When we question ourselves as mothers....

As it turns out, I made the decision to go on the lowest dose possible of medication to get me out of the "pit" that I was in, so I could think clearly again and be in a place where I could deal with things that needed to be dealt with.  Once my hormones leveled out I felt MUCH better.  Nursing got better too.  My baby remained on the smaller side and continued to go down on the charts, but I decided to let it go and stop worrying about it .  He was healthy.  He was gaining (even if it wasn't fast or a lot he was still gaining).  And he was nursing well.  Who would have thought with me having an oversupply and him nursing fairly well he wouldn't gain weight rapidly?! Although I felt great and "let it go", I continued at times to blame myself for his small size.  When someone would mention he was petite or talk about their baby and brag on how big he/she was, it would bring all the guilt back again.  It took a while to not feel the sting anymore.  I didn't go through postpartum depression with my 3rd, and I want to talk about that in another post.  But I did have a "hiccup" in the beginning of nursing that was also associated with oversupply.  While I was in the middle of it though, I was able to process some of what I went through with the ppd I had been through a couple years prior. My mind stayed clear and I began to understand some of what took me down before (and was attempting to again).  Here's something I wrote as I was going through that shaky time, and I've been wanting to share with women:

There is something terrible disconcerting about a baby screaming at a mother's breast.  The very thing that is meant to provide comfort, nourishment, life.  The mother questions the baby, "What did I eat?  What did I do?  Are you not hungry?  Too hungry?  In pain?"  All these questions on the surface.  But something resounds deeper in the heart of a postpartum mother.  "Is there something wrong with ME?"  "Do I have what it takes?"  "What if my comfort/nourishment is not enough?"  Women were created with everything they need to nurture their babies.  I don't know why it gets bumpy and sometimes so tough that some give up.  Sometimes things beyond a woman's control happen with her body that makes breastfeeding impossible.  We're human.  Nothing's perfect.  But how could something so incredibly natural be so hard at times?!  So hard!  I think perspective makes a big difference.  When a woman starts questioning and doubting herself and her ability, it only gets worse.  Bottom line, women have what it takes. We are born with it!  We may have to go through a process to figure out exactly what's going on (if a baby is having feeding issues), but we have the grace for that.  Don't question your ability as a mother.  And don't "blame" it on the baby (I did this many times).  He's just being a baby.  Nursing is a dance.  Listen to and learn to dance with the baby.  Step "outside of the box." Talk to other women.  And be confident in who you are as a woman!

Have you ever felt similar?  I want to hear your thoughts!

The downward spiral

I don't even know where to start.  Forgive me if I jump around with this topic and the blog, the only way my writing comes out naturally is if it comes from my heart.  So it may seem a bit jumbled or out of order sometimes.  Around 2 months of age, the sweet chunky baby who had been doing so well gaining weight and nursing suddenly started having issues in those areas.  I'm not sure which came first, me beginning depression or his nursing troubles.  But one fed the other and so the downward spiral began.  I had issues with oversupply, which I did many things to try to help.  Even still my baby was not content nursing.  He would start off fine and then pull off after a couple minutes and scream once I tried to put him back. I researched tirelessly trying to figure out what was wrong and how to fix it.  This became my obsession.   I cut out dairy, as well as other foods I thought could be the problem.  I lost interest for eating period because everything I enjoyed I couldn't eat, so one week I just sort of stopped eating for a couple days....  I lost 5 pounds in one week (after being back at my pre-pregnancy size).   I didn't want to go anywhere, I didn't want to talk to anyone, I just wanted to figure out what I could do to feed my baby and give him what he needed.  I had anxiety upon each feeding, and cried every time he repeated his pulling away crying.  I felt hopeless.  Each doctor visit and hearing he was "slow-weight gain."  Yet the doctor was encouraging to me.  We thought he might have reflux and tried medication for that.  Didn't really change the way he nursed or gained.  I was beating myself up.  I kept telling myself it was all my fault and there was something else I could learn or do or figure out to fix it.  After all of this, I think I was so confused and had lost all confidence in my ability as a mother to meet my baby's needs. And then there was my firstborn who needed so much of my time and attention, and much more than I was giving or could give him.  I could see the sadness in his eyes every time I wrestled through yet another feeding with the baby. Feedings would most of the time take an hour.  I tried a bottle and prayed that he would drink from it.  He never took one.  I remember one particularly bad day when I was walking around trying to feed him, my firstborn came over to me (only 2 1/2 years old at the time) and said, "Mommy, he's okay. "  I knew my son was speaking the words he had heard the Lord speak about the baby (I love it when He uses my kids to speak to me).  It seemed to break the heaviness and confusion, even if for a brief moment.  I lived life like this without realizing what was going on for 5 or 6 weeks.  When a mother figure in my life sat me down and said, "Melissa, lets talk about this.  I think you may be experiencing some depression" I finally realized I had been crying every day, dreading every day, surviving through every day.  It took her together with my husband to finally recognize and accept it.  Then, of course I felt like it was my fault I had depression and there was something I had done wrong or could have done differently.  But, I finally came to grips with the fact that it wasn't so much about what was "wrong with my baby"  - I needed help. 

Ain't No Sunshine When She's Gone

Ain't No Sunshine When She's Gone... I was listening to the radio recently when this song came on.  Though I'd heard the song before, it immediately, it made me think of a time in my past.  Tiny babies are so precious and sweet, and innocent. Full of new life, untainted by the issues of the world.  Who would think that a mother could wind up depressed after having one?  I never thought it could happen, especially not to me. But it did.  Its hard to remember much from that dark period of my life, but I know it was a slow fall.  It took my husband and a dear friend to recognize it in me, and reach me in the middle of my "sleep."  Like the song, I was really "gone."  I was physically present at home, but not emotionally and mentally.  My process of healing was just that - a process.  I plan in my next few blog posts to tell my story.  There are those who have experienced depression, and there are those who know others experiencing it.  Its my hope that if you're going through this, you will find comfort and courage as I recall my experience and what I've learned. If you haven't experienced it but you know someone going through this, you will gain more insight in how to help.  And, if you're pregnant and concerned about this, there are some things that can help in preventing.  I was told it gets worse with subsequent pregnancies.  I had to be very proactive and intentional and it was a fight, but I'm happy to say I did not suffer from it after my third birth.  Its good for me to get it out too, I haven't talked about it much but now its time. Here goes....

Yes, it comes back.

Ahhhh sex.  I was recently talking with a friend who had a young baby and we got on this subject. Oh how I don't miss the postpartum period for this reason!  The childbearing years are an interesting time for this. First, you go through the season of "trying" (well generally speaking).  If you ask my husband he will say its rather unfortunate that we got pregnant the with our first child the first month we tried, with our second child the second month we tried, and number 3 was a surprise.  It went from really really good to "I feel sick and bloated and have a headache" pretty quickly.  For some pregnant women, the extra sensitivity works in their favor.  For others, not so much.  I enjoyed sex when I was pregnant (well after the first trimester).  Sometimes I felt pretty sexy even with my big belly, but there were times I felt fat and unattractive.  And then you reach the point where you're so big no position works well or the pressure from the baby's head makes you detest thinking about anything else going on down there.  Then the baby comes and there's the famous 6 weeks.  Or some recommend more like 2 weeks.  Before we had kids, I had a close friend who asked her doctor to write her a prescription at her 6 week postpartum visit that said she needed to abstain from sex 6 more weeks.  I kid you not!  Sort of as a joke, but her husband believed her for a little while.  I thought, "Why the heck would anyone want to do that!"  Then I had my first baby.  After my baby tugged on my breasts all day and night long, the last thing I wanted was to be touched!  And also with nursing comes the absence of menses (this lasts different lengths of time for different women, mine lasted a year each time).  So everything is thin and dry and it just doesn't feel that great.  And, ovulation and sexual desire go hand in hand.  Even if you're bottle feeding and have your cycle back, you're feeling all the crazy hormones trying to adjust and lack of sleep and having a baby.  You can't devote as much time to your marriage as you used to.  I remember crying to a friend when my second baby was a few months old, "I would be okay if I never had sex again!  I have no desire and feel like it will never come back!"  Boy did that change at the end of that first year.  But only for a month and then I got pregnant again.  But, by the third time we understood.  My husband looked at me one night and said, "I know this is just a season, and after we get through it things will heat up again."  You see, we argued so much about it.  He thought I was frigid.  I felt like something was wrong with me.  He felt rejected and like I was no longer attracted to him. We were confused.  The best piece of advice I received regarding this was that a couple's sex life goes through seasons over the course of marriage, just as everything else does.  And don't get discouraged when you're in a dry one, the drought will end. Being married for 10 years, I've found that to be true.  I'm proud to say my youngest is 17 months old and I'm not pregnant!  Yahhooo!  The longest I've made it was to 15 months.  And times are good, really good for us.  So be encouraged.  Your body will come back (maybe not to where it was but you won't have a big basketball sticking out in front of you).  Your breasts will feel like objects for sexual pleasure and not merely functional again.  Your vagina will get back into shape.  And you will have desire!  Its hard to have a conversation with your spouse half the time, but the emotional connection is what feeds that physical intimacy.  So make time to talk and have quality time together.  And be a woman to the fullest, embrace your curves.  You're body was created to be beautiful and desirable, in any shape and size!  Put on some lingerie, light some candles, pour some wine, turn on some music, whatever you have to do to be in the mood, and enjoy that act that brought on your baby in the first place!  It will come back.

You're Worth It

Early Tuesday morning (like 1:45am early) I awoke to a phone call from my sister.  "I've been having steady contractions for a little while now.  They're starting to hurt, and they've changed in feeling and intensity from the ones I've had the past few weeks."  We talked more, she called her midwife, and concluded that she needed to go in and get checked out.  Being 2 1/2 hours out and knowing my sister's first labor was short (for a first labor), I decided to get my things packed and go on.  When I was almost there, I got the report.  "I'm ONLY 2 centimeters."  I could hear the disappointment and frustration in her voice.  "It was like a slap in the face."  I arrived at the birth center about 5am, and slept on the couch for half an hour or so.  Midwife checked her out a couple hours later, and a little progression but not enough for her to stay.  It could be 24 hours, it could be 48 hours...  I ended up coming back to Wilmington midday and time went by.  When I talked with my sister that night, she was feeling better about things, but still feeling heavy and confused and disappointed in her body, and somewhat shameful to those who stepped in to help.  First of all, we cannot control the process of birth (well not if we want to trust our bodies and let it happen naturally).  Birth is not a performance.  There is nothing to prove to anyone.  I reminded my sister to shake off any pressure she felt because it was not healthy and all of us supported her and the timing, whatever it was.  You see, not only did I have to drive 2 1/2 hours for the birth, the grandmother drove a distance to watch big brother, and my parents met my husband on the road (1 hour each way for both of them) to watch our children.  It took a lot of people making sacrifices to get ready for the birth.  Thursday morning, I received a call at 5am, and it was time.  I left after finishing breakfast with the kids and everyone got back into place again.  I made it to the birth center an hour before my niece was born, and loved every second I had to support my sister during the birth and after.  Most of us have a hard time asking for help.  Especially when people go out of their way, or its inconvenient to them.  Where did we learn that we're not worth the sacrifices of others?  Who told us we were an inconvenience?  Because its simply not true.  Birth is never "convenient."  Its unpredictable and sometimes labor starts and stops and always varies in the amount of time it takes.  Women (and babies), you are worth every sacrifice.  Every midwife that waits, watches, supports all night when she's been awake for a couple days already, because she believes in the natural process of birth. Every doctor that has to leave appointments, family, dinner.  Every nurse that works tireless shifts.  Every parent that watches your older children at home.  Every sister that leaves her family in someone's care and jumps through hoops so she can support you.  Every mother or father that takes off work to come be with you in the birth.  Every friend that receives a text and drops what she's doing to pray.  Every man that stands by your side, supports you, fans you, rubs your back, endures the blood, fluid, placenta, and listens through the "taking care of your swollen vagina" talk.  We are put here on this earth together because we need each other!  We can't do it alone, and the sacrifices we make for each other are absolutely worth it.  Don't forget it.

Gotta start somewhere

Pregnant beauties, unique labors, cuddly newborns, exhausted mommies, yes I am crazy about them all!  I'm a passionate person in general, and most things I enjoy I do so intensely, but I have a passion that has been burning stronger and more fierce over the past few years.  Birth. And all that surrounds it.  Why do I love it?  Many reasons.  But the main one is personal.  It transforms me into someone I wouldn't normally be.  I'm your typical Type A, gotta have everything in order kind of girl.  I like schedules, I like time lines, I like predictability.  I'm the choleric, loud footsteps, hands on hips, take charge, reformed control-freak (yes, reformed because I'm getting beyond this!)  Change and spontaneity are not my favorites. Pregnancy, birth, and mommy-hood = seriously uncomfortable unpredictability for me. Over the past few years, my birth experiences brought me outside of my personality in ways I never knew were possible.  Why am I starting a blog?  I hope that my personal thoughts and experiences will be something for other women to relate to.  I want women to know they are not alone in the whirlwind of all the positives and negatives of this motherhood thing.   I have so much inside, this seems to be a good way to get it out!  And you know, I have a dream to write books "one day."  I've heard from several well-known women authors that they wrote their first book when their kids were young, even when they had a nursing one.  I guess I'm a little behind, but I'm going to start with a blog and see how it goes...