I haven't really thought about my horrific birthing experience in quite some time, but this month's PAIL Bloggers theme brought to light that I have a ton of unresolved issues around this subject.  In this post, I am going to focus mostly on the issues and complications that I had during B's birth and how they continue to haunt me.  Here goes...

I have written in great detail about my birth experience, which you can read about below if you are interested.  I'll also give some of the highlights if you'd rather not go back 6 months:

Suffice it to say that I basically had (almost) the worst birthing experience that I could have imagined and the birth plan, that I had so carefully drafted, may as well have been shredded on the spot.  I was scheduled to be induced at 40 weeks, 4 days due to a raging case of PUPPPs and borderline gestational diabetes.  I was forced given Cytotec to ripen my cervix, which had been stuck at 2cm for weeks.  I was in a Pitocin induced labor for almost 40 hours.  I had my water broken by the doctor with a coat hanger because it wouldn't break on its own.  I was given an epidural about 28 hours into labor, but that stopped working by the time that I had to push.  I finally got to 10 cm and then pushed for almost 3 hours.  The baby got stuck in my pelvis.  I had to have an unplanned, emergency(ish) c-section.  During my c-section the doctors could not get my uterus to contract so I lost a ton of blood during the surgery and kept passing out due to low blood pressure (my husband later told me it looked like a murder scene with blood squirting and spilling onto the floor).  I really thought I was going to die.  The doctors kept telling me to look to my baby and focus on my baby, but I was more concerned with my own well-being.  I had to have a blood transfusion (actually, 2 of them) because my hematocrit levels were so low.  I blew up like a water balloon from all of the drugs.  My PUPPPs got so bad after I delivered that they sent doctors over from other hospitals to try to help me, but nothing did end up helping me.  I had almost no interest in my child in the hours that followed his birth because I was so drugged up and so exhausted.  Breastfeeding also went terribly and he ended up losing 10% of his birth-weight and I had to supplement with formula, which was something I said that I would NEVER do.

I am now 6 months out from that horrifically wonderful day.  It is horrific because of what I had to go through, but wonderful because I have him to show for it.  The other day I was looking back at pictures of B from when he was just a few days old.  He has grown so much from then until now (born 9lb, 2 oz and 21.5in and at 6 months he is 19.1lbs, 28in!) and looking back at his pictures made me so sad.  I barely even remember the first few days that I spent with him.  I was so miserable the first few weeks that I feel like I didn't get to enjoy him.  I don't even remember what his baby smell was like.  I was so worried about whether we was getting enough calories from my milk and having enough wet/poopy diapers, that I didn't get to savor the time that we had together.  I was so exhausted and drained from the labor, surgery, and recovering from my rash that I couldn't focus my attention on my baby.  I am still angry about that.  I haven't been able to let it go.

When I hear mommies talking about how their perfect vaginal birth went exactly according to plan, I feel like a failure.  My body (once again) failed me in this instance.  I wanted to have an uncomplicated birth.  I didn't want major surgery.  Why did he get so big when I was so strict with my diet?  Why didn't they induce me sooner so that he may have had a chance to fit through my (apparently) narrow pelvis?  Why didn't my body do what it was supposed to, when it was supposed to?  If I had lived in more primitive times, B and I would have most certainly both died.  I wanted to decide how many kids I would want and when I would want them and not have to let my doctor make that decision.  Now, I am pretty much going to be forced into another c-section, if I can get pregnant again, but only after I have waited the recommended 18 months.

I have talked to a few people about my unresolved issues surrounding the birth of B.  Even the mommies that have had unplanned/emergency c-sections don't seem harbor the kind of anger and sadness that I have surrounding my childbirth experience.  I don't get the sense that they feel cheated, like me.  Usually I get the, "well look at the result!", and well, they would be right, I guess.  I have yet to come across anyone else who really feels the way that I do.  Maybe no one else feels like I do.  I should just be happy that I have a beautiful and healthy son.  I know that I need to move on, but I can't.  I'm still so sad.  I cry about it when no one is around.  I still mourn it like a loss.  I feel like, once again, I was denied another womanly right and had to have medical intervention.

My childbirth baggage has definitely clouded the outlook for subsequent births.  I am not sure that I could ever go through that kind of experience again.  My husband and I were talking about this other day... The process of getting pregnant, staying pregnant, being pregnant, and childbirth did not go well for me and at this point, neither of us can see it happening again.  I want to have a sibling for B, but I am terribly afraid of everything that surrounds that idea.  I am wondering if time will heal the wounds that I have sustained or if they will continue to taint my future.    

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**PAIL Monthly Theme: "Feeding your child" - I am finally participating in my first (and hopefully not last) PAIL monthly writing prompt post!  This topic was selected because it is National Breastfeeding Awareness Month.  Enjoy!**

Before I had B, I remember thinking about how much I wanted to breastfeed, but how scared I was to do it.  I signed up for classes, consulted friends and family, and G.oogled like crazy.  I was very worried that I wouldn't have enough of a supply for my little man.  I spent a decent amount of time obsessing over this.  In the back of my mind I worried about things like the pain and pumping at work, but honestly the forefront of my nervousness was centered around supply.  Maybe I figured that since I had such a tough time with keeping pregnancies and being pregnant that this would be one more thing I would struggle with.  Little did I know what completely different types of breast feeding challenges that would lie ahead of me...

Like any other responsible mother, I had a birth plan.  I was adamant about sticking to that birth plan.  I printed out 20 copies of that freaking plan and distributed them to any and everyone on the hospital staff that would take one.  Amongst major plan points such as no epidural until I was screaming in pain, no pacifier for the baby to avoid nipple confusion, baby rooming with us 100% of the time so that we could bond, etc., was my insistence on having the baby breastfeed as soon as possible following his birth.  Oh and my greatest wish of all was nothing but breast milk for my baby.  PERIOD.  Everything that I had read warned of the "dangers" of introducing formula instead of or before breast milk.   My baby might not bond with me or he might grow horns or something.  Of course I would be the mom to let my baby lay on my chest following a picture perfect birth and let him leisurely find his way to one of my nipples as nature intended.  Then a silly thing called Murphy's Law came to fruition and I may as well have set that stupid birth plan on fire.

My unplanned c-section was a huge factor in me not following 95% of my birth plan.  Following my complicated surgery, I remember few things about those first hours of breastfeeding.  I remember shaking uncontrollably and struggling to keep my eyes open whilst my delivery nurse tried to shove my baby on my boob, try to make him latch, and explain to me how to breastfeed.  I couldn't even comprehend what was going on.  I was exhausted from a nearly 40 hour labor and 3 hours of pushing followed by the c-section.  The last thing I felt like doing was trying to get the hang of breastfeeding.  I wanted to be asleep.  Birth plan?  What birth plan?  Good night.

No one really prepares you for what to expect in those early days of breastfeeding.  Throw a c-section in the mix and you're screwed.  Add a raging case of PUPPPs and 2 blood transfusions and you're royally (pardon my French) F*CKED.  My hospital room became a revolving door for doctor's, nurses, lactation consultants, friends, and family trying to "help" me breastfeed.  During those first few days I found out that I had extremely small nipples, that milk doesn't come in as fast when you have a c-section, and that if your baby loses 10% of his body weight that they force formula on you.  Who knew?

Giving my son formula in the hospital made me feel awful.  Once again my body wasn't working right and I was going to forever change the optimal balance of bacteria in his little stomach with this "evil" concoction.  I cried as I pumped using the hospital's machine and saw only a few drops of colostrum fall into the cup after pumping for 30 minutes.  One of the nurses declared me an utter failure so I was determined to prove her wrong.  I pumped around the clock and had almost an ounce of colostrum saved up.  When I excitedly went to show my husband what I had done, I tripped and dropped the whole thing on the floor.  Don't cry over spilt milk?  Ummm I don't think that applies to colostrum.  I sobbed for several hours as the nurses and lactation consultants hooked me up with the SNS system and I watched my starving baby guzzle the formula.  F.A.I.L.

I thought that was as difficult as things would get with regards to breastfeeding.  My milk would eventually come in, my baby would get the hang of it, and we would all live happily ever after.  In a perfect world, this is what things might look like.  In reality, my milk came in with an evil vengeance.  My boobs felt like 2 hot rocks and my nipples were bloody with gross scabs.  I leaked (or rather sprayed) every time I took off my shirt.  I dreaded every 1.5 hours because it meant my barracuda baby would have to latch.  I tried the lanolin and gel pads, but thank God for nipple shields or I may have quit.  Thank God my mom was there to listen to me sob on the phone in pain.  She assured me it would get better...eventually.

To help boost the supply I thought might be low, I ate oatmeal every morning, I added brewer's yeast to everything, I chugged Mother's Milk tea, and made batches and batches of lactation cookies.  I even attended a weekly breastfeeding support group!  I would not let my baby and I become victims of a low supply.  No way!

It was around a month after my son's birth when I noticed him spitting up a ton around the clock.  He would choke on my milk when he was drinking and would writhe and wiggle with pain after each feeding.  I was lucky to keep him eating for more than 5 minutes on each side.  His poops were bordering on mucousy green.  The lactation consultant dubbed him a "BK drive-thru baby" and told me that I had an overactive letdown and (gasp) a potential over supply. She told me to stop the oatmeal, lactation cookies, and tea.  The pediatrician told me that it was either acid reflux or some type of an intolerance to what I was eating.  She told me to stop eating dairy, soy, wheat, eggs, and peanuts and to give the baby Zantac.  Oh, no problem!  Now I am that pain-in-the-ass person who has to look at the special menu or needs to lie about being allergic to soybeans because I am sure Johnny Server really doesn't want to get into a discussion about how what I eat affects my milk.  The kicker with all of this is that my baby still spit up a ton (poor kid lives in his multi-colored BRU terry cloth bibs) and still cried after he ate on many occasions.  So much for those solutions to the problem!

Breastfeeding in public is an art that I haven't been able to fully master.  Trying to position a squirming and crying baby on a boob under a hot cover-up is like trying to thread a needle in a low-light sauna.  Not comfortable and not easy.  Dealing with people staring at me makes me more angry than self-conscious.  Yes, I have boobs.  Yes, one of them is out of my shirt.  Yes, my baby is sucking on one of my boobs.  Take your stupid stare elsewhere and let me feed my hungry baby in peace!  Sheesh!

I came to find out that three month maternity leave goes by so very quickly and wasn't the 3 month vacation from work that I had imagined.  I blinked and I was back in the office.  Unlike coming back after a 3 month vacation, nice and rested, I was exhausted and loopy.  I soon learned that I had to fight with the daytime nappers to use the lactation, or "quiet" room, as my company calls it. Pumping every 3 hours during the day at work is tough.  Lugging the bag full of milk home from work is even tougher.  Cleaning all of the pump parts 3-4 times a day is a huge P.I.T.A.  For the first time, I realized that I missed nursing my baby.  I missed the comfort of looking at him happily sucking away and hearing him gulp.  I missed him lovingly rubbing my belly and pulling off to look at me with milk running down his smiley face.  I missed breastfeeding my baby.  

The truth is, my relationship with breastfeeding has been rocky.  It started out rough and then got rougher.  Through it all, I have learned this, nothing ever goes as planned, so put that silly birth plan in the circular file.  You need to learn to be flexible, adaptable, easy-going.  Just like any other skill, breastfeeding takes time to develop.  All of the planning, research, and classes in the world are not going to prepare you for your breastfeeding journey.

So if you are planning on breastfeeding your baby (high five if you are after reading this post :-), my one piece of advice to you would be to NOT listen to those people who claim that breastfeeding is a natural thing that just happens as soon as the baby is born.  Breastfeeding is hard and hurts and in the early days it just plain sucks.  Sometimes you need to supplement with formula.  Sometimes you need to switch from the breast to formula completely.  It's all ok.  You do what you gotta do to keep your baby healthy and growing.  Some of the smartest kids I know were straight formula fed.  I am happy that breastfeeding is finally working for me, but it may not be working for you, and that is ok.

If you are still breastfeeding than I am sure you can relate to some or all of this post.  There are ups and downs, but once you finally get into a groove it really does become second nature and possibly even an enjoyable way to connect with your baby.  Personally speaking, I am glad that I have stuck with it for (gasp) the past 4 months.  I hope to be able to continue until it makes sense for me to stop.         

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