My Milk Came In!

I have to clarify that my husband and I moved from South Florida to North Carolina when I got accepted into the master's program at UNCC. We left all our families and friends behind and two semesters before I graduated we had our first baby.

When I got home from the hospital I tried mixing my first ever bottle of formula. I had disassembled all the pieces to 3 or 4 different style bottles, steamed them, and stored them all in gallon sized zip lock bags. I had no idea how to put the bottle back together or which pieces went to what. I was beyond tired and could barely read the words on the can of formula powder. I called my sister in law hysterically explaining that adding 2 oz of water plus 2 oz of powder to make a 2 oz bottle of formula didn't make sense, (or at least this was what I remembered of the proportions). So I had this lumpy paste mixture in a bag and couldn't figure out how to make the narrow baggie stay inside the bottle with no bottom to it, or how to get a nipple to fit the open baggie inside the bottle (I was missing the ring and a few other parts I think and didn't have a picture to look at and could probably have been declared legally insane from sleep deprivation at this point). She told me to put the bottle making supplies down, go upstairs to my screaming baby in the crib, and just hold him and keep nursing him, just keep nursing him. Every hour or two I had to nurse. It's all about supply and demand. If you don't demand milk, your body won't make it. The second you start supplementing with formula you begin the weening process (as stated by my pediatrician). My sister promised she'd be up the next night (it was about a 12 hour drive from where she lived and she had a 2 year old and a 9 month old and needed to pack up everything she needed to take care of them so that she could take care of them, me and my 3 day old baby).

I set an alarm to go off every 2 hours to nurse my baby (which I didn't really need because I never put my baby down) and dozed off whenever he was nursing instead of screaming in my arms. I remember once waking up startled to the sound of his breathing being muffled by my breast that was covering his face. I kept looking at my cell phone, telling myself to not even think about the one year commitment I made to nurse, but to just get through the hour. With every latch I'd grind my teeth and rock back and forth with the pain of it all. I didn't want to cry or scream b/c I knew babies could sense what you're feeling so I did my best to contain myself. I vividly remember thinking, "This isn't what I signed up for. It wasn't suppose to be this way." I'd seen TLC's shows about having a baby, and even cried while watching it and imagining how sweet it would be when I would experience bringing home my very own baby. I wondered if I was just a bad mom, or if every mom felt this way but we all just lied to everyone, lied to ourselves. Why didn't anyone warn me? A true friend, a good sister would tell you not to have kids. Again, I remembered my sister in law telling me I was crazy to have a baby so far away. She was right. I was crazy, and I wondered if I'd ever be normal, or happy again. This was my darkest hour.  

I don't remember much about that next 4th day except that my husband became a knight in shinning armor when he relieved me of baby duty at 6 am and returned 30 minutes later with a plate of egg whites, bacon and french toast. His sister told him to make me a big breakfast in bed. He fed me while I fed our baby, and that was then things started to look up.

When my sister got there she taught us how to swaddle a baby, how to bounce him to silence the screams, and most importantly she taught me how to nurse. She sat in bed beside me, helped me cradle his body and get a proper latch.

 

The next thing she insisted on was for me to take a shower. I really wanted to go back to sleep, but she told me I'd feel better after I showered and the hot water would help my milk supply come in. While I was showering I have to admit it felt wonderful. Better then wonderful. I specifically remembering thinking If every mother could just get a hot shower every day there would be no post partum depression! When I stepped out of the shower I saw a drop of white fall down in my reflection and land on my foot. My milk came in!

 

The next day my sister went with us to the first Pediatrician appointment and saw me awkwardly trying to nurse my baby without my breastfriend pillow. I was literally holding the baby's head in my right hand, balancing his body with part of that arm and my knee. I was trying to lift my boob with my left hand as if it were a bottle. I hovered over him and tried repeatedly to get him to latch on. My sister rolled up a diaper or onesie and propped it under my very full, very heavy breast, creating an ideal horizontal position for baby. I now had a free hand to wrap around my baby's body and I could use the angel of my bicep and forearm as a pillow for baby's head.  I cradled him against my body, straighted my back and like magic, he latched on. When the nurse stepped in I didn't flinch, but my sister draped a receiving blanket over me. "You'll get your modesty back and thank me later," she told me.

While waiting to check out of the office, I could feel my breast refilling and the sensation was unexpected, new and still uncomfortable. Almost like your foot falling asleep. My hands flew to my breast automatically and without thinking I began massaging them in small circular motions trying to rid that tingly feeling away, when again my sister had to whisper in my ear, "Stop rubbing your boobs." Only then did I look around the lobby and notice a bunch of other parents and children. Some were staring and others looked away as though trying very hard to concentrate on anything other than what I was doing. Something didn't make sense. I told myself not to care what strangers thought about me. I had MILK! I was breastfeeding. That was all that mattered. But the looks I did get bothered me. Didn't they understand what I'd just gone through? It felt off. Out of balance. Why should this be something to be embarrassed about? Why should women feel the need to be discreet or ashamed of their ability to feed their baby? I felt like everything had changed in the world. A baby grew inside me and it made its way out of my body! My very most private body parts had been exposed to countless nurses and doctors. I felt like my body wasn't even mine anymore. It had gone through a battle and now I had to be self conscious about tending to the wounded, altered and changing figure I was left with? 

In time I did regain some of my modesty, but I'll never think the same way about my body or what our body parts are really for. Breasts are not just sex symbols. They weren't created solely to make Victoria's Secret rich. Maybe originally breasts became sexually attractive to the cavemen because it was their survival instinct that if a woman had breasts she could feed their children. Then something changed over time. Breasts are now mostly viewed as sexual objects and it seems their real purpose has been forgotten. Cleavage and bras are displayed all over the media and for the most part I don't think people are offended by it. We can judge the breasts on TV and say, "Those are fake" or "she needs a lift" but if a new mom wants to breastfeed, she should do it behind closed doors, and hide under an udder cover. As if nursing breasts are different. They have milk in them and that's not sexy. It seems backwards to me that the breasts for feeding BABIES should be covered up, but if shown for sex then extra cleavage is acceptable and there's nothing wrong with putting them on display. I don't get it! 

After that doctor's office experience I ordered the book, "So that's what they're for!" and actually read it, and it really opened my eyes. I will continue with my breast feeding journey and highlight some of my favorite parts of the book I now refer to as "The Boobie Bible" in my next blog.