Hormones and Hurricanes

    My son is a force of nature. He has been called The Hurricane by a number of people that have had the fortune of spending any time with him. The kid is intense, and he has been since he made his first appearance in November of 2010 just under 10 lbs and 22 inches long at 39 weeks.

When I was pregnant, he got stuck head down early on (I'm only 4'11" on a good day), and he spent plenty of time kicking my stomach and punching my bladder. When I played music, he wiggled, and any time I had citrus of any sort, he had endless hiccups that verged on painful. He is a mover and a shaker.

I had planned on nursing from the moment I knew I was pregnant. There wasn't any question, no debate, and really no discussion. I was going to breastfeed my baby, and there was no reason to think I wouldn't be successful. It never even occurred to me to think I could be unsuccessful at it. What could possibly go wrong? Open mouth, insert boob.

Just to be safe, I went to a class, read some books, and watched some videos. To be honest, they all pretty much said the same thing- get into position, open mouth, insert boob, easy breezy, smile happily as birds flew and chirped around Madonna and child. I had NO IDEA that nursing would be one of the hardest things I would ever have to work at to accomplish.

I had gestational diabetes (or as we joked "the sugahs"), and I worked really hard to keep it under control. I worked so hard, I weighed the same when I gave birth as when I got pregnant, so I effectively lost weight (note to self: follow diabetic diet to lose the weight gained after baby was born).

Still, I swelled up from excess fluid like a Macy's day parade balloon. My ankles and feet swelled so badly I didnt wear anything but flip flops for months, and I gave birth in November. 2 weeks before my due date, Babby was so big, and I was so sick and swollen, I went to my Ob Gyn who took one look at me and said, "ok, you're done" and a c section was scheduled for 39 weeks.

I did NOT want a C section. Originally I wanted to give birth at home, in a pool of water, with incense and some music on to help me transcend the pain. (I told you I was a hippie!) I don't know what I was thinking with the no pain med thing, my pain threshold is resignedly low, and it's rather well known. But I would have tried it, until I got the sugahs and no one would touch that with a 10 foot pole. When Babby got so big so fast, we considered a natural birth in the hospital, but with small hips and small stature, shoulder dystocia was a concern. So yeah, there went my birth plan, right out the window. I learned early, and I learned fast- when it comes to babies, you can plan any damn thing you want, but it could be that none of it comes out the way you planned.

So, what was left? Nursing. Again, still not even an issue of question or consideration. It was going to happen. When my beautiful son was born, they cleaned him off, weighed him, showed me his amazing face, and whisked him out for a while while they began to rearrange my organs and sew me up. Apparently I don't take well to my intestines being manhandled, so I began vomiting on the OR table, with the anesthesiologist doing his best to keep me comfortable. The whole situation blew chucks, pun intended.

As soon as Humpty Dumpty was put back together again, I was wheeled into a recovery room, where my babby was thrust at me, and a neonatal nurse tried to help me nurse him, as she was supposedly trained in breastfeeding. I had asked repeatedly for a lactation consultant, but none was provided- apparently she had left for the day. As big as my babby was, my boobs were way, way bigger. They overwhelmed him ( hell, they overwhelmed ME, and I had large breasts since I developed) and we could not get him to latch. He screamed like he was being drawn and quarters. He beat me up with his tiny fists of rage. The intensity of this child was showing already. I was numb and fighting nausea,  and my mom was looking on with a WTF is that nursing doing face, and we just... failed. Inconceivably, failed.  As a result of my diabetes, he was low blood sugar, and between the time it took to sew me up, and the time we took to try to get him to latch, he needed to eat. So they took my son, the one I so desperately wanted exclusively breastfed, and fed him formula, then popped in one of those sucky things when he got fussy.  Right there was the start of my 2 months struggles, and I believe the start of my ongoing supply issues.

I spent the first night manually (desperately) expressing colustrum while babby daddy spoon fed it to him. The lactation consultant finally made an appearance the next morning, but left before we could get a successful latch, leaving me with a screaming infant and instructions to "just keep trying". I was pissed. I left 24 hours later, never having gotten a really successful latch, and she didn't stop in again until we were leaving. She offered her paid services, but I was so angry, I could barely speak, and left some strong feedback with the hospital to the effect that she was worse than useless.

 It took more than 4 days for my milk to come in, and during those 4 days I hand pumped colustrum like a crazy person, but we had to supplement formula, because that first formula feeding had stretched his little stomach and a tablespoon of colustrum didn't cut it like it would for a baby that had been exclusively breastfed. When my milk finally DID come in, it seemed like supply wouldn't be an issue. But he wouldn't latch. He would scream and cry and I would try and try until finally I would cry, and want to just scream from frustration and exhaustion. So I pumped and I pumped, and it wasn't until 2 weeks out that a La Leche League lactation consultant came out we finally got a successful latch. On one side. After she left, we could occasionally get a good latch on the one side, but for 2 more weeks I endured plenty of screaming when presenting the apparently "angry" other side. When my mom came at the one month mark, she sized up the situation, grabbed one of his cloth diapers (again, hippie) rolled it up, crammed it under the offending boob to prop that sucker up, grabbed babby and crammed him on there. He went at it like a pro. I was so relieved I'm sure I cried- I was so ground down, exhausted, hormonal and over everything those days everything made me cry.

But that was the tipping point. I nursed on demand, and on most days I could get him to nurse most of the time on both sides, and I would pump in between sessions, as it already seemed like my supply had been affected. We still struggled on and off until the 8 week mark, depending on his mood, but we were mostly successful. I went back to work at 11 weeks, and it still seemed my my supply was low ( I never could nurse and pump and build up a stock to freeze). I pumped at work, and the most I ever pumped in one 8 hour work day was 10 oz. As the months went by, pumping 3 times a day for about 1.5 hours total, I would get 3-4 oz in a day. Needless to day, daycare had no choice but to supplement with formula. But when I was home, I nursed. He nursed first thing in the morning, and last thing at night. We nursed through the night, and we nursed all weekends. And I loved it. I never once physically felt the "let down", but I could feel the hormones bring on somnolence, and a rush of overwhelming love. Nursing became my best tool. Fussy? Nurse. teething? Nurse. Needs to cuddle? Nurse. Won't go down for a nap? Nurse. My favorite position was to nurse on my side in bed, where we could nap together, because we both fell asleep nursing. I loved it. I maybe loved it all the more because it was such a hard won battle. I also knew from having to occasionally bottle feed, how much different, and to me, how much better and more bonding the nursing experience was in comparison.

I nursed for almost 10 months, supplementing as needed, but nursing whenever I could, and finally, he was done. He was biting and tossing and squirming and he was just over it. He didn't need me, he had formula and finger foods, and he was done. And I was not. I so was not. I wanted to feel his little body tucked up to mine, his hands gripping my fingers or toes tickling me. Gaze into each other's eyes and watch as his little eyes closed from being milk drunk. I let it go physically, but it was a huge effort after such a hard won victory to just let it go, emotionally.

I still miss it sometimes. When babby is sick, or grumpy, or hollering because he was teething, I would wish that I could just nurse him down. Sometimes I just want to feel closer to him, and all he does is move and wiggle, and he won't ever fall asleep with me anymore, and I miss it terribly. And I am so grateful I have something to miss. I am so grateful and proud of myself that I was stubborn, and I would not give it up through the hardest most exhausting moments. I cherish those 10 months.

Now I just hold on and clean up from the daily hurricane.

Who is thatheathergirl?

I figured before I got started on the all things random posts, I should probably do an intro post about who I am. I normally hate doing this stuff, because 1) I'm lazy 2) it's kind of a chore, and 3) who cares, right? But I figured if I am going to do a blog, I should kind of let people know things about me and my life. So here goes.
I am a 36 year old Yankee transplant to the fairly deep south- Charleston, SC. I moved here two weeks before 9/11. There are a lot of things I love about here, like the beach and the mild winters, but in a lot of ways, I'm also pretty much over it here. Its a great place to visit, and a hard place to live. At least for a vocal super liberal agnostic Yankee Masshole.

I am in a relationship with a man 8 years my junior, and I have an unplanned amazing, precocious, and legitimately gorgeous (not in a mother's eyes kind of way) 2 year old son, who shall be known as babby, or stinky monkey. I'm sure you'll hear more about him and see more pictures than you care to. Whatever, it's my blog, I'll write what I want.

That leads me into- I do what I want. Which is usually just about anything. I pretty much like everything, and I really good at nothing. Except being a mom. I turned out to be a pretty kick ass mom, even though I never wanted kids. Kids are hard ass work and they take away from my being able to do what I want WHEN I want. But as he gets older, it gets easier to do more stuff that is not 100% revolving around him. That said, my heart pretty much revolves 100% around him.

I love photography, I've been doing it very badly for a year. I'm getting better, but I still am not good. I take classes, and try to shoot a lot. I'm sure I will post crappy pictures here.

I am very liberal. I pretty much take the viewpoint that people can and should do what they want, as long as it doesn't infringe on the rights of others, or hurt others. If people don't like something, they can not do it.  treat others as you would like to be treated.

I have recently rejoined the gym, and I am trying to lose all the weight I gained after I had the baby. Yes, I said after I had the baby. Because I had a 10 lb baby and LOST weight. But for 10 months after i was alone with the baby while his father was working in Maine with no family around, and between working full time, nursing, and pumping on work breaks, I gained all the weight back plus more. It is VERY hard to take care of yourself as a single full time employed mom. So I have recently changed him from a home daycare with more limited hours to a regular daycare with more hours, changed my schedule to be 730-430, and joined Planet Fitness. Years ago I realized that I AM athletic, and I crave physical exertion. I worked out, belly danced, walked the dog, and just tried to stay active. I was never thin, but I was pretty healthy and fit. I also never got sick. But for 2 years so many things interfered with a regular exercise schedule, and I've gained even more weight, and have been consistently sick, and grumpy. No more. I need to be healthy, and I need to take care of myself to be happy. The benefits of exercise pay you back so much more than the effort needed to do it. I'll probably talk about fitness stuff too.

I like to cook, and I have some stuff that comes out great, and some that comes out like garbage. I hate that.
So frustrating, and such a waste of time, energy, money, and most of all, food. I guess I am just grateful I have food to begin with, but few things make me feel worse than tossing food. Because I am a hippie.

Seriously, I am a tree hugging, thermostat programming, recycling, reusing hippie. I'm a turn off the lights don't run the water while brushing teeth and set the water heater to 110 degrees freak. I want to plant a garden this year to avoid pesticides and contributing to the practice of living off local produce. I love farmer's markets. I love flea markets. I love thrifting, and if I cant find a way to use something or pass it on, I donate to thrift stores. I literally hate buying new stuff if I still have something that works, and I really try not to just "upgrade" things all the time because I want something new.  I wish I lived in a place I could bike or walk more placed. Charleston isn't very green, and I hope that changes soon, but the infrastructure is pretty piss poor, and there aren't a lot of ways I can see public transportation being easy to build around here.  A light rail would be ideal, but I cant see them (Charleston local government and their constituents) investing in that. Everyone will just live with their hour commute to go 14 miles :/ No, I'm not bitter that I've spent over 5 hours a week for the past 5 years in traffic just trying to get to work.

I like to dance and sing- I adore music. I love makeup and all things makeup and hair. I enjoy crafts and sewing, but I'm not good at it, and I have very little time to do it. I read more than most, but nowhere near as much as I used to before I had a baby. I like to read the classics, and I have been called a book snob. I'm not really; I will read modern novels and romances. I just think Twilight sucks, and I wont even consider 50 Shades of Misogyny and Sexual/Emotional Abuse.

I donate money and time to causes close to my heart- animals, children's hospitals, hunger, cancer, and women's causes.

I think that covers most of it, I think I've bored myself into a nap.