Nursing

It took me a little over 15 weeks to come to grips with the fact that my mother was right..."We just aren't cows." I was determined though. Determined to prove her wrong, determined to not let the family statistics define me, determined to try every last hack or home remedy. The pain I suffered, the crazy nights of "he just finished eating", the helpless looks from my fiancé...it all wasn't for nothing. It was for the first 15 weeks of my son's life.

I tried every position.

My son latched flawlessly from day one, but only on the right side. I then found myself being so overly tired the first night, we gave him up to the nursery. That's what they are there for ladies, so that the shock in your system can dial back into realization. Sure you don't want to go into culture shock of those nice nurses not being at your house when you get there, but giving yourself a break and utilizing the help you have right off the bat is the best way to cope with your new life. I was so excited to get him out of there and start our first day together...right up until I found the pacifier in the crib. Are ya kidding me...you should have seen the look on the nurse's face when I asked for a note to be taped to his bed. Until my mom came in and said I'd end up being his pacifier, then I wasn't so against it. We were doing pretty well with positions on each side, had some coaching from my future sister in law who showed me a few tips and tricks of the nips. I learned my left was inverted and that is why he got so pissed at the left side. I couldn't quite hammer down the pumping-to-nursing ratio so I ended up becoming so engorged in the morning that I got a blocked duct...it was downhill from there.

Mastitis, Blocked Ducts, and Blebs Oh My!

I had it all, the pain, the redness, the fever...heck my boobs even had a fever. If the symptoms were on Pinterest, I had it. I spiked a fever five times in a week...and the second time? I thought it was from drinking a Corona at cinco de mayo...by the third or fourth time I was relieved that Corona wouldn't do that to me, but the fifth fever was the highest of them all. 104.7...scared the shit out of me. I called my brother, called the doctor asking if I should come to the ER. They got me in two hours later (of course I'm thinking I wouldn't make it that long) and hit me with the mastitis. Sitting there sweating, leaking, and thinking...now what? I'm done nursing? Of course not, the best thing to do is nurse more! So I nursed more even though it hurt. I could barely hold my son. We had been back to the pediatrician four times in a month with nurses visits in between because he wasn't gaining any weight. I was starving my son. I look back at pictures now and I kick myself. So I gave him some formula, we had already broken the no bottle thing because my fiancé wanted to help and that was the only idea I could come up with. Then our boy gained three pounds in a month. Three whole pounds! I still didn't give up. I pumped as much as I could, even hours on end and when my body said enough was enough, I had to let it go.

That Mom Bod Though...

So now I'm left with this. Curves that were once a ball of a home for our boy while he grew. Rolls that dance with me everywhere I go. A saggy rack that only perks up when I uncomfortably arch my back and lift my arms. And stretchmarks! Oh the stretchmarks that detail every feeling I had, every tear we both shed, and every single donut and beer I had when I was free from nursing. Listen some people can and should do it, I'm not one of those people. Like my mother said...we're not cows. So now I lay here typing out my failures as a mom counting down the days that I can spoon feed our boy some homemade baby food! If it works for you, do it. If it doesn't, you're not alone.