ass over teakettle

Three weeks into breastfeeding, and I was wondering what I was still doing wrong. So many mothers are crazy about it. They truly enjoy the act of breastfeeding, say it is a rapturous experience, the epitome of bonding. I'm envious of those mothers. I do love the fact that I am providing my son with the best nutrition possible, and that it's helping me bounce back really quickly, along with all of the other protective benefits for the both of us. But I don't love doing it. I have to admit, the process leaves me feeling a little... gross. I have no weird body issues -- at least as far as my boobs are concerned. It's more a vague feeling of wanting to crawl out of my skin. Queasy, irritated, tense. Gross. I actually googled "breastfeeding makes me feel gross" just to see what would turn up.

Surprisingly, it's a thing! I had to weed through a few stupid Yahoo! Answers before stumbling across it, but once I did, it made sense. It's called D-MER, or Dysphoric Milk Ejection Reflex. Letdown occurs when oxytocin increases and dopamine decreases to facilitate prolactin production. With D-MER, there's a faulty dopamine response and it dips too low, causing a range of negative emotions.

Stats I've read say a newborn will nurse about 10-12 times per day. Mine, however, wants to nurse on a near constant basis. I lose track of start and stop times because they all just sort of blend together. Blame an alleged growth spurt, an upset tummy, or craving for closeness? I can't say which, but it's that much more often I sit through the creepy dysphoric feeling. From what I've read, the less severe cases resolve on their own within a few months. Here's hoping that happens sooner rather than later, because it's doing a number on my state of mind.

Lemme just say, there is no purer agony than a baby latching incorrectly onto an already exhausted, sore, scabbed-up nipple. Double points if he tugs at it, bites it, or breaks the latch with a big surprise POP! It's a pain that makes you hate all of life and the universe. I was beginning to dread feeding Alden. And on top of that, he was wanting to feed more. And more and more! Fussy for days, to the point where I couldn't even set him down for fear of epic screaming. (He'll scream until he goes several looong seconds between breaths and his face turns purple.) In case he was just really hungry, we even gave him the one bottle of expressed milk I'd managed to save. He gulped it down within a couple of minutes, then wanted to nurse soon after.

Last night no sleep came for me. Everyone warns you about sleepless nights with baby, but I'm pretty sure they're talking intermittent sleep rather than no sleep at all. All he wanted was boob. We lay on our sides, tummy to tummy, and he would nurse and I would silently cry in pain. If for any reason he lost hold of it, he'd frantically root around, desperation escalating at a rapid pace until he'd go off like a steam kettle. Michael, half awake, grumbled about the crying. I moved to the couch where Alden finally slept a bit, draped across my chest. But I couldn't sleep at all and sat up and watched as the light through the windows grew slowly brighter.

I read about causes of clusterfeeding. Like maybe he has acid reflux, or is using me to comfort himself. Maybe he's reacting to any dairy I've been eating (all that oatmeal, and some yogurt). He does need burping, and spits up a bit.

My mom came over today to help out while Michael was volunteering. I managed to shower. She washed our dishes, and helped experiment with ways to calm the baby. We checked his diaper, made sure he wasn't cold, bounced him around a bit, rocked him in the swing. Finally, when all else failed, we busted out the pacifier. I was trying to avoid using it. I am not down with pacifiers in general, and don't like the way they look sticking out of a baby's mouth. Also, the enormous pacifier they gave him in the hospital caused some nipple confusion at first. But today the pacifier seemed effective. I suppose I'm okay with using one on an as-needed basis, if it gives my boobs a break.

Mom stayed with Alden while I went to pick up Michael. Upon our return, I listened for crying before walking into the living room... There was none! As soon as I commented on the silence, however, the crying began. Apparently, he had stayed quiet, calm, and alert the entire 20 minutes I was gone. Hearing my voice turned the tides.

Later after she left, my friend Laura's mother stopped by. She works as a lactation consultant on the other side of the state, and is in town visiting, so she came over to meet with me. What a godsend! She weighed Alden (8 lbs, 7 oz.) and showed me how to properly latch him onto the breast (the way they showed me in the hospital was WRONG). There is significantly less pain with her method. Halle-freaking-lujah! He has a very slight tongue-tie, but his suction is good, so she didn't think it had anything to do with his clusterfeeding or my pain. After he'd nursed properly, and Laura's mother left, we both had a good two-hour nap!

Tonight he's still a bit fussy and feeding often, about every hour or so. But it's not as bad as before, and bonding with baby is so much easier when breastfeeding isn't some special brand of torture!

It's been nearly a week already, but guess what -- !! I had a baby!!



Alden Michael | June 20, 2011 | 8 lbs. 5 oz. | 20.5 in.

I can't believe my baby is a whole week old. Still have not written my birth story, and want to get to that before all the details fade, but my computer time has been understandably limited.

My labor was long, and I'm still suffering a lot of pain. Still trying to figure out breastfeeding. It took a few days for my milk to come in, and he was so hungry during that time. Was fussy and wouldn't sleep. I've been doing breast compressions while nursing, and he's getting more milk now. And subsequently sleeping a whole lot more! We've also been bedsharing, which ensures everybody gets more sleep. I don't know why the practice isn't more widespread. It's so cozy!

I know every parent must feel this way, but I am completely mesmerized by my child. When I look at him, I can't believe he fit inside my body. I can't believe he has my DNA. I can't stop staring at him. He is so beautiful.

Today is my due date, and as expected, Baby is still cozy in the womb. I'm not worried. Fast-talking midwife was all about induction-fucktion at my appointment, but I just smiled and nodded. It's not worth arguing over. If it comes to that, my regular midwife will be back in town, and I will be the mule who doesn't budge. I honestly don't believe it will be necessary, but it's annoying that it has to be such an issue.

And no one told me there was going to be a non-stress test and an ultrasound, so Michael and I were pretty irritated when we showed up and were ushered into a room with an oversized armchair and monitors. But guess what! He passed the tests! Everything looks perfect. Heart is fine; fluid is fine; he's measuring fine. And he's head down, face down -- position for birth is perfectly fine. (I admit, I feel a little smug.)

I could've punched the midwife. Everything was spoken with that weird, false sympathetic frowny face one might use when speaking to a stubborn child. She tried to dissuade me from walking ("It doesn't do anything and will only exhaust you."). Her vaginal exam felt particularly aggressive. And after a full minute of fishing around up there (where hands were never meant to reach) she decided that I was 2 cm dilated and 60% effaced. I had a copy of my birth plan all printed and ready to hand out, but I decided not to waste it on this woman. She most likely (hopefully!) won't be the one to deliver, and I didn't feel like going down the list of my requests and hearing what she had to say about each one of them.

And getting anyone to fill out the paperwork for my maternity leave is near impossible! The insurance company said they've faxed it to the other office three times, and have gotten no response. I brought a hard copy with me today, and was first told it would cost $25 (???) for them to fill it out. Then I was told it couldn't be filled out until after the baby was born. It's just a form giving proof that they've been treating me, and that I'm not a pregnancy-faking liar. Why do I have to pay money for that? I'm the one who needs to get paid! Why is this so difficult?

If we ever have another child, I'm going home birth, without question. The fear-mongering and bureaucratic bullshit is too much to handle. Even Michael is at the point where delivering the baby himself seems like a more appealing, and far less terrifying, option.

But despite all this exasperation, a lot of my restlessness and anxiety have subsided. I feel calm, and welcome the baby to be born now whenever he's ready. All we would have to do is throw the car seat in the car (deal with it later), shove a couple baby outfits into a bag, along with other various personal care items, and be good to go. I've been sitting here for a couple hours with dull, persistent back pain, and some vague gastro-area discomfort. Maybe brought on by the exam earlier? Or maybe something's getting ready to happen? Or... I might just have to use the bathroom! I can't really tell.

More cat puking, over and over. I guess I will have to bring him to the vet in the morning.

[And Charlotte just sort of jumped around the corner at him, but he stayed hunched up on the scratch pad, disinterested. Then she started licking his head.]

I'm beginning to fear Blackie might actually be sick. For the past few days, he's been vomiting up clear bile, some hairballs. No food. I haven't seen him eat or drink much, or use the litter box. He doesn't feel feverish, but he's quieter than usual, preferring to watch Charlotte play by herself, crouching in a corner with saucer eyes. He still chases the laser if he hears the button clicking, but he's not his usual boisterous, mischievous self. We just bought a new bag of their regular food, but Charlotte isn't acting any different.

We call Blackie "garbage cat" because he'll eat just about anything. He chewed up the rubber strap on my computer power cord. I've caught him with bits of plastic, foil, wood chips, tiny rocks. He's usually ravenous -- curious about whatever's being opened in the kitchen. But not lately. Because of how he usually behaves, I'm afraid he might have a bowel obstruction. But his belly isn't distended and he's not opposed to being picked up, so I don't know. I'm worried.

For as much as I am done with being at work, the generosity shown by my co-workers today has me seriously impressed. I knew they had something up their sleeve, with all the low, secretive talking and skulking around. They move pretty fast, because one moment I was having coffee in the break room and everything was normal, and a few minutes later I walked in to a crowd of people and a room decked out in full regalia.

Again, I was overwhelmed and fighting back tears. A powerful feeling I would like to hold onto for as long as I can. There are now many more thank yous to write, and I want to express in each one how completely grateful I am for the generosity, love, and support shown to me. Michael and I have been so blessed throughout this entire process. I really shouldn't be continuously surprised, but I am.

Last night, we had dinner with Jacque and Leisy, both of who weren't able to make it to my shower a couple weeks ago. More overwhelm. I was happy to see them. Michael made everyone laugh by telling the story of his 80 year old grandpa cutting open a 500 lb. vacuum-packed container of stuffed animals within the confines of his storage unit and having it explode. I really can't get over that story. I keep picturing it in the style of a slow-motion action sequence, and it kills me every time. (There's more to the stuffed animals, but 500 lbs. of them -- how many would that even be?)

Today I started thinking that I might be having this baby sooner than expected. Sitting at my desk this morning, trying to crank out specimens, I kept getting sharp pain and pressure sensations in my cervix and lower back. I've been having cervical pains every now and then for a couple weeks, but this was a little more noticeable. Everyone told me to walk, so I went up and down the hall and outside, and it lightened up. Just random preparations probably. He feels lower than ever.

I walked into the house this afternoon. Everything was fresh-smelling and uncluttered. Set my bag down on the table, looked toward the newly rearranged living room... and there on the seagrass rug was a stripe of smeared cat poo. Blackie lay on the couch a few feet away with an exasperated look on his face.

The rug is very difficult to clean. I dread knowing what sort of dried bits remain in it from the past few months, which, for some reason, have been very difficult for the rug. I scrubbed the hell out of it with a cloth and some dish soap. Hopefully that worked.

Last night, Michael and I found the motivation to rearrange the living room. The room is long and awkward, so we split it in half with the couch. Now one side is living room, and the other side is baby area. Anything new or altered inside the house is thrilling to the cats, so they've been misbehaving ever since. Particularly Blackie, a notorious thief. I've already caught him trying to steal some of the smaller stuffed animals from the baby shelf, my baby shower banner, the dust mitten.

The new position of the couch gives easy access to the mantel where all the plants sit. He dug into one Michael had recently repotted, spilling dirt all over. And there was evidence he'd been in the orchid as well. I'd been meaning to repot the orchid since March anyway, so I went ahead and did so.

Now he's curled up sweetly at the edge of the bed. Charlotte has remained, for the most part, innocent of all grave misdeeds. Or she's really good at framing Blackie.

I'm slowing down. And swelling up. Usually a large glass of water and a nap eases the puffiness, but not today. Proper shoes & socks, sitting for hours at a desk, rationing trips to the water fountain -- these things make it worse. I'm ready to be at home now, fluffing my nest. Three more weeks until that's possible. Unless the baby comes early.

We got to see his little face on ultrasound yesterday. A perfect miniature of Michael -- there's no denying. Their profiles are so similar. Nose, lips, and chin. We couldn't tell the eyes though. Maybe he'll have my eyes? Hopefully at least one feature similar to mine. The male genes on Michael's side are strong, though, with every male child strongly favoring the generation before.

Baby is positioned similar to what I had thought, though slightly more face-up. I've read how face-up labor can be slower and more painful, so flip, Baby, please.

I've upgraded to weekly appointments with the midwife. She palpated my belly today and said he was head down. I'm thinking he must be in a strange C-shape, with head down, back along my right abdomen (where I can feel his hiccups), butt at the top, and legs going down along my left abdomen. When researching fetal positioning, it seems like he might be what's called Right Occiput Anterior, but I'm a little confused as to why I can feel strong kicking so low down to the left. Maybe he was just behaving today for the midwife. We will see for sure next week when we get another ultrasound.

I found this site today while trying to figure out what to make for dinner. You enter ingredients that you have on hand, and it narrows down recipes for you. Seems like it will come in handy when I'm down to that sad point of bare-cupboard desperation. Not quite there yet, but getting close.

Finished up the last of some veggies in the fridge before I had to toss them in the compost; used a variation of a recipe swiped from here. Sautéed in olive oil: one chopped yellow onion, one clove of minced garlic, most of a chopped green pepper, a handful of sliced cherry tomatoes; added a generous handful of spring greens and baby spinach, and sprinkled some salt, pepper, basil, and thyme in while it all cooked down. Served over pasta. Too bad I am hungry again.

Making tea now. Since my second trimester, I've been drinking raspberry leaf tea every day, or as often as I can remember. Since starting my third trimester, I've either had two cups a day, or put two teabags into one cup. I don't know if that's equivalent, but whatever. It's supposed to serve as a tonic for the uterus, strengthening it, and ultimately making contractions more effective during childbirth. [Note: It does not taste like raspberries.]



Some of the more conservative websites will advise you to hold off the first trimester, for fear of causing miscarriage. Others will even tell you to wait until the third trimester. Some people drink it before conception, and then throughout their entire pregnancy, without any issue. It just depends on your comfort level, I guess... and the advice of your healthcare provider.

I've been getting mine from Whole Foods in teabag form (either Traditional Medicinals or Yogi brand -- whichever is cheaper at the time), but some people like to buy it in bulk, loose-leaf, which ends up being more cost effective. There is a forum on mothering.com devoted to it with a lot of information.