Your Bits & Pieces

I’ve long known that people have all sorts of names for their private parts.  But as more and more of my friends have children, and we then commiserate on the damage done to our respective bits, it has become increasingly humorous to learn the lingo women toss around. 

Here’s the thing:  Women have a lot of nicknames for their cha cha.  Sure, there are a plethora of names floating around out there for the penis, too, but given our culture’s obsession with men’s junk (albeit their obsession, not ours), well, I’ll admit to being pleasantly surprised that females have not been left out of this cultural conversation.

You’ll notice the nicknames women use are generally much less crude than anything men toss around (I’m sure you could think of two or three crude nicknames men use.  If not, someone with too much time on their hands compiled a list here – gross!).

Why bring this up? 

Well, for one, I need to laugh.  Five months in and Sophie is still a poor nighttime sleeper.  Hence, I am sleep deprived beyond anything I have ever known.  The result?  Everything is funny.  Or makes me cry.  I aim for the former.

Second, my mind has been swirling in dark waters, contemplating serious topics, and this is a welcome respite from all of that. 

Third, I know not all women are open about these things and I am here to let you know: it’s okay, talk about your snacko, use whatever name you like, we’re all friends here. 

There are so many things women are hesitant to share with one another, and when it comes to pregnancy, labor and delivery, and motherhood, well, I’d rather know the ugly side of things than be unenlightened.  Yes, tell me what could happen to my lady bits, tell me what will happen to other areas of my body, tell me how to get through those days where I want to crawl under my bed and never come out, tell me that you have had tough days, too. 

After all that, tell me about how much you love being a mother, how it’s the coolest thing that’s ever happened to you, how you wouldn’t trade any of it for a second, even if it meant having your box back to original form.

P.S. Thanks to all my friends for being so open and honest with me (and making me giggle with your lingo).  I couldn’t imagine getting through this adventure without all of you…

The No-Plan Plan

(or, why things got off to such a rough start)

I'll be the first to admit that I was (and still am) anti-birth plan. I downloaded a copy of a birth plan template from thebump.com, and was rather overwhelmed to see it was six pages long. This isn't to say you shouldn't give your upcoming birth some time and consideration. It's crucial to educate yourself and know what could/should & likely will happen.

However, my experience in life is that any time you try to plan for an event, and put all of your hopes into the said event going a very specific way, your plans will be foiled. I have never known any major life event to go perfectly, ever.

I figured birth would fall into this category as well. Why force parameters onto something you have no control over? So instead of compiling a birth plan, I put together a brief list of "preferences" for my OB. Such as: I would prefer not to have any pain relief. I would prefer to move about as needed/possible. The list was brief: eight preferences. When I showed it to my OB, he pulled out a ruler and measured the page. "What is this?" he exclaimed. "Four inches? It's the shortest birth plan ever!"

It felt good to not expect my birth to go a particular way.

Well, readers, let me tell you that while in some ways I had amply prepared myself for the process of birth (and in my mind, by extension, breastfeeding), in a few key ways I did not.

MISTAKE #1
I assumed I wouldn't have a c-section.

Why did I do this? Well, my pregnancy was "normal," and up until days before Eli's birth there were no inclinations that I would have any complications. Even then, the issue at hand was that my pelvis was not opening. My OB assured me that in most instances this became a non-issue once the woman began to dilate. A tiny red flag went up somewhere in the deep recesses of my mind, but I chose to ignore it. I shouldn't have.

You see, in the few pregnancy books I did read, I always skipped over the c-section chapters. I wasn't going to have one, they freaked me out, why scare myself even more by reading about them?

MISTAKE #2
I assumed that breastfeeding would proceed without a hitch (yes, I can be a naïve idiot).

How the scenario played out in my mind: I would naturally birth my son, he would be placed onto my stomach, and minutes later he would breastfeed for the first time, thus completing one of the oldest, most natural scenes in all of history.

Remember Mistake #1?

I ended up having an emergency c-section after twenty hours of labor. When I emerged from recovery I found myself in a drugged-up, stupefied state. By the time Eli was wheeled in for our first true introduction, he'd already been introduced to the bottle and formula. This hadn't been my "preference," but I hardly felt in a state to disagree. I could barely move, how was I supposed to breastfeed?

MISTAKE #3
Not having a breastfeeding plan.

Sure, there's tons of talk about birth plans and what will happen during delivery given factors A, B, or C. But I had given no thought about what I would do, what support systems I would lean on, if and when breastfeeding became a harrowing challenge, which it did almost immediately.

On day three post-partum, after asking the nurses several times, the hospital's lactation consultant finally paid me a visit. At this point I was becoming discouraged from the entire enterprise, and the blisters on my right nipple had me wincing each time Eli was forced onto my breast to "try again." Maybe this wasn't going to work?

Thankfully, the LC had a soothing demeanor, and offered some useful tips and suggestions. Of course, one of those suggestions was that we not feed the baby any more formula. At all. Considering all the problems I was having getting the baby to latch on, this didn't seem realistic, but I became determined that dammit, the baby wasn't going to have any more supplemental formula.

MISTAKE #4
Failing to be flexible.

Once I decided Eli wasn't going to have any more formula, I became hell-bent on that goal. And for nearly two days (the last day at the hospital and the first day home) he was an entirely breastfed baby and I felt like I had somehow overcome the worst of it. I was doing this!

That is, until I wasn't. Until Eli wouldn't latch on, again. Until he wasn't eating sufficiently. Until I was so sleep-deprived that I caved in, sobbing to my husband, "Just give him some formula." I felt so defeated. I felt like I had failed. I felt like a terrible mother, poorly equipped to nourish my son.

In reality, I had underestimated the toll labor and delivery would take, as well as the effects of ping-ponging hormones raging through my body. In the days after birth the highs and lows came with alarming force and with small passages of time between each extreme.

I needed to cut myself some slack.

I made a couple calls to close friends and to my acupuncturist (who had recently given birth to her second child & is always a source of wisdom for me). It was from these conversations that I began to learn that breastfeeding rarely comes "naturally" to anyone. It's a taxing process, one that takes practice, patience, and gentleness towards oneself. Having a meltdown each time we needed to supplement with formula, until we could get things on track, wasn't going to do anyone any good whatsoever.

I began to wonder why, in all the excitement of pregnancy, in all the talks with friends about pregnancy-related ailments, discomforts, joys, and fears, we had never talked about breastfeeding?

That's why I’m here. I'm here to share my challenges, my triumphs, my frustrations, and perhaps most importantly, my mis-steps. I find myself struggling, at odds with what I think is best for Eli, and what is best for me. There are feelings of guilt and selfishness. So far, I have managed to persevere. I am ten weeks in and still breastfeeding. For me, this is an enormous victory.

I want to talk about breastfeeding (and motherhood) with openness and honesty, and because it is in my nature, with humor. This is a place for sharing, with no judgments handed out when the goals, tactics, and ideas of others differ from my own.

My one breastfeeding goal from the earliest stages of pregnancy was to breastfeed Eli for a year. We'll see if I get there, but if I don't, I will back up and remind myself of that "gentleness towards oneself" bit.