Formula or Breast Feed? The pressure is on.

When my oldest daughter was born, I knew before hand that I would have to formula feed.  I found a breast lump at around 7 months that ended up being a benign cyst that would need to be removed.  Surgery was scheduled for a week after her delivery. I would have to pump and discard until all the blood was out of the milk, and with stitches the doctor highly advised against doing that.  By God's healing hand, the lump went away and I did not have to have the surgery after all.  As my milk depleted, the lump shrank.  I would have had plenty to nurse her with.  I was heartbroken that I didn't get to nurse, but thankful I was blessed at the same time.

Carson (yes, this can be a girl's name for those wondering) was my easy pregnancy and easy feeding baby.  We started and finished with the same formula, she rarely spit up, and even when she was sick she was always all smiles.

Jesse was 5 weeks early and the doctors and nurses were dead set that I was going to breast feed.  It was supposed to be the very best for him, especially being premature.  My body disagreed.  Possibly because I was being told again what I should/could do.  I had so many nurses, doctors and lactation's working with me and fondling me in ways I wish I could forget.  Unfortunately moments like those are burned into your memory forever.  I had a bottle attached to one side of me with a tube coming out that went around my neck and attached to my breast that was supposed to help him latch on.  Supposedly the milk in the tube with help him latch and get my milk to flow.  Didn't work.  I pumped non stop, even after I went home.  I would pump and pump, for up to an hour, and only have about an ounce of formula.  I tried for two months.  It was exhausting.  I even used one of those ridiculous plastic nipple covers over mine to help him latch.  I thought it was going to remove my nipple from my body.  White flag please.

Then, we had to switch his formula several times.  He had GERD, or in English, acid reflux.  We started with the preemie formula, then switched to regular Enfamil.  Then to Neutragamin and a couple others the doctors wanted us to try.  He was cranky, gassy, and projectile vomiting with all of them.  My sister came up with what ended up being our solution.  The simplest of solutions.  Here she was, 10 years younger than me and no kids of her own, and she found the solution.  I'm forever in her debt.  She called me one day and started reading out the descriptions of formulas.  She told me she really thought this was what we needed.  Similac Soy.  Wonderful, blessed, half the price of the other mess, SOY.  We still ended up having to add cereal to his bottles rather early on (at our pediatrician's advise) to help weight it down so the projectile would stop.  However, it worked.

Then comes little Chloe.  I really wanted to breast feed and had hoped this time would be it.  No pressure from doctor's or nurses either way.  Minutes after she was born, she latched right on.  Finally!  The joy did not last long though.  After being rushed to emergency surgery, I did not get to see her again for a little over 12 hours.  By this time, she was fed on demand by bottle and did not want to change.  I tried and tried what I was able to in the hospital, but due to my situation and recovery, I did not get to spend as much time with her that first week as I did my other two.  I was at least able to get her that wonderful "liquid gold" colostrum while in the hospital, and the first day or two at home.  I pumped when I could but nothing came out.  I tried to nurse her at every feeding before giving in to the bottle.  Take hot showers trying to get it to flow.
Nada.

I went for a follow up with my OB at 2 weeks and she told me to stop worrying about it.  She told me my body had been through more than most women would see at one time and that stressing over nursing was not worth it.  She made me feel so much better discussing everything with me.  I wasn't a bad mom for giving up; I needed to give up.  My body needed to heal and the stress and pressure of conforming to what some doctors and nurses thought I should do was not what was best for me.  The best thing for me was to heal and bond with my newborn without becoming frustrated. 

What I have learned from three babies and feeding:

1. Every baby is different, even your own.
2. Start simple.
3. Don't let anyone make you feel inadequate in your feeding decision.  Do what is best for you and your baby.  Refer to #1.
4. Trust your own instincts.
5. Make your decision and do not second guess yourself. 

If you want to breast feed, give it a try.  Work with a lactation specialist while you are at the hospital if you have any questions.  Realize that every mom that nurses may do different things than you do and that's okay.  Do not compare yourself to other mom's.  Not just for nursing, don't compare yourself period.  You will put yourself in the nut house.  My biggest advise is be prepared with a back up plan of formula.  I pray it works for you, but also pray you don't become discouraged if it doesn't.

If you have no desire to breast feed, DON'T.  DO NOT let anyone make you feel like you have to try it.  DO NOT let anyone make you feel like you are not doing right by your child or that you are a bad mom.  MAKE IT KNOWN as soon as you check in to deliver that you DO NOT want to breast feed.  Nip it in the bud.  Seriously.  It's your body, your decision.  While breast feeding can be very rewarding, it can be very frustrating.  I have friends with multiple children that never had formula a day in their life.  Nursing came natural to them.  For me it did not and I am okay with that. 

Embrace your decision.  Whether you are a first time mom or a 5th time mom, you ultimately know what is best.  Trust those gut instincts.

5 Months Post Delivery and Surgery

Once home from the hospital, I had to find my groove to deal with the pain and discomfort, along with being a mother and wife.  I slept on the couch for another 3 months.  I found that trying to sit up or roll over to get out of the bed was very painful and pulled muscles I didn't know existed.  By sleeping on the couch, I could prop on one side, then grab the back couch cushions to hoist myself up.  Still much better than the hospital bed was.  It didn't matter how many buttons I pressed trying to maneuver that bed to get me out of it, nothing felt good at all.

For the graphic part: it was exactly one week from giving birth and having the surgery before I could use the bathroom.  I thought I was dying all over again.  Sharp, cutting gas pains would come and go as I tried to go.  This lasted for about 2 weeks.  But once the gas pain started releasing (and that would be quite comical), then I started feeling pain from the surgery.  It was bearable, but uncomfortable.  Like intense PMS pain.  Ibuprofen took care of it and I never had to take any of the hard pain medicine thankfully.  I remember discussing my surgery with a family member that had already been through the hysterectomy.  I told her it felt like my insides had been rearranged.  Apparently this was exactly the case, and my OB confirmed in a future visit.  A lot of other organs are in the way of your lady parts, and have to be pulled out to get to them, then stuffed back in.  Call me the Thanksgiving turkey!  I was also told that some women would feel better at around 8 weeks, it could be 12 weeks to 6 months.  Now I can say I believe them.

Gradually I started feeling more myself.  At 3 months Bug started sleeping through the night and that helped even more.  I couldn't believe how hard it was in the beginning, getting up and down for feedings, feeding the other 2 kiddos, and trying to take care of myself.  The OB prepared me for a longer than normal healing process due to the fact that I was starting all over with a baby again too.

Every day that I felt better, I pushed myself just a little farther.  An extra load of laundry.  Run the vacuum (not the best idea), sweep, clean up something.  At 4 months I helped my husband move some light furniture.  Something I would have done on my own before.  The next day, I FELT IT.  I could not believe that I could still feel so sore.  My incision healed nicely, but there was tenderness and feeling like I had pulled something.  I had to, and still have to, learn my limits.

It's hard to believe that it has been 5 months already.  I feel closer to normal than I have in a long time now, but I still have days that I know I have over done myself.  I was supposed to go back to work at 8 weeks post, but the company I work for did a layoff.  While things have been tight financially, God blessed me at the same time.  The extra time has done wonders for my recovery physically and emotionally.  I am enjoying every minute of being a new mom again, and being able to do more with my 9 and 6 year old.  I haven't missed the first school function, during or after school hours.  There have been times I thought I was going to go insane of course, what mom doesn't feel that way?  I've been spring cleaning for over a month, going room to room cleaning out and organizing.  Something I've never found the time to do.  I'm taking a nap with the Bug most days, even if it's just for a hour, while it's just she and I at home.  I'm going to Bible studies every other week and taking the kids back to church.  I've also made the time to visit with friends and family more.

Life is precious, we all know that.  But if you have ever had that life dangle, yours or a loved one's, then you know how true that statement is.  I feel like I have been through Hell in a canoe with a broken paddle, but I made it out to the other side.  Sometimes I believe we have to go through these hard and challenging times to become stronger people, and grow our relationship with God.  I know that has been the case with me.

Things are really getting fun with this silly little girl.  New experiences every day.  I hope to blog more about these experiences and bring you the nitty gritty, sometimes not pretty, truth to what I see.

So go fix a cup of coffee and come back and see me soon.

Amy

Recovering From The Unexpected Hysterectomy After Childbirth

I finally made it to my room at close to 10pm Monday night.  I still couldn't open my eyes, for some reason they were swollen shut.  But I knew my husband and my mom were still there.  I remember asking them, "Did I give you guys a scare?"  I got a very exasperated "YES" from both of them.  It was probably a good thing I couldn't see their faces.  I vaguely remember the doctor stopping by and confirming it was a hysterectomy.  I was in a complete fog and did not fully understand what had happened yet.  I know I called one of my co-workers and I think she was at a ball game and couldn't hear me good.  I ended up texting her about the hysterectomy.  I wasn't very subtle about it, and I blame it on the medicine.

Really all I remember about that night is itching all over and my throat was dry and sore.   I was given Benadryl and pain medicine and had an ice pack across my abdomen.  Oh, and I got another serving of red Jello.  I was still starving!!

The next morning, all the events began to come to light.  It felt like they were talking about someone else instead of what had happened to me.  None of it felt real.

My doctor had tried to do the DNC for over an hour.  The placenta was breaking into pieces and was stuck to the uterine wall.  I was loosing way to much blood.  Finally, she went to my husband in the waiting room and explained to him what was going on.  I needed a blood transfusion immediately, and a hysterectomy.  Otherwise, I was going to bleed to death right there on the table.  They actually almost lost me.  I had two transfusions during the surgery and had to be incubated (I think that's the right term for it!).  That was why my throat was sore.

I really don't know when they brought little C-Bug in to the room.  I honestly was still so out of it and felt like I was having an out of body experience.  This couldn't have happened to me.  I bounce back too quick and this wasn't going to hold me down.  Ha.  I do remember trying to nurse C every time she was ready to eat.  Unfortunately because she was bottle fed on demand the first 24 hours, she didn't have the patience to nurse.  But I tried and tried as much as she would.  At least she was able to get the colostrum, or as the doctors like to call it: liquid gold.

Later that day, they removed my catheter and got me up on the side of the bed to try and go to the bathroom.  No problem.  Just get me to my feet and I'll do the rest.

I was in for a very rude awakening.

For some, this may be an over share, but I'm documenting this for myself and I'm trying to be brutally honest here.  No sugar coating.  When I tried to stand up, I couldn't.  At least not without support from a nurse on each side.  As soon as I stood, my bladder failed me.  Yes, I peed all over the floor and had no control over it.  I. Was. Pissed.  Literally and figuratively speaking.  Why didn't I have control over my bladder and why couldn't I walk on my own?  I'm She-Ra, hear me roar!!  I don't need help.

Humbling.

As aggravating as it was, it was also humbling.  Turns out I wasn't the perfect, strong, bounce right back mama I thought I was.  And coughing?  Oh my goodness.  I had to brace myself against a wall, hold my belly, and gently work out the cough.  I was obviously going to pee on myself when I did, but it hurt like hell too.  But honestly, that wasn't the worst part of it all.  The gas pain was.

I begged for gas ex.  It felt like I had a helium balloon inside of me and I seriously begged the nurses to just pop me and let the gas out.  It was horrible.  When asked what my pain was on a scale of 1-10 I would say anywhere from 11 to 13.   So they kept me on pain meds, even though I told them the pain was strictly from the gas.  I couldn't even feel where they had cut me open.  No pain from the birth either (she was only 4 pounds, 13 1/2 ounces).  Pain meds, anti gas, iron, stool softener.  Around the clock.  Nothing was helping.

Apparently when you are cut open and closed up, it's kind of like trying to get all the air out of a zip lock bag when you seal it: virtually impossible.  My body needed to pass the gas out to get relief, and it wasn't happening  Thursday, just when I was sure they would let me go home, the doctor told me I couldn't because I hadn't passed gas.  Seriously?  To be quite blunt, I needed to shatter the windows and it just wasn't happening.  No bowel movement either.  It ended up being a good thing I didn't go home that day because it was my worst day. 

The pain got so bad that I had to have my husband hit the call button because I couldn't even reach for it.  I could hardly breathe I was crying, screaming, and stiff as a board when they tried to move me.  Everything hurt to the touch.  Two very patient, very understanding nurses came in with the doctor.  They gave me (what would be my second) enema in hopes of getting something moving.  Now, there was a funny in there.  Not so much at the time, but later my husband and I couldn't help but laugh.  So here I am, in all my glory having both nurses hoist me in to the bathroom.  They are going to do the enema there.  So the one nurse puts everything in one of those lovely puke buckets, and sets it on the shelf above the commode.  The blasted thing fell off the shelf and hit me in the head.  Really?  Insult to injury much??  They took me back to the bed, give me the stupid, non working, violating all things that could be violated, and proceed to give me some really, really potent pain killer through my iv.  Next thing I know they toss me in the shower with the hottest water possible trying to get me to relax and have dear hubby babysit me.  Poor thing, he didn't know what to do with me.  I didn't know what to do with me.  I just prayed.  I thanked God for giving me a second chance at life and begged for his help.   Help me through this.  Help me understand why it was happening to me.  At that moment I told God I was thankful to be alive, that I didn't want to die yet, that I wasn't ready.  I also told him the pain was so bad that even though I didn't want to die, I did want to.  It was an awful feeling, physically and emotionally.

I took several more really hot showers that day and night, trying to relax my body.  I walked the whole hospital, and that wasn't easy.  Walking was supposed to help get the gas moving, and in the end, it's exactly what worked.  Believe me, I tried every suggestion that came my way.  One nurse, my "Grey's Anatomy" nurse as I like to call her, (her uniform had it on the pocket tag) told me to get on all fours and put my butt up in the air.  Gas travels up so it should work.  Bless her, she was the only one of my nurses that actually wasn't a mama yet and had never been through what I was going through.  Did I try it?  Absolutely.  The only thing it released was some of my husband's tension.  He got out of the shower and walked in to the room seeing me on all fours on the bed and burst into laughter.  I'm sure I was a sight.

Finally by Friday I was fit to be tied.  I wanted to go home.  You know how they say if there is a set of twin babies and one is sick, put the other with her in the same bed and watch them start getting better?  That's the way I felt about going home.  My babies at home needed me and I needed them.  I needed to be able to bond with C-Bug too.  It was so hard in the hospital with all the iv's and cords hooked up to me.  I felt so restricted.  My doctor approved for me to go home, but she was more than willing to have me stay another night.  She also told me she was on call all weekend so if anything got as bad as the day before, to come right back to her.  That made me feel so much better.

Going over the discharge information, I gained some interesting knowledge.  Actually I already knew it but in all my distress it never crossed my mind.  Pain medicine will actually constipate you.  Why had I been taking it around the clock when it wasn't doing any good anyway?? 

The week had been full of doctors, nurses, and nursing students.  Those students learned a lot from my case I'm sure.  By that day though, my sarcasm was sneaking back in and I had fun giving them a hard time.  I knew how to work have that machinery better than they did as long as I had been there!!  I finally told my doctor that the smart ass in me was coming back and I was sick of crying, it's time to go!  I love that doctor, she just laughed with me.

Homeward bound to surprise the other two when they get out of school!

More on the recovery in posts to follow.

Amy