Alright, things are about to get real. I'm going to write what I was thinking and how I was feeling last week when William was born. A lot of these things even Brent doesn't know. Not because I couldn't have told him, but because I knew that most of what I felt was from sleep exhaustion and hormones.
I knew I loved William from the moment I saw him. I can't explain it, most parents can't. I had been growing him for 9 months and I already felt so close to him. The first time I held him in recovery and breastfed him my heart about exploded. He was my baby. Not some random scary baby, but my baby.
After our family left that first night it really began to sink in. We were responsible for this baby. Not only did we get to love on him and snuggle with him, we had to keep him alive. That's where breastfeeding comes in. I kept thinking, all this kid needs is a boob to keep him alive, and I have two! I had read so much about breastfeeding that I knew it would be hard. However, nothing could have prepared me for what was about to happen in those first few days.
The first few times I breastfed it was nice. My nipples weren't too sore on that first day and my milk hadn't come in so things were pretty comfortable. Will was a very eager baby and latched on with gusto. Little did I know that he was latching on incorrectly. I assumed we had it down pat. The first night Will nursed at midnight, then slept until 4am, nursed again, then slept until 8:30am. In fact we had to wake him up at 8:30am to eat again. I remember thinking the next morning how lucky we were to have such a sleepy baby. Now that doesn't mean I got any sleep that first night. The nurses came in EVERY HOUR to check my vitals. I would fall asleep for maybe 30 minutes, then be woken up, then have to try and fall back asleep again. It was terrible, but not because of Will. The nurse came in in the evening and asked if I thought I could get up and walk to the bathroom. I had regained the feeling in my legs hours before, and remember looking at her like she was crazy. Of course I can walk to the bathroom. She helped me to the edge of the bed and I began to realize that my incision was very painful. I stood up, tried to take a step, then sat back down on the bed. Shit. I can't even walk to the bathroom. What the what? The nurse had me lay back down and said that she would come back later to remove my urinary catheter. Awesome. When she came back around 11:30 I was able to walk to the bathroom and she removed my urinary catheter. Walking was extremely hard. I was only taking Motrin because percocet makes me nauseous and I did not want to vomit with my incision. Every nurse and doctor that came into my room tried to get me to take percocet, but the thought of being nauseous or loopy while trying to nurse Will was very unappealing. Oh yeah, I was also still getting over a sinus infection so I was coughing a lot. They told me to use a pillow to push on my incision before I coughed. I would try to do it every time, but some coughs would sneak up on me. When they did the pain was ridiculous. Once again, awesome. First night: No sleep, painful incision, but a nice happy baby.
The next day my nipples really began to hurt. Will began wanting to eat more often, and each session became harder and harder. He was so eager to latch on that he would get this crazy look in his eyes and start snorting. More than once I thought "oh my gosh this little baby is going to gum my nipple off!". And when he would latch those first initial suckles (is that a word? Suckles...) were EXTREMELY painful. I'm talking toe curling, finger biting painful. After a minute or so the excruciating pain would stop and was replaced by a constant pinching sensation. Miserable doesn't begin to describe it. That, on top of not sleeping, made for a very stressed Emily. We had a few visitors that day, but eventually asked that people not come unless it was our parents. I kept telling myself that if I could get some sleep tonight I would feel better the next day, but a very overwhelming feeling was setting in. Around 9pm Will wanted to nurse. Once again my nipples hurt something fierce. He nursed for 1 hour and 5 minutes. When he was done I thought for sure he would sleep for a while and we could get some shut eye. To my dismay he was up again 20 minutes later. Brent tried to console him but he was rooting around and wanted to eat again. Ok, lets nurse again. This time he nursed for 30 minutes. When he was done I was relieved. NOW he will go to sleep and I will get that much needed rest. Brent swaddled him and put him in the bassinet. Here we go, sleep time! But there was no sleep time. None. Will was up 10 minutes later screaming. Once again Brent tried to comfort him, but he began rooting around for a nipple. More specifically my nipple. My poor, poor nipple. This time I was on the verge of tears. In fact, I may have cried, I don't remember. If I didn't Brent had to have seen the desperation and confusion on my face. Not only was I exhausted my nipples hurt so bad I dreaded every feeding. I was up until 5:30am feeding on and off. At one point he fell asleep after nursing and I just held him and watched TV for an hour. I didn't even try to sleep, I just wanted him to sleep so that he wouldn't want to feed again. Because feeding meant pain and I couldn't handle it anymore. Finally I put him down and fell asleep for 2 hours. Then he was up again and nurses were coming in to do my checks. It was Thursday. Second night: No sleep, painful incision, cranky baby.
Thursday was the worst. My confidence as a mom was shot and we were only two days in. Granted I tend to be harder on myself than I should be, but I wanted to be a rockstar and instead I could barely get out of bed. I knew that Friday I would get to go home so I tried to focus on that, but my breasts were so painful that it was hard to concentrate on the positive. My milk began to come in and my boobs were huge and sore. My nipples were raw and angry. And I was beyond exhaustion. Brent had been leaving on and off to train and my mom would come while he was gone to help out. On Thursday I didn't even want to hold WIll. I know, just writing it now makes me tear up. I didn't want to hold my baby because I knew if I held him he would want to breastfeed, and I couldn't take the pain. I had seen the lactation specialist the day before but I thought that I was doing ok since Will seemed to be nursing fine, and I assumed the pain was just from being new to breastfeeding and would go away. On Thursday I should have asked to see the lactation consultant again, but I didn't. Have I mentioned that I'm stubborn? I thought for sure I could figure it out. I was stupid. I can remember Will sleeping in his bassinet and I was terrified of him waking up. My confidence was shot. Brent didn't train that night, instead he stayed with me and we planned on watching our Thursday night shows (the office, parks and rec, and 30 rock) and at one point I was actually looking forward to it. Mom brought us dinner, and we settled in to watch the shows. The next thing I knew Will wanted to nurse, and it was my breaking point. He latched on and I began crying. Poor Brent, he wanted to help so much, but what could he do besides be supportive? I felt so alone, even with my best friend next to me. I asked him to go to the nursing station and see if someone could help me. He came back with a nurses aide. I had wrangled in my tears and explained to her what was going on. When I think back to this moment now I laugh, which is funny because it was such a moment of desperation for me. I laugh because of the nurses aide. I can't remember her name but she was a cute young girl who at that time was my savior. She told me about shallow latch and began to show me what to do. She began to say that I had to tickle his nose with my nipple, then when he opened wide pull him into my breast for him to latch. I began to try and she kept saying "tickle, tickle, mommy, tickle, tickle". At that time I was so focused on doing it correctly that I didn't realize she was saying that. Now it makes me crack up. Tickle, tickle! I had some relief when he latched on correctly, but unfortunately my nipples were already so angry that the pain was still there. Now that Will was getting more milk because he was latching correctly he began to sleep better. The night before he was so pissed because he was not latching right and he was not getting enough milk. Turns out babies can't be bamboozled. Once they figure out they didn't get what they needed, ie boob milk, they will be pissed. Every time. So thank you to that nurses aide for helping me when I was at my low point, and for giving me something to smile about now. Third night: Nipples about to fall off, painful incision, satisfied baby
Friday! I knew that I got to go home, and was hopeful that I would finally get some sleep. I was able to get out of bed, pee, poop, and walk around somewhat normally. And I finally asked to see the lactation consultant. I explained what had been happening and she showed me an even easier way to get him latched. I say easy now because I can do it, but when she first showed me it was awkward as shit. Will was so huge and strong that it was like wrestling a boob hungry bull. But I felt better knowing that I was on the right track. I had to go to a discharge class with a bunch of other new moms before they would let us go. They went over the basics, how to care for your newborn and how to care for yourself. I sat there, still exhausted, with a bunch of other exhausted mothers. They began to go over how often the babies should eat. Breastfed babies eat every 2 hours. Bottle fed babies eat every 4 hours. When I heard that I remember thinking "no wonder people bottle feed! Every 4 hours?! That sounds like a vacation!". Suddenly I wanted to punch the bottle feeding moms right in their faces. My nipples were hamburger meat and they were feeding every 4 hours! Ok, so maybe I am a lot meaner when I am sleep deprived.....but 4 hours sounded like forever at that point. When I got back to the room the doctor came in to see me. He once again tried to get me to take percocet, and when I said I hadn't and wouldn't he sent me home with a prescription for loritabs....just in case. I nursed Will, then we were out the door. When we got home all I could think about was sleep. It was nice to be home, but I still felt like crap. The first night all I did was nurse and sleep. Nursing was still extremely painful and I was trying to do it while in bed. I couldn't get comfortable and my back hurt. It took me a while to realize I had an awesome glider in the nursery. I tried nursing in there and it went way better. The pain was still there, but I was a little more comfortable with the chair and my boppy pillow. Fourth night: Still sore nipples, painful incision, happy baby.
I began to feel better Saturday. I still was exhausted, and breastfeeding was not going as well as I had hoped, but at least we were home. I found that if I expressed a little breast milk after nursing, rubbed it on my nipple, let it air dry, then put my lanolin ointment on it I could get a little relief between feedings. On Saturday my boobs were giant. GIANT. I would catch a glimpse of them in the mirror and think "big boobs, cool!", then I would touch one and feel the soreness and think "big boobs, son of a bitch". On this day I no longer felt scared of Will's appetite. I began interacting with him between feedings. When he would be alert I would talk to him and touch him and bond with him. I realized that the first few days I hadn't done anything with him except for feeding sessions that I dreaded. Brent had changed every diaper and swaddled him every time. Because of my incision Brent had also been the one to carry him around and hold him in the hospital. Now that we were home I could focus on actually being a mom, not just a pair of sore nipples. That night I went to feed Will and my nipple began bleeding. Once again I began to have a mental breakdown. Was it hopeless? Now that my nipple was bleeding did I have to stop feeding him? My mind raced, then Brent came over and said "Great, now he is going to be a vampire". I stopped and looked at him. I smiled and said "or worse, he'll like twilight". It was back to reality. I wasn't going to fail just because my nipple was bleeding. Just like Will wasn't going to be a vampire. It would be ok. I continued to rub expressed breast milk and lanolin ointment on the cracked nipple and it healed quickly over the next few days. Fifth night: Bloody nips, incision slightly better, happy baby.
Sunday was the day. Will and I were figuring things out. Did my nipples still hurt? Absolutely. But it was no longer the type of pain that made me doubt breastfeeding. Will was getting better at latching, and I was getting better at holding him for the latch. We were both learning. I did realize at one point that when Will would begin feeding he would release, cough up milk, then cry. Milk was everywhere. It was frustrating for both of us. I googled the problem and got an answer. I have an over active let down. Oh, duh, an over active let down. Turns out when you begin to nurse your flow of milk increases in the beginning. Mine is such that it "lets down" too much milk at once, causing the baby to choke. I guess there are worse problems to have. Solution? Now I pump for about a minute prior to him eating, or unlatch him at the beginning and express breast milk into a burp cloth until the flow slows down, then re-latch. I get out that initial flow which allows him to nurse without milk going everywhere. Moral of the story? Google is your best friend. I can not count how many times I have had a problem, and while breastfeeding I will google it on my phone and find an answer or solution. The internet is an amazing thing. Once I fixed my let down problem things became even better. Sixth night: Nipples getting better, incision getting better, happy baby.
Monday I hit my groove. I had the pumping down, our latch was getting better, and my left nipple didn't hurt at all anymore. My right nipple still had a scab from the bleeding incident (gross, I know) but even it was getting better. I was sleeping better, even though I am still getting up every two hours, I can pass out in between feedings pretty easily. Finally we were getting it. I was also able to establish a routine with Will. When we get up in the morning I lay him on the bed and we do little baby exercises and tummy time. I turn on some music and I sing to him and move his legs and arms in rhythm. He loves it, and I love having time with him that doesn't include boobs. I was no longer terrified of my baby. The rest of our day is breastfeeding and hanging out. It is still exhausting, but every day it gets better. It really does.
I know that every ones story is different. Some woman can't breastfeed for various reasons, others choose not too. Some woman pick it up quicker than others. From what I can tell my experience is a good one overall. If you take anything from this I hope it is the fact that no matter what happens you aren't alone. I was scared of my baby for crying out loud. I would sit with him while he nursed and I would cry. It is such an emotional roller coaster. One minute I would think that things were getting better, than two hours later I would feel nothing but despair. Brent would say that he had to leave for training and I would choke back tears because I was so worried about being alone with Will. I also know that I'm not out of the woods. Things can still go wrong and I can still have my moments of doubt and sadness. I get that. But I also realize that everyday with Will is truly amazing. Now I look at him and I cry because he is so beautiful. I cry because my love for him is overwhelming. I can't wait to watch him grow up.
A paragraph for the boys: You are about to go through something awesome and scary and intense. What you are about to go through your wife or girlfriend is about to go through that times a million. And all you can do is be supportive. Brent has been amazing. I didn't change a diaper until 1 week after Will was born. Brent did everything for me so that I could focus on breastfeeding. And when he changed the diapers he didn't complain or talk about how gross it was. Nothing. Something as simple as that was so helpful to me. And tell your girl that you love her. That she is beautiful even though she is going to look crazy. The underwear that they give you to wear in the hospital is anything but cute, but damn are they comfortable. At least I thought so. I took a bunch home from the hospital. The first few days we were home I mostly walked around in those white underwear pulled up past my belly button so that it wouldn't hit my incision and my nursing bra that was stained around the nipples from the lanolin ointment I was using and my breast pads hanging out of the sides. And Brent didn't care. He didn't make jokes about it. He just watched me walking around looking homeless and told me that he loved me. That's all we want and need. Tell us that you love us. When we cry for no reason or for good reason tell us that you are there and that you always will be. It's time for you to be awesome while we figure out what the hell we are doing.
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