baby incredible

You know the saying, “nap when your baby naps”? Well, until yesterday, that didn’t make that much sense to me. I mean, I was tired, from sleeping between 12-6, while being up for an hour around 4 to feed her, but I had no idea how tired I was about to become.

Last night, the little dear decided that she was going to be wide awake between 10:30 and about 6 am. Not overly fussy, just awake, needing to be tended to. Fortunately, my husband, who is like 99.99 percent perfect, split the time with me so I could get some very much needed sleep this morning. (He’s sleeping now. As is she. As will I be, as soon as I finish pumping miniscule amounts of breast milk).

Between her incredible fussiness yesterday (that prompted a trip to the doctor. I was a stress case, leaving the house with her in just a diaper, crying my eyes out. Don’t worry, she was completely fine, and is now 6.1 lbs!) and the sleepless night, I feel like we have finally stepped into parenthood with both sets of feet. I no longer care about getting dressed, showering, cleaning my house, brushing my teeth. I, like my newborn, really just want to eat, sleep, and poop (and apparently spend my nights wide, wide awake).

She’s so clearly turning into a baby now, not alien newborn. She’s getting little fatty rolls, and is waking herself up to eat. She’s absolutely perfect, with that minor exception of not sleeping at all when it’s dark out.

Remember how in the beginning of all this I had big plans for a natural, doula-assisted childbirth, exclusive breastfeeding and placental consumption? Either God hates hippies, or he just hates the idea of me being one, because nothing, and I mean NOTHING has gone the way I have hoped it would. I have learned that I have to take things as they come to me, and work with them, because if I get disappointed and lose it every time something goes wrong, I would have a lot of problems to deal with right now.

Found out yesterday that I won’t ever get to move to exclusive breastfeeding. You know how they always say that breast size and shape doesn’t matter for breastfeeding? Well, apparently that’s true, minus one, tiny exception, and I happen to have the knockers that are the exception to that rule. Go effing figure.

I have what is know as Insufficient Glandular Tissue. This often affects women who have had breast reduction surgery, but it also affects people with “tubular hypoplasia” of the breasts, which, apparently, is me. I’ve been pumping, pretty much non-stop, but I’m only getting about 3/4 of an oz each time, and my supply is not increasing at all. When I went back to my lactation consultant yesterday, she broke the news. She said that after seeing me last week she thought I would likely have this problem, but didn’t want to tell me in case she was wrong. Well, she was right, and I am really, really disappointed. Apparently, my glandular tissue is all at the bottom of my breasts, and there’s simply not much room, and not much tissue, and apparently, no matter how much fenugreek you take, how frequently you pump, your body has a limit based on space alone.

I spent yesterday bawling my eyes out. I am so frustrated with my body, that every step of this process has been so incredibly difficult. But now, I am ready to move on. I can’t say I won’t continue to be disappointed, or that I won’t cry (probably daily) for awhile, but at this point it seems like a lot of wasted energy (which I don’t have any to spare) crying over milk (spilled or otherwise). I have found a few herbal supplements that are supposed to help increase glandular tissue (goat’s rue, which I found in “Mother’s Milk Special Blend”…it tastes like hell, and alfalfa) am drinking tons of mother’s milk tea, and am cutting down on pumping (it’s much more satisfying to pump an ounce and a half 5 times a day than to pump 3/4 of an ounce 8 times a day).

I have to realize how blessed I am. How fortunate that I was able to conceive, carry and deliver the most beautiful baby girl I have ever laid eyes on. It might not have gone the way I intended, but in this situation I can honestly say that the ends justified the means. I might not be able to exclusively breastfeed my child, but I can make the choice to pump enough that she gets a bottle of breastmilk a day, and I can nurse her to comfort her.  She will be fine, and I will be fine, and I can only do the best that I can, and can’t beat myself up for things outside of my control.

my boobs look amazing, the tits I always wanted. The nipples are little rings of fire, however.

I wake up every morning amazed and overwhelmed by the fact that she is real and that she is mine. I think of how long we have been waiting and hoping for her, and to have her really here is such a miracle. The love is infinite and inescapable. She is on my mind every moment, and no matter how difficult every step has been, I would take each of those steps a thousand times over if I could guarantee I would have her at the end of it all. I’m just so grateful we only had to work and wait for the brief time that we did (it seems like an eternity in the moment, but in the long scheme of things, is just a blink).

I am in awe that I was part of creating something/someone so perfect. I look at her and wonder how she managed to be the perfect blend of mine and Vegs’ best parts.

I’ve taken to parenthood really well. Not that I’m an expert, but that I feel really comfortable and happy here, like I’m finally where I am supposed to be, which was a long time coming. I feel like I fit better in my own space, my family, and the world so much better now.

And yes, some obligatory photo overload:

We are adjusting really well to having Baby Evie at home. The first few days were incredibly difficult with the combination of no sleep, billirubin blanket, and baby girl not eating. But now, little Evie is starting to eat like a normal baby, we have figured out the sleep issue (kind of) and we’re just so happy as a little family.

She makes the sweetest little faces, and is so mild-mannered. Her little personality is so gentle and kind. She’s finally opening her eyes to look at her mom and daddy.

Things for moms to be that no one ever tells you:

Breastfeeding hurts, but, it doesn’t hurt anywhere nearly as bad as pumping and then nursing. Your nipples will feel like fire and dying, and then you’ll do it again 2 hours later. Breastfeeding is difficult, too in ways I had no idea. For instance, your boobs (or mine, in this case) might not make enough for baby to eat, then baby loses more and more weight. Also, you may have a little tiny like mine who falls asleep mid-feeding, or doesn’t have a strong enough latch to get milk. It will break your heart. Even if your baby seems to be doing okay in the beginning, do not underestimate the power of a lactation consultant, they will save your sanity and your soul.

The first poop you take after your baby is born is the most terrifying experience, ever. Having not had a vaginal birth, this poop is the closest thing I think I will experience. You will fear popping abdominal stitches. It will take days to make its way out. It will disgust and enthrall. It will hurt like murder. And then you’ll have to do it a couple more times. This ain’t for lack of trying, neither. I have been diligent in my consumption of all things water and fiber, and yet, murder-dump. Just be prepared.

Your house will look like a war zone. In our case, the nursery is completely untouched, but the rest of the house looks like a tornado of babies zoomed through a couple of times. Be prepared to find dirty diapers in very unsuspecting places…days later.

Shower. Shower. Shower. Make it a priority. This is coming from a notoriously dirty girl. It will be respite from the world, and you might be able to sneak in a tiny nap while you wash your hair (you will be masterful at multi-tasking). The shower is also an excellent place to cry. And you will cry. A lot. You will cry because you are happy, because you are terrified, because you feel overwhelmed, because there are no more cookies, and above all, because you are so tired. Cry it out, and take a nap. You will thank me.

Take help when and where you can get it. Meals are help. People cleaning is help. People taking care of the baby (including bottle feedings and diaper changes) so you can sleep is help. You will need this more than you know, so any time someone offers assistance, take it. Let strangers mop your floor, it will be the best gift you can get (especially if you can sleep while it happens).

Your husband will need to be bossed around. This made me feel really bad, but now I’m over it. As clueless as you feel, they haven’t had the same kind of preparation you have, and they will need to know how to help. Also, try and snuggle a little (as much as you can, really), it will make you feel more like a partner and less like a parent (and you will want to feel that way).

I know there is so much more to learn, but, these have been the things that have made the most difference for me in being home. It’s more amazing than I ever could have imagined, and I feel like I’m part of a miracle every single day.