Adventures in Breastfeeding, Weeks 1-3

Breastfeeding is never something I paid much attention to, which is interesting now, as it constitutes about 1/3 of my days, and the majority of my relationship with little Cora.  Luckily, there are experts who recognized my sheer ignorance, and helped me out.  Here is my short history with breastfeeding, for those who are interested.

It all started at 4:30am.  I was half-conscious in the dim light of C-section recovery, wondering where my baby and husband were.  My mom managed to find me, and we were dozing.  Nick showed up, and then the baby shortly after.  My (amazing) nurse Sophia said that another nurse would be in to help me, well, nurse.  She showed up and told me: "You're going to breastfeed now."  Okay.  Sounds good.  Lots of grinding as the hospital bed was raised, and faces from me as I tried to sit up without flexing my abdomen.  Un-button the gown, and ta-da!  Baby feeding!  Nurse Ann was a genius, sitting there for half an hour, making sure the baby ate and I stayed awake.  That's pretty much all I remember.

Fast forward 2 days.  Baby still eating, but very hard to wake up.  Sleeping for 4-5 hours at a stretch, "too long" I am told.  "Wake baby up to breastfeed." Sure.  I was exhausted and without any abdominal capabilities.  Breastmilk was slow to come in.  Breasts got very sore.  In a moment of weakness in the middle of the night, I called for a nipple shield.  What is that, you ask?  Click here to see. 

Good - less pain, or at least different pain.  Baby stopped needing to "latch on" because the shield was already the right shape.  She ate easily, and seemed to get enough.  Fast forward 2 more days.  Still in the hospital - milk came in!  Two visits from local lactation consultant T.G.  She told me about stopping the use of the shield, and I only half listened (baby is gaining weight, "we are fine" I thought).  She suggested a home visit.

November 21st, 5 days postpartum, she visited.  She weighed the baby before and after a good feeding, no nipple shield.  Said that if I can latch Cora on for a couple of good days, I can throw the nipple shield away!  Sounded awesome!  Not so easily accomplished.

After using the nipple shield for just a few days, baby Cora was easily frustrated and didn't like to latch on.  Breasts got over-full, baby screamed, I used the nipple shield most of the time.  Cora got increasingly frustrated the more times I tried to nurse her without it, and I got increasingly frustrated that I would need this prosthetic nipple forever!  It was starting to hurt more.  I emailed T.G. on December 3rd to tell her that we hadn't yet succeeded.  Still struggling.  More than 2 weeks postpartum.  I also had a friend come over to give me the "it gets better" speech in person.  Thanks Sarah!

T.G.'s email back was great - gentle, but firm that she wanted to see us drop the shield.  The older babies get, the harder it is to wean them.  Bad habits die hard:

"I cannot emphasize enough the importance of getting her off of the nipple shield. When a baby is as old as she is, it is best handled in 1 day over at least two feedings (without the shield) in order for her to "get it" that the shield isn't necessary. I kept checking my messages while out of state to see how you were doing, but made the assumption that you were doing well when I didn't hear from you.
Please consider scheduling a visit with me on Monday or Tuesday. I think it would be most beneficial in your home as it would be best, like I said for two or three feedings in a row. Older babies still on the shield need a little more effort. Do call.
With love, [T.G.]"

I realized then that I had stopped doing the fundamental things recommended to bond with baby: skin contact, taking naps together, and breastfeeding on demand. I had wanted to move too quickly: to already be nursing in public, not having any pain, having mastered a skill.  So I started over.  Two days mostly in bed, holding Cora, talking and sleeping and singing.  Reading.  And IT WORKED!!  December 5th at 6am, she nursed without the shield.  Then all through the day, then all through the week.  My dedication to working with her and learning together really paid off, in that we are now nursing full time without the nipple shield, and without much pain.  Satchel's pizza was the first place I nursed in public, 22 days postpartum.  I am not trying to brag; it's just that I'm still amazed that it worked, a few short days after so much frustration and lying in bed!  

Here is what I have learned from the hardest weeks of breastfeeding.  The popular conceptions of breastfeeding as a skill, a practice, or a predictable process, are completely false.  A woman cannot learn to breastfeed -- she cannot even practice it well.  This is because nursing your baby is a relationship.  Mother and baby learn together as they grow into their roles as mother and baby. The more I read, the more I realize I missed this in my earlier reading about technique, a good latch, etc.  Those things are important, but the relationship is the most important thing.  That is what is hardest for me - it requires a lot more investment than a skill, and there are no benchmarks to count on.  You can't take an exam to pass to the next phase. This is not the Suzuki method for piano (though sometimes I still wish it were!).  In this case, it takes A LOT of time, but nowhere close to the 10,000 hours, Mr. Gladwell.

For further reading I highly recommend "Watch Your Language" by Diane Wiessinger, a study of the cultural perceptions of breastfeeding, and how it affects the actions of new mothers.    Part of her conclusion is this: 

Women may say they 'breastfed' for three months, but they usually say they 'nursed' for three years.  Easy, long-term breastfeeding involves forgetting about the 'breast' and 'feeding' and focusing instead on the relationship. Let's all tell mothers that we hope they won't 'breastfeed' -- that the real joys and satisfactions of the experience begin when they stop 'breastfeeding' and start mothering at the breast.

In addition, here is another good article about the phases of breastfeeding: "Breastfeeding Changes at 3 Months and Beyond" by Jennifer M. MacLoed

Corasaurus comes to life, part 2/2

If you remember from the previous post, it was late afternoon on November 15th. I was in the big tub at the Birth Center, not remembering much, in lots of pain, throwing up into a trash can.

June came in and checked me while I was still in the tub - at 9 cm dilated with some of the cervix still in the way. Try pushing. On my side. Sitting up. Did I feel the urge to push? No. Only pain. Worn out. June had me push while she felt what was happening, trying to push the cervix back. No progress. Did I feel the urge to push yet? No. I asked June: "What is supposed to happen next?" "You push your baby out." I even put my hand down once to feel your little baby head, but I had to reach pretty far. And I wanted to push you out, but you weren't ready, and I was barely keeping it together.

More pain. More throwing up.

There came a moment when I said to June: "What are my options? We need to try something else." I couldn't do it anymore. She said my options were to go to the hospital, or to try and breathe through the contractions for another couple of hours. She encouraged me to breathe through it, that I could do it, that she believed in me. She'd give me and Nick time to talk it over. I think I started to panic; I said I wanted out of there.

She came back and I asked again - I wanted to go. Should I get out of the tub? Put my clothes on? She wanted to give us a few more minutes to talk it over. I began to get impatient. We had already talked, and I wanted out. Sometime in the middle of all this I was alone in the tub, and she was talking it over with the others (Pat, H, and Nick) elsewhere. I remember thinking that if I could just take the next step, whatever it was, that things would get better. I just couldn't keep doing the same thing.

I somehow got out, dried off, put my clothes on, and walked to the car. Nick drove me to Shands, with my mom, June, and H following. It felt like a defeat of sorts, but I knew that something else would happen besides searing pain and throwing up. I knew that someone would help relieve my pain with drugs, and that I might be able to think straight. I had a contraction as I was walking into the hospital, and a lady behind the desk noticed me with my head down on the counter, trying to breathe (Nick was still outside). She asked me if I was okay, and when I told her I was having a contraction, she grabbed a wheelchair. Nick came in and we went straight to the 3rd floor. June was already there with my medical records. I signed a couple of papers and we were in.

I changed into a hospital gown and got into bed. Someone put an IV in and a blood pressure cuff on. Another person tied that ridiculous fetal monitoring belt on, but it kept slipping off. Dr. Buchanan came in and checked me, and we talked. The anesthesiologist came in with the epidural - a spinal shot first to help relieve pain, then the epidural. H was still there, helping me to breathe through contractions while Dr. Buchanan and Sophia (the best nurse I have ever seen) tried to talk to me and Nick. The epidural kicked in. Dr. Buchanan said that the fetal heart rate wasn't exactly stable, but that he would give me a chance to push if I wanted to. I said yes, definitely. Let's do it. Another shot, a second round: this was my shot.

The only problem was that I could no longer feel anything. Little pain, no contractions. They had slowed to every 8 minutes or so, which is not an effective labor pattern. Then came the cascade of things I had read about -- pain, epidural, no feeling, pitocin, more pain, more medication, etc, etc. She put up the pitocin and we pushed, and waited, and pushed and pushed. For an hour. For more time, past the deadline Dr. Buchanan had given. During this time, I did hold off on the epidural and felt some searing pain near my left hip. Incredible pain, hard to take even when "numb."

The official news: you were occipital posterior (OP) or "face up," and asynclitic, or "tilted to the side." When I pushed, your little baby head just tilted more -- didn't move down the birth canal. You were super-stuck, and we were out of options. Dr. Buchanan came back and gave me the news -- we should do a C-section, with my water ruptured for going on 30 hours and no progress. I was disappointed. I was more exhausted than I have ever been. I was still in pain. I wanted to see you. My attitude was poor, and I said to Nick (possibly in front of medical personnel), "Time to go become a statistic."



I was wheeled in to the surgical suite where they pumped me full of lidocaine through the epidural line and tilted me head down in order to get my abdomen numb (and avoid the use of general anesthesia). The anesthesiologist was a young women with a great manner - always talking to me and being honest. I shivered like mad and asked for Nick, who finally came in to hold my hand.

And you, little Cora, were pulled out at 12:39 am on November 16th; I was so happy to hear your little cry after 8 long months of waiting!

Corasaurus comes to life, Part 1/2

Dear Cora:

You came to life outside the womb on November 16th, 2011. I can't tell you what kind of day it was because of the time, 12:39am; there was not much day to be had yet. The previous days were difficult. Some women say they feel like superwoman after giving birth, but I did not. My superwoman moments so far have come in taking good care of you, keeping you happy, and being able to take daily walks with the dog - showing you some of the world already. Below is your birth story, which was the culmination of a ridiculous amount of love and care by your dad and me. Always remember that you have come from much more, from two amazing families packed with all of the hard workers, crazies, and regular ol' people you can imagine.

Your birth began on Monday, November 14th at about 5:30pm when I woke up from a nap. I had been leaving work early for a couple of weeks, taking buses home from the Tribology Lab to put my feet up before dinner. When I woke up, I felt some unexpected fluid come out. The amounts gradually increased to the point where it was undeniable: my water had broken. Nick (you know him as "Dad") walked in the door around 6pm to me pacing around looking at my cell phone; I looked up and said: "There have been some developments!" We had plans to eat dinner at our friends' house (The B's), and we talked about whether to go. I called the midwife at the Birth Center of Gainesville and left a message. I called our doula and friend, H, and left a message. No one was available! We got in the car, and I could feel some tightness in my abdomen. Nick ran into Winn Dixie to buy some Cheerwine, and I stayed in the car timing my "contractions." The midwife called me back and asked if we could come to get checked at 8:15pm -- perfect, we could still have dinner. The beef, beans, and rice whipped up by Mrs. B for our late arrival at their apartment were wonderful, and the conversation was great, though I was distracted, checking my phone at every contraction and sneaking off to the bedroom to talk to H when she called back.

We saw Krissy (not your aunt) at the Birth Center after 8pm, and she wanted to use a speculum for a quick exam to check if the fluid was in fact amniotic fluid. When I scooted forward on the table and spilled some all over, she said, "Well, I guess we don't need the speculum. Your water has definitely broken." She checked my dilation and told me I was at about 3 cm. "What! That is great!" At 3 cm and didn't feel it. We were instructed to go home for the night, try to rest, and call when we needed to come back. I was quite encouraged that my exercise during the pregnancy was going to pay off with an easy labor; this was a bit hasty in hindsight!

At home, we watched some TV, I timed my contractions, and waited. They stayed the same intensity through going to bed, though I had to get up around 2:30am because it was too uncomfortable to stay lying down. Waking in pain every few minutes made me tense up quite badly. I went in the living room and sat on the birth ball with my head on the arm of the couch, and at 3:30 I called H to come over and sit with me for awhile. She stayed until 5:30 or 6 in the morning, helping me time the contractions and talking. The contractions were about 5-8 minutes apart and lasting a minute from about 4am onward; however, the intensity never increased, so I never thought it was time to call the Birth Center. H went home around 5:30 to get her family up and going, but around 7am I started to get antsy (the contractions may have picked up?), so I called the Birth Center and told them I wanted to come in.


We arrived at the birth center around 7:30am on November 15th. We got settled in -- I was working the birthing ball, Nick put on some good tunes, I had some snacks. June, the owner/midwife, came in around 8:30 to get my vitals and check my dilation. After some uncomfortable faces on my part, she looked up and said: "You're going to be disappointed." Uh, okay. "You're still at 3cm." Hmm, 12 hours more of labor and I am at the same dilation. Definitely not what I wanted to hear. Did we have any homeopathic black and blue cohosh? No -- didn't know that could augment labor. Hours go by. H comes back with an egg burrito for me. Music stays on. We walk around, inside and out. June brings in a small cup of clear liquid: cotton root bark tincture to encourage regular, strong contractions. Down the hatch.

Sometime in the afternoon a diligent June checks me again and I am more dilated - 7cm? I don't remember. She tells me I can get in the tub! Hooray June! Hot water felt great and soothed the rest of my body. Contractions were still pretty regular -- I was in and out of the tub to use the toilet, have vitals checked, take a walk, etc. I needed more and more support around this time -- all my memories include someone's arm and face, supporting me and telling me I'm doing a good job, that I'm doing the hard work, that it's worthwhile. Big thanks to June, H, mom, and Nick. Time became very unclear to me, and all I remember are the waves of contractions -- I was making the low moaning sounds in order to keep my body relaxed, and H was great when my voice got too high, telling me to bring it back down again. The contractions were so strong that my body decided to react by emptying my stomach, multiple times into the trash can. I have never felt pain so strong, sitting in a hot bath, retching into a trash can. Vomiting is a telltale sign of transition! Getting close! I really wanted to know what would happen next.

Stay tuned for Part 2!

The Last 8 Days before the Last Days

I am now 8 days from my estimated due date, but that doesn't really mean much as far as I can tell.  New moms have delayed deliveries, and I can say that I don't feel any of the signs of labor.  The Gators didn't fare as well as hoped against South Carolina today, but we did manage to take a few belly shots.  I don't expect I will grow any more, though it's possible with a safe time of 3+ weeks left to go into labor. 

I still feel fine except for the sensation issues in my hands -- if I hold something, even a cell phone, for more than 5 minutes, I get pins and needles or lose feeling in my hand.  I probably seem quite odd putting my fork down and shaking my hand, but otherwise I'd drop the fork!  I'm looking forward to getting my normal legs and arms back soon.

Baby sanitation station.

Nick tries out the glider and falls asleep immediately!

Alison bakes a quiche from scratch.  Pie shell and all!

This is how Lucy feels about her life right now.