Milk Machine, Again

Checking in from somewhere deep in the Land of Sleep Deprivation…

And the real question is: How is breastfeeding going with child #2?

The answer: Better, worse, the same.

I will say this: we got off to a much, much better start with Sophie.  This, in large part, is due to my doula, Gracie.

I had been in recovery only a couple minutes when she said, “I think we should try breastfeeding now.”  This was after the forty hours of labor and a rather hellish c-section.  I was relieved to finally be lying down in peace, as close to resting as I had been in two days.  The idea of breastfeeding at that moment, honestly, did not thrill me. 

My husband expressed doubts, too.  “But she’s still hooked up to so many things (me, not Sophie), and there are all these tubes.  I don’t know if she’s in any shape…”

Gracie would not be deterred and pressed in her oh-so-gentle way.  “Sophie’s about an hour old and now is the perfect time.  We’ll help place her and get her comfortable.” 

With some rearranging and maneuvering of tubes and gown, Sophie was placed on my chest, where she quickly latched on and began to eat.  I could barely move to hold her, but Gracie helped to keep her in place.  I was amazed and thrilled, moved to tears that this was happening and so very grateful that I had someone there helping to make it happen.

Compared to our early days with Eli this was a fairy tale beginning.

Sophie continued to and has been exclusively breastfed so far.  This makes me very, very happy.

This is not to say all has gone without a hitch. 

I am, again, a constant food trough.  My nipples have taken a beating.  There have been blisters, there has been cracking, there has been blood. 

Our last day at the hospital Sophie spit up blood.  I was in an immediate panic: why was blood coming out of our baby?  To see it spattered on her shirt made my blood pressure spike and I felt lightheaded.  Vinny was off doing release paperwork and I could barely make the flustered phone call to get him back to the room.  

After much hoopla by the nurses and attending pediatricians, not to mention a half-day delay in our release, it was decided, “Oh, your nipple was bleeding when she ate and she spit it up.  Totally normal.” 

Good times, friends.

All the old ailments and challenges returned: engorgement, spontaneous leaking (and no, not just when my milk lets down, just whenever … it soaks through my nursing pads and my shirt), her pulling back while latched on, clicking, total agony when water and/or a towel brushed anywhere in the vicinity of my nipple.

It’s hard in these early weeks, as we are adjusting to each other, to truly enjoy the process.  I am thankful to know this time around that we will arrive at the day where we are both comfortable, where things will proceed without a hitch, where the process will feel natural. 

We’re not there, yet.  And it gets frustrating.  One feeding goes well.  The next does not.  One feeding she eats calmly, the next is a frantic feeding frenzy that ends in me near tears and her with a gassy belly, screaming in pain. 

We are still in the “learning” period. 

You’d think there would be more patience this time around.  But the combination of sleep deprivation and knowing things should and will be better in the future sometimes sends me into a tailspin of frustration.  Did I mention we are also moving across the country in just over three weeks?

Add to that our 18-month old who is also adjusting to all this change, vying for my attention, wanting to be picked up by me (this breaks my heart, and was one of the reasons I so adamantly did not want a c-section), etc., and I often feel myself being pulled in too many different directions.

Thankfully, my husband has been home with me since the day we brought Sophie home.  He keeps me centered when everything feels overwhelming, keeps Eli happy when I cannot give him attention, and is my true partner in keeping our household functioning.

And so the days unfold, often in a haze, often spent entirely in my pajamas.  I know one of these days soon I will realize with a start that breastfeeding is going smoothly… that the haze is lifting and there is once again some semblance of a “normal” life.

Until then, it’s one feeding at a time.

 Sophie and I with my doula, Gracie, at our post-partum visit, 

where we talked at length about breastfeeding.