Six years ago at this time I had a 3 week old. I've written about this a lot. My daughter was diagnosed with "Failure to Thrive." I think one of my first posts of this year's challenge was long winded in reference to this so, I'll get into why I'm revisiting it.
Every year on Facebook, the pictures and the posts come up and internally I just start to shrivel. It was really hard. That may even be an understatement. I had extra to deal with, bigger things than just baby, and in retrospect, if I could go back and tell myself to wake up a little more and pay better attention, that diagnosis may not haunt me and still bring me to tears as I type.
She recovered right? Healthiest kid on the planet, I have now! She just had her first sick day of the school year and didn't even have a fever. She was just covered in boogers!
So why does it bother me? I've attributed most of my problems to having a rough run coming into parenthood only to find out that's just the first layer of the onion on so much stuff. But when I think about that time, and extra stuff thrust upon me, other than just being a mom trying to breastfeed, oh man, talk about trauma.
I'm lucky that I was strong enough and had the support I did from moms, friends and my sister coming to make sure I could recover. I was lucky that I didn't just disintegrate into some kind of mental coma because a lot of those doctors were not nice. But, my daughter received excellent care and was just as strong then as she is now.
So this day, much like car accident day, just triggers me. Going to the doctor 6 years ago for a check up and being told she had to be hospitalized and then having to live at the hospital for 10 days and, 8 of those Luna and I were completely alone with only my best friend bringing me good coffee and occasional Chik-Fil-A, that was rough.
Recently I started revealing the whole truth about the experience to a friend and could barely hold back the tears. It actually shocked me how much it still affected me. I have a healthy, smart, awesome kid, but not being able to fully breastfeed her was devastating to me. A lot of the resentment and frustration with immediate family "helping" but not helping, is still there. I had to scrape myself off the metaphorical payment during that time and I realized it was just me and Luna. We were all we had, with the occasional awesome visitor.
When I got home I was so scared and it became even more-so about Luna. I live this every day for her. Even in the car accident, it was all about Luna; didn't matter my head was bleeding, if that guy would have harmed her beyond repair from his negligence, I may be writing my memoirs from a jail cell.
I think it's important but still surprises me that I'm still recovering from something six years ago! That "Failure" in the title is hard to shake. I'd been so terrified to be a mom and everyone just promises you can do it, something like that three weeks in messes you up!
Now when I watch Luna I think I can't wait to tell her what a little badass she is. How she is just the strongest, fiercest redhead and I love watching her conquer everything on her plate. It's then I remind myself that I have a pretty big part in that, so I think that is all steps of my mental recovery on this taxing day.
So today is one of two pretty severe and annual trigger days. I may have a good cry. I'll definitely hug the little one a little harder, and I'll try and be more gentle on myself. I'm just a work in progress and I'm okay with that. Everything truly is one day at a time. That's all we can do, even on a Wednesday!
Showing posts with label Failure to Thrive. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Failure to Thrive. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 27, 2019
Thursday, January 3, 2019
Me As a Mom Part Two
Yesterday we journeyed into Luna's entrance into the world and before we go into my feelings of immediately failing motherhood, I just want to say...I was just on Amazon looking for "Tooth Fairy Kits" because my child is so tense about her loose tooth coming out and it's driving me insane. I can see the other one coming in behind it. Do all parents go through this?
And that's where we can start. Do all parents go through this? We ask ourselves that DAILY, don't we? No, let's be honest now...it may even be HOURLY. Because we have these epic parallels don't we? "Every child is different and unique." "What works for one won't work for everyone." It can all be overwhelming.
I got everything all at once it felt, which is probably a common feeling. One of my oldest and closest family friends became a dad of twins long before I got pregnant and I quote him often when he said to me, "Man, I thought I was tired before." Babies are tough. Period. And disclaimer, I loved sleep BEFORE I was pregnant. Huge difference between 6 hours of sleep Alison and 9 hours of sleep Alison. And now, sleep is my favorite hobby.
During my therapy in college for my anxiety and depression, one thing that was made very clear to me was the importance of sleep as self care and that getting the right amount has everything to do with my depressive feelings and anxiety levels. Now I knew infants would require my all but let me explain something...I was very much a mess and I thought I had the support I needed. Turns out I had no idea what kind of support I needed.
Everything after the birth was a blur. Then and now. Visitors and everything. And the way it is portrayed in television and movies? Bullshit by the way. I remember the sweet moments of some of my favorite people holding her and meeting her. One of my favorite co-workers at the time, who has since grown into this incredible woman with a step daughter of her own, held Luna and just looked at her and said, "Oh, wow...she's so REAL!" She wanted to hear every moment of the birth story immediately.
One thing I remember vividly is that I was obsessed with this idea of skin to skin but also am always the coldest person on the planet. I had the robe and stuff and the socks but was still freezing. I also wanted to immediately stick her on my boob which is where she would stay for 2 years. I was going to breastfeed. There was no other plan.
I thought I did okay her first day, but before I knew it I had so many people in my face and in my ear talking about how to hold her, "Put her here, she has to do this" and I was just so exhausted. Hello? I just had a baby. Again, in a haze and I thought things were okay.
I'd asked for a Lactation consultant because again, breastfeeding was my only plan. All of the sudden a surly nurse was telling me to "Sit up, move this way, put her here." I remember being so uncomfortable and just wanting to find a way that worked for me to not hurt. Then the nurse started barking at me about inverted nipples, which I read a lot about, and I was just tired enough to be offended and cranky. It's COLD in here I thought, and come on! She shoved a nipple shield on me with little direction and then was gone, while again, I sat in this twisted position just trying to get Luna and I to get breastfeeding going.
It's six years later I still look back on everything with tears. Even as I type, I cry because...I had no close friends that were mothers. My dad had me at an older age and clearly didn't breast feed. My mom breast fed but wasn't one to talk about how it actually was and the few mothers I could talk to ended up with formula. If I'm being brutally honest, now with serious reflection, there were definitely home and life circumstances that didn't help my chances to succeed either, but that may very well turn into a book later. Stay tuned!
Back to baby. We got home. My dad did laundry constantly. My husband cooked way too much food. I thought I was breastfeeding okay. I remember now a few times saying, "If she wasn't getting enough, she'd be miserable right? Like, if I was that horrible of a mom she'd tell me, right?"
Breastfeeding hurt. Badly. Not because I had thrush or clogged ducts or any of the things that scare you in the books. Turns out Luna was a lazy nurser and I had not the best hold. Breastfeeding started to hurt me so much I would lock Luna and I in my room and cry and drink water and suck on hard candies and repeat until she was done. I didn't leave the house for fear of breastfeeding in public and would only let visitors come after she'd been fed. I was just about to call La Leche League for support because the only thing that helped was a nipple shield my husband got at Wal-Mart, and I didn't think she was getting enough but was also completely exhausted with a house guest arrival looming. We went in for her two week appointment, where I thought I could talk to someone, and they didn't have us on the books, didn't care and pushed it another week. This was when everything changed. That last week before the appointment was horrible and the pushed back appointment made everything worse.
At 3 weeks old Luna was diagnosed with "Failure to Thrive," which means she was losing weight, not gaining. Again, I still cry when I think about this and while some people have never heard of failure to thrive, for me, it was just a diagnosis of "Failure to Mom." We went from the pediatric office to the hospital because we needed to supplement with formula and get her weight up ASAP. They also wanted to test her for other reasons beside bad mothering that she might not be gaining. It was horrible waiting to get into a room and calling family members and repeating that "Failure" word over and over.
When we got in the room, for whatever reason Luna and I were completely alone with doctors and nurses and I just remember sitting, being freezing and crying while I heard "Oh it's not your fault, what formula should we try and we have to put in a feeding tube, you can start pumping and we'll do this and as soon as this and the doctor and..." It was a whirlwind of emotions drowned in tears.
Enter the nurse I met at Massage Envy just over a month ago; she recognized me and looked sad. She said sweetly, "I meant it when I said I hoped I'd never see you. But congrats. She's beautiful and a little fighter, I can tell." She and one other nurse became my quick favorites and lifelines during our stay.
It broke my heart that I couldn't breastfeed her and she still had to have formula. It STILL breaks my heart and brings me to tears. Now, plenty of people have had healthy babies with formula and I'm not judging ANYONE who chose that, but as a mother and parent you probably understand that when it's not part of your plan, it certainly throws a wrench in things. The postpartum hit me the hardest here, while stuck in the hospital.
Luna and I were alone for 8 out of the 10 days with the exception of my best friend at the time who came daily to bring me a Starbucks, Chik-Fil-A, or just to hold the baby so I could shower. We were in a room that was shared with 4 other families of varying baby ages and illness and injury. There was a communal shower on the floor and exhausted parents would shuffle around in and out of common areas and the nurses station. It took me 5 days to realize I could leave Luna with the nurses for 10 minutes to get Starbucks downstairs instead of the shitty cafeteria coffee.
My oldest half sister had offered to come help. After 10 days in a hospital fighting with a mean doctor who didn't know how badly I needed to be out of this environment to get my daughter and I well, I was afraid maybe the doctors were right...if I went home alone with Luna maybe I'd just fail again.
It was 10 days of pumping and supplementing with tests and blood draws and hospital food. When they put the feeding tube in her first day, I cried and curled into a ball. Luna ripped it out herself on the end of the second day and breast fed and bottle fed afterwards as if to say, I got this. I just couldn't give up on breastfeeding. I refused.
I remember being so distraught and I had one low moment, and one moment of resolution looking back. In all of this my husband, with good intentions I hope, said, "Some women can't breast feed, and that's okay. Maybe you just can't!" It was then I quoted Rachel from Friends and said with hatred, "No uterus, no opinion." It was my dad who calmly said, "Sweetheart you have been with that baby 24/7 and all you do is look at her and love her. you couldn't possibly notice her losing weight like that and this is not your fault." This is why my dad still is my calming force.
My sister ended up flying in the day before we were discharged and came to the room. She looked at me in terror and said, "When was the last time you were outside? You're pale enough as it is but now your skin matches the walls!" She commanded my husband to hold the baby and took me outside for the first natural air and sunlight I'd seen in over a week. She got home with me, held the baby lots, and had infinite patience in making sure I felt motherly again.
Luna bounced back after what will live in infamy as my own personal "hell week." Reflecting on this will always completely break me in every way, but I like to share because I think we don't get enough support easily available for new mothers, no matter WHAT YOUR PLAN. Maybe I didn't know where or how to look, but I regret being afraid, feeling completely ashamed and not asking for MORE help. And any mother reading this who has gone through or is going through something similar, I'd love to hear from you. Reach out if you need a shoulder.
Needless to say we've never had any food issues since the,n and she continues to be one of the healthiest kids I know, but for such a rocky start, and as a mom who knows she still has bad days and crappy ways of parenting, I return to this story often as a reflection for just how far we've come in every way.
And that's where we can start. Do all parents go through this? We ask ourselves that DAILY, don't we? No, let's be honest now...it may even be HOURLY. Because we have these epic parallels don't we? "Every child is different and unique." "What works for one won't work for everyone." It can all be overwhelming.
I got everything all at once it felt, which is probably a common feeling. One of my oldest and closest family friends became a dad of twins long before I got pregnant and I quote him often when he said to me, "Man, I thought I was tired before." Babies are tough. Period. And disclaimer, I loved sleep BEFORE I was pregnant. Huge difference between 6 hours of sleep Alison and 9 hours of sleep Alison. And now, sleep is my favorite hobby.
During my therapy in college for my anxiety and depression, one thing that was made very clear to me was the importance of sleep as self care and that getting the right amount has everything to do with my depressive feelings and anxiety levels. Now I knew infants would require my all but let me explain something...I was very much a mess and I thought I had the support I needed. Turns out I had no idea what kind of support I needed.
Everything after the birth was a blur. Then and now. Visitors and everything. And the way it is portrayed in television and movies? Bullshit by the way. I remember the sweet moments of some of my favorite people holding her and meeting her. One of my favorite co-workers at the time, who has since grown into this incredible woman with a step daughter of her own, held Luna and just looked at her and said, "Oh, wow...she's so REAL!" She wanted to hear every moment of the birth story immediately.
One thing I remember vividly is that I was obsessed with this idea of skin to skin but also am always the coldest person on the planet. I had the robe and stuff and the socks but was still freezing. I also wanted to immediately stick her on my boob which is where she would stay for 2 years. I was going to breastfeed. There was no other plan.
I thought I did okay her first day, but before I knew it I had so many people in my face and in my ear talking about how to hold her, "Put her here, she has to do this" and I was just so exhausted. Hello? I just had a baby. Again, in a haze and I thought things were okay.
I'd asked for a Lactation consultant because again, breastfeeding was my only plan. All of the sudden a surly nurse was telling me to "Sit up, move this way, put her here." I remember being so uncomfortable and just wanting to find a way that worked for me to not hurt. Then the nurse started barking at me about inverted nipples, which I read a lot about, and I was just tired enough to be offended and cranky. It's COLD in here I thought, and come on! She shoved a nipple shield on me with little direction and then was gone, while again, I sat in this twisted position just trying to get Luna and I to get breastfeeding going.
It's six years later I still look back on everything with tears. Even as I type, I cry because...I had no close friends that were mothers. My dad had me at an older age and clearly didn't breast feed. My mom breast fed but wasn't one to talk about how it actually was and the few mothers I could talk to ended up with formula. If I'm being brutally honest, now with serious reflection, there were definitely home and life circumstances that didn't help my chances to succeed either, but that may very well turn into a book later. Stay tuned!
Back to baby. We got home. My dad did laundry constantly. My husband cooked way too much food. I thought I was breastfeeding okay. I remember now a few times saying, "If she wasn't getting enough, she'd be miserable right? Like, if I was that horrible of a mom she'd tell me, right?"
Breastfeeding hurt. Badly. Not because I had thrush or clogged ducts or any of the things that scare you in the books. Turns out Luna was a lazy nurser and I had not the best hold. Breastfeeding started to hurt me so much I would lock Luna and I in my room and cry and drink water and suck on hard candies and repeat until she was done. I didn't leave the house for fear of breastfeeding in public and would only let visitors come after she'd been fed. I was just about to call La Leche League for support because the only thing that helped was a nipple shield my husband got at Wal-Mart, and I didn't think she was getting enough but was also completely exhausted with a house guest arrival looming. We went in for her two week appointment, where I thought I could talk to someone, and they didn't have us on the books, didn't care and pushed it another week. This was when everything changed. That last week before the appointment was horrible and the pushed back appointment made everything worse.
At 3 weeks old Luna was diagnosed with "Failure to Thrive," which means she was losing weight, not gaining. Again, I still cry when I think about this and while some people have never heard of failure to thrive, for me, it was just a diagnosis of "Failure to Mom." We went from the pediatric office to the hospital because we needed to supplement with formula and get her weight up ASAP. They also wanted to test her for other reasons beside bad mothering that she might not be gaining. It was horrible waiting to get into a room and calling family members and repeating that "Failure" word over and over.
When we got in the room, for whatever reason Luna and I were completely alone with doctors and nurses and I just remember sitting, being freezing and crying while I heard "Oh it's not your fault, what formula should we try and we have to put in a feeding tube, you can start pumping and we'll do this and as soon as this and the doctor and..." It was a whirlwind of emotions drowned in tears.
Enter the nurse I met at Massage Envy just over a month ago; she recognized me and looked sad. She said sweetly, "I meant it when I said I hoped I'd never see you. But congrats. She's beautiful and a little fighter, I can tell." She and one other nurse became my quick favorites and lifelines during our stay.
It broke my heart that I couldn't breastfeed her and she still had to have formula. It STILL breaks my heart and brings me to tears. Now, plenty of people have had healthy babies with formula and I'm not judging ANYONE who chose that, but as a mother and parent you probably understand that when it's not part of your plan, it certainly throws a wrench in things. The postpartum hit me the hardest here, while stuck in the hospital.
Luna and I were alone for 8 out of the 10 days with the exception of my best friend at the time who came daily to bring me a Starbucks, Chik-Fil-A, or just to hold the baby so I could shower. We were in a room that was shared with 4 other families of varying baby ages and illness and injury. There was a communal shower on the floor and exhausted parents would shuffle around in and out of common areas and the nurses station. It took me 5 days to realize I could leave Luna with the nurses for 10 minutes to get Starbucks downstairs instead of the shitty cafeteria coffee.
My oldest half sister had offered to come help. After 10 days in a hospital fighting with a mean doctor who didn't know how badly I needed to be out of this environment to get my daughter and I well, I was afraid maybe the doctors were right...if I went home alone with Luna maybe I'd just fail again.
It was 10 days of pumping and supplementing with tests and blood draws and hospital food. When they put the feeding tube in her first day, I cried and curled into a ball. Luna ripped it out herself on the end of the second day and breast fed and bottle fed afterwards as if to say, I got this. I just couldn't give up on breastfeeding. I refused.
I remember being so distraught and I had one low moment, and one moment of resolution looking back. In all of this my husband, with good intentions I hope, said, "Some women can't breast feed, and that's okay. Maybe you just can't!" It was then I quoted Rachel from Friends and said with hatred, "No uterus, no opinion." It was my dad who calmly said, "Sweetheart you have been with that baby 24/7 and all you do is look at her and love her. you couldn't possibly notice her losing weight like that and this is not your fault." This is why my dad still is my calming force.
My sister ended up flying in the day before we were discharged and came to the room. She looked at me in terror and said, "When was the last time you were outside? You're pale enough as it is but now your skin matches the walls!" She commanded my husband to hold the baby and took me outside for the first natural air and sunlight I'd seen in over a week. She got home with me, held the baby lots, and had infinite patience in making sure I felt motherly again.
Luna bounced back after what will live in infamy as my own personal "hell week." Reflecting on this will always completely break me in every way, but I like to share because I think we don't get enough support easily available for new mothers, no matter WHAT YOUR PLAN. Maybe I didn't know where or how to look, but I regret being afraid, feeling completely ashamed and not asking for MORE help. And any mother reading this who has gone through or is going through something similar, I'd love to hear from you. Reach out if you need a shoulder.
Needless to say we've never had any food issues since the,n and she continues to be one of the healthiest kids I know, but for such a rocky start, and as a mom who knows she still has bad days and crappy ways of parenting, I return to this story often as a reflection for just how far we've come in every way.
Thursday, February 6, 2014
Failure to Thrive: A First Time Mom's Account of What No One Could Have Prepared Her For
My daughter just turned one last week. And I haven't really had much time to write because she is a full time job. This is my personal account of my mistakes, my ignorance, and my trials as a mother. Judge me if you like, but the following story is one of heart ache and guilt of a first time mother. I share this because I felt so alone and I would never wish that on anyone.
I was one of those freak women who loved being pregnant. I'd never felt more important in my life. I was responsible for another's existence. Pretty epic feeling. I also wasn't genuinely uncomfortable until my 40th week of pregnancy. It was the only time in my life I was grateful for being a real sized girl with curves. I was made to have babies.
We'd moved far away from immediate family four years prior and had been positive we could go it alone. I had one mom friend. One. And a bunch of women around me who talked about wanting babies but were no where near ready. My mother wasn't a positive part of my life. In fact she told me that I probably couldn't have a natural birth and still comes down on me for being bigger, post pregnancy.
Now I'm not going to say I'm "smart." There are some things in this life I'm completely stupid about but I'm reasonably intelligent. As far as kids go, I was a nanny for 10 years of my life, taking care of babies from 9months on. And a big part of me did believe most of it is instinctual. Still, I read the books and took the classes and heard other stories but no one could have prepared me for what happened, and I wouldn't wish it on anyone.
My daughter's birth was amazing. I was only in hard, active labor for about 5 hours and when we got to the hospital, 5 pushes, a bit of a tear and out she popped, puffy and perfect. She was everything. Now I was in a pro-breastfeeding hospital, and one that promoted skin to skin. But everything happened so fast. We arrived and went straight into delivery, even though the admitting nurses thought my screams of pain were overdramatized.
When she popped out, I remembered this video I saw of this perfect baby doing a boob crawl where she literally just wanted boob and I thought breastfeeding was the coolest thing ever so I was ready. But I needed stitches, so after about 30min of them poking around and prepping me, they took my daughter to be cleaned and wrapped and gave her to daddy.
My entire body was shaking, the adrenaline and body exhaustion was intense and I just wanted to be left alone, but they needed to make sure I would heal ok. After about and hour they moved us to our on room. I remember being kind of wishy washy about visitors but there were a few people I didn't mind coming to see her fresh. But before I knew it, we had quite the following. I didn't mind at the time but in retrospect that probably wasn't the best.
Everything in the books, the classes and our birth plan said breast feeding in the first 2 hours is key. And I was ready! Here's my disclaimer: I always hated my boobs. To me they only existed one day to be suckled and sag. I didn't dress them up in cutesy bras, they weren't an erogenous zone for me and I never tried to have cleavage. They were just boobs.
The only good advice I got about breastfeeding is: "Breastfeeding is HARD, definitely see a lactation consultant." That was already part of the plan. Breastfeeding was really weird. I didn't feel much. I was having a really hard time keying into my body and felt really disconnected about the whole thing. It wasn't as beautiful and heartwarming as I thought. The nurses, one of which was mean and ugly to boot," kept saying I needed to feed her, but she wasn't cueing hunger and was asleep. I'd always heard, never wake a sleeping baby.
We saw the Lactation Consultant, she was super nice and helpful but then we had problems later and she was no where to be found. In comes nurse number two and starts talking to me about expressing and stimulating the nipple, which seemed so weird to me. I couldn't grasp it. It felt awkward. My hubby expressed my milk better than me and the nurse said, "You have flat nipples." In the midst of my exhaustion I just kind of got offended. I'd never thought of my nipples as any different than anyone else's. Apparently this was an issue. She gave me a nipple shield. I remember her just sticking it on me. No explanation. I was just thinking, I don't need some nipple prosthetic. I think we'll figure it out. None of the holds except classic cradle worked and my breasts just felt numb to anything she was doing the first 48 hours. All I felt were the uterine cramps to acknowledge her getting the colostrum.
When we left the hospital, my dad had stayed with us to help us keep up the house and hubby had two weeks off. I'd naturally had the sore and cracked nipples but after the first week and a half everything became painful. I was exhausted and mostly disoriented. We were also overwhelmed.
I finally started texting the few moms I knew asking if breastfeeding was uncomfortable and everyone said the first month was so tough. So I just rationalized, ok I had the perfect pregnancy and delivery, so this is your challenge.
My husband was as great of a support as any man could be. He read and Googled and spoke to all the moms he knew seeking help and advice. He bought witch hazel and nipple butter and cream and jelly and anything. Finally it just got to be too much. My nipples weren't getting better. Breastfeeding was getting worse. I tried hot showers, being bra-less and nothing worked. That's when the hubby brought up the nipple shield again.
On another related happening, my daughter had lost a bit of weight on her 3 day old appointment, which was normal at the time. Her two week appointment was about 12 days away. So my husband and I decided that if it didn't get better, we'd get a lactation consultant then. The nipple shield helped but unbeknownst to me, I was using it improperly. I read the directions but something didn't translate amidst the new mom stress and exhaustion and I wasn't using it properly. We constantly saw milk in the reservoir and I leaked often so we thought everything was ok. She was a quiet, happy baby for the most part.
I remember saying to my husband, "You'd think she'd be generally miserable if she wasn't getting enough, right?" Breastfeeding didn't get better. The pain was so terrible that I'd taken to breastfeeding alone with water and hard candies to push through the pain. I cried and cried and cried. I didn't understand. We had our appointment and I knew I'd seek help. Before our appointment my dad insisted I speak with my step mother who scared the shit out of me by saying nipple shields were bad news and caused problems. She used to be a pediatric nurse, so I decided we'd ditch it and try on our own. I finally reached out to my only mom friend, my breastfeeding idol, and she told me I should contact La Leche League for free help because it shouldn't be that kind of painful.
Her husband came over shortly after to do her newborn photos and all day we'd been doing well without the shield. It was also our first few days alone and I felt like a really good mom. She'd had newborn acne but her shots came out wonderful and the breastfeeding shots he got I'm truly happy and in awe. It was the first time I'd felt comfortable nursing in weeks.
The next day I was all ready to contact an LLL leader when it occurred to me that my mother in law would be bouncing into town and I was afraid she'd judge me. I was afraid she wouldn't support my getting help and she'd be more of a stress. I thought, ok, we have our doctor's appointment and he 6 day visit. Let me just talk to the pediatrician and then get through the visit and we'll go from there.
The day of our doctor's appointment we arrived with our daughter and were informed she didn't have an appointment. My husband was livid. We were then told that we wouldn't be able to be seen for another 5 days. During this time, my mother in law arrived and I used to nipple shield to make sure I didn't have any more issues to make the visit more stressful.
On the last day of her visit, my husband had the day off and we went to visit the pediatrician. We asked about lactation consultants and we talked about breastfeeding and she said everything looked fine, she disappeared to get us some paperwork and then came back and gave us the worst news ever:
Our daughter had lost, not gained weight. The amount was dangerous and we needed to take her to the hospital to make sure that everything in her little body was working and make sure we could get her weight up.
I just burst into tears. I felt like the worst mother in the universe. I really did. How could I not tell? How was I not feeding my baby? What did I do wrong?
We went to the hospital, to admitting and I was just constantly crying. I was a complete mess. My husband was just trying to work things out. We'd self paid our delivery with a midwives group and had no insurance. This was stressful on top of the fact that our daughter was in danger.
Sitting in admitting, someone saw her sleeping and commented on how beautiful she was and then said, "She's so little, she must have been a premie!" My heart just shriveled. My healthy baby girl had withered down to someone tiny and I didn't see it. My heart still hurts just thinking about it as I type teary eyed.
Once we got to pediatrics all the testing began. My husband left to go home and get us both clothing and pajamas. All we'd heard was, "a few days." The nurses came in and so did the doctor and told us she just wasn't getting enough and they'd measured and tested and my body just wasn't making enough to feed her. She'd need to have some formula to catch up. The first band of nurses and her doctor were amazing. I sat there crying and cold and they just reminded me, it wasn't my fault. Sometimes we all need a little extra help.
I'd never looked at formula. It was never an option to me. I wanted things to happen naturally so one of the nurses gave me recommendation, and I took it. The first 2 nights were the worst. They had us on a rigorous feeding schedule, I had to pump in between and they had to constantly check her. The put a feeding tube through her nose and were testing her for every scary thing you could imagine: liver, kidney, stomach and intestine issues. We had to rule every thing out.
After 4 days we got antsy and my husband couldn't take any more time off. They kept saying, maybe tomorrow or the next day in reference to our questions about when we could go home. She was gaining steadily but not enough to release her. My husband left the 5th night and we didn't know when he could come back.
Thank GOODNESS for my friend Emily bringing me DVDs and for my best friend Jillian coming every afternoon to check on us because I was very lonely and upset. It was a shared room and I refused to leave my daughter's side. By the end of the visit we were there for 10 days. TEN DAYS. I didn't step outside. I barely left the bed. They wouldn't let her sleep with me. I had to eat shitty hospital food that made me sick. 5 days straight we couldn't see my husband.
It was on day 7 that I lost it. They'd switched doctors and the new one was not very warm. I cried and told her she couldn't keep telling us maybe tomorrow. I'd pleaded that I would bring her in every day. WE needed to go home. I missed my husband and my dog and my bed and my mental health was dwindling. And then the mean bitch doctor uttered something I will never forget: "She is doing better but you need to realize, your baby almost DIED, so we can't just let her go home until she's in a more stable healthy state."
I just cried. And I just retracted back into my little corner of a room. She offered us a private room and I told her we had no insurance, we couldn't afford such a luxury. She said that shouldn't be a concern and yet she didn't offer to pay my bills. The nurses in the pediatric ward were mostly amazing. My daughter was the youngest on the floor so they just loved her. Our neighbor in the room was a sweet Latin mother and grandmother who's toddler got a bad grease burn and needed skin grafts. They were very supportive.
I was a zombie in that room. I was completely disconnected from everything. By the end of the visit my daughter had been diagnosed "Failure to Thrive." Unfortunately this is a very blanket term. It covers a wide range of weight, size and internal issues for babies and children. My supply never caught up to where I needed it and she had to have formula supplementation.
No one ever told me how intense breastfeeding is. It's not romantic and easy. And no one told us we needed a web of support. It does take a village. My mom kept saying I just got it down so easy, and my friends told me it would get better or they gave up and did formula. As soon as this happened I had so many mothers reach out and tell me about their trials with breastfeeding. But it wasn't until this crisis that I even knew.
I know I may sound like an ignorant, negligent mother. I have serious guilt about this. It's exactly a year later and I still have anxiety about it. I still cry. My daughter is healthy but people comment on her being small and I get so upset. I've also become resentful, I see these young new moms just take to breastfeeding like a dog to water and I'm jealous. I go over and over and over in my head on what I did wrong and why I didn't see it. I also see these mothers who view breastfeeding as an inconvenience and who tell me they just "gave up" and I think they're cheating themselves and their children.
Now I will say that two of my closest friends have perfect formula-fed children and both shared their stress and distress with breastfeeding with me. Pretty much only those two women do I back for their choices because I love them so much -ha!- Unfair, but true! With that said, I am grateful for formula. Having been on both sides, I give MAJOR props to both moms really. Mixing formula, the cost, the supplies and the cleaning of bottles is a PAIN IN THE ASS. Power to you! Breastfeeding is intense, it runs your life. Your little one rules and drools! Those breastfeeding mamas who go the distance need literal medals. Seriously.
This was not my plan. Never could I have imagined this. There is so much I'd change. I know how fortunate I am that I even have a healthy child. I know there are so many mothers with worse situations than mine. This isn't just some cautionary tale. But I'm sharing the truth because I never even knew problems like these existed. Maybe that makes me stupid. But maybe there's ONE MOM out there, ONE mom going through something similar, and I just gave her the nudge she needed to get help. It wasn't ignorance or arrogance in me that kept me from getting help. It was just that first time mom haze. I just thought it was an adjustment period.
At times I think, "now I know for next time." But at other times I feel scarred for life and afraid to have another baby. Time heals all and only time will tell. For now I just concentrate on my daughter. She is my everything. And we have everything because we have her.
I was one of those freak women who loved being pregnant. I'd never felt more important in my life. I was responsible for another's existence. Pretty epic feeling. I also wasn't genuinely uncomfortable until my 40th week of pregnancy. It was the only time in my life I was grateful for being a real sized girl with curves. I was made to have babies.
We'd moved far away from immediate family four years prior and had been positive we could go it alone. I had one mom friend. One. And a bunch of women around me who talked about wanting babies but were no where near ready. My mother wasn't a positive part of my life. In fact she told me that I probably couldn't have a natural birth and still comes down on me for being bigger, post pregnancy.
Now I'm not going to say I'm "smart." There are some things in this life I'm completely stupid about but I'm reasonably intelligent. As far as kids go, I was a nanny for 10 years of my life, taking care of babies from 9months on. And a big part of me did believe most of it is instinctual. Still, I read the books and took the classes and heard other stories but no one could have prepared me for what happened, and I wouldn't wish it on anyone.
My daughter's birth was amazing. I was only in hard, active labor for about 5 hours and when we got to the hospital, 5 pushes, a bit of a tear and out she popped, puffy and perfect. She was everything. Now I was in a pro-breastfeeding hospital, and one that promoted skin to skin. But everything happened so fast. We arrived and went straight into delivery, even though the admitting nurses thought my screams of pain were overdramatized.
When she popped out, I remembered this video I saw of this perfect baby doing a boob crawl where she literally just wanted boob and I thought breastfeeding was the coolest thing ever so I was ready. But I needed stitches, so after about 30min of them poking around and prepping me, they took my daughter to be cleaned and wrapped and gave her to daddy.
My entire body was shaking, the adrenaline and body exhaustion was intense and I just wanted to be left alone, but they needed to make sure I would heal ok. After about and hour they moved us to our on room. I remember being kind of wishy washy about visitors but there were a few people I didn't mind coming to see her fresh. But before I knew it, we had quite the following. I didn't mind at the time but in retrospect that probably wasn't the best.
Everything in the books, the classes and our birth plan said breast feeding in the first 2 hours is key. And I was ready! Here's my disclaimer: I always hated my boobs. To me they only existed one day to be suckled and sag. I didn't dress them up in cutesy bras, they weren't an erogenous zone for me and I never tried to have cleavage. They were just boobs.
The only good advice I got about breastfeeding is: "Breastfeeding is HARD, definitely see a lactation consultant." That was already part of the plan. Breastfeeding was really weird. I didn't feel much. I was having a really hard time keying into my body and felt really disconnected about the whole thing. It wasn't as beautiful and heartwarming as I thought. The nurses, one of which was mean and ugly to boot," kept saying I needed to feed her, but she wasn't cueing hunger and was asleep. I'd always heard, never wake a sleeping baby.
We saw the Lactation Consultant, she was super nice and helpful but then we had problems later and she was no where to be found. In comes nurse number two and starts talking to me about expressing and stimulating the nipple, which seemed so weird to me. I couldn't grasp it. It felt awkward. My hubby expressed my milk better than me and the nurse said, "You have flat nipples." In the midst of my exhaustion I just kind of got offended. I'd never thought of my nipples as any different than anyone else's. Apparently this was an issue. She gave me a nipple shield. I remember her just sticking it on me. No explanation. I was just thinking, I don't need some nipple prosthetic. I think we'll figure it out. None of the holds except classic cradle worked and my breasts just felt numb to anything she was doing the first 48 hours. All I felt were the uterine cramps to acknowledge her getting the colostrum.
When we left the hospital, my dad had stayed with us to help us keep up the house and hubby had two weeks off. I'd naturally had the sore and cracked nipples but after the first week and a half everything became painful. I was exhausted and mostly disoriented. We were also overwhelmed.
I finally started texting the few moms I knew asking if breastfeeding was uncomfortable and everyone said the first month was so tough. So I just rationalized, ok I had the perfect pregnancy and delivery, so this is your challenge.
My husband was as great of a support as any man could be. He read and Googled and spoke to all the moms he knew seeking help and advice. He bought witch hazel and nipple butter and cream and jelly and anything. Finally it just got to be too much. My nipples weren't getting better. Breastfeeding was getting worse. I tried hot showers, being bra-less and nothing worked. That's when the hubby brought up the nipple shield again.
On another related happening, my daughter had lost a bit of weight on her 3 day old appointment, which was normal at the time. Her two week appointment was about 12 days away. So my husband and I decided that if it didn't get better, we'd get a lactation consultant then. The nipple shield helped but unbeknownst to me, I was using it improperly. I read the directions but something didn't translate amidst the new mom stress and exhaustion and I wasn't using it properly. We constantly saw milk in the reservoir and I leaked often so we thought everything was ok. She was a quiet, happy baby for the most part.
I remember saying to my husband, "You'd think she'd be generally miserable if she wasn't getting enough, right?" Breastfeeding didn't get better. The pain was so terrible that I'd taken to breastfeeding alone with water and hard candies to push through the pain. I cried and cried and cried. I didn't understand. We had our appointment and I knew I'd seek help. Before our appointment my dad insisted I speak with my step mother who scared the shit out of me by saying nipple shields were bad news and caused problems. She used to be a pediatric nurse, so I decided we'd ditch it and try on our own. I finally reached out to my only mom friend, my breastfeeding idol, and she told me I should contact La Leche League for free help because it shouldn't be that kind of painful.
Her husband came over shortly after to do her newborn photos and all day we'd been doing well without the shield. It was also our first few days alone and I felt like a really good mom. She'd had newborn acne but her shots came out wonderful and the breastfeeding shots he got I'm truly happy and in awe. It was the first time I'd felt comfortable nursing in weeks.
The next day I was all ready to contact an LLL leader when it occurred to me that my mother in law would be bouncing into town and I was afraid she'd judge me. I was afraid she wouldn't support my getting help and she'd be more of a stress. I thought, ok, we have our doctor's appointment and he 6 day visit. Let me just talk to the pediatrician and then get through the visit and we'll go from there.
The day of our doctor's appointment we arrived with our daughter and were informed she didn't have an appointment. My husband was livid. We were then told that we wouldn't be able to be seen for another 5 days. During this time, my mother in law arrived and I used to nipple shield to make sure I didn't have any more issues to make the visit more stressful.
On the last day of her visit, my husband had the day off and we went to visit the pediatrician. We asked about lactation consultants and we talked about breastfeeding and she said everything looked fine, she disappeared to get us some paperwork and then came back and gave us the worst news ever:
Our daughter had lost, not gained weight. The amount was dangerous and we needed to take her to the hospital to make sure that everything in her little body was working and make sure we could get her weight up.
I just burst into tears. I felt like the worst mother in the universe. I really did. How could I not tell? How was I not feeding my baby? What did I do wrong?
We went to the hospital, to admitting and I was just constantly crying. I was a complete mess. My husband was just trying to work things out. We'd self paid our delivery with a midwives group and had no insurance. This was stressful on top of the fact that our daughter was in danger.
Sitting in admitting, someone saw her sleeping and commented on how beautiful she was and then said, "She's so little, she must have been a premie!" My heart just shriveled. My healthy baby girl had withered down to someone tiny and I didn't see it. My heart still hurts just thinking about it as I type teary eyed.
Once we got to pediatrics all the testing began. My husband left to go home and get us both clothing and pajamas. All we'd heard was, "a few days." The nurses came in and so did the doctor and told us she just wasn't getting enough and they'd measured and tested and my body just wasn't making enough to feed her. She'd need to have some formula to catch up. The first band of nurses and her doctor were amazing. I sat there crying and cold and they just reminded me, it wasn't my fault. Sometimes we all need a little extra help.
I'd never looked at formula. It was never an option to me. I wanted things to happen naturally so one of the nurses gave me recommendation, and I took it. The first 2 nights were the worst. They had us on a rigorous feeding schedule, I had to pump in between and they had to constantly check her. The put a feeding tube through her nose and were testing her for every scary thing you could imagine: liver, kidney, stomach and intestine issues. We had to rule every thing out.
After 4 days we got antsy and my husband couldn't take any more time off. They kept saying, maybe tomorrow or the next day in reference to our questions about when we could go home. She was gaining steadily but not enough to release her. My husband left the 5th night and we didn't know when he could come back.
Thank GOODNESS for my friend Emily bringing me DVDs and for my best friend Jillian coming every afternoon to check on us because I was very lonely and upset. It was a shared room and I refused to leave my daughter's side. By the end of the visit we were there for 10 days. TEN DAYS. I didn't step outside. I barely left the bed. They wouldn't let her sleep with me. I had to eat shitty hospital food that made me sick. 5 days straight we couldn't see my husband.
It was on day 7 that I lost it. They'd switched doctors and the new one was not very warm. I cried and told her she couldn't keep telling us maybe tomorrow. I'd pleaded that I would bring her in every day. WE needed to go home. I missed my husband and my dog and my bed and my mental health was dwindling. And then the mean bitch doctor uttered something I will never forget: "She is doing better but you need to realize, your baby almost DIED, so we can't just let her go home until she's in a more stable healthy state."
I just cried. And I just retracted back into my little corner of a room. She offered us a private room and I told her we had no insurance, we couldn't afford such a luxury. She said that shouldn't be a concern and yet she didn't offer to pay my bills. The nurses in the pediatric ward were mostly amazing. My daughter was the youngest on the floor so they just loved her. Our neighbor in the room was a sweet Latin mother and grandmother who's toddler got a bad grease burn and needed skin grafts. They were very supportive.
I was a zombie in that room. I was completely disconnected from everything. By the end of the visit my daughter had been diagnosed "Failure to Thrive." Unfortunately this is a very blanket term. It covers a wide range of weight, size and internal issues for babies and children. My supply never caught up to where I needed it and she had to have formula supplementation.
No one ever told me how intense breastfeeding is. It's not romantic and easy. And no one told us we needed a web of support. It does take a village. My mom kept saying I just got it down so easy, and my friends told me it would get better or they gave up and did formula. As soon as this happened I had so many mothers reach out and tell me about their trials with breastfeeding. But it wasn't until this crisis that I even knew.
I know I may sound like an ignorant, negligent mother. I have serious guilt about this. It's exactly a year later and I still have anxiety about it. I still cry. My daughter is healthy but people comment on her being small and I get so upset. I've also become resentful, I see these young new moms just take to breastfeeding like a dog to water and I'm jealous. I go over and over and over in my head on what I did wrong and why I didn't see it. I also see these mothers who view breastfeeding as an inconvenience and who tell me they just "gave up" and I think they're cheating themselves and their children.
Now I will say that two of my closest friends have perfect formula-fed children and both shared their stress and distress with breastfeeding with me. Pretty much only those two women do I back for their choices because I love them so much -ha!- Unfair, but true! With that said, I am grateful for formula. Having been on both sides, I give MAJOR props to both moms really. Mixing formula, the cost, the supplies and the cleaning of bottles is a PAIN IN THE ASS. Power to you! Breastfeeding is intense, it runs your life. Your little one rules and drools! Those breastfeeding mamas who go the distance need literal medals. Seriously.
This was not my plan. Never could I have imagined this. There is so much I'd change. I know how fortunate I am that I even have a healthy child. I know there are so many mothers with worse situations than mine. This isn't just some cautionary tale. But I'm sharing the truth because I never even knew problems like these existed. Maybe that makes me stupid. But maybe there's ONE MOM out there, ONE mom going through something similar, and I just gave her the nudge she needed to get help. It wasn't ignorance or arrogance in me that kept me from getting help. It was just that first time mom haze. I just thought it was an adjustment period.
At times I think, "now I know for next time." But at other times I feel scarred for life and afraid to have another baby. Time heals all and only time will tell. For now I just concentrate on my daughter. She is my everything. And we have everything because we have her.
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