant’s inspection (this now seems like the most natural thing in the world to do) and was surprised to hear her say she doesn’t think the thrush is back.

“Thrush usually has a shiny look,” she said. So while mine are pink, and occasionally red, they are not shiny. I no longer remember what normal nipples look like and I certainly don’t know what non-thrush infected breastfeeding nipples look like.

She told me I needed to continue staying away from sugar (“no excuses!”), but that I didn’t have to go back on drugs for thrush.

I feel some relief that perhaps the thrush has abated after all. It’s hard to tell though since the other issues are still active and no one knows what came first, or what is causing what. But I’m definitely bummed at the prospect of several more weeks on a restricted diet. I’m also starting to feel pretty bad about myself, as I’ve GAINED five pounds since putting these restrictions in place. So I not only feel deprived, but fat.

I’m also not feeling good about the way I am parenting River these days. It seems I spend too much of my time with him telling him no, hurrying him up, trying to get him to stop whining, or trying to deal with his needs quickly so I can move on to other things I need to address. There are times, especially when he’s whining, that I’m annoyed, I don’t want to listen any more, and I just want to get away. There have been occasions on which my chidings have made him cry, and there haven’t been enough fun, silly moments to make up for them.

I keep telling myself that I’ll do something special with him. Perhaps I’ll read him bedtime stories, perhaps I’ll take him somewhere. Sometimes I do. But most of the time, I’m tired or something else needs to be done, and fun time with him is pushed to the side.

This weekend we’ll be leaving him behind as we go out of town for the weekend. I plan to take him to get his hair cut before we leave and perhaps we can grab something to eat together. I’ll be taking him to a free trial gymnastics class soon. Occasions like this, where just the two of us can do something together, without Willow, are rare. I need to try to make them happen more often. Or I need to learn how to tune out the other things that need to be done and be able to sit and listen to him fully.

Depressed

As of last Friday, I thought I was clear on the thrush. Since then, I’ve avoided major backtracking, but have taken some small liberties with my diet. Just yesterday, I took Willow to the pediatrician and didn’t mention the thrush, since I thought it was pretty much taken care of.

“Are you sure it was thrush?” the pediatrician asked, and though I wanted to strangle her, she did make me doubt myself for the slightest moment.

Now I think it’s back. The redness is just too red and I’m starting to feel burning again. I want to cry. Instead, I bought a cupcake with icing and scarfed that down, followed by five blocks of Trader Joe’s milk chocolate. My God, if weeks and weeks of treatment won’t work, at least I can have some forbidden sugar.

It wasn’t very enjoyable and felt more like a binge. I know that tomorrow I’ll have to go back to the restricted diet. There doesn’t seem to be any other choice. I have to get rid of this, sometime, somehow. While I thought the madness was winding down, now it seems I’ll face several more weeks of it. I’m starting to feel discouraged and depressed.

This evening I ate my dinner in a corner of the kitchen, on the floor. Everyone else was in the living room, so it was quiet and I could eat undisturbed. Mark came in and laughed.

“It’s only one step from this to a closet,” he said. He’s been fantasizing lately about being able to spend a day in a closet. I thought a day in a spa or a beautiful site in nature would be preferable. A library might be nice. But a closet is looking more and more attractive. Especially if it doesn’t involve vinegar rinses, exposing nipples to sunlight, strict dietary regimes, clothes washing rituals, the need to constantly respond to a baby, and a toddler that is whining and demanding more than usual.

Yes, there are certain changes I should have made right away and my slowness in doing so is one reason we’re still struggling almost 11 weeks out. But I’ve really been giving it my all in the past few weeks. Not only am I constantly denying myself, but unbelievably, I’m gaining weight in the process. Fat, thrushy, cranky, tired and frustrated. Tonight is not a good night. I wish there was an end in sight.

The first bag of milk

This is probably not an accomplishment to anyone other than myself. But I filled my first bag with breastmilk today. Pumping for 20 minutes each day for three days produced a single 8 ounce bag.

I don’t want to think about how, by the time I go back to work, she’ll probably guzzle that down as just one of many daily feedings. I won’t focus on how many of those bags I’ll need for a single day away.

Instead, I’ll be grateful that despite all the problems, I’m successfully feeding her. She seems to be tending toward chunky at this point, which means I have sufficient milk for her needs. In addition, I’m able to set some aside, even if just a little bit. This is going into storage – a savings account that I can later use to buy myself some freedom.

Reassurance and excitement

Today a lactation consultant confirmed that my nipples do indeed look like they are recovering. Also, I got the appropriate dosage of nifedipine (30 mg/day slow dose), which is reducing the episodes of burning pain and nipples changing color. I have to continue the diet for a few weeks after I stop the diflucan, but signs are indicating that perhaps, maybe, I’m close to returning to normal.

I asked the consultant about our trip away next weekend, thinking that perhaps I could/should try to start pumping and see if I could get enough for a night away. She advised against it, saying that if Willow hasn’t even taken a bottle yet, then I suddenly leave for almost 24 hours, that could cause a nursing strike. She said I didn’t need any additional problems to deal with, and since I’d have to pump while away anyway, perhaps it’s not so different to have her there. So she’s coming along, but I feel better that it’s the best thing to do in the circumstances.

I also received some helpful information on pumping. We are planning to travel for the month preceding my return to work and I know from experience that I’m not going to keep up regular pumping while traveling. So I basically have the next three months to start building up a supply in the freezer.

The consultant suggested starting out with pumping once a day for 20 minutes, so I did so when Willow took her afternoon nap. I have an old hospital-grade Lactina Select that I purchased off Ebay when I was about to lose my supply with River. I sat on the couch, watched TV and got just over two ounces. Not bad.

It’s been a while since I’ve heard the whir of the breastpump. It’s a noise that lodges in your brain, a constant vroom, whish, vroom. I recall the moments spent pumping in the passenger seat of the car, in the driver’s seat, in a classroom with an unlocked door, in bathrooms, where I cringed with embarrassment at the loud noise that could easily spook someone who is not thinking about breastfeeding. I’m not too thrilled to spend a lot of time attached to that thing, but I also need to be able to get away, so I’m glad it’s available.

In other news, the trip we planned to Wisconsin Dells has now turned into a month-long journey. I received a brochure for a conference the other day and almost threw it right into the trash. This was the same conference I went to when River was eight months old and almost lost my milk supply during the nine days away. I wasn’t going to do that again. But instead of throwing it away, I held on to it just to read through, in the same way I flip longingly through the dessert cookbooks. Food porn and intellectual porn.

Then I realized that the dates weren’t so far off from our planned trip. We changed the plans a little bit, my parents agreed to take River for the week, and I did a little research that leads me to believe I could take Willow with me, getting enough childcare to give me plenty of time, but being able to feed her at night, in the mornings, and perhaps even once during the day.

A month away is a long time and has its stresses. But I figured I should use the freedom while I have it. Granted, we aren’t going to any exotic destinations, but I’m super excited to be able to see family, to spend some family time as tourists, and to be able to do something of interest to me, while still caring for Willow. It’s as close to an adventure as I can get these days, so I plan to make the most of it.

Our scheduled escape, or not

Before River was born, I purchased a night away for Mark and I in early March. I thought I’d start pumping early and that two months would be plenty of time to store up enough supply for a night away.

Two months after her birth and one week before our scheduled escape, I haven’t pumped once.

My excuse is that I’ve been waiting for the thrush to go away. I didn’t want to infect the equipment, nor did I want to add the time it takes to pump to my to-do list.

The signs of thrush are beginning to diminish and I’m hopeful we are getting better. Yet I still find myself reluctant to pump. Looking at the big blue box, which looks like it might contain a construction worker’s tools, I’m brought back to what inspired the purchase – nine days away from River with a defective pump, during which I lost a good deal of my milk supply.

Thinking I’d be on “vacation” away from him, instead I set my alarm for every two hours at night, pored over the internet looking for ideas on how to increase supply, and finally contacted a local hospital and rented a hospital-grade pump for a few days. I felt miserable, desperate, as though I was failing him, despite the fact that I rationally knew then, and still know now, that not breastfeeding him is not the end of the world. Though I managed to continue breastfeeding another 3-4 months, I felt I was just hobbling along for that period, getting him a bit each day, but not much more. I thought I’d screwed things up.

This time I find myself frightened to do anything that will mess with my supply. As long as she gets all of her milk from breastfeeding, I’ll make enough and she’ll get enough. Once I start pumping and there is milk in the freezer, whoever is caring for her may turn quickly to a frozen pack, whereas now, there is no choice but wait until I return. I’m scared to mess with the cycle, for fear that I’ll goof things up again.

I have no choice but to pump, eventually. I’ll have to start a supply that can be used when I return to work. Since it looks like we may be traveling for about a month shortly before I go, it’s probably a good idea to start building that supply soon.

Nevertheless, I’m hesitant. I don’t want to do it. As much as I’d like to get away and have a bit of a life, for now, I’m OK with carting her along with me and being available to her. Just as we are maybe, hopefully, coming towards the end of a long battle to get breastfeeding on track, I’m scared to do anything that will throw it off again.

Which may mean that Willow will accompany us on our anniversary night away.

Raynaud's of the nipple

For those not interested in the details of breastfeeding problems, you may want to skip over this. I’m putting this out there for the new mothers who will come after me, spending their few spare moments googling for help/information/advice. Perhaps something I learn along the way will be useful to someone else.

There is a helpful article here about Raynaud’s phenomenon of the nipple, one of the other fun breastfeeding challenges I’m facing. I’m pretty sure I had this with River too, as I distinctly remember it being painful to go outside in the winter, though no one diagnosed it then. This time, a lactation consultant identified it when I mentioned turning back from a walk because my nipples hurt too much to continue on.

Until now, I’ve been focusing on trying to get rid of the thrush, hoping that the Raynaud’s would go away as a result. But a new lactation consultant said I should go after the Raynaud’s first. The consultant I’ve seen most often is mystified that my big crack has still not healed after six weeks. The new consultant suggested that perhaps the constriction of the blood vessels are preventing blood flow to the nipple, which is preventing the crack from healing. If I can heal the crack, I’ll eliminate the open portal that makes it very easy to transfer yeast and bacteria. So yesterday I got a prescription for nefidipine.

My ob/gyn had never heard of the use of nefidipine for Raynaud’s, though he uses it regularly for pre-term labor. However, he said it’s a safe drug and unlike other doctors I’ve come across, seemed to respect the opinion of the lactation consultants. So he prescribed it without hesitation.

The bottle said that the medication should not be taken in conjunction with grapefruit, so I gave the pharmacist a call. I’ve been using a lot of grapefruit lately in trying to battle thrush – 750 mg of grapefruit seed extract tablets, grapefruit seed extract applied topically to the nipples and I eat a grapefruit every day.

The pharmacist said that grapefruit can magnify the potency of the drug, up to 50%. She said that since my dose wasn’t too high, a 50% increase wouldn’t be toxic, so it was up to me whether or not I wanted to continue with the grapefruit.

I must have had a lot of grapefruit in my system, because I could immediately feel the effects after the first pill. My cheeks became flushed, I felt a rush to my head and I could literally feel my blood vessels expanding in my legs. I also had a headache for hours. It was pretty surreal. However, with only one pill so far, my nipples are doing much better. I’m going to try it for two weeks or so and see what happens.

Crossing my fingers we are nearing the resolution phase!

The early introduction of formula

I still go to the breastfeeding support group weekly and I’m pretty much the only person who attends so regularly. In seeing a lot of moms with newborns over the past several weeks, I’ve heard so many who were told they should supplement with formula in the first days due to the baby losing too much weight. “My baby lost 11% of her weight!” one said, without realizing that 11% of seven pounds is not that much.

It makes me sad to see so many moms caused to worry when initial weight loss is normal for so many babies.

“Maybe I wouldn’t listen if it was my second child,” one new mom said. “But with a first child, you don’t know what you are doing and you don’t want to take any chances. So you do what the doctor says.”

It makes me so glad that we had a doula our first time around. She encouraged me to have the confidence that my body would do what it needed to do. I needed that encouragement, as my body took a very long time to do it. Long enough for River to lose over a pound. Long enough for the pediatricians to express concern, to suggest formula repeatedly. Long enough for River’s lips to become chapped from dehydration. I think it was somewhere around a week when my milk finally came in.

I never had a copious supply, but it was adequate. If I had supplemented earlier, I wouldn’t have had enough and I’m doubtful I could have caught up.

This time, Willow dropped from 7 pounds 15 ounces to 7 pounds 5 ounces and our pediatrician expressed concern. She sent us home with a sizeable sample of newborn formula, in ready-to-feed bottles. She worried about the lack of poopy diapers as well as the weight loss. This time, we were able to ignore her supplementation suggestion with confidence. We put the formula in the corner, the milk came in (earlier than last time) and she’s been doing fine.

Week after week, I see women struggling to pump and to get their supplies back in line after introducing formula. As one woman described it, once the formula is introduced, it’s a downward slide from there in terms of breastfeeding.

That was the case for us. Once I started giving River a decent amount of formula (around six months) I was never able to give him only breastmilk again. I was able to give him some breastmilk until he was a year old, but I constantly struggled to pump and felt like I was always behind.

I don’t think this is a bad thing if formula is the right choice for a family. But it makes me sad to see women with newborns, who wanted to breastfeed exclusively, but were instructed by people they trusted to introduce formula so early.

I imagine in some of their cases it may have been necessary. I think in many of them, it may not have been. That perhaps they could have used a little encouragement to ignore the scale and the diaper counts and the precise measurements of what goes in and out, and instead to trust their bodies to do what is needed for their babies.

At seven weeks

Willow has developed rolls of fat around her upper thighs, her neck and her wrists. This is good for her sake (she must be gaining sufficient weight, though I haven’t weighed her since she was 7 pounds 5 oz) and for mine (I must be providing enough milk, despite our difficulties).

I am full-out fighting thrush, but it is still winning. The big crack from the early days is still there. I wonder if my nipples will ever be normal again.

We are getting smiles and coos and these light up our lives. There is nothing more heartwarming than my baby looking up at me and smiling. I feel a great sense of fulfillment in ensuring her happiness and well-being.

I have yet to try pumping or giving Willow a bottle. I’ve wanted to wait until we get over all our breastfeeding problems before I add another element into the picture. I wonder if this is a mistake.

River seems to have returned to his cheerful, good-natured self. He is wonderful with Willow, telling me she needs milk when she cries, giving her kisses, and caressing her fingers. It’s beautiful to watch. Though his relationship with Mark has strengthened in the past several weeks, I still feel our bond and that is reassuring. He watched part of a movie about Lagos with me and asked me repeatedly to take him to Nigeria. I didn’t assent as willingly as I do to his requests to travel to other places (I’d be nervous about going to Lagos myself), but I do love the possibility that he may someday be interested in joining me on some adventures.

I will leave Willow for an hour or two at a time. But since I have no food to leave with whoever is caring for her, it’s a precarious situation. I do it only when it’s necessary (mainly my class – which meets three times a week) or quick (taking River to Spanish story hour or other short outings).

It seems kind of early to me, but it feels like Willow is already on something pretty close to a schedule. She sleeps from somewhere between 6 and 8 p.m. until about 7 a.m., waking up for feedings in between and then going back to sleep. She gets tired in the late morning and might sleep a bit. The best way to get a nap of any significant length is to take her on a car ride. Then I can carry the car seat into the house and if I’m lucky, I might get an hour or two.

A pedometer has been reattached to my hip and I’m slowing increasing my goal for daily movement. I’m now at the rather modest goal of 4,500 steps per day. But even that is forcing me out of the house more, even into the cold. I can’t wait for spring to arrive.

I’m pretty sure I’ve spent more on breastfeeding issues in the past seven weeks than formula would have cost. At some point, I’d like to do the math. Though breastfeeding is something I want to do, and something I want to give my baby, it bothers me when people argue that it’s easy and cheap. Some social assistance programs are now promoting breastfeeding among low-income women. Which might be great. Their babies need the benefits as much as anyone else. But it is not fair to put a lot of pressure on women to breastfeed without also offering the supports needed to do so successfully. As in sufficient time off of work, the time and space to pump at work, the equipment needed to pump, and care for older siblings to allow time to breastfeed and/or pump. I have all of those things and am still struggling enough that at times I wondered if I could continue.

It seems so obvious, but I’m often amazed at just how dependent babies are on those around them. I understand how what happens now, when they are so helpless, can shape them for the long term. Thinking of the babies who are ignored, mistreated or otherwise acquainted with the harshness of the world from their earliest days makes me very sad.

I’m so grateful for the maternity leave I have. If I had to go back now, as many American women do, I’d have to stop breastfeeding. If I had to go back after 12 weeks, I would spend the entire leave either trying to solve breastfeeding problems and/or preparing to pump for work. I wouldn’t be able to experience even a week of relaxed quality time with my baby. And since I’m doubtful I could pump enough right off the bat to cover the absence a full-time job would require, we’d probably have to start supplementing and breastfeeding would then begin its slide.

things I never expected to hear from my kids

“Mom, put your boob back into your shirt please,” River.

On another note, though I still haven’t given up sweets, I’m starting to feel like the thrush might be reducing and that is reassuring. It’s no longer super painful to nurse and I’m really looking forward to the day in which it’s only a matter of taking the time to nurse, and not a matter of being in pain.

frenulum cut, help sought

It’s done. The process was probably as painful for me as it was for her. But I’m really pleased with the doctor, who was kind and solicitous and I think the procedure was successful. It no longer feels like a suction cup on my breast when she latches on and her gums no longer feel like rows of teeth, or knives.

We’re still struggling with thrush, but one problem down, one to go, is pretty good.

Just before getting the frenulum cut, I attended a breastfeeding support group offered by our hospital. It was run by a fantastic lactation consultant, who my friend had recommended, and she offered me some very helpful tips. I’ve been very hesitant to pay for a lactation consultant. I think I’ve been too affected by arguments that breastfeeding is cheap and easy. I know that’s not true, but I still have trouble paying a consultant for something that is supposed to save money. Nevertheless, I now see the value of one-on-one assistance.

She showed me a new way to get Willow to latch on that is a bit less painful on the hurt side and she recommended an ointment for my nipples that is specially for women dealing with thrush and injured nipples. She also recommended the Kelly Mom and the Dr. Jack Newman sites for recommendations on how to deal with thrush. Hopefully I’ll find time soon to be able to read them in detail.

Thrush is evil and no fun to fight. I look forward to this being over. In the meantime, I’m grateful for the resources that provide advice and assistance and I’m glad that this time around, I’m not hesitating to make use of them.

tongue-tied

Breastfeeding has been painful. Painful enough that I count down the days to visit an otolaryngologist (new word for me, but hey, just another thing that parenting makes you an expert in). Painful enough that I’m now counting down the hours until they cut my daughter’s frenulum, the underside of her tongue – 3 hours to go!

A lactation consultant at the hospital first suggested she might have a short frenulum and another seconded that opinion. They also commented that her suck was like a vacuum extractor. Within days, my nipples were red and covered with scabs.

Those eventually went away and I thought I was toughening up, but the redness remained, as well as a burning sensation that lasted long after nursing. I thought it must be thrush, which we suffered with River, and got treatment for both of us. The doctor didn’t seem convinced though. When I initially told her about the lactation consultants’ concerns, she said, “We’re not going to cut her tongue.” I accepted that and didn’t bring it up again.

But when she expressed some doubt about the thrust, I asked, “Can you think of anything else that would cause my breasts to burn?” and she gave me a referral to an otolaryngologist.

My first thought upon hearing the possibility of cutting her tongue was one of repulsion, an instinct of no way. Then the pain continued, and got worse. I now have a crack half way around a nipple, so large I can see the skin underneath, and part of that is turning white, making me think it could be getting infected. I dread giving her that breast. I offer her the right one three times for each time I reluctantly put her on the left. I can’t keep this up.

I have a good friend who is in to all kinds of natural treatments. Like me, she is disturbed by the thought of circumcising a male baby. Yet she told me her son was diagnosed as tongue-tied at age two months, she didn’t cut his frenulum, and she wishes she had.

She told me that breastfeeding was continually painful for her and that addressing the problem would not only allow me to breastfeed, it would improve our relationship. I think that is true because at the moment, when I put her on the left breast, I’m clamping her head in a vice-like grip, sweating and panting. Not exactly great bonding time. She also said that her son, now three, is lisping, and that cutting it early probably would have prevented that.

Our first visit to an EMT confirmed that her frenulum was “tight” but that practice only does the cutting in a hospital, with intubation and general anesthesia. Pretty freaky for a two-week old.

There are so many more serious issues that many new parents are dealing with. I feel lucky that she is healthy and happy. But still, to be told that a baby this small could use a procedure is stressful. Even more so when the thought of having my own frenulum cut inspires horror and revulsion. The tongue is one of those things you just don’t want to have to cut. Trying to do research, find doctors, make and get to appointments, is extra difficult with a newborn.

After two visits to the hospital-only doctors, I found two other doctors who do it in their offices. We went with one that uses a novocaine shot. Here’s hoping it works!

Second week

Baby is sleeping 5-7 hours straight at night at less than two weeks old. This stretch usually starts around 6-8 p.m., so I’ve been getting to bed early, and spending half of each day in bed. But as long as I do so, I’m getting a decent amount of sleep. Can this last? We’ve been incredibly lucky in getting a baby that is as easy, or perhaps even easier, than the super-chill River. I feel like I’ll jinx it as soon as I believe it.

I took my first excursion alone with Willow today. We went shopping at Target and the supermarket. Both the car and the shopping cart seemed soothing to her, I selected stores where I was likely to be able to find a place to sit down and nurse, and I nursed her at the end of the visit to each store. I was prepared for disaster, but it actually went OK. I don’t think I’m up to handling two while shopping yet, but I feel a little more freedom in realizing that as long as Willow is with me, and I’m able to nurse when she needs it, I have pretty free movement. It felt like a treat to be seated with her attached to my boob and seeing something different than my bedroom or living room.

We took our first excursion as a family to a holiday light show. It was an easy trip to make in that the lights could be viewed from the car. River enjoyed it and it was good for us to spend some time together. The next night we met some friends and their baby at a restaurant for dinner. We’re taking baby steps towards resuming a more normal life.

I am so very appreciative of the little things that people do to help out when a new baby arrives, whether it’s food, grocery shopping, a gift or flowers. When you spend much of the day alone with a baby attached to you, it’s nice to be reminded of your friends. I’ve found it hard to take people up on the offers to call them if I need anything. It feels too much like asking for a favor. But I have taken up those who call or write and insist that they want to bring something over or run an errand and it’s been a huge help. Lately I’ve been pretty good about bringing over some food or sending a gift to friends with a new arrival. I will try to continue that.

Breastfeeding continues to be painful, but I’m hopeful this won’t last for more than a few more days. Our two potential problems that could be causing the pain are thrush and/or a short frenulum. Willow and I will start diflucan together on Monday and on Tuesday, we are meeting with a pediatric ear, mouth and throat specialist about the possible short frenulum. Hopefully solving one or both of these issues will make things easier. And then I’ll appreciate the fact that breastfeeding is no longer painful. Since it wasn’t painful last time, I didn’t appreciate the relative ease.

I’m getting in a decent amount of movies, and a little bit of reading. But more intensive tasks, like finishing the exam I still have to complete, are more challenging. I might get between 15 minutes and an hour a day during which Willow is sleeping and I can recruit someone else to hold her while I work. Nevertheless, I appreciate these little chunks and know that each little bit of progress made adds up over time.

River’s adjustment continues to be difficult. It’s still a challenge to spend time with him, I’m sure he feels neglected, and his behavior reflects it. I’ve twice taken him on walks around the block with me. Even a mere 30 minutes together, just the two of us, was very rewarding. I need to be able to find more chunks of time that I can devote to him.

Day 2

We’re on day 2 and baby is still surprisingly easy. We had one little rough stretch, between 4 and 5 a.m., when she was hungry and crying, but refused to latch on. It’s the worst feeling in the world to not have milk for your hungry child and to be shoving your nipple in their mouth as they scream. I started to become a little worried that we were in for a rough ride since breastfeeding has been more painful this time around, especially when it stimulates painful uterine cramping. One of the nurses said it produces oxytocin, which is also released during labor, and can feel a lot like being in labor again. This is true, as when she suckles, I find myself panting in pain that radiates from the nipples down to the area she emerged from. But I try to reassure myself this is temporary.

I was able to sooth her to sleep on my chest, where she remained until Mark returned at 7:30. It’s been better since then. I took my first shower, put on something other than a hospital gown for the first time, and ventured out of my room to attend a baby bathing class two doors down. That woman had just pushed out a 9 pound, 6 ounce boy last night. Despite being her fourth child, she described the process of getting him out as “horrible,” so I felt rather lucky in comparison.

I’m going to be discharged today, but I’ve asked to stay until the latest I can – 10 p.m. I know some people can’t wait to get home. I like the quiet of the hospital, the lack of responsibilities, the help available when needed, the room service food. They hold several classes that seem useful. I didn’t feel strong enough to venture out yesterday, especially in the hospital gown that opens in the back to bare my butt, my diaper and my bulging ice pack. But today I’m capable of putting on shorts and a t-shirts and waddling around a bit.

River met his sibling last night and it wasn’t the beautiful introduction I envisioned. Unfortunately, the exciting arrival of his grandparents shortly before his nap meant he didn’t go to sleep and was tired and edgy. He presented his sister with a couple of small toys selected by dad, and seemed enthusiastic about that. And he was excited about the toy she brought for him. But he didn’t show much subsequent interest in the baby, nor did he show a lot of affection towards me. I attribute a lot of that to his lack of a nap, and I’m sure part of it may be stress and anxiety about the changes. Our pediatrician suggested we maintain his normal routine as much as possible and modify the baby’s schedule to fit his. I think that should be feasible.

I’m having a surprisingly difficult time sleeping. The 5 mg Ambien they gave me the first night did nothing. Last night they gave me something equal to double that. When I still wasn’t asleep after 40 minutes, I added another two Tylenol p.m.and that did the trick. Mark however is able to sleep at the drop of a hat. Despite getting a full eight hours last night, he can nap within five minutes. I’m a bit jealous. Luckily, I don’t feel too exhausted yet though, especially during the first half of the day.

I think I’m liking and appreciating the newborn phase more this time around. She’s small and delicate compared to River. It amazes me that her hand was about the same size as the round Oreo 100 calorie cookies I ate a few hours after delivering her – somewhere between the size of a quarter and a silver dollar. Her head is not much larger than my breast. When she’s feeding, I love to see the tiny, perfectly shaped ear, the scrunched eyes, and her full heart-shaped lips, pursed and working hard, instinctively knowing what they need to do to get sustenance.

No one can really figure out who she looks like. When she first came out, I thought she looked like River, but that’s not so much the case upon closer examination. Perhaps she’ll grow into looking like someone in the family. River resembles men on both sides of the family. Who he resembles more can depend on his age or the particular day. Or perhaps she’ll just be her own little unique person. Either way, I’m in love with her already.

advertising breastfeeding as a weight-loss tool to low-income populations

What do you think of this ad, directed at WIC recipients in New York?

I think it’s great to promote breastfeeding, especially among low-income populations. These babies need the close touch and health and intellectual benefits of breastmilk as much, or more so, than other babies.

But come on, is weight loss really scientifically proven? It didn’t happen for me until I stopped breastfeeding. And how is a working, low-income mother supposed to manage breastfeeding without a reasonable leave, support to buy a several-hundred dollar pump and related equipment, and the conditions necessary to be able to successfully pump (if that’s even possible)?