Just to Catch You Up...

This is what's been happening y'all:

 I'm breastfeeding.  Its what I do these days.

I never thought that I'd be the type of person that would do such a thing.  It had always appeared awkward and unnatural to me.  All through my pregnancy when someone would ask if I intended to breastfeed, I'd say (in a rather apathetic way), "if I can I will, if I can't I won't."  I took no classes and the only research I did about breastfeeding was to skim over the chapter in "What to Expect" the day before we left for the hospital.  But then in recovery, when it was asked if I wanted to try I said yes.  The mild sedative that had been given to me in the operating room while they were sewing me up probably kept me just relaxed enough that before I knew it, Little Girl was happily feeding with absolutely no problems.

Little did I know that I would be spending so much time feeding.  The first two weeks I fed her every hour on the hour while she experienced her first big growth spurt.  I never had the bleeding nipples, but I did experience pain and my pediatrician referred me to the on-staff lactation consultant.  I recommend everyone go to a pediatrician that has a lactation consultant... she is the only reason I'm still breastfeeding.  Psychologically, breastfeeding 24/7 can be draining.

At week three I contracted Mastitis which persisted through week four (see why below)... it is the sickest I've ever been since having the flu in 10th grade.  I had a low-grade fever that left me shaking and chattering for hours on end until the fever reducer would kick in and then I'd be sweating like a stuck pig.  I had body aches that radiated to my core.  I got a huge lump under my arm pit and it hurt to walk (yes walk!) and feed and the only way to make that feel better was to feed and try to "express" the lump during pumping or feeding which made me want to run in the opposite direction of that precious, crying (hungry) baby.  On top of that-- I started throwing up. And I developed an allergic reaction to the medication I was on.  I no longer can take penicillin.  So after spending one night in the throws of body aches, chills, fever, chattering, crying, throwing-up, itching, etc. I was taken back to the doctor for a different medication.

And of course, after taking antibiotics, Little Girl got thrush in her mouth.  And of course now I have thrush... on my nipples and milk ducts.  Yea!

Again, if I didn't have good support I'd be hawking the formula right now.  But now I have a special medication and so does Little Girl and hopefully we will be completely well in a few more days. 

These days you'll find me sitting around my house in some state of undress in the attempt to air out my boobs all while leaking breast milk... I'm afraid that most days I permeate the air with the soft aroma of slightly soured milk.  Little Girl likes it.  No complaints on her end.  I on the other hand prefer the scent of Ralph Lauren's Romance.  But I do firmly believe that my discomfort is a small price to pay for all the benefits that are gained from breastfeeding.  So I'm taking it week-by-week, day-by-day.  And this week we are feeding!

A Birth Story....

Greetings from Bessies' Best Dairy.  We've only got one customer, but the reviews are all raves!

November 6th at 12:24pm one tiny little cry erupted from behind the curtain separating Husband and me from what was surely a gruesome scene as the doctor and nurses worked to bring our little one into the world. 

One little cry and our world completely changed.

She still didn't have a name.  The nurses that had prepped me for my surgery were kindly reassuring that the name would come.  I was a wreck, scared out of my mind for the next part... the surgery part and I finally lost my cool, quietly crying into my chest, pressing the top of my head into the nurse standing in front of me as the needle for the spinal block was put into my back.  My resolve was lost.

Husband was brought in, covered from head to toe in blue hospital garb.  Oddly enough, the blue scrubs amplified the blue in his eyes and he looked calm and strong--excited, but calm.  He was sat near my head and the medical team informed us that they had already begun the procedure.  "This is so weird,"  I remember telling him as I felt his hand on my head and nothing from my chest down.  The nurse gave him a tissue to mop up the tears that were still quietly streaming from my eyes.

Lord knows what was going on behind the sheet.  It must have been a textbook surgery because my doctor leisurely talked with the nurses about his son and a few colleagues they had in common.   

And then we were told she was almost here.  To be exact, my doctor said, "just a few more layers."  And then there was the little cry and nothing as been exactly the same since.

With big blue eyes and a head full of light brown hair, she weighed in at a respectable 6 pounds, 2 ounces and measured in at 18 and a half inches long. 

Speechless and overwhelmed my tears of fear changed to tears of joy.  Before I knew it I was in recovery with my tiny new family learning to breastfeed and being poked and proded by several nurses.  The OR nurses were right, a name finally came to us. We went traditional and looked to family names for inspiration.  Her name is Elizabeth Aldon and we think we did a good job... but of course, I'm biased.

She is perfect in that way that all babies are perfect and we couldn't be more proud.  These days she calls the shots.  Simply leaving the house takes hours it seems and most days if I can find the time to wash a few dishes or fold a couple of pieces of clothing, I'm on cloud nine.

Yes, everything is different with just that one little cry....