N's Nursing Story, Part 1
Here's another memoir-type post that has been in my drafts for a while, being revised and edited. It started with me writing down some memories from N's early days, and as I wrote it became more of a story about me and my "coming of age" (if you will) as a mother.
I thought it was still worth sharing and remembering, though. So here you go.
(Warning: I will be talking about breasts in this post!)
My dear N,
You were born tiny, my love. So very small--a mere six pounds, six ounces at birth. When I lifted you and held you it was like you were almost nothing. I could hold your head in the palm of my hand and you would fit in the crook of my elbow. Everything about you was so little-- skinny legs I could encircle with one finger, the most intricate miniature fingers and toes, a tiny sweet little mouth. And you were beautiful, there is no doubting that. More beautiful than most babies, I think. Your skin was flawless-- all the nurses at the hospital and our pediatrician marveled over how you made it out without a blemish or bruise from the birthing process. You had downy, thick, but oh-so-very-fine hair. When you slept you were completely still and looked like a perfect porcelain doll. You were just as perfect as you could be.
I wish I could say that I fully appreciated the miracle of you, my N, in the first few days. I loved you from the first moment I saw you, that's for sure, but there was a large amount of fear and anxiety that overwhelmed my every thought in those days, and for a while it was hard for me to feel like things were going well for us. I wish I could go back and tell myself to relax and enjoy you, but that was just the way things had to happen for me as a new Mama.
The main thing over which I suffered anxiety in those early days was breastfeeding. Does it seem surprising that nursing would be a stressful thing? It surprised me too.
When you were born, you nursed just after the birth. The nurse latched you on and I didn't do much to help. It was sort of painful for me but I assumed that was part of getting used to things.
After that first nursing session, you shut your eyes tight and slept for the next twelve hours straight. Although everyone was encouraging me to try to feed you, there was nothing that we could do that would wake you up. I'm not sure if we were trying the right methods, being novice parents, but nevertheless, you slept a long time. I remember that first night... I was so tired from the birth, but I couldn't settle for worrying over you. I kept putting my ear up to your nose to make sure that you were breathing.
After that first long stretch of sleep, I attempted to feed you every 2-4 hours. But we only had a couple really successful feedings before we left the hospital, and those were with the help of the lactation consultant, who I think was actually an angel sent from heaven to help us. The many attempts at feeding you with an improper latch had left me cracked and bleeding, and the lactation consultant gave me a prescription-strength cream that was like magic. My milk came in and you couldn't drink much of it, and so she pulled some strings and got our health insurance company to cover an electric breast pump for free so that I could relieve the pain of engorgement. The day that we left the hospital for home, she gave me her cell phone number, looked me square in the eye and said, "You can do this."
The hospital had also given me a nursing shield, but nobody really instructed me much on how to properly use it. I had tried it a couple of times at the hospital and not had much success. I had to sign a waiver before they would give it to me-- it stated how use of the nursing shield could lead to decreased milk supply, poor weight gain for the baby, risk of plugged ducts, etc. So actually I was pretty scared of it.
We got home from the hospital and I tried to feed you. No luck. You were too sleepy. Two hours later I tried again, but I was so engorged (and my breast pump had not arrived yet) that you weren't able to latch at all and just got really mad. Then you got furious about all the milk spraying in your face. I tried for literally two hours to latch you and I don't think you got a single drop. We were going on eight hours since you had eaten. I could see you weakening before my eyes-- you gradually stopped getting mad, and would just wake up enough to halfheartedly open your mouth while I desperately tried to get anything in it. Then you would fall into a deep, deep sleep. Daddy tried to assist, but at the 10-hour mark we looked at each other, helpless and exhausted, and knew that we needed help.
So I called the lactation consultant on her cell phone. And she immediately said, "I'm coming over. I'll be there in 5 minutes."
To be continued...
Continue on with part two here.
I thought it was still worth sharing and remembering, though. So here you go.
(Warning: I will be talking about breasts in this post!)
My dear N,
You were born tiny, my love. So very small--a mere six pounds, six ounces at birth. When I lifted you and held you it was like you were almost nothing. I could hold your head in the palm of my hand and you would fit in the crook of my elbow. Everything about you was so little-- skinny legs I could encircle with one finger, the most intricate miniature fingers and toes, a tiny sweet little mouth. And you were beautiful, there is no doubting that. More beautiful than most babies, I think. Your skin was flawless-- all the nurses at the hospital and our pediatrician marveled over how you made it out without a blemish or bruise from the birthing process. You had downy, thick, but oh-so-very-fine hair. When you slept you were completely still and looked like a perfect porcelain doll. You were just as perfect as you could be.
I wish I could say that I fully appreciated the miracle of you, my N, in the first few days. I loved you from the first moment I saw you, that's for sure, but there was a large amount of fear and anxiety that overwhelmed my every thought in those days, and for a while it was hard for me to feel like things were going well for us. I wish I could go back and tell myself to relax and enjoy you, but that was just the way things had to happen for me as a new Mama.
The main thing over which I suffered anxiety in those early days was breastfeeding. Does it seem surprising that nursing would be a stressful thing? It surprised me too.
When you were born, you nursed just after the birth. The nurse latched you on and I didn't do much to help. It was sort of painful for me but I assumed that was part of getting used to things.
After that first nursing session, you shut your eyes tight and slept for the next twelve hours straight. Although everyone was encouraging me to try to feed you, there was nothing that we could do that would wake you up. I'm not sure if we were trying the right methods, being novice parents, but nevertheless, you slept a long time. I remember that first night... I was so tired from the birth, but I couldn't settle for worrying over you. I kept putting my ear up to your nose to make sure that you were breathing.
After that first long stretch of sleep, I attempted to feed you every 2-4 hours. But we only had a couple really successful feedings before we left the hospital, and those were with the help of the lactation consultant, who I think was actually an angel sent from heaven to help us. The many attempts at feeding you with an improper latch had left me cracked and bleeding, and the lactation consultant gave me a prescription-strength cream that was like magic. My milk came in and you couldn't drink much of it, and so she pulled some strings and got our health insurance company to cover an electric breast pump for free so that I could relieve the pain of engorgement. The day that we left the hospital for home, she gave me her cell phone number, looked me square in the eye and said, "You can do this."
The hospital had also given me a nursing shield, but nobody really instructed me much on how to properly use it. I had tried it a couple of times at the hospital and not had much success. I had to sign a waiver before they would give it to me-- it stated how use of the nursing shield could lead to decreased milk supply, poor weight gain for the baby, risk of plugged ducts, etc. So actually I was pretty scared of it.
We got home from the hospital and I tried to feed you. No luck. You were too sleepy. Two hours later I tried again, but I was so engorged (and my breast pump had not arrived yet) that you weren't able to latch at all and just got really mad. Then you got furious about all the milk spraying in your face. I tried for literally two hours to latch you and I don't think you got a single drop. We were going on eight hours since you had eaten. I could see you weakening before my eyes-- you gradually stopped getting mad, and would just wake up enough to halfheartedly open your mouth while I desperately tried to get anything in it. Then you would fall into a deep, deep sleep. Daddy tried to assist, but at the 10-hour mark we looked at each other, helpless and exhausted, and knew that we needed help.
So I called the lactation consultant on her cell phone. And she immediately said, "I'm coming over. I'll be there in 5 minutes."
To be continued...
Continue on with part two here.
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