Before I gave birth to Delilah I did a lot of research on labor, delivery, taking baby home, etc. I watched "The Business of Being Born". I read (skimmed through, really) many books and articles on how best to care for a newborn. I asked my mom friends lots of questions about what worked for them with their babies. All in all, I came to the conclusion that breastfeeding was THE way to go for my new little one.
I spent hours researching breastfeeding (how-tos, videos, latching, pumping), but none of it prepared me for what really went down after Baby D was born. It all seemed so natural: baby is born, baby sees boob, baby finds nipple, baby is fed. Simple, right? WROOOONG. It turns out things aren't as easy as they look on the internet.
After my c-section I had to give my body some time to realize milk was needed. The nurses got me started with a pump and soon the milk was flowing. Alright, one issue down, now time for the easy part: baby drinks milk.
Nope. I learned that Baby can't drink the milk unless she latches on properly, which was not happening with Delilah. She had a shallow latch, which meant she couldn't get the full areola into her mouth, only the nipple. This meant two things: 1) She wasn't getting enough milk at a feeding and 2) I was going to be in a lot of pain because she was basically chomping on my nipple for long periods of time. OUCH.
The nurses and lactation consultants all had different ideas. We tried nipple shields, syringes with tubing, bottle feeding, different nursing positions...I just could never quite get it right. As soon as I thought I had it, my nipple would start hurting and I knew she wasn't latched on properly. I began to get very frustrated at myself.
"Why can't I do this right?"
"How is it that I can be failing at something that is supposed to be instinctive??"
"I am a terrible mother."
These were all the thoughts that ran through my head on any given day during my breastfeeding attempts. There would be good times where Delilah seemed to latch on well and stayed feeding for 30 minutes or so. There were bad times where I honestly could not get her to latch at all and then she was crying, then I was crying...not fun for either of us. Plus, I was up all hours of the night pumping so that we could give her bottles after my attempts to breastfeed her failed.
Along with the latching issues, we also ran into what we believed was a lactose sensitivity. Delilah would have these huge crying fits and then explode poop everywhere after a feeding. During my pregnancy I started drinking cow's milk again (I had switched to other sources before that because I seemed to have some senstivity myself), and after D was born I decided to keep with that diet. Once I realized that Delilah may be having issues with milk I tried hard to cut dairy out, which is NOT an easy thing to do. Even so, it seemed like every bottle of breast milk or session of breastfeeding led to my daughter being in extreme pain and suffering. Again, I felt HORRIBLE.
I cried a lot during this time. For about two months I was on and off. One day I was happy to go through the whole cycle, failure and all. Other days I just couldn't handle it and I almost gave in to the formula temptation.
It took me many weeks and lots of soul-searching to realize that in order for both of us to be happy, I had to stop breastfeeding. Even once I'd made the decision, I felt like a total failure. I was "giving up" instead of pushing on to give my daughter the best nutrition possible. I was a terrible mother.
After a few months of formula I came to terms with my breastfeeding "failure". I tried my best, but it just wasn't meant to be for Delilah and me. She has thrived on formula. And, while I sometimes wonder if she would have had less colds or if I gave up too soon, I know I made the right choice. Breastfeeding was not a wonderful bonding experience for me - it was pushing me in the opposite direction. I couldn't concentrate on the bonding part because I was too worried that Delilah wasn't getting the nutrition she needed. Once I started bottle feeding exclusively I had more time to just gaze into her eyes and coo to her. I was sure she was getting enough food. I felt like I was doing the right thing.
To any other mothers dealing with difficulties in breastfeeding: I have been there. I know how hard it can be. I know what an emotional issue it is. I almost gave up on myself, but instead I decided to do what was best for both my sanity and my daughter's well being. As hard as it may be, try not to feel that you have failed.
We are lucky to have other options for providing nutrition to our babies.
I was in a store the other day and I heard two women discussing breastfeeding. They were so gung-ho about it that neither of them stopped to think of what it might be like to have a tough time with it. One mom even said that formula is a scam. My husband was stewing in a corner of a store, not saying what he had to see me go through. I decided on that day to stand up for my choice. I let them know that I had issues and even with all of the lactation consultant help I never really could make it work, so I had to switch to formula. Both stopped and gave me a look that read pity, then they both tripped over themselves to explain their conversation away, as if they weren't talking about me, but all of the other mothers out there who are just too lazy to try breastfeeding. I felt better after saying my piece, but I doubt I made much of an impact. If you haven't been through it, you can't truly understand it.
I hope others will think about the issues many moms go through in the first few months of breastfeeding. I used to be close-minded to other options, but now I realize how amazingly fortunate I am to be able to still provide my baby with the food she needs. Sometimes formula happens. Thank god it exists.
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
How She Came To Be: Part Two (The Birth Story)
I must have told or written this story at least 30 times now, but each time I tell it I get a little stronger. At first I would get upset while I was telling it, since nothing went as I expected. Now I kind of wear it as a badge of honor. It was quite an undertaking, bringing my little lady into the world. I felt like I kind of went to the edge of the world and back. That might sound melodramatic to some, but it describes the feelings I had during the entire process.
On September 28th (4 days before Delilah's estimated due date) I went into labor. I had no idea I was in labor, but I was there, nonetheless. A day or two before I had gone to see my midwife, Suzie, and she did an internal exam. She warned that I may feel Braxton-Hicks contractions or cramping after the poking and prodding, due to the fact that she was poking and prodding. I had never felt Braxton-Hicks, so when the cramping started in the morning I figured that's what I was feeling.
I finished out my work day and waited for Jace to come home. The cramping was getting a little more frequent at this point, but it was nothing I couldn't handle. Once Jace came home we went out to do some errands, including buying stickers for Delilah's room and getting Panda Express for dinner. The whole time I realized something was off. I was having a hard time walking...I was feeling the cramps pretty regularly...maybe this was something more than Braxton-Hicks. I finally told Jace what was going on.
Jace looked at me with a face that said, "You're just NOW telling me this??" He suggested we start timing the contractions (since he figured that's what they were) and go from there. He sounded kind of terrified, but I was staying calm. We watched TV and kept track of things for an hour, as we'd been instructed to do by all of the books and articles I'd read. Eventually we realized I was at the magic number: 5-1-1 (5 contractions, each 1 minute long, for 1 hour). It was go time...maybe.
My thoughts through this part of labor were mainly denial. No, there's no way I'm in labor now. This is my first baby...my due date isn't for 4 days...I'm supposed to go past my due date, not deliver BEFORE it. Keep in mind, pretty much EVERY comment I'd read regarding first time pregnancy was a woman talking about how overdue she was. I even knew a couple of people who went far past their due dates with their first babies. I was not ready to accept the fact that the time had come for me to push this baby out. This is not labor, I kept telling myself.
I finally got up the guts to call the hospital and the doctor on duty was so non-chalant that I almost didn't go to the hospital. Jace really had to push me into believing it was time. The doctor had asked me some questions then said, "Yeah, I guess you can come in now. Sure." Just like that. This was not urgent...so why not wait it out at home? I even tried to use TV as an excuse. Jace was waiting to watch a block of '90s based television that he was really into. I told him that I would feel bad if we went to the hospital and he missed his shows. Yes. That actually happened.
We finally left the house (Jace was in much more of a hurry than I was) and headed to the hospital.
It was around 10 pm, so we had to use the emergency room entrance to get to Labor and Delivery. I decided to have someone wheel me up, even though I probably could have gotten up there on my own two legs. Why pass up a free ride at a time like this? Once upstairs I was given a room, ordered to put on a hospital gown and told to wait. The nurse exclaimed that she figured I was just having cramping due to dehydration (it had been a hot day), but that I would be held for a couple of hours to see if labor progressed before being sent home. All of the medical personnel seemed positive that I would be going home - exactly what I didn't want to hear after making the trip and being checked in to the hospital. I work with health insurance; I know how these bills work. There was a chance United Healthcare wouldn't cover much of this visit...yikes.
Turns out I had nothing to worry about! After a couple of hours the nurse checked me again and said I was now at 4 cm. Wow, I was progressing pretty quickly. This was it...we were in for the long haul.
My plan for the labor process was to hold off on drugs as long as possible - until I could no longer stand it anymore. When labor really began to progress, I felt it HARD. I did not have a birth plan on paper but, I knew, and Jace knew, that if the time came I was not opposed to an epidural (it just scared the bejeezes out of me). I had done research on all aspects of the birthing process - all the things that can go wrong and lead to intervention, all of the ways to ease labor pains, the process of labor and birth. I felt pretty prepared, but the whole thing was still scary, since this was my first birthing experience.
Eventually I ended up in the shower with a yoga ball, rocking back and forth to ease the pain. I had started by walking up and down the hallways, holding on to the railings for dear life. There came a time when I knew I couldn't leave the room anymore, because I was howling like a dying wildebeest and I didn't want to scare any other laboring mothers. The shower became my only salvation. The hot water hitting my back took me out of my body (sort of) and to a place of semi-serenity. I was moaning along with contractions, trying to breathe through the pain (hah!) and not lose myself in the abyss. Jace and I "slow-danced" a lot. He held me up and kept me in my body, even though I just wanted to scream and give up.
At a certain point I was pretty much stuck in transition (7-8 cm), the most painful part of labor (also supposed to be the shortest), for hours. I had to have my water broken when I was at 8 cm, which then undialated me back to 7 cm. Then came my mortal enemy, Pitocin. I still had no drugs, so I asked the nurse if the Pit would make the pain worse. She answered that the Pitocin wouldn't do anything like that, it would just speed things up. WRONG. After Pitocin was injected I felt like I was being ripped in half through every contraction. AND there was almost no break in between them after that. Pitocin is a horrible drug that I hope never to have again. Soon I was asking for pain relief - everything was getting too intense.
I got an injection of Fentanyl, which did literally NOTHING. Finally I asked for the epidural. I was scared I may be too far in, but the nurses said no, I still had time and in walked my hero: The Anesthesiologist. ::Cue the heavens opening music and show a ray of light shining down on his head:: He was very nice and got me to a place of nirvana within minutes. I could no longer get up, but I also didn't have the feeling that I wasn't going to survive the birth of my daughter anymore. Life was good again.
I took a short nap to try and get ready for delivery. I knew it was coming soon - the midwife had just told me I was at 9 cm!!!! I was going to do this!!! I had to prepare to push out my little miracle...
But, that's not the way things went. For some reason, a little while after the epidural, Delilah's heart rate shot up to over 220! I watched the nurse looking over the printed readings and saw her tighten up. She soon jumped into action and started gathering everyone together to get me unhooked from all of the monitors. The midwife (Cecelia) had to tell me, with a tone of sadness, that I was headed for an emergency c-section. The baby was in danger and that had to get her out now. I began to bawl. Jace wasn't in the room, but my mom was. She ran out to get him and he met me in the surgical suite.
I was placed on a T-shaped table, I kind of felt like I was on a cross or something, after they rushed me to the surgical suite. I was given a dose of medicine that caused me to shake violently in my upper body throughout the surgery. I was chattering and shaking on the inside - freaking out and trying to stay calm on the inside. Jace was right by my side the whole time, trying to keep me calm. I asked if I would feel anything and they said no, maybe some pressure. They tested me first and I felt nothing below the waist. The surgery commenced.
I will say that the most frustrating thing about my c-section was that I seemed to be having restless leg issues during the surgery, but I could not move my legs and it drove me CRAZY. When your brain can't get your body to do what it wants a panic sets in and then you have to try to calm down so that you don't go insane. I also COULDN'T. STOP. SHAKING!!! I was so freaking uncomfortable, but luckily I felt no pain. I actually barely even felt the pressure when they pulled her out...
...but I did hear her first cry. Then silence. My brain ran through all the worst case scenarios in about half a second. Then her cry started up again and everyone seemed to be okay. She was brought over to me - there are pictures of me with her right after she was born - but I couldn't hold or touch her due to the fact that I was being sewn shut. Delilah and Jace headed to the nursery and I tried hard to hold myself together.
I wanted to look over the blue sheet, but I don't know that I really could have handled seeing myself so exposed. I was CUT OPEN. That has never really sunken in because I had to get over it very quickly in order to take care of a newborn. I was given all sorts of warnings about not getting up for the entire first 24 hours...this was crushing. I couldn't even tend to my crying daughter. Luckily Jace was amazing and he took over while I recuperated (sort of).
Our four days in the hospital were frustrating in that nurses were coming in very often to do tests on me or the baby and we basically got no sleep because of this. Delilah had an issue with her white blood cell count, but they never figured out why. They just made sure to check in on us every four hours and take our vitals to be sure we were healing well.
Getting out of bed was a freaking nightmare. The pain was intense. You don't even know how often you use your core muscles until you aren't supposed to use them anymore. I began to get sharp pains in my lower ab muscles because they were being overworked. It actually felt like something sharp was trying to poke through my skin...that was terrifying. I asked a nurse if some sort of instrument was left in there or something (silly, I know...but the pain was ridiculous). The one thing I really liked at the hospital was the food. Santa Rosa Memorial has some yummy options!
Finally we were allowed to go home (big sigh of relief, but also terror when we realized we were on our own with this baby now). Now, every time I drive by that hospital I can't help but remember this story. I know it's a memory that I will never lose.
In conclusion: Nothing went as I'd hoped and the c-section was traumatizing, but the end result was a million percent worth it.
On September 28th (4 days before Delilah's estimated due date) I went into labor. I had no idea I was in labor, but I was there, nonetheless. A day or two before I had gone to see my midwife, Suzie, and she did an internal exam. She warned that I may feel Braxton-Hicks contractions or cramping after the poking and prodding, due to the fact that she was poking and prodding. I had never felt Braxton-Hicks, so when the cramping started in the morning I figured that's what I was feeling.
I finished out my work day and waited for Jace to come home. The cramping was getting a little more frequent at this point, but it was nothing I couldn't handle. Once Jace came home we went out to do some errands, including buying stickers for Delilah's room and getting Panda Express for dinner. The whole time I realized something was off. I was having a hard time walking...I was feeling the cramps pretty regularly...maybe this was something more than Braxton-Hicks. I finally told Jace what was going on.
Jace looked at me with a face that said, "You're just NOW telling me this??" He suggested we start timing the contractions (since he figured that's what they were) and go from there. He sounded kind of terrified, but I was staying calm. We watched TV and kept track of things for an hour, as we'd been instructed to do by all of the books and articles I'd read. Eventually we realized I was at the magic number: 5-1-1 (5 contractions, each 1 minute long, for 1 hour). It was go time...maybe.
My thoughts through this part of labor were mainly denial. No, there's no way I'm in labor now. This is my first baby...my due date isn't for 4 days...I'm supposed to go past my due date, not deliver BEFORE it. Keep in mind, pretty much EVERY comment I'd read regarding first time pregnancy was a woman talking about how overdue she was. I even knew a couple of people who went far past their due dates with their first babies. I was not ready to accept the fact that the time had come for me to push this baby out. This is not labor, I kept telling myself.
I finally got up the guts to call the hospital and the doctor on duty was so non-chalant that I almost didn't go to the hospital. Jace really had to push me into believing it was time. The doctor had asked me some questions then said, "Yeah, I guess you can come in now. Sure." Just like that. This was not urgent...so why not wait it out at home? I even tried to use TV as an excuse. Jace was waiting to watch a block of '90s based television that he was really into. I told him that I would feel bad if we went to the hospital and he missed his shows. Yes. That actually happened.
We finally left the house (Jace was in much more of a hurry than I was) and headed to the hospital.
It was around 10 pm, so we had to use the emergency room entrance to get to Labor and Delivery. I decided to have someone wheel me up, even though I probably could have gotten up there on my own two legs. Why pass up a free ride at a time like this? Once upstairs I was given a room, ordered to put on a hospital gown and told to wait. The nurse exclaimed that she figured I was just having cramping due to dehydration (it had been a hot day), but that I would be held for a couple of hours to see if labor progressed before being sent home. All of the medical personnel seemed positive that I would be going home - exactly what I didn't want to hear after making the trip and being checked in to the hospital. I work with health insurance; I know how these bills work. There was a chance United Healthcare wouldn't cover much of this visit...yikes.
Turns out I had nothing to worry about! After a couple of hours the nurse checked me again and said I was now at 4 cm. Wow, I was progressing pretty quickly. This was it...we were in for the long haul.
My plan for the labor process was to hold off on drugs as long as possible - until I could no longer stand it anymore. When labor really began to progress, I felt it HARD. I did not have a birth plan on paper but, I knew, and Jace knew, that if the time came I was not opposed to an epidural (it just scared the bejeezes out of me). I had done research on all aspects of the birthing process - all the things that can go wrong and lead to intervention, all of the ways to ease labor pains, the process of labor and birth. I felt pretty prepared, but the whole thing was still scary, since this was my first birthing experience.
Eventually I ended up in the shower with a yoga ball, rocking back and forth to ease the pain. I had started by walking up and down the hallways, holding on to the railings for dear life. There came a time when I knew I couldn't leave the room anymore, because I was howling like a dying wildebeest and I didn't want to scare any other laboring mothers. The shower became my only salvation. The hot water hitting my back took me out of my body (sort of) and to a place of semi-serenity. I was moaning along with contractions, trying to breathe through the pain (hah!) and not lose myself in the abyss. Jace and I "slow-danced" a lot. He held me up and kept me in my body, even though I just wanted to scream and give up.
At a certain point I was pretty much stuck in transition (7-8 cm), the most painful part of labor (also supposed to be the shortest), for hours. I had to have my water broken when I was at 8 cm, which then undialated me back to 7 cm. Then came my mortal enemy, Pitocin. I still had no drugs, so I asked the nurse if the Pit would make the pain worse. She answered that the Pitocin wouldn't do anything like that, it would just speed things up. WRONG. After Pitocin was injected I felt like I was being ripped in half through every contraction. AND there was almost no break in between them after that. Pitocin is a horrible drug that I hope never to have again. Soon I was asking for pain relief - everything was getting too intense.
I got an injection of Fentanyl, which did literally NOTHING. Finally I asked for the epidural. I was scared I may be too far in, but the nurses said no, I still had time and in walked my hero: The Anesthesiologist. ::Cue the heavens opening music and show a ray of light shining down on his head:: He was very nice and got me to a place of nirvana within minutes. I could no longer get up, but I also didn't have the feeling that I wasn't going to survive the birth of my daughter anymore. Life was good again.
I took a short nap to try and get ready for delivery. I knew it was coming soon - the midwife had just told me I was at 9 cm!!!! I was going to do this!!! I had to prepare to push out my little miracle...
But, that's not the way things went. For some reason, a little while after the epidural, Delilah's heart rate shot up to over 220! I watched the nurse looking over the printed readings and saw her tighten up. She soon jumped into action and started gathering everyone together to get me unhooked from all of the monitors. The midwife (Cecelia) had to tell me, with a tone of sadness, that I was headed for an emergency c-section. The baby was in danger and that had to get her out now. I began to bawl. Jace wasn't in the room, but my mom was. She ran out to get him and he met me in the surgical suite.
I was placed on a T-shaped table, I kind of felt like I was on a cross or something, after they rushed me to the surgical suite. I was given a dose of medicine that caused me to shake violently in my upper body throughout the surgery. I was chattering and shaking on the inside - freaking out and trying to stay calm on the inside. Jace was right by my side the whole time, trying to keep me calm. I asked if I would feel anything and they said no, maybe some pressure. They tested me first and I felt nothing below the waist. The surgery commenced.
I will say that the most frustrating thing about my c-section was that I seemed to be having restless leg issues during the surgery, but I could not move my legs and it drove me CRAZY. When your brain can't get your body to do what it wants a panic sets in and then you have to try to calm down so that you don't go insane. I also COULDN'T. STOP. SHAKING!!! I was so freaking uncomfortable, but luckily I felt no pain. I actually barely even felt the pressure when they pulled her out...
...but I did hear her first cry. Then silence. My brain ran through all the worst case scenarios in about half a second. Then her cry started up again and everyone seemed to be okay. She was brought over to me - there are pictures of me with her right after she was born - but I couldn't hold or touch her due to the fact that I was being sewn shut. Delilah and Jace headed to the nursery and I tried hard to hold myself together.
I wanted to look over the blue sheet, but I don't know that I really could have handled seeing myself so exposed. I was CUT OPEN. That has never really sunken in because I had to get over it very quickly in order to take care of a newborn. I was given all sorts of warnings about not getting up for the entire first 24 hours...this was crushing. I couldn't even tend to my crying daughter. Luckily Jace was amazing and he took over while I recuperated (sort of).
Our four days in the hospital were frustrating in that nurses were coming in very often to do tests on me or the baby and we basically got no sleep because of this. Delilah had an issue with her white blood cell count, but they never figured out why. They just made sure to check in on us every four hours and take our vitals to be sure we were healing well.
Getting out of bed was a freaking nightmare. The pain was intense. You don't even know how often you use your core muscles until you aren't supposed to use them anymore. I began to get sharp pains in my lower ab muscles because they were being overworked. It actually felt like something sharp was trying to poke through my skin...that was terrifying. I asked a nurse if some sort of instrument was left in there or something (silly, I know...but the pain was ridiculous). The one thing I really liked at the hospital was the food. Santa Rosa Memorial has some yummy options!
Finally we were allowed to go home (big sigh of relief, but also terror when we realized we were on our own with this baby now). Now, every time I drive by that hospital I can't help but remember this story. I know it's a memory that I will never lose.
In conclusion: Nothing went as I'd hoped and the c-section was traumatizing, but the end result was a million percent worth it.
 |
| Delilah Rose Bandalin - Born 9/29/2011 |
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)