Stop googling that.

I always enjoy tracking the google searches that lead to my blog. Usually it's a whole lot of searches along the lines of "unexpectedly expecting blog" or "unexpectedly expecting julia" and whatnot. Sometimes there are a few extremely creative spellings of "unexpectedly" (get it together, people).

But aside from those, the most common search terms to lead to this page are "paper cut on eye" (thank you, breastfeeding) and "how to make a woman cry" (thank you, pumping).

(Okay, there also was once a search for "grown woman in diper" [sic] but we just won't even go there. No, we won't go there. Because I don't even want to know.)

Seriously? Who are these men (I assume they are men) searching for how to make a woman cry? WTF? Stop googling that. We are doing enough crying all on our own, probably already because of you, thanks very much. We don't need you looking for instructions on how to make us do that.

And now that I've made a whole post about it, I've probably just perpetuated the problem. That's okay. At least now when they search for it, they'll get here and be scolded. You're welcome.

And for those of you googling "paper cut on eye", well, I'm sorry for you, because that just sounds like it really sucks. Good luck with that.

Top 10 things that happened this summer

Since we were gone for about two months, I'd bore you to death if I went into everything in detail. So, here's a rundown on what we were up to in the great state of North Dakota:

1. I lived only two blocks away from my in-laws... and survived! I really do love them and I know I'm lucky to have them, because they don't even compare to some of the in-law horror stories I've heard. However. My mother-in-law can be a tad bit overbearing when it comes to her grandkids, especially one who normally lives 2,000 miles away. And by overbearing, I don't mean the "oh give me the baby again" type... I mean the "if you don't come over by noon I will drive by your house repeatedly and peer in the windows to see what is taking you so long" type. Yeeeeah.
2. I fell head over heels in love with the rural-ness of it all. For reals. By the end of the summer we were looking at land to buy and someday build a house on. It probably won't happen because Tyler would like to be a professor or museum curator, but the beautiful badlands in the summertime had me dreaming of packing up our apartment and never looking back.
3. My sister-in-law and I became great friends. She is my first and only "mommy friend" so far... none of my friends here in Connecticut are even close to thinking about having kids. I never knew how important it is to have a mommy friend until I actually had one-- it makes such a big difference. We hung out almost every day, talked about everything, and played with our babies. It was heaven. We even had a half-birthday party for Caroline and her cousin, since they share a birthday but we are never together in February. I really enjoyed finally getting to know my nieces, too, since we live so far apart. My 2 1/2-year old niece sobbed when we left ("I-- don't-- want-- Joo-ah-- to-- GO!!!!")... and so did I. :(
   
4. Caroline started solid food (avocado!) and learned to tripod and then sit on her own. I felt like I took a teeny baby out there who was content to be carried around all day, and returned with a much bigger baby who is now squirming to get out of my arms so she can wriggle around on the floor. Sniff.
   

   

5. Speaking of baby food, making it for Caroline is so much fun and saves tons of cash. I made sweet potatoes for one of her first foods, but they gave her a rash. Since I didn't want to waste them, I gave the rest of them to Tyler at dinner one night. He loved them. After he ate it, I remembered that I made it using my breastmilk. I didn't tell him. (If you're reading this... love you, honey! Sorry!)
   
6. In case you can't tell by everything I've already said, my post-partum depression really seemed to lift out there. I was technically in the middle of nowhere, but I was much less isolated than I am here in the middle of civilization, because Tyler's family was all around. The constant sunlight streaming into our big, gorgeous rental house helped me a lot too. Even though I was sad to leave North Dakota, I still feel about a million times happier than I did when we left Connecticut. Here's our bright and sunny living room:
   
7. I quit pumping entirely a few weeks after we got there, and just nursed twice a day until my milk supply ran out. I was so, so upset to stop nursing... but at the same time, it was such a relief to have the whole drama finally be over with. Caroline is formula-fed now, and even though I never wanted that for her, I can't deny that it has made me a better mother on the whole-- now that I am not torturing myself with a plastic pump eight times a day.
8. I cheated on my husband with a cowboy. WHAT THE WHAT?! Just kidding. Wanted to see if you were still paying attention. Bet that caught Tyler's eye, if he's reading. (Between this and #5, he might be initiating a come-to-Jesus chat with me tonight. Wish me luck.)
   
9. Caroline's reflux has definitely improved, although she does still have occasional choking episodes where solids come out her nose and we both freak the freak out. Sometimes I still feel frustrated with all her spitting up, but I try to put it in perspective-- it can be measured in terms of tablespoons now, rather than square feet of couch. And, at her six-month appointment she weighed 15 pounds 10 ounces, which is almost in the 50th percentile! I have never, ever in my life been so happy to achieve average-ness. :)
   
10. On the plane trip back, Caroline and I sat next to an elderly man who was not interested in babies and didn't give Caroline the attention she thought she deserved. When I woke up after dozing off for a minute, she was leaning over and stroking his arm. He was not amused. I was.

So, that's about it! As you can see, we had a fantastic time overall. It's too bad Caroline won't remember this summer, because I will always look back on it with fond memories as one of the best summers of my life. I couldn't have asked for a better two months.

Quitting time

Well, I finally made the decision. I'm quitting pumping!

I knew that I needed to quit. It was making me crazy. I was pumping eight times a day, for 15-20 minutes each-- that's between 2 and 3 hours of pumping a day. It was uncomfortable and mechanical and to tell you the truth, I was starting to resent my baby a little bit. I was measuring my worth as a mother in ounces pumped. It was kind of a sickness. And I'm done with it.

Since I've made the decision, I'd say I feel about 90% relief and 10% guilt. Making the decision was the hardest part. I was just hanging on because I was hoping that she might grow out of her reflux enough that I would be able to nurse her again, but the GI has told me that is unlikely. And, I needed to wait until I could feel more relieved than guilty. If I could have kept nursing, I would have gone the full year. And I know some moms keep pumping if their babies can't nurse for whatever reason. But I've come to terms with the fact that I just am not one of those moms. I'm okay with that now.

So, I've dropped down to three pumps per day, and over the next two weeks I'll drop the other two. I'm hoping to be done by the time she's five months old. I need to go slowly since I am so prone to mastitis-- I've already had it three times. (The last pump to go will actually be our early morning nursing session, which I am really not supposed to be doing anyway... that is the one I will really miss.) I feel a little bit sad, but mostly I just feel free. No more hooking myself up to a machine. No more trying desperately to keep up with her demand. I just started weaning yesterday, and I already feel like I am enjoying her more.

Some of my friends told me I should smash my pump, Office Space-style. Haha. If I had quit anytime before now, I probably would have wanted to. But now I just feel good about it. I did the best I possibly could have done, and I'm at peace with it.

Thank you to all who have offered me support since my last post. I can't tell you how much it has meant to me.

Diagnosis

I debated about whether or not I should blog about this, because I know that some people I know in real life read my blog. But I guess I've blogged about every other aspect of my pregnancy/motherhood, and what I'm about to say really isn't anything to be ashamed of, so, here goes.

I've been feeling really crappy lately. I'm not sure when it started. I was feeling okay for awhile, or maybe I was just too busy and worried about Caroline to notice. I also kind of assumed that it was just a situational thing, because I had to make such a big adjustment in moving from school to staying at home, and all the other changes having a baby brings to your life. And, you know, it's pretty isolating to stay at home with a baby when all of your friends are either far away or in an intense dental program... and none of them are even thinking about having babies of their own.

It wasn't just that, though... ever since we brought Caroline home from the NICU, I've been having nightmares. Horrible dreams that she's dead in the bed with me. I wake up several times a night from the same dream, digging frantically in the blankets for her because I'm convinced that she's in there. And I think about the NICU and the midnight transfer in the ambulance all the time. I still cry about it every day. It was a traumatic experience, for sure, but still feeling like this just doesn't seem normal to me. I was hoping that all this would go away with time, but it just... hasn't.

So, I was going to my OB today anyway because I was having an issue with my IUD. I brought up my concerns with the nurse practitioner and she left the room for a long time. When she came back, she told me that the OB on call wanted me to go to a psychiatrist across the street, and that they could see me immediately. I went over there, feeling kind of like I had done something wrong and lost my recess.

I talked to the psychiatrist for a long time, over an hour. When she was done asking me questions (questions that included things like "can you tell me today's date" and "what do apples and oranges have in common"... ummm... I'm not that far gone, lady), she put her clipboard down and said:

"I think you have post-traumatic stress disorder, and moderate to severe postpartum depression. You went through a very traumatic experience, what with having your new baby in the hospital in uncertain condition, right in the middle of a mess of postpartum hormones and physical pain. You've had to continue struggling with her health and weight gain, and to give up breastfeeding for a much more mechanical, demanding way of feeding her. You're continuing to torture yourself with all this pumping in order to try to live up to this unattainable ideal that our society has of the perfect mother, who gives her baby breastmilk, no matter what. You had to suddenly leave your program and all its activity and human interaction to stay at home with your baby, with no friends who understand what your new life is like. On top of it all, your pregnancy was unexpected, you say you were an anxious person to begin with, and depression runs in your family. How could you not be depressed?"

Well. I have to say, she heard me. It felt like a huge weight was lifted, that somebody understood me. I've sort of brought it up with Tyler and my mom, but Tyler just said "she's healthy now, why is it still bothering you?" and my mom just gave me a look that I couldn't quite read. So, it was such a relief just to have someone tell me that it was okay to feel sad. In general, I try not to think about any of that, because I don't have time for self-pity and it doesn't do anything for me anyway. But clearly ignoring it isn't helping, so I have to try something else.

She suggested that I start two medications, check in with her over the phone while we're in ND, start counseling once we get back, and quit pumping. I told her I was fine with all of that except the pumping, and that I just can't quite do that yet, I'd feel too guilty. She went over to her desk, handed me a picture of a really pretty girl about my age, and said "this is my baby. I had to quit breastfeeding her after one month. And you know what? She's fine. She's great. How you feed your baby is just one tiny part of being a good mother. You've done everything you can for four months... do what's best for you, but also know that maybe it's time to give it up in order to focus on all the other very important pieces of the puzzle."

So, that might be happening in the near future, I haven't decided yet. All in all, I'm so glad that I said something to the nurse at the OB. Maybe the medication will help me feel more like myself. All I can do is try it, right? So... wish me luck!

Good news and bad news

We went back to the GI today... always a fun experience. Let's split it up into the good news and the bad news.

Good news: We only had to wait about 5 minutes before the nurse called us in. Last time we waited over an hour and a half.

Bad news: Some lady in the waiting room asked if I was there for me, or for Caroline. It's a children's hospital. BURN!!!

Good news: Caroline is almost two pounds up from when we first were referred to the GI! The doctor said she had even exceeded their expectations for her weight gain.

Bad news: I still have to keep waking her to feed and forcing as many ounces as I can into her poor little belly. I am freaking exhausted and haven't slept more than a couple hours at a time in weeks. Also, I am permanently bruised from my pump. You're welcome for that mental image if you know me in real life.

Good news: The nutritionist gave me new, higher-calorie recipes for her bottles so that I can skip a nighttime feeding.

Bad news: I'm not allowed to add more nursing sessions in place of pumping sessions. I asked if I could, and the doctor told me that she considered my nursing sessions to be "comfort only", since Caroline's reflux is so severe that literally everything comes back up unless it's pumped, thickened with rice cereal, and bottle-fed to her.

Seriously? It sucked a lot to hear that. I worked insanely hard at breastfeeding for many weeks because I thought it was best for her. Turns out it doesn't even count towards her nutrition in the doctor's eyes.

So I guess that's pretty much it for nursing. I'm sad about it, but I'm trying to look at it this way: at this point, my desire to nurse is really just selfish. It's easier and more convenient than pumping, and I enjoy that closeness with her. But it's obviously NOT what is best for her. So, I just have to pump for as long as I can to give her as much breastmilk as I can... and beyond that, it'll be formula. I definitely want to reach at least six months (just two more), and then I'll reevaluate after I meet that goal.

And honestly, I am just happy that her issues are this easily solved, and that she's doing so well. So I guess that's the best news of all. [:)]

Putting on the pounds!

It's been awhile since I last posted! But in my defense, I had a bazillion people visiting this week for Caroline's baptism, and they kept me pretty busy.

First of all, Caroline's weight gain has been awesome since I switched to pumping to thicken her feeds and started waking her up to eat. At her last weight check (almost a week ago), she was 10 lbs 1 oz! So she gained over a pound in just one week. I was so incredibly relieved. I think I might have lost it in front of the pediatrician (again) if she hadn't gained anything after working so hard at it all week long.

This has been pretty hard on me, I'm not going to lie. I worry so much about her, and Tyler has been gone for most of this month (he's gone again as of yesterday, but will be back tomorrow). I was pumping every 3 hours around the clock for awhile, which is exhausting. I used everyone's tips on how to increase my supply (thank you all so much!)... I did end up bringing my supply up enough that I've reduced the amount of formula she needs by about half. I'm hoping that the GI will let us add more nursing sessions (right now we're at 2 per day) if her weight gain still looks good when we go for our follow-up this week. It's definitely nice not to have to change both of our outfits every time she eats!

Then, in the middle of all this, we had Caroline's baptism. Tyler's parents, brother, sister-in-law, and their two little girls came out for it. Everyone except his parents stayed with us in our tiny apartment... it was very chaotic. They left yesterday, and I am still tired. It's just kind of stressful to have to do all that pumping while trying to be a good host/wife/mom to 6 adults, a toddler, and two babies-- all in a very small space. Especially when the toddler keeps busting in on you while you're pumping and then runs away, leaving the door wide open for your father-in-law to walk by and check out the dairy-farm action. Sweet.

Well, that's about all I have to report for now. It's a relief to have things seem to be looking up for my little one. I'll leave you with a picture of her after her baptism, on her great-grandma's lap:

Check out that (newly) chubby arm!! [:)]

UGH!! x 10000

Caroline went for a weight check yesterday, which revealed that she only gained 5 oz in the past month. UGH. That puts her somewhere awfully far below her growth curve. I literally felt sick when I saw the scale. Her pediatrician was concerned about this, to which I say, hello?!? Did I not tell you that there was a problem like a month ago?? And also:

He asked me to switch to pumping so that I can add cereal to her bottles to thicken them (so that they'll stay down better), and to start waking her every 3-4 hours at night to feed her. UGH. She usually sleeps at least 10 hours straight at night.

He sent us to the hospital to get bloodwork done, which thankfully turned out mostly normal. He also called the GI specialist to get us in right away, and warned me that they might ask me to wean her completely to put her on a very expensive hypoallergenic formula (UGH). He suspected that there might be something wrong in addition to her reflux (UGH UGH UGH).

Honestly, hearing him say "wean her completely" was like a punch to the gut. I hadn't realized how attached I'd gotten to nursing her, now that it's become so easy for us. (In fact, I cried in front of him after he said it. UGH.) The feeling reminded me vaguely of her birth day, when I went to the NICU and the nurses told me I couldn't hold her.

So today we visited the GI, after many frustrating hours of trying to pump enough to feed her while she howled in her bouncy seat, and trying to bottlefeed her while she swatted the bottle aside and lunged at my boob for a mouthful of shirt. The doctor and nutritionist thought it was just severe reflux, but recommended we put formula powder and cereal in my breastmilk to increase its caloric value and keep waking her to feed, at least until she reaches a more normal weight.

Side note: by "we", I mean "me", because Tyler is gone yet again on a dinosaur job. He always happens to be gone when Caroline's reflux blows up in my face. Sigh. I don't know which one of them is planning this. Maybe they are conspiring against me.

Anyway. I am relieved that nothing other than the reflux is probably wrong. But I am sad about two things:

1. Losing my full night of sleep. I'm worried that even once she gets up to a good weight, she will still want to wake several times a night to eat.
   
2. I will definitely have to supplement with formula, because there's no way I can pump enough for her to eat 4 oz every 3 hours around the clock.

I know that's whiny. I know I have to do what's best for her. But her reflux is so difficult to deal with all day alone that I need the sleep at night. And I worked so hard to exclusively breastfeed. It's so hard to do that for a NICU baby who was unable to nurse and had tons of bottles right after birth. I beat myself into the ground for over six weeks to be able to do that for her. And after all that, she still isn't growing, so I'm not allowed to do that anymore. I know that supplementing is going to damage my supply, probably to the point where I won't ever be able to exclusively breastfeed her again.

And, I just don't want to give her formula. I hope that's not offensive to those who formula-feed. But I made that decision early on and stuck to it through a whole lot of obstacles, and I really believe in the benefits of breastfeeding, especially for a preemie who is disadvantaged from the start. I was so excited the night I finally pumped enough to replace all of her formula that I went back to bed after feeding her and couldn't sleep.

So, life isn't fair. We all know that. I don't want to give her formula, but then again I didn't want her to be born prematurely, and I didn't want her to spend weeks in the NICU, and if you want to be really technical and cruel about it, I didn't initially want to have a baby at all. Things just happen and it's not always fair, and you just have to get over the parts you don't like as best you can.

So that's the latest. If anyone has tips on how to increase milk supply aside from the obvious fenugreek, lots of water, and frequent pumping, please post in comments below.

UGH.

And now for Caroline's latest trick!

Blood in her spit-up! Wahooo!

Sigh. I woke up to this lovely new development the other night, and rushed to the pediatrician in the morning for the third time in a week. I think they're about as sick of me as I am of them.

They said it was due to irritation of her stomach or esophageal lining from the reflux. They called the GI specialist for me, whose advice was to put her on two new medications, get rid of one of her old medications, and have me give up dairy in case she has a sensitivity. We'll be going to see the specialist in early June, which was their first available appointment. These suggestions seem to have helped... at least, I haven't seen any more blood and she hasn't had any more choking episodes.

So, I'm glad I don't have to switch to pumping or formula to thicken her feeds. BUT. It really stinks to have to give up dairy. I love my ice cream, cheese, chocolate, etc... and constantly checking labels for crap like "lactulose" is not especially fun. I was hoping that the excess lipase thing would be the last hurdle, but apparently not. I should be happy that I get to keep breastfeeding after I worked so hard to do it... but instead I am sulking about my dairy. Sulk. Sulk. Sulk.

The other breastfeeding issue du jour: I have mastitis. (That's a boob infection, for those lucky enough to not know anything about it.) Tyler was in Canada all last week so I didn't get enough sleep, and I was totally stressed by all Caroline's health problems, both of which can contribute to getting an infection. The worst part-- it's the kind of infection that starts way at the end of the nipple with a blister, and the milk gets all the way backed up to your armpit. (You're welcome.) The solution? Going to the doctor and having them stick a needle in your boob.

That is correct. I said stick a needle in your boob. Sonofabitch. Wish me luck with that one.

But somehow despite all her reflux issues and her cranky sick mommy, Caroline is still the happiest baby around:

How cute is that!!

Whose leg do I have to hump to get a referral around here?

I took Caroline in to the pediatrician yesterday to discuss her recent flare-up of le reflux. It did not go especially well. First I put her on the scale and discovered that she had lost three ounces since Friday. (In case you were unclear on this, the only person who's supposed to be losing weight around here is me.) I silently panicked until the doctor came in, but when I pointed it out to him, he said "oh, well, that isn't that much weight." I ignored this nonsense and told him about the airway issues she's been having. His response, in a nutshell: "Sometimes that happens with kids who have reflux."

I'll take "Bitches I'd Like to Slap" for 800, Alex.

Seriously, what in the hell? I tell you that my two-month-old, who has previously been hospitalized in intensive care for this very reason, cannot breathe and is losing weight and you think it's no big deal?! (This was a different doctor from the one we saw last week.) I fixed him with my Death Stare (which I have been perfecting in preparation for Caroline's first boyfriend) and told him I'd like a referral to a pediatric GI specialist, thanks very much. He gave it to me. The Death Stare cannot be denied.

So we will be going to a specialist, hopefully ASAP. I'm really not looking forward to the process-- I know they will be running lots of tests and she may even be admitted to the hospital for them-- but with any luck they will have some kind of solution.

Although if they ask me to switch to exclusively pumping or formula-feeding (so that we can thicken her feeds to help them stay down), I will flip my shit. I'll do whatever they ask, of course. But wouldn't that be ironic, after all our struggles to ditch the bottle? I'm just warning you guys, be prepared for a very whiny post if that is their solution. (You can skip it. I'd never know.)

So now we play the waiting game... hopefully it doesn't take too long to get an appointment. Fingers crossed!

Life is good.

Having a newborn was hard in ways I never imagined. I don't just mean the NICU experience, either. You have this tiny, beautiful person that you somehow managed to create, and you are totally in awe of her, but at the same time you're completely enslaved to her. You get up a million times a night. You feel more tired than you've ever felt. Sometimes you are both completely covered in spit-up and you can't tell which one of you is crying louder. Really, you don't get a whole lot in return for all the things that you do, and it can feel pretty thankless at times. You're also completely terrified that you will somehow break your child, and you're convinced that half of what you're doing is totally wrong. You worry that you're somehow failing her, and it feels like an endless, exhausting parade of nursing and dirty diapers and crying and shushing and bouncing. (Sorry, just telling it like it is! I can't be the only one who thinks these things.)

But one day you are sitting up and feeding your baby at some obscenely early morning hour, and you realize that even though you are dead tired, this is a time when you have an excuse to do nothing but cuddle with your baby and stare at her perfect eyelashes and ears. Another day you go to pick baby up when she's done with her nap, and she gives you the biggest toothless grin you've ever seen, just because you are you, and she sees you standing there. Nursing finally becomes surprisingly easy, if you've chosen to do that. You start to get more sleep at night. She starts to stay awake more during the day, and seems like a real little person with a true personality, and you can really tell that she loves you unconditionally, whether you feel like you deserve it or not.

Can you tell things have changed around here? Caroline has been sleeping through the night consistently for about two weeks now. Breastfeeding is suddenly kind of effortless. She seems healthy and happy and is doing all sorts of new and fun things, like actually playing with her toys, flipping herself onto her back on her playmat, smiling at us, and cooing when we talk to her. We've established somewhat of a routine, and we do fun things like walk to the park down the street to look at the geese and turtles.

Overall, things are looking up. She is such a joy to spend time with, and I no longer have guilty feelings about "giving up my whole life" to stay home with her. She IS my whole life, for now, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

How to make a grown woman cry

Tell her she has to throw out her entire freezer stash of breastmilk.

Here's the back story: Tyler had gone to Michigan for a few days to look at some fossils for his research. I was left alone with Caroline and, needless to say, was exhausted by the time he came back. I pumped and thawed a bunch of frozen breastmilk so that he could take over the night feedings for me so I could get some rest. Well, the thawed milk smelled terrible. It has this gross metallic smell that made me want to gag. I dumped it and thawed milk from a different day. Same thing. I threw it out in frustration and went to bed. (Luckily I did still get my rest because Caroline slept through the night, which she will do at random times. Actually, it seems like she only does it on Fridays. Hmm. But I digress.)

So this morning I went to ask my girls on the Nest what the dealio was. Turns out I probably have excess lipase in my milk, which breaks down the fats in it and makes it nasty. Which means that all my painstakingly-pumped-and-stored milk is no good. And I will have to dump it out. To fully express my feelings regarding this catastrophe, I'll need to recycle this photo:

So now I am sulking and delaying the dump because I worked hard to put away all that milk. That shiz is liquid gold, people!! It represents my freedom! Breastfeeding is really hard when you're tied to your baby for feedings every couple of hours... stored milk lets you get out of the house, or sleep a few hours in a row, or whatever other selfish things you want to do. Throwing it out is every breastfeeding mom's worst nightmare. I guess I only have about 25 ounces saved, but still.

From now on I'll have to scald my milk before freezing it, which isn't so bad, I guess. It's a little more work, but I'm sure I'll get used to it. At this point I'm just irritated that I have one more obstacle when it comes to breastfeeding, because it's really been nothing but an uphill battle for me so far, and it was just starting to get a little easier. Oh well. I really hope this is my last challenge! I've earned it, I've been a good little milk cow.

My "I-will-never's"

The following is a list of the things that, while pregnant, I said I'd never do... that are shot to hell now that I have an actual baby.

1. I'll never give a pacifier.
2. I'll never give a bottle before breastfeeding is established. (To be fair, these first two happened in the NICU while I wasn't there and I was too intimidated and tired to protest when I realized that they'd given them to her.)
3. I'll never consider switching to formula (no, I'm not actually switching, but it's crossed my mind a time or two because as I posted before, breastfeeding is OH MY GOD REALLY HARD AND AWFUL).
4. I'll never let the baby sleep with us in the bed. (I didn't cave on this one because she won't sleep anywhere else... she will, but I just really want to snuggle her and see her cute face anytime I want.)
5. I'll never dress my kid in cutesy bows and ribbons if she is a girl (see: enormous bow on hat, several posts below).
6. I'll never make Tyler get up in the middle of the night to do a feeding, because I can stay home and sleep but he has to get up early and go to school. (Whoops. I am a terrible wife.)
7. I'll never whip my boob out in front of anyone but Tyler. (The ladies have already been out in front of everyone in two NICUs, the pediatrician's office, and the UPS guy the other day when I forgot to button my shirt before answering the door.)

I'm sure there are more, but I am a bit sleep-deprived and can't remember what else.

But you know what? I don't really care about any of that. First of all, my new mantra is "if it works and no one dies, it's probably okay", and second of all, I am too busy soaking up every minute of her being this tiny, because I already know she's going to grow up too fast.

A paper cut on the eye

It's about time I wrote a post about breastfeeding...

Caroline and I had kind of a rough start with it due to her stay in the NICU. If you want to breastfeed but you happen to have a preemie or a baby unable to breastfeed for other reasons, they let you borrow a hospital-grade pump so you can get started without the baby (and hopefully provide a little colostrum to feed them with). A lactation consultant came and gave me the pump the day Caroline was born, but she didn't tell me that the pump was adjustable. (You would think I could figure this out, being a reasonably intelligent person, but all bets are off the day you give birth, okay?) I used it the way she gave it to me, on the maximum setting, and WOW did it hurt but I was so thrilled to get 3 whole mL of colostrum that I didn't complain.

I kept using it for several days like this until one day I went into the NICU without any milk and another LC asked me where my milk was, and I told her that I tried but I was in so much pain while pumping that I wasn't letting down. She asked if I turned the suction down on the pump, and I just gave her a blank stare. She widened her eyes and said "let me see them." I carefully pulled down my nursing bra and she looked horrified. (Note: when the sight of your nipples frightens a professional LC, it's time to get worried.) We're talking blood blisters and open sores here, people. Sorry for the TMI. But I literally have scars on them now, thanks to that evil first LC.

So once I turned down the suction on the pump (and used ridiculous amounts of lanolin cream), I slowly started to heal and things got a little easier. Then Caroline was transferred to the bigger NICU, and they weren't nearly as pro-breastfeeding there so they gave her bottles (of my milk, not formula, but she still started to prefer the bottle to the breast because it's so much less work). I nursed her every time I could, but since I couldn't be there around the clock, she got a lot of bottles. Even though she was a great nurser at first (one LC said she must have "read the book"), she seemed to be forgetting how to latch correctly, which gave me some realllly sore nipples. Now that I have her home, that bad latch is tearing up my boobs unless I focus and try really hard to get her latched on correctly and keep her there.

I've stuck with it and I'm glad I have, but let me tell you it has not been easy. It's also really stressful not knowing how much she's eating (boobs are very inconvenient in that way), especially since she still hasn't regained her birth weight due to all her health problems in the beginning. But we are slowly getting the hang of things! And I'm determined to keep going because I know that it's best for her.

Anyway, the title of this post comes from this hilarious breastfeeding book one of my friends gave me as a shower gift ("If these boobs could talk"). It has a top ten list of things worse than sore nipples, and #1 is "a paper cut on the eye". I read this and laughed hysterically for about ten minutes, because it's so true that there is almost nothing worse than injured nipples. And honestly, it's either laugh or cry at this point, and I've done enough crying for a lifetime over the past two weeks, so I choose laughing, thanks very much!

And because I can't resist showing her off every time I post, here's Caroline in her bouncy seat...