I brought her and she screamed. She was fine in the car, and fine until we got to the waiting room. After I checked in she started crying. And I started sweating. I took her out of the car seat, tried to soothe her, tried a pacifier, tried rocking her in the car seat, tried bouncing her, walking with her. I had just nursed her before we got in the car to go to the appointment, so I really didn’t think she was hungry. I took her back behind the door into the bathroom and changed her diaper, which was a little wet, but nothing bad.

I was on the verge of tears and I just wanted to stay in the bathroom until she stopped crying, but I had to leave at some point and go back into the waiting room. The only other people in the waiting room were a young couple. I’m assuming she’s pregnant. Why else would the guy be there? She wasn’t showing, so it must be early. I wonder what they thought of me and my screaming bundle of joy.

Finally they called me back. I was juggling her and the car seat and the diaper bag and my purse, trying to kick off my shoes and jacket to get weighed. I’ve lost 20 of the 30 pounds I gained. That sounds decent – just 10 pounds left to lose, right? Well, yes, but I gained 15 pounds during the fertility treatments, so that needs to go as well, and probably another 10 beyond that if I want to get to my “ideal” weight.

Oh, and I finally tried on some pre-pregnancy jeans the other day, and it is not good. Yes I have still been wearing maternity jeans. They are falling off me, but are still so comfy and I was scared to try on my old jeans, because the ten remaining pounds have all settled around my midsection and ass. My always-has-been-flabby belly is even more fantastically mushy. My prepregnancy fat jeans barely go over my hips! Shit! They are a ways away from fitting, and that is not good. In the scheme of things, I cannot complain, since I got  what I wanted, but it is depressing that I am either going to have to keep wearing maternity pants or go buy pants in a new, larger, scary size. Neither option is appealing. Now that I’m cleared to start exercising again, I need to get myself back to the gym and start going in the right direction. I was hoping that breastfeeding would make the weight just melt right off me, but I think I’m eating more than perhaps I need to.

So anyhow, the nurse tells me to undress from the waist down and hands me the paper sheet. I lay Birdie down and awkwardly throw my clothes in a pile on the chair and try to situate myself on the table with a now red faced, angry little baby and a thin paper sheet that has already torn in two places from her thrashing her legs about. At this point, I’m wishing I had left her with MIL. I hate that I am so nervous and not confident in my skills as a mom. What am I doing wrong? I don’t think Birdie is all that difficult of a baby. She just picks the most inopportune times to throw a shit fit, and I get all stressed out and want to cry myself. It really is like a ticking time bomb.

The nurse came back in and asked if I wanted some help with the baby. She was very nice about it and said “Oh we love to see babies up front. I’ll just take her for a little bit and bring her right back.” Of course, Birdie quieted right down, which I was mostly grateful for, but it sort of made me feel more like shit because clearly I am incompetent and don’t deserve a baby.

The doctor came in and we discussed breastfeeding and medications  and she checked my incision. She wrote me a prescription for Reglan for my supply problems. I haven’t really posted much about it, but I am having a hard time keeping up with Birdie the past several weeks. I am feeding her all the time (sometimes every hour), drinking a shit ton of water, and pumping and not getting much at all. I started taking fenugreek two days ago, but since I was there, I asked her and she recommended Reglan. Does anyone have any experience with it? Or with fenugreek?

The nurse brought Birdie back in and the doctor did the fastest, most painless pap smear ever. It was really the first time I’ve had a pelvic exam with her, because I switched to her at 20 weeks during the pregnancy. The only thing she had done down there before had been a dilation check at my last pregnancy office appointment and then a few times at the hospital before it was apparent that a c-section was needed. She is fast and gentle. Much better than my old OB (who happened to be male).

Of course, Birdie started fussing on the way out, and cried at all the stoplights on the way home. Is it just my luck? Am I just an idiot with babies? When she cries, it just physically hurts me and puts me into a state of panic. It is especially more so in public.

My sister is coming to visit for the next 5 days! I am so happy to have one of MY people around to help and hang out with. It has been so hard, not having any family or close friends nearby during this time. After my sister leaves, my aunt is coming. And then in March perhaps, my mom.

Tomorrow I have my 6 week postpartum checkup. Can I bring Birdie with me? I assumed that I would, since S has to work and I really don’t want to leave her with my mother in law, given our current awkwardness. When dealing with infertility and going to the ob/gyn waiting room, you always see new moms with their tiny babies, presumably there for their post birth check up. But, of course, being the overly worried freak that I am, I had to google “6 week postpartum checkup” and found that I should probably expect a full pelvic exam (with pap smear!), and now I’m worried that Birdie will be screaming and I will be struggling to hold and soothe her whilst wearing the shitty paper gown and 12 in square “blanket” they give you, and I will cry and have a nervous breakdown.What if she’s fussy when it’s speculum time? Do I just leave her in the car seat screaming? Maybe that would ensure a quick exam. Don’t people usually bring their babies to show them off? Or do the husbands go to the appointment too and hold the baby during the exam?

I haven’t ventured out many times with her alone. She is sometimes wonderfully sleepy after a car ride, but sometimes she can be terribly fussy. I am embarrassed by my inability to instantly quiet her, so I just don’t go many places with her yet. The one time I took her to Target a week or so ago, she screamed, but thankfully, I was able to quiet her down and quickly finish grabbing the few things I needed.

So, what would you do? Swallow my pride and ask to leave her with MIL? Or take my chances and bring her to the appointment and hope she is all smiley and cute instead of Angry Baby?

I was going through a box of random stuff the other day when I came across these:

They are the socks I bought that day in Target a little over a year ago, the day that later in the afternoon, I would find out that the beta was falling and I was to miscarry. And now these socks are on my baby girl. My living, snuffly, squalling baby girl who kicks them off her feet within minutes. I feel incredibly lucky, like I just narrowly missed getting hit by a bus or something.

Before I forget the whole birth experience completely, I thought I would revisit the fears that I had before the birth.

1. Pooping on the table.

Did not happen. To be fair, I never got to the pushing stage.

2. Vomiting uncontrollably.

Also did not happen. Not during the contractions, not with the epidural. Not during the c-section. Not after. Yay!

3. Losing control and being a “bad” patient.

Right before asking for the epidural, I felt out of control in pain. It was frightening. I  don’t think I made a fool out of myself or anything, but I was close to begging for pain relief. I was afraid they wouldn’t let me get one because I was only at 4cm, but the contractions were wickedly strong, I was having back labor, and they were one on top of the other, not even a minute in between. I was breathing through them, mostly on the exercise ball, with S or the doula pressing on my back.

I have no concept of how long this lasted. I’m told that it was a number of hours, but it felt like both many hours and just half an hour. Mercifully, the epidural was allowed and administered quickly. I did cry right when he was putting the needle in my back and I couldn’t articulate what was wrong. I think I finally squeaked out “It hurts”. The contractions were so close together it was hard to have a break where I could be still enough to do the epidural. But wow, once that medicine kicked in, it was fantastic. It was lovely. I could sleep. I didn’t feel any pain.

4. That something bad will happen to the baby. That she will get stuck, have shoulder dystocia, be deprived of oxygen or otherwise harmed while going through my fucked up tailbone/pelvis.

Thankfully the c-section was decided on before the baby went into serious distress. I was disappointed to have to have surgery, but I was also thankful that it meant that she would be coming out quickly and bypassing these concerns.

5. That I will be damaged during the birth process. If I break my fucking tailbone again, I’m going to be pissed. I’m terrified of getting a very bad tear from this potentially big baby with a very large head.

Again, this was a benefit to having to have the c-section. No damage to the tailbone, no tears. Of course having major abdominal surgery was kind of a bummer, and had its own pains, but at least I can pee and poo without problems.

6. That I will labor for a very long, painful time, and will then end up with a c section and a doubly painful recovery.

This fear was realized, sort of. It could have been a lot worse, but I do think that recovery would have been much easier had I not gone through 18 hours of induction. If we get lucky enough to have another pregnancy, it will be a c-section for sure. My OB said that I could theoretically try for a vbac if the next baby is much smaller, but Birdie wasn’t all THAT big, and my pelvis just didn’t have room. She would strongly recommend a planned c-section, and that’s fine by me. At least now I know what to expect.

7. That I’ll get a horrible spinal headache if I get an epidural.

Nope. Yay! I did get the shakes really badly, but no headache, thank god.

8. Just of being exposed and of everyone seeing every part of me .

This was very scary to me. I hate feeling exposed and naked and this just filled me with fear. Of course, I never got to the pushing with legs spread phase, but there was plenty of nakedness and exposure, with the flimsy hospital gowns, the dilation checks, the monitors, the urinary catheter they put in after the epidural, being moved around in bed by the nurse once I was numb, and the c-section prep. Thankfully a lot of that I was numb for and just stopped caring. Really, I just stopped caring.

Then after the c- section, they check your incision, help you to the bathroom, changing underwear and pads and checking for bleeding. It helped that I had a lovely nurse the day after the surgery who was super nice and made me feel comfortable while helping me. The worst part was that they leave the catheter in for 24 hours after surgery, and once the epidural wears off, it doesn’t feel so great. It wasn’t as bad as I expected, but it’s just weird to have a tube in your urethra and trying to move and walk around. I was so happy to get it out.

Then there was the breastfeeding thing. I’ve never been one to even change in front of people in the gym locker room. I either go to the gym in exercise clothes or change in the bathroom. I don’t change in front of even my best girlfriends. I was dreading whipping out the breasts in front of people, but at the same time, I wanted to feed baby bird, and I clearly needed help. It felt awkward at first, but by the end of the first day, I didn’t worry anymore. Showing my nipples to the nurse didn’t bother me. I didn’t care if the hospital staff came in to bring the food tray while I was nursing. It stopped feeling awkward. Of course, I didn’t (and still don’t) feel comfortable breastfeeding in front of the in laws. Somehow there is a huge difference between hospital people and my in laws.

9. Having to stay in the hospital for several days.

I had to do it and it was fine. We even spent Christmas day in the hospital. The food was quite good, surprisingly. It was basically like ordering from room service at a hotel. You called up and ordered what you wanted. I had a yummy grilled cheese, good pasta, a vegetarian sandwich, cinnamon french toast, muffins, fruit, and lemon and chocolate cake while I was there. I cannot complain at all about the food.

I did bring a lot of things with me that helped me to feel comfortable. That might be a whole post in itself. It helped that I had an awesome, large, private postpartum room with its own shower and a great view, and pillows and a blanket from home. I brought plenty of snacks as well which was great for after food service hours.

10. Having a c section and S not being able to handle being in the room for the operation.

S did an amazing job. He did not pass out, or even appear like he might pass out. He held my hand and was very supportive throughout the surgery, and only made a few inappropriate jokes. He even saw some blood and the placenta and was fine. I wish I could have seen the placenta. They wiped Birdie down pretty well right away so I think that helped. It all happened so quickly that I don’t think he had time to freak out. Plus, it was exciting. We were finally going to get the baby out and meet her. He remembered to bring the camera and the baby book and everything.

11. How my cats will react to us bringing the baby home.

This has gone better than expected as well. The one cat that has health issues has been fine with her. He mostly ignores her. Within days he would sit on the couch in his usual spot and just pretend not to see me holding her or feeding her. The younger cat is a lot more freaked out than I expected. He avoids her and has been a bit stressed. Overall though, it has been fine. They are getting slightly less attention now, but I do try to spend individual time with them and play with them. As I type this, the younger one is curled up next to me, kneading on his favorite woolly blanket.

If I could go back to visit myself back on December 22, I would give that girl a big hug and reassure her that it would all be okay. None of the fears would end up being that bad. The things that seemed like a big deal wouldn’t actually be big deals. I would tell her to have faith in herself, her husband, doula and doctor.

The worst thing that happened was having a c-section after a long labor and failure to dilate, and we got through it just fine. The c-section recovery has been far easier than I expected. The first two weeks were hard with the swelling and incision pain, but once the swelling went away (which happened at exactly two weeks for me), I felt pretty good. A month out, I cannot conjure up in my head how those contractions felt. I feel that my whole hospital experience was generally very positive.

Birdie is one month old today. I cannot believe it how quickly it has gone by.

Since I have not been good about writing in her baby book, here are some things I want to remember about her first month:

Her noises. She alternately sounds like a whining puppy, a snuffling horse, and a squeaky bird. I’m starting to learn her cries. I felt like a bad mom because for a long time I had no idea what her cries meant. Now I’m able to distinguish a few different ones. Her “I’m bored and starting to get tired of this” cry sounds like a chainsaw off in the woods. Uhh-eh-uh-eh-uh-eh, over and over until you pick her up and make funny faces at her. Her “I’m HUNGRY milk lady! Where the fuck is my milk?” cry starts off like the bored cry but ramps up really quickly until she gets a nipple in her mouth. Then there’s her “colicky/nothing will get me to stop crying” cry that has a hoarse, lip quivery, break your heart quality to it.

Her soft, soft skin. Nothing could be more perfect. I love to nuzzle the side of her neck when she relaxes and rests her head on my chest. Her downy hair after a bath is like a baby chick. She is growing some eyelashes now. Her little chicken legs are getting stronger and stronger from all of the kicking she is doing these days. She makes all of these complicated hand movements. How she sleeps with her arms thrown up over her head. The way she shakes her head from side to side frantically and opens her mouth like a baby bird when I go to nurse her. How she always starts out feeding with her fists and arms all clenched up and by the end she has become relaxed and floppy. How she is too long to stretch out in my lap now. She is developing some ridiculously scrumptious cheeks and thighs, apparently all from my milk. How she is starting to smile. How she will just stare at S’s face for ten minutes, just fascinated. How she loves her swing.

I could (and should) go on and on and on, but it’s 2:30 am and she’s sleeping and I should be too. Happy one month birthday baby Bird!

My MIL (S’s stepmom) is one of the hardest people to piss off that I know. I don’t know that I’ve ever really seen her mad before. Passive aggressive, perhaps, but I think we have finally managed to piss her off. Unintentionally of course.

She is a very calm, quiet, soft spoken lady who is always doing things for other people. She is so sweet that you can’t ever really get mad at her. I have to say that I am pretty lucky as far as in laws go. They are very nice people, they generally respect our boundaries, and they are far more “normal” than my family. My family is nuts. We are full of drama. It’s all there out in the open. But S’s family seems so normal on the surface that it takes a while for the crazy to finally seep out from the pores. I have another post to write about FIL being weird since the baby was born, but I still need to get to the bottom of that before I can even figure out what his deal is. Basically he won’t come over to our house to see the baby – he only wants us to bring the baby to see him. Fuck that.

Anyhow, the in laws have been friends with this one particular couple for a very long time. They are lovely people who originally came from another country, so there is a little bit of a language barrier. Over the summer, this couple traveled to a foreign country and returned with some mysterious gastrointestinal illness, which the wife has been suffering from ever since. Every time we hear about them it’s “Mrs. R is sick again, terrible diarrhea. The doctors keep testing for different things and they don’t know what’s wrong.”

So fast forward to this week, when MIL tells us that Mrs. R brought over some food, it’s vegetarian, we should take some home. Um, no thanks. Who knows what this lady has, but if she’s had diarrhea for six months, I don’t want any sort of food that she’s made! S feels the same way. We both tried to decline to MIL politely, but she’s been pushing this food on us for days. Well finally over the weekend, S blows up and tells her why we don’t want it. MIL keeps at it, suggesting that we just microwave the hell out of it to “kill” anything in the food! Oh, and that she ate some of it and she’s okay.

What the fuck? I think I have mentioned before that I am concerned about her food safety habits. I admit, sometimes I can be a bit paranoid and overly cautious in general, but does it make sense to ANYONE to have this ill friend of the family preparing food for a family with a newborn baby? Who knows what kind of parasite or virus she could have picked up on her travels.

We were worried that people might try to bring us food after the baby was born. I know that it is traditional to bring food to new parents, sick people, after a death, etc, especially in this midwestern polite town that I now find myself living in. I don’t want to sound ungrateful or bitchy, but S and I really tried to discourage that whenever people offered, being that we are vegetarian, somewhat picky eaters, and both have sensitive stomachs. The vegetarian part is the main thing. Plenty of people have no qualms about saying “Oh, yeah it’s vegetarian” after making something with chicken stock, for example. Even in the hospital, after we explained that we are vegetarian, one of the nurses suggested I have some beef or chicken broth. She honestly thought that since it was broth and didn’t have any chunks of meat in it that it was vegetarian! We’ve been doing just fine with a combination of S cooking fresh food, using frozen foods, and some takeout.

S tried to explain all of this to his parents before the baby came, to head off these sorts of issues. Mrs. R apparently asked MIL what she could make for us, and instead of politely declining the offer, MIL suggested she make a vegetarian pasta or soup for us! Again, wtf?! Then, MIL offers it to us as if Mrs. R just brought it over for them or something. She didn’t make it sound like it was prepared specifically for S and I.

So today, MIL comes over to the house alone and brings it up again, saying that she knows that S didn’t want the food, but won’t I eat some of it? I really thought S made it clear that we didn’t want anything to do with diarrhea lady’s soup, but MIL is still pushing it! I basically said, “No, I agree with S, we really don’t want to take any chances of getting sick with the baby and all.”

Then MIL tells me “Okaaaay, but I’m going to need you to write them a thank you card. I can help you draft it. It really was nice of her to make this food for you.” Wow. She can help me write the thank you? I feel like I’m being punished for being a bad girl or something. Is she going to make me explain that we wouldn’t eat her food? This is ridiculous. I’m a grown 35 year old woman and she is not MY mom or even S’s mom.

MIL then left the house rather quickly, without even holding the baby (who was sleeping at the time). I called S and told him what happened and that he needs to deal with this horse shit. I have far more important things to do than get guilt tripped by his stepmom. At the same time, I can’t stop thinking about it and analyzing the situation in my head. It is so not worth stressing about, yet here I am, up at 5am mulling it over while Birdie has fallen asleep next to me.

note: I started this post a while ago but set it aside to think about it. I’m still not sure how I feel about it, but I wanted to put this out there to see if anyone else can relate.

I had my two week checkup after the c section with my obstetrician a couple of days ago. I miss being pregnant. That is one thing that I didn’t anticipate at all. I’m so glad the baby is here and healthy, and I am so glad not to have the anxiety of worrying about the many complications and discomforts of pregnancy. But I miss being pregnant with an intensity that scares me. Knowing that we may not be able to get pregnant again, knowing that I’m now over 35, and that we may not even attempt treatments again (S’s current preference, given how hard taking care of a newborn is), it makes me that much sadder. I miss feeling her kicks. I miss being huge and round and firm. I miss feeling pregnant. I miss people asking me when I’m due and what I’m having. I miss S doting on me, rushing to open the car door and hold my hand walking on icy parking lots so I don’t fall and hurt the baby. I miss feeling special and fertile and complete. I am complete in a whole new way, but it’s different.

Tears started falling in the waiting room. While checking in, I saw my doctor cutting ultrasound pictures apart and telling a couple that was checking out, “In this one you can see the spine, and here’s the nose, and the heart rate is.…” It hit me. No more ultrasounds. No more hearing the heartbeat. No more peeing in cups, no more weekly appointments. I just now know the routine and it’s done. No more NSTs. No more kick counts. You’d think these would all be things I’d be happy to leave behind. And I am. But I’m also sad because I feel like my time is done. I’m like a horse that has run its one race and is put out in a pasture to rot. I have a beautiful baby, and I love her and I’m so happy. But I’m grieving being a fertile infertile, I guess. It’s such a fucked up feeling.

The nurse made some mention about ‘next time’ in reference to another pregnancy, but in my heart, I’m so afraid there won’t be a next time, and it hurts to realize that. I loved being pregnant, and I tried to savor every moment. I think it would almost be easier to let go if I was in denial about never having another child. If I just let myself assume that in a few years we’ll have another baby, I could stop agonizing about how I didn’t take enough pictures, or I didn’t journal enough. I’m so glad I have this blog to look back on, because it is the best record of the whole experience.

When my doctor came in the exam room, she said “Oh I forgot the Doppler. Let me go get it.” I don’t know if she didn’t remember that I had already delivered, or if she was just spaced out. But I realized in that moment that there will never be a reason to put that cold goo on my belly and hear that thump thump thump again, and it made me so sad. I am so fucked up in the head! I have a three week old baby, and I’m already sad about the next kid that I won’t have.  What is wrong with me?

Birdie is outgrowing her newborn outfits, and I’m so sad that I won’t have a reason to save them, in case we have another girl. She is growing and changing so fast. Every time I notice her changing and growing, it makes me both happy and incredibly sad. I don’t want to ruin the enjoyment of her babyhood because I am afraid I’ll never have another baby!  How do I get this out of my head?

S went back to work a week ago Monday. The baby’s birth ended up being great timing. Because of the holidays, S got to take even more time than we expected. He was off work for 2.5 weeks, which was lovely. I think going back was hard for him, but he got some reassurance from all his coworkers that have kids that the first month or two is hard, but it gets better.

I was a little nervous the first day. MIL came over for a couple of hours to “help” so I could take a shower. Of course, Birdie sleeps for hours when the in laws come over, and it turns out that I could have gotten things done anyway and not had the stress of entertaining and worrying about the state of the house.

Speaking of the state of the house, it is atrocious. Part of me is horrified, but a clearly larger part of me just says fuck it, who cares.  I’m sure the in laws are also horrified, but fuck them too. Nobody has offered to do the dishes or vacuum up the cat litter so I don’t give a shit. Everyone wants to hold the baby so I can “do stuff” (presumably clean the house), but the most I have done is take a nap or shower. S has been great though. He has been doing the laundry so that I don’t have to go up and down the stairs to the basement, and he does the dishes and cooks dinner too.

I am proud to say that I have managed to brush my teeth and shower every single day. I wait until she is sleeping in her bouncy seat and I bring it in the bathroom while I take a very quick shower. If I’m lucky, she will sleep while I dry my hair too. I have only ventured out with her alone twice – once to the pediatrician and once to Target. Will I ever stop worrying about if she is breathing or not in the car seat? Oh, and of course she started wailing once we got into Target. I ended up taking her out of the car seat and holding her while I pushed the cart with one hand.

Thank you guys so much for the comments on the last post. It helps to be reminded that the first month or two is generally difficult for everyone. Also, thank you lurker Andrea for your comment a few posts back about the nipple shields! It is so helpful to hear from someone who nursed with nipple shields long term and to be reassured that one day she might not need them and the transition might not be that bad. I wonder how many nipple shields I should have. I have 5 or 6 now but it feels like I’m always washing them or losing track of them.

Also, for those breastfeeding veterans, about how much should I be able to pump now that she’s almost 4 weeks? When I’ve tried to pump a little so we can have some backup for if I ever want to go anywhere, it seems like I only get 15-30 ml combined from both breasts. Of course that is typically in the afternoon. The other morning, she went back to sleep after eating on one side, so I pumped on the other side and I got close to 50ml! It’s hard to know when to try to pump because she seems like she is eating ALL THE TIME now (growth spurt maybe?). I would hate to pump and then have her wake up screaming and starving and have nothing left for her. I know she is gaining weight and doing well, but I don’t feel like I have much (any?) extra to pump, so I wonder if I am not making enough milk for her.

The first afternoon home was great. The first night was not so great. She was fussy most of the night, and neither S nor I got any sleep. By morning, we were a mess. She was fine during the day again, and that night we tried a different system.  I slept downstairs in the living room on the couch with the baby in the bassinet, and S slept upstairs so he could get some sleep.

There’s no reason for us both to be up at the same time, since I’m the one who has to feed her.  It was far easier for me to get up and down off the couch than in and out of bed. My incision hurt quite a bit when I would go to lie down and get up in bed. However, the couch is not all that comfortable either. After a few days, we moved up to the baby’s room. I sleep in the queen guest bed with her in the snuggle nest, or sometimes when we are really desperate, in her bouncy seat.  It has been working pretty well. S will come and help if he gets woken up by the crying that accompanies diaper changes and frustration waiting for milk.

The first two weeks went by crazy fast. We took her to see her pediatrician, we visited the in laws a couple of times (brief visits that were not worth the time and energy to pack up baby stuff and drive over there), and took her to a bookstore to buy the dvd of Happiest Baby on the Block. We nervously took her to a couple of food places (a deli, and an informal restaurant).  Her umbilical cord stump fell off at 2.5 weeks, she got her first real bath, and she outgrew her “coming home from the hospital” outfit.  The nursery still doesn’t feel ready, but it is functional. I still need to hang things on the walls. We set up the baby monitor the other day. I am a nut and bought this monitor so I can stop going to check and see if she is breathing. Of course she has to actually sleep in the crib in order to use the movement monitor.

With S now back at work (another post will be coming on that), the nights have been unpredictable. The night before his first day back was awful. She screamed off and on from 10pm to 2am. The next night she mercifully slept from 10:30pm to 1:30am and again from 2:30 to 6:30 and didn’t wake S up at all. The following night, it was screaming until 1am. She is such a good, relatively easy baby during the day, but at night, she has some times when she just screams. Is it colic? Reflux? Overstimulation? There is nothing more distressing than not being able to soothe her. It’s not often that it happens, but it’s like a ticking bomb waiting to go off.

I should probably clarify something about the direction of this blog. As my life evolves, so will this blog. I intend to be very honest about parenting after infertility. It’s not all rainbows and puppies and butterflies. It is so wonderful to have this amazing little baby here in our arms finally, but it’s challenging too. After going through so much to get here, you hope you will get one of those magical super easy babies that sleep and look cute all the time, but that probably isn’t realistic. I don’t mean to sound complainy at all, because I am so, so thankful, and I love her more than I even imagined possible, but there are times when I have no idea what to do, when she is screaming and I’m crying and I can’t figure out what the hell is wrong. I would say that 90% of the time, she is great and happy and easy, but that other 10%, I fall apart. I know it will get easier once we are all sleeping more. It could be so, so much worse.

I also want to say that I totally get it if some people stop reading this blog because of baby being mentioned all the time. I deleted a bunch of pregnancy and new baby blogs from my reader during several periods of time during IF treatments. I understand. I so hope that all of my bloggy friends get their dreams fulfilled during this new year. I hope that I can support you guys just as you have supported me throughout this journey. I don’t know how I would have got through the last year and a half without all of you.

I don’t remember a whole lot of the rest of that night. S held the baby for a long time after we got to the room, but he was clearly exhausted and I couldn’t bear the thought of him sleeping another night on a crappy germy hospital chair, so we sent the baby to the nursery and I sent S home to feed the cats and get some sleep.

They brought her to me to nurse a bunch of times, but I was still so numb and tired and shaky, it was almost scary. Around 3am, I started getting some feeling back in my legs and realized that the compression boots they put on my legs weren’t actually doing anything. I called the nurse and she was like “oh, someone must have forgotten to plug them into the machine. I’ll just take them off. You don’t really need them.” I wonder if that is why my swelling got so bad. Around the same time, I notice a painless but ugly red mark on my right nipple. Hmm, that doesn’t seem right, I thought. I showed the nurse and she said that I’d just have to nurse through it and that it would take a week or so to get better.

By the 7am nurse shift change, both my nipples were raw and red. Baby Bird has some serious suction power and we had some latching issues. The new nurse came in, looked at my “nipple trauma” as she called it and was so horrified by it that it made me cry. Now, I’ve never breastfed before, but I had done a lot of reading and the home nurse that comes to see me is also a lactation consultant, and she had gone over the basics with me – wait for the baby to open her mouth wide before bringing her to the breast, break the suction and relatch if it’s painful, this is what a good latch should look like, blah blah blah. But, it’s all so much harder when you are numb from the chest down and lying pretty much flat on your back. It was damn near impossible to get her in a good position, and she just wouldn’t open her mouth very wide.

Nurse that made me cry sent a lactation consultant to see me mid morning, and she worked on positioning, which was helpful. But, it wasn’t that helpful when your nipples are already so cracked, bleeding and raw that every time you try to latch her on, you can’t imagine a worse pain. But I kept on. I used the special nipple cream they gave me, and tried and tried. And cried and cried. Finally the third night, after many tears on our part (S and I) and baby’s part, we asked to supplement with some formula. She was finally calm, able to sleep, and satisfied. I felt like such a failure. I started pumping, on the idea that pumping might be less painful than her piranha mouth, and then we could at least give her the breast milk in a bottle, but my milk hadn’t come in. After 20 minutes of pumping, I had like 8 drops of colostrum. From both breasts. I had already had numerous nurses in helping with the latch as well as the lactation consultants, but it was still ridiculous and painful and awful. I wanted to feed my baby so badly, but it was just seeming to be impossible.

The day we were discharged, yet another lactation consultant was supposed to come by. Honestly, I was kind of dreading it. Yet another person to bare my breasts to, who would shake their head in horror and tell me the same shit over again that I already knew, and expect me to keep trying through the pain. When she didn’t show up throughout the morning, I was kind of relieved. But, literally, 5 minutes before the wheelchair escort was coming, she showed up and turned out to be awesome. She gave me some nipple shields, some quick instruction, and said, “Hun, you can still do this. Try the nipple shields until your tissue heals, and follow up with a lactation consultant next week.”

The nipple shields saved my ass. First, when we got home, I started just pumping with them on, and it made pumping far less painful. My milk started coming in on Sunday, 4 days after the c section, and I was so proud to get 5ml of milk. Baby had lost 9% of her weight in 4 days, so we supplemented with formula in addition to feeding her what I would pump for a couple days until I discovered that with the shields and some healing, I could now nurse her directly. Well, directly with the shields. That is what we have been doing ever since, and while it isn’t ideal, it is working for us.

Since then, the home nurse has come twice. We have worked on trying to wean her off of the shields,  but that isn’t going so well. My nipples are sort of flat to begin with, and she is now used to the weird pointy shape of the shield. But, baby is back up to birth weight plus a few ounces at two weeks, so apparently my supply is adequate.

Part 4 to come soon…